The sleek black car pulled to a halt in front of the towering gates of the mansion. The evening air had grown cooler, a soft breeze stirring the heavy scent of polished wood and earth. The brothers sat in silence, the weight of their new lives pressing down on them, filling the space of the car with uncertainty.
As they stepped out onto the gravel driveway, the mansion loomed before them—an imposing structure of stone and glass, its silhouette softened only by the warmth of the setting sun. They followed the butler, who opened the massive oak doors with a quiet elegance that seemed at odds with the tension the brothers felt.
Inside, the vast hall stretched endlessly before them, its high ceilings lost in shadow, lined with portraits of people they would never know—faces of men and women whose gazes seemed to follow them as they moved. The walls, adorned with intricate tapestries and gilded frames, were a shrine to the house's long and storied history, a lineage that reached far beyond anything they could imagine.
They walked through the grand hallway, their footsteps muffled by the rich carpet beneath them, their eyes scanning the opulence around them. The house was vast, a labyrinth of rooms and corridors that stretched in every direction. They passed more portraits, but one caught Kaung Min's attention.
It was a painting of a woman, her face pale, eyes hollow, with dark wings unfurling from her back. The image felt strange, unsettling in a way that he couldn't explain. The artist had captured the beauty of the figure, but there was something about the emptiness in her gaze—something that tugged at his insides.
Kaung Min stopped, staring at the painting.
The adopted father, U Kha, who had been walking ahead of them, noticed the pause and turned. His voice was smooth, like fine silk, but there was a weight behind it.
"That, my boy," U Kha began, "is the Fallen Angel." He stepped closer, his hands clasped behind his back. "It's more than just a piece of art. It's a representation of the darkness in our bloodline. The angel... she fell from grace, just as we all have at some point. Every family has its demons, Kaung Min. But in this house, we choose to embrace them."
Kaung Min didn't fully understand what U Kha meant, but he didn't ask questions. Instead, he nodded silently, his gaze lingering on the eerie figure in the frame. Something about it made him uneasy—yet at the same time, it stirred something within him, a curiosity he couldn't shake.
As they continued their walk, the brothers couldn't help but notice the immaculate servants moving about, their presence nearly ghostly in the way they seemed to glide through the halls, tending to the house's countless needs without a word. It was a strange world to enter—one that spoke in whispers and looks, where power hung in the air like perfume, unseen but always present.
U Kha's voice broke the silence. "This is your new home," he said, his tone almost casual as he led them toward a grand staircase. "You'll get used to it. Today, you'll rest. Tomorrow, there's a great deal of work to be done."
His wife, who had been silent until now, stepped forward. She was elegant in her poise, a woman whose presence seemed to command the room without effort. "I'm Nanda," she said, her voice cold yet not unkind. "Don't expect comfort here. This house is for those who can handle what's coming."
With that, the butler nodded to them, his expression unreadable. "Follow me," he instructed, leading the three brothers up a winding staircase and down several hallways. Their footsteps echoed in the emptiness of the mansion, the weight of the silence pressing on them.
The first room was Kaung Min's, large and grand, with heavy mahogany furniture and a view of the garden below. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with volumes that seemed older than the house itself. Kaung Min stepped into the room, eyes immediately drawn to the books. His fingers hovered over the spines, brushing them lightly, feeling the rough texture of the leather-bound covers.
Curiosity bloomed within him as he picked one up, his fingers tracing the title. His eyes scanned the pages, the thick scent of the pages filling his senses. There was something about the knowledge here that felt like power—an endless sea of information waiting for him to dive in.
Near the corner of the room, he spotted a set of dumbbells, the gleam of metal catching his eye. Without thinking, he crossed the room and picked them up, testing their weight. The burn in his muscles felt familiar, like a challenge. He set the dumbbells down, glancing toward the door.
Lin Aung entered next, his room just a few steps away. Like Kaung Min's, it was grand, but Lin Aung didn't seem to notice the opulence. His attention was immediately caught by the bookshelves that stretched across the wall. He stepped forward, his fingers gently brushing against the books. The titles didn't matter. It was the feeling—the promise of something more. Something to escape into, to think through.
He selected a book at random, settling into an armchair by the window as the night sky began to fall outside. His gaze flickered over the pages, lost in the quiet of the room. There was peace here, in this space filled with knowledge, a kind of solace he hadn't known before.
Htet Naing was the last to enter his room. The youngest of the three stood still in the doorway, his gaze flicking over the luxurious furnishings before settling on the small collection of books. He wasn't interested in them—not like his brothers. His eyes moved to the set of dumbbells in the corner. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
He moved toward them, lifting them effortlessly with a grunt, his muscles straining as he tested his strength. The weight felt good in his hands—solid, real. It was a feeling he could understand, a language that spoke to him in ways words never could.
As the brothers settled into their new rooms, a silence stretched between them. The mansion outside felt like a world unto itself, vast and unyielding. The house had opened its doors, but it wasn't just offering them shelter. It was offering them something more dangerous—a life in the shadows, one where trust was fragile and betrayal could come from anywhere.
And though the three brothers were now under the same roof, they could feel it already. The weight of the house—the weight of what they had just entered—was heavy on their shoulders.
The house was a labyrinth, and they had just become its newest players.
End of Chapter 2
To be continued…