Chapter 15: Shadows Knock Twice

The world was soft the morning after.

Not in the literal sense. The rain had returned, and the skies above the Li estate were an unbroken stretch of gunmetal gray. But within the walls of Zeyan's room, wrapped in layers of quiet breathing and slow heartbeats, the world felt gentler.

Ren woke to the feeling of fingers brushing lightly against his hair.

He blinked once, twice—then tilted his head up.

Zeyan lay beside him, eyes already open, watching him with a look that held no distance, no reserve. Just warmth. Just something quietly, dangerously close to affection.

Ren whispered, "How long have you been staring at me?"

Zeyan's lips twitched. "Long enough to know you drool in your sleep."

Ren groaned and pushed his face into the pillow. "Can we rewind time and skip this part?"

"No," Zeyan said simply. "I like this part."

Ren peeked at him. "You like seeing me gross?"

"I like seeing you real."

Silence wrapped around them again, broken only by the muffled patter of rain against the windows.

Ren sat up slowly, the blanket falling around his waist. "What happens now?"

Zeyan propped himself on one elbow. "You mean after last night?"

"Yeah."

Zeyan's gaze softened. "Now… we stop pretending."

Ren's heart did a slow, stunned somersault.

Later that morning, Ren found himself in the kitchen, wrapped in a long gray robe that definitely wasn't his, sipping freshly brewed coffee while Zeyan flipped through security reports.

"You know," Ren said, "normal people go on dates before getting into this level of chaos."

Zeyan didn't look up. "You want normal?"

"I want sushi," Ren said, grinning. "And a night where nobody pulls a gun."

"I'll have my assistant arrange it."

"I was joking."

Zeyan met his eyes. "I wasn't."

Ren blinked. "Wait—you're seriously going to take me on a date?"

Zeyan flipped to the next page. "Don't most married couples go out together?"

Ren flushed. "You're impossible."

"And yet you're still here."

Ren couldn't stop the smile that pulled at his lips.

That afternoon, Zeyan disappeared into meetings, and Ren returned to his studio. He didn't paint. He didn't draw. Instead, he sat by the tall windows and watched the rain slide down the glass in silver ribbons.

His mind wasn't quiet.

Not anymore.

He thought of Zeyan's father. Of the missing file. Of the man who tried to shoot him.

Of the possibility that someone had been manipulating his life for years without him realizing it.

And yet… when he thought of Zeyan, something inside him felt less fractured.

Still bruised, yes.

But not broken.

He looked around the room, found one of his older canvases—one that had been slashed during the debt collection incident. He pulled it out and began patching it.

Sometimes, you don't throw broken things away.

Sometimes, you rebuild them.

The rain had finally let up by evening, and the estate glistened like a forgotten jewel beneath the fading light.

Ren stood at the edge of the balcony, watching fog roll through the trees.

Behind him, Zeyan stepped out, holding two steaming mugs.

Ren accepted one. Hot cocoa. Not coffee. For once.

"Thanks," he murmured, surprised.

Zeyan didn't say anything. Just leaned beside him on the balcony rail.

They stood in silence, watching the mist roll through the hedges below.

Then Zeyan said, "My mother used to say storms don't clean things—they reveal them."

Ren looked at him. "What did this one reveal?"

Zeyan turned to him fully.

"You."

They almost kissed again.

Almost.

But a knock echoed through the hall before their lips could meet.

A guard's voice followed: "Sir. There's someone at the main gate. Claims he knows Mr. Ren."

Ren blinked. "Me?"

Zeyan's eyes narrowed. "Name?"

The guard hesitated. "He says… he's Ren's brother."

Ren's blood froze.

"Brother?" Zeyan repeated.

Ren shook his head slowly. "I don't have a brother."

Zeyan was already walking toward the security room.

Ren followed in silence, heart pounding louder than the thunderstorm earlier.

On the main gate camera feed, a tall man stood in a long coat, hair damp with rain, face shadowed by a baseball cap.

The moment Ren saw his eyes, his knees buckled.

Because he did know those eyes.

Not from life.

But from a photograph.

From the file in Zeyan's archive.

"He will either save him… or destroy him."

The man at the gate had the same eyes as Ren.

And now he was smiling.

They let him in under heavy surveillance.

The man introduced himself as Shen, and every word out of his mouth was calm, practiced, and somehow deeply unsettling.

"I'm not your brother," he told Ren directly. "But I might be the reason your life was stolen."

Ren stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

Shen took a slow sip of the tea a maid had nervously served him.

"I was born in a private facility. Part of a long-abandoned genetics project funded by your father's old rivals. Artificial replication. Behavior engineering. They wanted to create copies—perfect mirrors."

Zeyan stiffened. "That's illegal."

"It was," Shen said, smiling faintly. "But they called it innovation. The program was called Project Reflection."

Ren whispered, "You're saying I'm… a clone?"

"No," Shen said. "You're the original."

Ren's breath caught.

"They used your DNA. Your art school submissions were flagged for 'unusual neurological mapping.' Someone in the board leaked your brain scans to the wrong people. You became the template."

Ren felt sick.

"I escaped the lab two years ago," Shen continued. "I've been watching since. Waiting."

Zeyan's voice was like ice. "Waiting for what?"

Shen met his eyes calmly.

"For Ren to remember."

That night, Ren couldn't sleep.

Everything felt upside down again.

He lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Zeyan silent beside him.

Finally, Zeyan said, "Do you believe him?"

Ren didn't answer right away.

Then, "I don't know what to believe anymore."

Zeyan turned toward him.

"I don't care what he is," Ren said quietly. "Or what he says I am. All I know is who I am now."

Zeyan reached for his hand beneath the sheets.

Ren let him.

No more walls.

No more fear.