Beru sat frozen, his fingers wrapped tightly around the warm cup of coffee in front of him.
Across the small table sat the man he had believed dead for more than a decade.
Kael.
The name echoed in Beru's mind like a scream trapped inside his chest.
For a moment, Beru thought this was an illusion—some cruel trick of fate. But the scars on Kael's hands, the familiar sharp gaze, and the heavy presence he carried could never be fake.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Kael said calmly.
Beru's breath trembled. His heartbeat thundered in his ears as memories buried deep inside him began to surface.
They were three brothers once.
No parents.
No home.
Only each other.
Their eldest brother had been everything—father, mother, shield, and hope. He worked endlessly, starved himself quietly, and smiled even when exhaustion hollowed him out.
Then war took him away.
His body returned wrapped in silence.
Beru had been too young to understand death.
Kael was fifteen.
That day, Kael became a man.
He held Beru's tiny hands at the funeral, his jaw clenched so tightly that blood seeped from his lips. He did not cry—not even once.
That night, when Beru fell asleep on his chest, Kael stared at the cracked ceiling and accepted the weight of the world.
From that moment on, Kael did everything.
He dropped out of school without hesitation.
He worked at a small roadside store—long hours, low pay, constant humiliation. Yet every night, he returned home with food and a forced smile.
"For you," he always said.
Years passed.
Beru turned four.
Kael bought a small, cheap cake with money saved over weeks. There were no candles, so he lit a match and placed it into the cake.
The flame burned out quickly.
But Beru clapped happily.
That night, after Beru fell asleep, Kael sat alone.
"You'll go to school," he whispered into the darkness. "Even if I never can."
The next day, Kael never came home.
On his way back from the store, hands aching and clothes soaked in sweat, men grabbed him from behind. A cloth pressed against his face.
Darkness swallowed him.
When Kael opened his eyes, he was tied to a cold stone floor.
Fear crawled into his bones.
"Who are you?" he shouted. "Why did you kidnap me?"
A man stepped forward—Nobu's father. Beside him stood an older man with eyes sharp like a blade worn by decades of blood.
Nobu's grandfather.
"You were chosen," the old man said coldly.
Kael didn't understand.
The Misaki Clan had been plagued by misfortune. No children were being born. The elders called it a curse.
And curses demanded blood.
A boy.
A sacrifice.
Kael's legs trembled.
"Please," he begged, falling to his knees. "I have a little brother. He's waiting for me. He has no one else."
Nobu's father hesitated.
But the grandfather's voice ended everything. "Your first son was cursed. We abandoned him for the clan. This ritual is necessary."
A week passed.
Beru waited.
Every night, he sat by the door, whispering Kael's name.
But Kael never came.
The night before the ritual, as Kael lay bound in his cell, a shadow entered.
A mysterious man.
He cut the ropes. "If you want to live," he said quietly, "follow me."
Hope ignited.
Kael ran.
But before he could escape, pain exploded in his skull. Darkness claimed him again.
That same night, chaos consumed the Misaki Clan.
Fire spread.
Blood soaked the stones.
Kael was gone.
The grandfather blamed Nobu's father. Their family shattered from within.
Far away, Beru was thrown out of his home.
Kael had borrowed money from the store. With him gone, the debt remained.
Beru—small, fragile, alone—was dragged outside.
He slept on streets.
Under bridges.
Wherever he could find shelter.
By six, hunger was his closest companion.
That was when he met Nobu.
But Kael…
Kael woke in an unfamiliar place.
The mysterious man stood before him.
"I want something from you," the man said.
"What?" Kael asked weakly.
"You."
Kael laughed bitterly. "I have nothing."
"You have resolve," the man replied. "You will become the one who controls my world."
Kael refused.
Then the man leaned closer. "If you refuse… your brother dies."
Kael's world collapsed.
"…Give him a good life," Kael whispered. "And I'll do anything."
Time passed.
Kael rose from nothing.
Blood stained his hands.
Orders were carried out without mercy.
Fear followed his name.
The Supreme Leader bowed before him.
Kael became the one standing at the top—the true ruler hidden in shadows.
A ghost king.
Now—
He sat across from Beru.
"I control the largest organization," Kael said quietly. "And now that I've found you… we can take revenge on the Misaki Clan."
Beru's hands shook.
"There's someone named Baku," Kael continued. "He stands in our way. He must die first."
Something inside Beru snapped.
He stood up violently and grabbed Kael by the collar, slamming him against the wall.
"If you touch them," Beru growled, eyes burning, "I will forget you were ever my brother."
Kael froze.
"For me," Beru continued, voice breaking, "Kael died when I was four."
Silence swallowed the room.
Two brothers.
Same blood.
Different paths.
And neither knew which one would end in salvation—
Or complete ruin.