When I got home, I noticed Dad’s car was already parked in the driveway.

  That was unusual. He normally arrived closer to dinner.

  I unlocked the front door and stepped inside.

  “I’m home!”

  Before I could even close the door, I heard something I wasn’t expecting.

  “BIG BROTHER!!”

  A small blur slammed into my stomach at full speed.

  I staggered back slightly.

  My little sister, Anya, wrapped her arms tightly around me.

  I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt. But I never wanted to make her self-conscious about her strength—especially since she was an early Morpher.

  “Hey, Anya,” I said, patting her head. “Weren’t you and Mom supposed to be in South Korea for another week?”

  “Yeah,” she said excitedly, “but Mom had a fight with Grandma, so we came back early.”

  Of course she did.

  “Grandma and Grandpa said they miss you,” Anya continued. “They want you to visit soon.”

  “I’ll message them on Daodo* later,” I said.

  I took off my shoes and walked toward the kitchen with Anya trailing behind me. She immediately started talking about the wedding she had attended with Mom—our older cousin’s wedding.

  Apparently, there had been fireworks, fancy clothes, and a massive buffet.

  I nodded along and acted interested.

  But honestly?

  I didn’t have great memories of South Korea with my mother’s side of the family.

  When I stepped into the kitchen, I hadn’t even put my bag down before I heard Mom’s familiar voice.

  “Uh uh.”

  I froze.

  “Bag in your room. Coat in the entry closet. You know the drill, little one.”

  She said it in her usual warm but firm tone while stirring something on the stove.

  The funny part?

  She hadn’t even looked at me.

  I smirked.

  Some things never changed.

  I followed her instructions, dropped my bag upstairs, and took a quick shower so I didn’t smell like sweat from volleyball practice. When I came back downstairs, I wrapped my arms around Mom in a hug. She smiled and kissed me on the forehead—the way she always showed affection.

  “Welcome home,” she said softly.

  Anya and I sat at the kitchen table while Mom continued cooking. The smell of stew slowly filled the room.

  We chatted about the trip for a while before Mom asked Anya to grab the gifts they had brought back for me.

  Anya ran upstairs immediately.

  Once she was gone, the kitchen fell quiet.

  The only sound was the stew simmering on the stove.

  Mom turned toward me.

  “Your grandparents want to meet with you.”

  I blinked.

  “Okay…?”

  That was surprising.

  I’d never had problems with my grandparents. Visits with them were usually pleasant.

  Then I remembered what Anya said earlier.

  “Does this have something to do with the fight you had with Grandma?” I asked. “Anya heard it.”

  Mom sighed.

  “Yes.”

  She leaned against the counter.

  “Your grandparents, of course, are also Morphers. When I told them about your condition, they were very interested.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “They want to support you,” she continued.

  Then her expression hardened.

  “But the type of support they want to give you… This is not something I agree with. Not right now. You’re still too young.”

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  I waved a hand dismissively.

  “Mom, don’t worry. I know how overbearing they can be. If they try to push something on me—even if it’s money—I’ll just say no.”

  My grandparents had always been the spoiling type.

  Something my mother absolutely hated.

  Whenever they got their hands on Anya or me, they tried to teach us things, feed us constantly, buy us gifts, and—as Mom liked to say—“indoctrinate” us.

  Honestly, they were just extremely protective grandparents.

  Maybe a little too protective.

  Actually… better would be very overreaching.

  When I was born, they had invited my parents to live in one of their investment properties to help them get settled.

  My parents thought it would be temporary.

  Instead, they ended up living in a massive house with my grandparents.

  Then my dad’s mother moved in too because she got jealous.

  According to Mom, that arrangement lasted until I was two years old.

  That was her breaking point. And so dad got us our family home.

  They tried to repeat the same thing when Mom adopted Anya when she was four. But that time Dad stepped in. Which he seldom did. But that’s enough about my dysfunctional extended family.

  Mom let out a relieved sigh.

  “Thank you, Cubbo.”

  Cubbo was one of the many nicknames she had for me.

  “I know I’m restricting you right now,” she continued, “but it’s to protect you. Once you’ve received proper training and can function without the pill, things will change.”

  Before I could reply, Anya came running back downstairs with a small pile of boxes.

  She was so excited that she started opening them for me.

  There were clothes, souvenirs, and a small photo album from the wedding.

  Then there was one last box.

  Anya pushed it toward me eagerly.

  “Open it! Open it!”

  I sighed but complied.

  Inside was a metallic chain.

  It reflected light like polished silver, but the weight suggested something heavier—maybe platinum.

  Hanging from it was a cross pendant.

  The cross itself looked like gold, with a ruby gemstone embedded in the center.

  On the back of the pendant was a small tiger’s eye stone.

  I frowned slightly.

  “What did they buy this for?”

  Mom wiped her hands on a towel.

  “Your grandparents wanted you to feel closer to your spirit and your identity,” she said. “I didn’t want to refuse their final gesture.”

  Anya proudly showed me her necklace.

  It had the same design, but with a thinner chain.

  “Put it on, big bro! Then we can match!”

  I reluctantly put the chain around my neck.

  The moment it touched my skin…

  I felt a strange surge run through my body.

  It was subtle. Almost like a faint pulse.

  I assumed it was just my hypersensitive senses reacting to the unfamiliar material.

  So I ignored it.

  Mom returned to cooking.

  “Put the clothes away,” she said. “And go tell your dad dinner will be ready at six.”

  Dad’s home office was in the basement.

  He liked to call it his hidden library.

  I never really understood why.

  Until today.

  As I walked toward the door, I noticed something strange.

  My hypersensitivity couldn’t detect anything inside the room.

  It was like the space was… sealed off from the outside world.

  I knocked.

  A quiet buzz sounded as Dad unlocked the door remotely.

  I stepped inside.

  From the outside, the room looked small.

  Inside, it was enormous.

  Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with hundreds of books. Near the back was a glass display area with illuminated transparent shelves holding various objects.

  Dad sat behind a large desk, surrounded by several screens connected to his workpad laptop.

  “What is it, son?” he asked without looking up.

  “Mom said dinner will be ready at six. Also… she and Anya came back early.”

  Dad sighed.

  “Trust me, I found out this morning. Luckily, you finished everything before they got home.”

  “So just act normal?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  He finally looked up.

  “Are you wearing something new?”

  I pulled the necklace out from under my shirt.

  “Grandma and Grandpa gave it to me.”

  Dad studied it for a moment.

  “Hm.”

  He shrugged.

  “Well, thank them. And next time, tell them not to spoil you.”

  He leaned back.

  “My in-laws have never understood subtlety.”

  Then he paused.

  “I thought I sensed something odd from the chain earlier,” he said. “But it’s probably just the platinum.”

  That caught my attention.

  “Can certain materials mess with our senses?”

  Dad nodded.

  “Many things can.”

  He gestured around the room.

  “For example, the soundproofing here is advanced enough that even the most sensitive Immortal couldn’t hear my voice from outside.”

  “They might still feel vibrations,” he added, “but they won’t understand what’s being said.”

  He closed one of his screens.

  “That’s all you need to know for now. Focus on school. Think about your future path. When the time is right, I’ll tell you more.”

  I didn’t push further.

  Dad had a way of ending conversations when he wanted to.

  That night, our family had a hearty dinner together. For the first time in a while, everything felt normal again. Almost like things had returned to the way they used to be. Except now…

  I had a few more secrets.

  Our family routine was simple.

  Mom ran a physical rehabilitation clinic—something I now realized was also a morpher rehabilitation clinic—partly from home and partly at her clinic building.

  Dad worked in a government engineering consultant company, but now I think about it that also has irregular ties. Anyway, this causes him to work five days a week and usually comes home around dinner.

  He also traveled for work for at least one week every month.

  Mom handled most of the household duties—cooking, laundry, and keeping the house running.

  She was also the one who handled punishment whenever Anya or I got out of line.

  Dad was the opposite.

  Relaxed.

  Philosophical.

  He believed we should enjoy life but grow into strong people.

  Still…

  When it came to spoiling someone, he had a clear weakness.

  Anya.

  And she adored him just as much.

  Despite everything, we were a happy family.

  Something I hadn’t appreciated enough at the time.