The sun dipped beneath the skyline, casting a warm golden hue over the sprawling Adlaw estate. In the kitchen, Lana busied herself with the household maids, preparing the dinner table. The air was filled with the aroma of roasted meats, freshly cooked aromatis and seasoning for the rice.
Kus Og was the first to arrive. He barely sat down when Mayor Adlaw entered, straightening his blazer as he took his seat at the head of the table.
Kus Og, still seething, leaned forward and complained to his father about all the troubles he got into because of Lupig.
Meanwhile, in the upper wing of the mansion, Lupig sat comfortably in his room, surrounded by scattered papers and open folders. His eyes gleamed as he flipped through the confidential files his father had handed him. Each page contained secrets—failed government projects, blackmail dossiers, and damning records of the clans that held power in Maharlika. Adlaw had kept them all as leverage.
His brow furrowed. Among the classified records, something didn't add up. He moved swiftly to his computer and accessed a secure government database. Scanning through the archived technological project logs from 23 to 18 years ago, he noticed several suspicious gaps in the data—projects erased or never completed.
Lupig scowled.
The door suddenly burst open.
Kus Og stood in the frame, fists clenched, eyes burning.
Lupig raised his hands. "Seriously?! Ever heard of knocking?"
"Your lucky I didn't go all the way and choke you to death," Kus Og sarcastically spoke.
Lupig groaned. "Thank you so much then, for just sending my 100000 dollar door flying..."
Kus Og's eyes caught the files scattered across Lupig's desk.
"What are those?"
"Just some juicy secrets," Lupig replied, casually gathering them up. "Why are you here, again?"
"I came to drag you to dinner."
"How thoughtful," Lupig said, voice laced with sarcasm. "Still mad?"
"'Mad' isn't even close. I'm more in the mood to sneak into your room tonight and cut off each of your limbs one by one."
Lupig chuckled. "I'll make sure to lock my door."
The two walked down the grand hallway toward the dining room.
"What's in that disk, anyway?" Kus Og asked.
"No idea. I was just told to retrieve it. Where'd you get it from?"
Kus Og shrugged. "I woke up and found it beside my bed."
Lupig stopped walking.
"Really now...?"
They entered the dining room, and the family sat together at the long, polished table.
Adlaw looked up from his plate. "Your mother tells me you two were fighting again. What happened this time?"
Kus Og replied quickly, "Nothing serious. I almost slammed him into a wall, but hey, I still respect him as my older brother."
"Very mature," Adlaw said dryly. "I also heard you'll be graduating at the top of your class?"
"Yes, Father. And I plan to join the investigation unit tracking the terrorists behind the attack six years ago."
Lana's eyes widened. "Are you sure? I thought you were considering college in the U.S.?"
"I was. But I can't leave the City, not with things as they are."
Adlaw placed a firm hand on Kus Og's shoulder. "Son, the safety of Maharlika isn't your burden alone. You have other ways to help—like strengthening ties with foreign nations."
Lupig leaned back and smirked. "If I may interrupt, are you really sure Kus Og's the right person for that? I mean, he knows how to shake hands and chew with his mouth closed, but let's not risk him blowing up the White House, shall we?"
"Shut up," Kus Og growled.
"Boys!" Lana snapped, scowling at them both.
Adlaw chuckled. "Whatever your decision, Kus Og, I support you. But don't let the City's troubles keep you from growing beyond them."
"Yes, Father."
Adlaw turned toward Lupig.
"And you? You're defending your dissertation soon, aren't you?"
"Already did. I'll be receiving my first doctorate soon," Lupig said with an elegant smile.
Lana's face lit up. "We're so proud of you."
"Thank you, Mother."
The rest of dinner was spent in calmer conversation, the family momentarily united in warmth—if only on the surface.
That night, Kus Og entered his room. The lights flickered on, revealing a massive corkboard on the wall—an intricate web of red string and pinned photos connecting figures from the council, the research division, and beyond.
He sat at his desk, opened his laptop, and inserted the disk Lupig had retrieved. He scrolled through documents, played the audio logs, and connected the dots.
Then he stopped.
He picked up a printed photograph from the pile and stared at it. The puzzle pieces fell into place.
Kus Og pinned the photo at the center of the web.
It was his father.