The morning sky over Kaleido was draped in muted grey, as if the city itself had paused to mourn the passing of a titan.
Julian Velkor, the second-generation pillar of the Velkor Empire, had died peacefully in his sleep at the age of 98. The man who once expanded a small pharmaceutical lab into a global giant had left behind not just a legacy, but a ripple across generations.
Every major media outlet carried his photo in monochrome.
"Julian Velkor – The Mind Behind the Medicine – Passes Away."
"A Titan Falls. The Velkor Legacy Enters a New Era."
But one headline stood out and sent the nation into a frenzy:
"TWO HEIRS? Alexander Velkor Has Two Sons – The Curse Is Broken!"
Inside a sleek black limousine from Kaleido International Airport, Ryan Velkor stared out at the skyline. The silver towers of Kaleido rose like polished monuments. His reflection in the glass was calm, but behind his gaze was a hurricane of memories.
"It still feels like home," he murmured.
Seated beside him was his older brother, David Velkor. Immaculately dressed, stoic, and unreadable—just like their father.
"You're five years late, Ryan," David said without looking.
"Yeah, but I came," Ryan replied. "That has to count for something."
The car turned onto Velkor Avenue, a private road leading to the family estate. Massive wrought iron gates parted, revealing the ancestral mansion—a blend of modern elegance and classical grandeur, designed by their grandfather Evelyn Velkor.
As they stepped out, the air was heavy with silence, broken only by camera flashes in the distance. The front doors opened, and a familiar figure stood at the threshold.
Madame Celestia Velkor their grandmother wife is Sebastian Velkor regal in midnight-black silk, opened her arms.
"My boys," she whispered.
David embraced her with composure. Ryan followed, hesitating for only a moment before holding her like a boy who had been gone too long.
Inside the mansion, the grand Hall of Founders was quiet except for the rustling of orchids that surrounded Julian's casket.
A firm hand fell on David's shoulder. Alexander Velkor, their father, stood tall with silver streaks in his dark hair and steel in his gaze.
"You both came," he said.
"Of course we did," David replied.
Ryan nodded. "We never got to say goodbye."
Their mother, Isadora Velkor, came next—graceful, teary-eyed. She embraced David tightly and held Ryan's face as if searching for traces of the boy she once kissed goodnight.
"He missed you, you know," she whispered. "Julian... he asked about you almost every day."
From there, the brothers made their way through the Gallery of Generations, where innovation lived in glass—blueprints, medicine vials, Velkor electronics. At the end of the corridor, two living giants stood.
Sebastian Velkor, the fourth-generation patriarch, straight-backed and sharp-eyed, and Evelyn Velkor, the third-generation architect whose creativity shaped Kaleido itself.
Evelyn looked up from his sketchbook and raised a brow.
"David. Still symmetrical. Good. Your posture's as sharp as a cathedral spine."
David bowed slightly. "I've tried to stay aligned with your blueprint."
Then Evelyn turned to Ryan.
"And you're the asymmetry we never planned for. But that's what makes the design breathe."
"Is that your poetic way of saying I'm the family glitch?" Ryan smirked.
"Glitches lead to evolution," Evelyn said. "You just haven't found your form yet."
Sebastian finally spoke.
"You returned," he said to Ryan.
"Not sure if it's permanent," Ryan replied.
"Julian would've told you—nothing in this family is temporary. Especially not its burdens."
He turned to David.
"Loyalty is good. But don't mistake loyalty for leadership."
Evelyn closed his sketchbook and stood.
"Two pillars can hold a roof if they're evenly placed. But if one shifts, the whole thing collapses."
Later, under moonlight, David and Ryan walked the garden path behind the estate. Vines wrapped around marble pillars as they approached the Velkor Mausoleum.
Inside, it was cool and still. Candles glowed along the crypt walls.
There lay the resting places of their ancestors:
Aurélien Velkor, the founder.
Julian Velkor, the builder.
And an empty third: Alexander Velkor's future space.
David knelt first.
"He taught me how to debate. Said silence is strength, but precision is power."
Ryan knelt beside him.
"He told me I had Aurélien's eyes… but not his discipline."
A nearby flame flickered. Ryan spoke again.
"Do you think they'd be proud?"
"Only one of us," David said quietly.
When they returned to the East Wing, a sealed envelope rested on the desk in the study.
David picked it up, his fingers trembling slightly.
The Velkor crest. A wax seal.
"He left this," David said. "Addressed to only one of us."
Ryan stared at it.
Two heirs.
One letter.
And a curse that might not be gone after all.