Reprogrammed

Tson's breath caught in his throat. His mind scrambled for an explanation, but none of them made sense. The house should've been silent. Empty.

Kevin whispered, "Dude, are you—"

Tson didn't wait for him to finish. He pushed forward, nearly tripping over his feet as he reached for the door. His hands shook, but he ignored it, pressing his palm against the scanner; he slowly moved his finger back afterward.

ACCESS GRANTED.

The door slid open.

The smell hit him first—rich, savory, unmistakably real. Not synthesized meal packs. Not nutrient blocks. Actual home-cooked food. It clung to the air, filling the space with a warmth that had no business being there.

Tson stepped inside.

The lights were already on, casting soft golden hues against the sleek, modern interior. Everything was precisely where he'd left it—the couch slightly askew, the table covered in half-sorted research notes, his tablet blinking with unread notifications.

And then—

In the kitchen, a man.

His back was turned, clad in a loose gray hoodie and sweatpants, posture relaxed as he stirred something in a pan. Steam curled into the air. The faint sizzle of food continued.

Tson's entire body locked up.

Kevin sucked in a sharp breath. "Holy sh—"

Before he could finish, the man spoke.

"You're late."

The voice was smooth. Familiar. Too familiar.

Tson's stomach twisted. "Grayson?"

The figure turned.

And there he was.

Alive. Awake. Smirking.

Grayson Noble—Tson's brother, the man who had raised him, the hero who had been in a coma for years—stood in the kitchen, flipping eggs as if nothing had happened.

His piercing blue eyes flicked between them, sharp and clear. Not empty. Not hollow.

"Did you really think I'd sleep forever?" He set the spatula down.

Tson felt like the floor had vanished beneath him. His mind screamed at him to react—to say something, to confirm this wasn't a cruel illusion. His hands twitched, but he couldn't bring himself to move.

Grayson tilted his head. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Tson swallowed hard. "You… you were in a coma." His voice barely scraped past his throat.

Grayson rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck with a satisfied sigh. "Yeah. That was annoying." He gestured toward the stove. "So I figured I'd wake up and make some eggs."

Kevin blinked. "That's your first thought after a coma? Cooking eggs?"

Grayson smirked. "Well, I was hungry."

Tson's hands clenched into fists. This didn't make sense. His calculations had predicted when Grayson might wake up, but not how. Not like this.

Something was off.

"You don't seem surprised to be awake," Tson said slowly.

Grayson's smirk didn't fade. "Well, with the IL you implanted in me, I knew I'd be back eventually."

Tson's heart pounded. He wanted to believe this was real. That everything was fine. That his worst fears had been wrong.

But then he saw it.

The way Grayson's fingers flexed unconsciously. The faint flicker of static at his fingertips. The wrongness in the air—like a frequency just slightly out of tune.

Tson exhaled sharply. "You're not the same."

Grayson met his gaze.

For the first time, his smile faltered.

"No," Grayson admitted. "My brain's… different now. It's going to take some getting used to." His gaze softened as he studied Tson. "You've grown. What grade are you in now?"

Tson hesitated. "I'm a senior."

Grayson let out a low chuckle. "Really? So let me guess—you still want to be a superhero?"

Tson nodded. "Yeah."

Grayson exhaled, glancing at his hands. "I can scan a room now. Replay everything that happened before I got here—holographic theory projections based on footprints, weight displacement, all that jargon." He looked down at the new arm and leg he now had. "Guess you could say it's your powers, or Il, but upgraded with a supercomputer analysis."

For a moment, he was quiet. Then, softer this time—"Thank you, Tson."

Tson's chest tightened. He wasn't sure how to respond.

Grayson glanced at him with a wry smile. "I owe you big time."

Tson shook his head. "Don't mention it."

Grayson snorted. "Lemme guess—people are saying your IL isn't combat-oriented, and no superhero school is interested?"

Tson shifted uncomfortably. "…Yeah."

Grayson smirked. "You know, I could get you in."

Tson's jaw tightened. "No."

Grayson raised an eyebrow.

"I want to do it on my own," Tson said firmly. "I'm going to go through the tryout route. I'm going to prove all of them wrong."

Grayson's grin widened. "Hah. You haven't lost your fire."

Grayson looked toward the basement. "What about downstairs? You were starting some kind of… company before, weren't you?"

"Oh. That." Tson waved dismissively. "Yeah, back when I thought I could start my own company and hire myself." He laughed. "But no. I've got a better plan."

Grayson frowned. "What plan?"

"I'm going to go to superhero university. Shatter every record they have. Make them beg to recruit me. Not only that, but my name is going to be on every record book."

Grayson let out a breath. "You?"

Tson leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Yeah."

Grayson hesitated. "Why?"

Tson's smirk thinned. His voice was quieter when he answered.

"It's either that…" He exhaled. "Or skip through and become an unknown hero without all the hype of shattering records through university. And let's just say—I don't think that would be my style of doing things."

Grayson studied his brother's face. The grin was there, but the weight behind it was real.

"Alright," Tson finally said.

Grayson's smile returned, but this time, it was different.

Tson had agreed—sort of. Well, not exactly, but if Tson wasn't going to build the company, then there was no reason Grayson couldn't take the reins himself. After all, he couldn't go back to being a spy; those bridges had been burned years ago.

And he had no idea what he had just unleashed.

Kevin sat at the table, eating his food quietly, his mind drifting as he listened to the two brothers catching up after what had been years apart. He didn't mean to interrupt—this was their moment, and he would rather not get in the way. But as he heard them discuss their dreams of being heroes, he couldn't help but chuckle to himself. They want to be superheroes... he thought, shaking his head. Yeah, so do I. He leaned back slightly, letting the brothers have their moment while his thoughts lingered on the idea of heroism, a silent smirk playing on his lips.