After some days…
When Kelvin woke up and wandered into the kitchen, he was greeted by the smell of something edible—not burnt. A miracle.
Raven stood at the stove like a man in the middle of a dramatic cooking competition, flipping a pancake with the precision of someone who had googled "how not to poison your brother" at 2 a.m.
Kelvin rubbed his eyes. "Morning, brother."
Raven didn't even look. "Ah, the student awakens. Go tame your bedhead and wash the apocalypse off your face—breakfast is nearly sacred."
Some time later, they sat at the table, poking at breakfast. Kelvin took a bite, raised an eyebrow in genuine surprise.
"Your cooking's improved so much, brother."
Raven dramatically clutched his heart. "A compliment? Before noon? Who are you and what have you done with Kelvin?"
Kelvin smirked. "Don't let it get to your head. It's edible, not divine."
"Hey, baby steps. Yesterday I almost lit the stove with a fork."
Raven took a bite and asked, "So, how's the studying going? Entrance exams, physical training—are you still planning to conquer Alaska University or just charm your way in?"
Kelvin sat up straighter. "They're going great. I'm gonna pass, no doubt."
"You better," Raven said, nodding approvingly. "One of us needs to be respectable. I'm already too far down the path of caffeine, paperwork, and highly suspicious tax forms."
Kelvin laughed, "Is that code for your 'very real' financial job again?"
"I swear it exists. In some universe."
---
At noon,
Kelvin was deep in study mode, surrounded by notes and highlighters. Raven was napping like a retired pirate on the couch—arms folded, mouth slightly open, completely dead to the world.
Knock knock.
Kelvin got up and opened the door.
"Uncle Anthony!"
Anthony Douglas, tall and well-dressed as ever, stood there with the confident air of a noble and the memory of a goldfish.
"Kelvin!" Anthony grinned and stepped in. "Look at you. Taller. Smarter. Less jam on your face than last time. A fine young man now."
"Come in, Uncle. What a surprise!"
The noise was enough to resurrect Raven. He rolled off the couch like a cat that'd lost its balance and blinked at the scene.
Anthony squinted at him. "And you are…?"
Kelvin sighed without looking. "Here we go again."
Raven raised his hand like he was in school. "I'm Raven Roger. Adopted son of your late friend. Resident ghost. Frequent breakfast maker. Forgotten at least seven times."
Anthony snapped his fingers. "Ah! Raven, yes, of course. Of course! I just—my memory isn't what it used to be."
"It never was," Raven muttered.
Kelvin handed them both coffee. "Don't worry, Uncle. He's used to being forgotten. I think it's his superpower."
"Honestly," Raven said, sipping, "if I ever take up crime—hypothetically—I'd never get caught. No one remembers me long enough to describe me."
They all laughed, and the room warmed with easy comfort.
Then Anthony's smile faded slightly. He looked at Kelvin.
"Your father," he said, voice softer, "wasn't just a good man. He was the greatest healer in the entire Alaska Kingdom. Nobles, warlords, even assassins—he treated them all. Saved thousands."
Kelvin's smile dropped. "And when he died… no one came. No justice. Not even a whisper."
Anthony stared into his coffee. "It haunts me. I was his friend, and I failed him. I let the silence win."
Raven leaned back, jaw clenched just slightly. He didn't speak, but his eyes burned with something too old for nineteen.
Anthony looked up again. "But I'm here now. It's late—I know. But I came to offer something. An opportunity. A way forward for both of you."