The uninvited guest.

Breakfast was… suspiciously calm.

Too calm.

I was sitting at the massive ten-seater dining table in Adam's stupidly rich, echoey mansion, cutting through pancakes like my life depended on it. The Goblet of Fire was under my arm, borrowed from the fancy mansion library, but I hadn't even opened it. My brain was somewhere else.

Ever since he appeared last night.

Tall. Smirking. With that annoying glint in his eyes. Marcus.

I didn't even know his name when I saw him. He just… materialized in the hallway like a video game glitch. Said, "Hey, I'm Marcus," and walked off after touching my arm like we were in some forbidden romance trailer. 

And now I couldn't stop thinking about him.

Not because he was hot (okay fine, maybe 5%), but because he gave serious villain vibes.

Enter: Adam.

He dropped onto the chair across from me, messy-haired and hoodie-clad like a Tumblr sadboy.

"Wow," he muttered, grabbing a croissant. "You're up before noon. Did the sun rise in the west?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Not everyone's idea of morning is 3 PM, Dracula."

He bit into the croissant, eyes narrowing. "Still. Miracle. I should throw you a party."

"Please don't. Your taste in music sucks."

He threw a butter knife at me—gently, don't worry—and I caught it midair like the main character I am. We laughed. For a second, things were normal.

But my brain was not.

That hallway moment kept playing in my head, over and over. His voice. That annoying smirk. The weird electric touch on my arm like I'd walked through static.

So, naturally, I decided to drop the bomb.

"Who the hell is Marcus?"

CLANG.

Adam's spoon hit the floor.

I blinked. He blinked.

"…What?" he whispered.

I looked up from my plate, dead serious. "Tall. Walks like he owns the world. Said his name's Marcus. Touched my arm like a perv and said something cryptic. Then vanished. Ring any bells?"

Adam's jaw dropped so fast I was afraid it'd roll under the table.

Then he jumped up like he got electrocuted. "HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT NAME?!"

"I just told you—"

"No. NO. You don't just SEE him. He's NOT—he was supposed to be—" he paused, breathing hard, panicking.

Then he shouted.

"GUARDS! MAIDS! I WANT EVERY ROOM CHECKED. NOW. GO."

The poor maids carrying dishes literally threw the plates back in the sink and ran like it was war. Guards stormed the corridors like we were hiding Osama bin Laden in the closet. I just sat there holding my pancake.

"…Was it something I said?"

Adam didn't answer. He was already sprinting toward the east hallway like a bloodhound on Red Bull.

I grabbed my toast and ran after him.

"Wait, HELLO?! Who IS Marcus?! Is this one of your rich people secrets or a Marvel villain origin arc?!" I yelled, chasing him past a chandelier the size of my kitchen.

"Stay BACK, Rhea!"

"Not happening! If I saw him, I'm involved!"

He cursed under his breath, flung open random doors, kicked open guest rooms—until…

He reached my room.

I froze. "Wait—WAIT—dude, no! Don't go in—"

But too late.

He threw the door open.

And right there, lying proudly on the bed like a scene from a revenge rom-com, was my pink bra.

Just… sitting there. Out in the open. Like it paid rent.

I shrieked, practically tackled Adam backward. "WHY THE HELL IS THAT THERE? I SWEAR I PUT IT IN THE DRAWER!"

Adam stared at it like it was a crime scene. "Why is your bra ON the BED?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" I hissed. "Did someone—was someone IN HERE—"

Then I heard it.

The shower.

Running. Water hitting tile.

My face turned pale. I turned to Adam.

"Someone's… someone's in my bathroom."

Adam's eyes widened in horror.

He yelled, "MARCUS YOU PIECE OF—"

And ran in.

I trailed behind, heart pounding.

Adam banged on the bathroom door. "I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON'T—"

The door creaked open.

And there he was.

Marcus.

Wet. Half-naked. A towel so low I'm 99% sure it violated fashion laws. And that same devil-may-care smirk on his stupidly handsome face.

He stepped out like a shampoo ad in hell.

"Chill, baby brother." His voice was lazy, like he just woke up from a spa nap. "Show some gratitude. Your big brother's home."

Adam looked like he aged ten years.

"YOU. ARE. NAKED. IN HER ROOM. DO YOU HAVE NO SHAME?!"

Marcus ignored him and turned to me.

"Hey, Rhea darling," he said smoothly.

My brain combusted.

I covered my eyes. "WEAR SOMETHING YOU MENACE!"

He laughed.

"What?" he said. "Your pink bra?"

I turned scarlet.

"I—HOW DO YOU EVEN—"

"The black one was hotter. Shame it's not today."

"GET OUT!" I screamed, throwing a hairbrush at his head. He ducked.

"Were you watching me sleep?! Are you insane?!"

Marcus just smirked, walking toward the hallway like he owned the place.

Adam shouted, "SHUT UP!" and flung a towel at him. "COVER YOURSELF, YOU PSYCHO!"

Marcus tossed it over his shoulder like a cape and kept walking, wet footprints all over the marble floor.

Before disappearing down the corridor, he turned around.

"Nice to see you again, Rhea. You talk in your sleep, by the way."

I froze.

"…Excuse me WHAT."

"Cute stuff. Something about dragons and—Adam shirtless? Hmm."

"YOU CREEP!"

I slammed the door.

Turned to Adam. "Who. The. Actual. Hell. Is. That?"

Adam groaned and sank onto the edge of my bed, head in his hands.

"That… is Marcus. My older brother. Disgrace to humanity. Chaos in human form. And possibly a sociopath."

"Oh cool," I said. "And you just FORGOT to tell me you had a certified menace for a brother?!"

"I thought he was in Russia. Or prison."

"Well now he's in MY SHOWER. Playing with MY UNDERWEAR. What kind of family reunion is this?!"

Adam sighed like he aged another decade.

"You don't understand. He's not just annoying. He's dangerous. Manipulative. He plays with people. And now he's here. Which means something's wrong."

I stared at him.

"Adam… are you scared of him?"

He didn't say anything.

Which was enough of an answer.

And suddenly, the pink bra was the least of my worries.