There were many things Tyler disliked—many, many things. But at the very top of that list was his aunt, Michelle Red Way. He shot her a look full of disdain, his usually impassive eyes now burning with a subtle hatred. It was as if his anger could tear through the air around her, distorting the atmosphere with an electric tension. Every inch of his body, even in its apparent calm, was saturated with disgust.

— Did you come to give me the password to my dad’s bank account? — Tyler’s voice came out rough, almost cutting, as he walked past Michelle with contempt. In the kitchen, he yanked open the fridge, the creak of the door mixing with the sharp crack of a soda can being opened impatiently. — Could’ve just sent an email. Or written a letter, old lady, — he added, pouring the drink with a careless gesture, the bottle trembling slightly as he tilted it too far.

Across the room, Monica Red Way was sprawled on the couch, her eyes fixed on the ceiling with a permanent look of disdain, as if the very environment were beneath her. Hearing Tyler’s jab, she raised an eyebrow, a cruel smile forming at the corner of her lips, as if she’d anticipated every word.

— You don’t talk to my mom like that, Rat One! — Monica’s shout cut through the air, her voice sharp as a blade. She stood up with the grace of someone who calculated every move, crossing her legs with deliberate exaggeration, her challenging gaze locked on Tyler. Every gesture of hers seemed like a meticulous preparation for a verbal duel, and her smile only fueled Tyler’s anger.

The nickname “Rat One” grated on him deeply. Tyler hated how she always used it, with that mischievous smile, as if she were enjoying herself at his expense. He glared at her with contained fury, feeling his blood boil in his veins. His hands were clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white, and he could feel the frustration pulsing from within.

— Stop calling me that, you freak! — he shot back, his anger snapping like a whip. Soda flew from the can, splattering across the counter with violence. — And your hair’s white too... — he added, trying to throw the insult back, though he knew his attempt would only be a weak echo compared to her provocation.

Michelle, with her tall and imposing posture, walked over to Hyan, who was leaning against the table, frozen as if the mere act of being there was an unbearable overload. Michelle’s hand, with its long, pale fingers, reached out to touch Hyan’s hair in a gesture that seemed almost intimate, but to Tyler, it felt insidious, like manipulation disguised as affection. The contrast between the softness of the gesture and the tension in the room made the moment even more uncomfortable.

— You’ve grown, Hyan... — Michelle said, her voice soft and enigmatic, her ruby-red eyes gleaming almost predatorily, as if her nephew’s fragile youth were just a superficial layer about to be unraveled. — Almost a little man now…

Hyan flinched slightly at his aunt’s touch, trying to keep his shoulders straight, but there was something vulnerable in his demeanor, as if the confidence he often displayed was slowly unraveling. The tension in the room was palpable, and Tyler couldn’t help but notice his brother’s discomfort, almost as if Hyan were hypnotized by Michelle, lost in a kind of forced admiration.

— Thanks, Aunt Michelle, — Hyan replied, his voice a little softer, forcing a timid smile, as if even looking at her was too much. — You look great too. — He tried to maintain politeness, but the stiffness in his voice betrayed the tension he couldn’t hide.

Tyler, leaning against the kitchen counter, frowned and watched the scene, feeling his frustration grow with every second. The soda in his hand felt like a claw, his fingers pressing the can harder than he wanted to admit. Every sip seemed to do nothing to ease the tension building inside him.

— Great for an old lady... — he muttered, shooting a quick glance at Michelle. He felt the bitterness in every word, as if speaking them was a way to breathe. — Just hand over the damn bank password...

Michelle turned slowly, her gaze cutting through the air between them like a sharp blade. Her eyes, relentless and icy, scanned Tyler from head to toe, judging him with cruel precision. The unshakable expression on her face sent a chill down his spine, as if the atmosphere were becoming denser and more hostile with every passing second. The room seemed to close in around him, and for a moment, he wished he could disappear.

— The other one’s still an idiot... — Michelle finally said, her voice dripping with irony, so light in her words but so heavy in the air that Tyler felt the weight of every syllable. It was as if she were enjoying his frustration, as if it were some unbearable game.

— Yeah, a lost cause... — Hyan tried to lighten the tension, letting out a forced laugh, but the sound rang hollow even to his own ears. He was clearly out of place, like a pawn in a game whose rules he didn’t understand.

Cassandra, their mother, sat at the table, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her fingers pressing against each other rigidly, as if searching for some anchor. Her gaze was lost in the void, distant and opaque, as if she were present in body but absent in spirit. She looked exhausted, drained, as if life had slipped away from her long ago. Tyler felt a wave of frustration and anger, his eyes narrowing as he watched his mother. He wanted her to react, to do something, but she just sat there, immersed in an apathy that made him feel even more powerless.

— How about everyone just calms down...? — Cassandra murmured in a fragile voice, almost a plea, but her words fell flat, as if she knew her attempt was futile. The lack of conviction in her words only intensified the tension, as if the calm she was trying to invoke were a distant, unreachable reflection.

Monica rose from the couch with lazy elegance, but there was something in her posture that made the tension spike, as if she were a bomb about to explode. In one quick, impetuous movement, she snatched the soda from Tyler’s hand.

— Chill out, Rat One, — Monica said, her voice dripping with disdain, as she brought the soda to her lips with a challenging gesture. She sipped it exaggeratedly, the sound of the liquid being swallowed only adding to the discomfort in the room. When she finished, she tossed the can aside, the sharp impact against the floor echoing, splashing some of the drink onto the carpet. — There’s no damn password or account.

The revelation hit Tyler like a punch to the gut. He felt his anger surge like a wave, disbelief turning into pure frustration. His face heated, blood rushing to his temples, and the words spilled out of his mouth in a mix of surprise and fury.

— What the hell? — His voice came out loaded with disbelief, as if he couldn’t process what he’d just heard. — What do you mean “no account”? The guy dies and leaves us with nothing?

Michelle moved with an almost supernatural agility, like a shadow slipping into the room. In one swift, calculated motion, she was behind Tyler, her hands closing around his neck with immense force, as if she wanted to crush him. The pressure was immediate and brutal, and Tyler felt the air leave his lungs as his face turned red and hot. His eyes widened, panic flooding his mind as he struggled to breathe. Michelle’s grip was relentless, without a hint of compassion.

— Don’t talk about my brother like that! — she hissed in his ear, her voice dripping with venom, echoing through the room like an imminent threat. Every word was a blade, cutting deeper into the tension already hanging in the air.

The air seemed to drain away with every second, and Tyler found himself trapped between pain and rage. His eyes, now bulging, were blurred from the pressure on his neck. His vision darkened, but his anger drove him to resist, to try to fight back, even if it felt almost impossible.

— Ah, screw you! — he choked out, his voice muffled by the compression, hoarse from the effort. Every word felt like a struggle against despair. — He didn’t raise us, and he didn’t even leave us a damn cent! Is that it?

The scene before Hyan seemed frozen, but he couldn’t look away. His expression was a mix of worry and uncertainty. He moved closer to his mother, trying to find some clarity in her words, but her gaze seemed lost, as if she were somewhere he couldn’t reach. Hyan felt the tension building inside him, his breathing uneven.

— Mom, what’s going on? — he asked, trying to catch a glimpse of clarity from Cassandra, but she didn’t seem willing to offer any explanation. Her gaze was empty, as if she were in some kind of trance, oblivious to everything around her.

Cassandra barely turned her head, her expression detached, as if the world around her no longer mattered.

— Let your aunt explain, sweetheart... — she murmured, almost in a whisper, her voice weak, as if nothing were more relevant than those words. Her serenity, incomprehensible in that moment, only deepened Hyan’s discomfort.

Tyler, with a desperate effort, finally broke free from Michelle’s grip, collapsing beside the couch, his lungs burning from lack of air. He coughed violently, the sounds of his gasps filling the room as he tried to catch his breath. But the relief was fleeting. The anger still burned inside him, now stronger than before, and it seemed to be the only thing keeping him on his feet.

— I don’t want a damn explanation! — he shouted, his voice trembling with rage and frustration, as he massaged his sore neck, his fingers pressing into the sensitive skin. — I want a new throat and my inheritance!

Michelle raised her hand into the air with supernatural calm, and glowing symbols began to form around her fingers, snaking like chains of pure energy. The magic emanating from her had an almost tangible force, illuminating her eyes, now burning like embers. The blinding light intensified the coldness of her presence, and the air around her seemed to thicken, becoming suffocating, as if the very space were being distorted by the power of her magic.

— An inheritance is what you want? — Michelle hissed, her voice icy with power. Every word was like a sharp blade cutting through the silence, and her voice reverberated with a threatening force. — I’ll show you his true legacy.

With a fluid motion, she moved her fingers, and the glowing symbols began to spin around her, forming a radiant circle in the air. The lights danced with an almost hypnotic grace, but at the same time, there was something terrifying in their dance. Then, before them, something opened—a black hole, like a tear in the fabric of reality itself. It began to swallow everything around it, absorbing light, heat, and even sound, creating an absolute void that seemed to destabilize the air.

The weight of fear crashed over Tyler and Hyan like a wave, their hearts pounding uncontrollably. The space around them seemed to tighten, making it harder to breathe. The void that appeared was more than just a threat; it was a portal to something infinitely darker.

Monica, with a smile that was almost inhuman, quickly approached Hyan. Her movement was so fluid and precise it felt almost predatory. Without warning, she grabbed him by the jacket with unexpected strength, her cold hands pinning him in place. Her smile grew, a cruel amusement spreading across her face as the tension escalated with every second.

— You’re coming too, Rat Two, — Monica said, her voice laced with macabre delight. Her strength was unnatural, as if the fear of others fueled her pleasure.

Hyan, paralyzed, felt the shock ripple through his body like lightning. His eyes were wide, and before he could react, the black hole, now a true threat, pulled them in with an irresistible force. In an instant, the world around them disappeared, and the room, once filled with chaos and shouting, was completely empty.

The deafening silence that followed was overwhelming. The house, now cold and deserted, seemed to echo with the absence of the two brothers, as if the very soul of the place had been ripped out. The void left behind was palpable, and the sense that something sinister was approaching became even more intense and inescapable.