The sun rose over the skyline like a coin melting through gold glass, light bleeding into Jason's room.
He blinked against it, disoriented for a second — the silence in his penthouse almost too clean, too still. Yesterday had been war. Negotiations, phone calls, counterattacks. But this morning wasn't about business.
It was about blood.
He swung his legs over the bed and sat for a moment, head in his hands. The marble floor was cold beneath his feet. The weekend had come faster than he expected — the Yun Family Evaluation. He'd faced titans, criminals, and corporate sharks without flinching. Yet the thought of walking back into that mansion made his stomach coil.
He rose, crossed to the bathroom, and turned on the shower. Steam filled the air in seconds, fogging the mirror until his reflection vanished.
The water hit his skin, hot enough to sting. He let it.
His mind drifted — to the past, to the family that had raised him, fed him, and dismissed him.
The Yuns were a dynasty, not a family. Business was their bloodline. Emotion was a weakness they'd long since traded for precision. His father was always away managing assets across the continent, his mother managed events and appearances. His sisters were groomed from birth to lead, polished until they shined.
And him?
Jason Yun had been the afterthought — spoiled out of guilt, pacified with cards, cars, and empty praise. Whenever he'd crashed a car or wasted a fortune on another impulsive whim, they hadn't scolded him — they'd just sighed and sent money to clean it up.
He smiled faintly under the shower spray. They built that spoiled brat. But they're not ready for who I've become.
When he stepped out, the mirror finally cleared enough to reveal his reflection. The man looking back wasn't the same one who used to stumble through parties drunk on ego and attention. His eyes were sharper now — calmer. The kind of calm that came from surviving everything he wasn't supposed to.
He toweled off, dressed in a crisp black shirt and charcoal slacks, and fastened a watch around his wrist. Simple, elegant, deliberate.
His phone buzzed on the counter.
Liying: "Already awake?"
A small smile curved his lips. Jason: "Barely. Heading out soon."
Liying: "Don't let them get under your skin."
Jason: "Too late for that. But I'll keep my composure. You?"
Liying: "Elder Haoren's draft just came in. You're going to hate me for not warning you earlier."
Jason: "Let me guess. The project?"
Liying: "Yes. Be careful with it. Alex might already have ties to the same one."
He exhaled slowly. Of course. The elders didn't want to test him — they wanted to see him burn.
Jason: "Good. Let him think it's his. Makes taking it from him more satisfying."
There was a pause before her final message came through.
Liying: "You've changed, Jason."
Jason: "No. I've just stopped pretending to be the person they built."
He locked the screen, pocketed the phone, and grabbed his travel case.
The elevator descended to the private garage, where his driver already waited beside the sleek black sedan. "To the airport, sir?"
Jason nodded, sliding into the back seat. "Straight there."
As the car pulled out, the city unfolded beneath the morning light — the skyline he'd fought to stand on top of. Glass towers gleamed like polished weapons. Somewhere among them, Eversage continued to grow, its name now whispered with awe.
But this weekend wasn't about that empire. This was the proving ground that predated it — the bloodline battlefield.
The drive to the private terminal was quiet. Jason leaned his head back, eyes half-closed, letting thoughts flow and settle.
By noon, the jet was waiting — sleek silver, Yun insignia etched near the door. Crew members lined up in crisp uniforms as he approached.
"Welcome aboard, Young Master Yun," one greeted, bowing slightly.
He almost laughed at the title. Funny how respect always comes from the hired hands, never the blood.
He stepped inside. The cabin was quiet luxury — cream leather seats, glass tables, a faint scent of cedar. As he buckled in, the engines hummed to life, and the ground began to fall away.
Through the window, the city shrank into lines and grids, the clouds swallowing it whole.
He pulled out his tablet and glanced at the incoming itinerary — the weekend schedule, the names of presenters, and the list of Bright Youngstars he'd be facing.
Britney Yun. Alex Yun. Jessy Yun. Jane Yun. Wei Han. Mei Lin.
He knew them all. Some by blood, others by reputation. Each had carved a name in their field — innovation, expansion, diplomacy. And all of them believed he didn't belong.
He stared at Britney's name the longest. She'd been at the top of every ranking since the evaluations began. Soft-spoken, kind to everyone — but ruthless in competition. She didn't crush opponents; she made them admire her while she surpassed them.
Alex called her "the family's perfect weapon."
Jason smirked faintly. "We'll see about that."
The intercom chimed. "We'll be landing in thirty minutes, sir."
Jason closed the tablet and glanced out the window. The clouds broke apart to reveal green hills and long rivers — the rural expanse where the Yun estate stood like a world apart from everything he knew.
He sat back, pulse steady.
This wasn't another boardroom or corporate trap. This was home — or what had once pretended to be.
And this time, he wasn't coming back as the forgotten son.
The descent jolted him out of his thoughts. Through the oval window the old Yun compound appeared, a cluster of grey-slated roofs set in the middle of a wide green valley. The main house looked more like a museum than a mansion—pavilions linked by glass corridors, koi ponds glinting between cypress trees, and a private runway that sliced through the mist like a blade.
When the jet's door opened, the air smelled of pine and distant rain. A line of servants waited in matching uniforms, bowing as Jason stepped down. For a heartbeat, it almost felt like welcome.
Almost.
A familiar voice broke the illusion.
"Didn't think you'd actually show up."
Jessy. The eldest Yun child stood at the base of the stairs, a soft smile that didn't reach her eyes. Every word she spoke carried the weight of superiority wrapped in sugar. The sunlight caught the edge of the scarlet brooch pinned to her dress—first place from last year's evaluation.
Jason kept his tone even. "And miss a family reunion? Never."
Her laugh was light, brittle. "Careful. Father hates surprises."
Behind her came Jane, tablet already in hand, hair pinned neatly. She glanced up long enough to nod. "Welcome back, Jason."
No venom. No warmth. Just acknowledgment, the way one might greet an old classmate at a funeral.
"Still efficient as ever," he said.
Jane's brows rose a fraction. "Someone has to be."
Before he could answer, another car rolled up the drive. Out stepped Alex Yun—impeccable as always, hand in pocket, smile effortless. Cameras loved him, elders adored him, and every word out of his mouth sounded rehearsed to perfection.
"Jason," he said, approaching with arms spread in mock affection. "Look at you. Didn't expect to see you before the banquet."
"Schedules change," Jason replied. Their handshake was polite, firm, and colder than ice.
"Don't worry," Alex murmured low enough for only him to hear. "I saved you a seat. Wouldn't want the prodigal brother getting lost."
Jason smiled back, the picture of civility. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Inside the mansion, light spilled through tall windows onto marble floors veined with gold. Servants hurried past carrying flower arrangements and holographic screens showing the schedule of events. The Bright Youngstars Evaluation Weekend banner stretched across the main hall like a coronation flag.
At the far end of the corridor waited their parents.
Robert Yun, tall and immaculately dressed, spoke quietly to an aide until he noticed Jason. His expression softened into something almost cordial.
"Jason. It's been a while."
"Too long," Jason said, bowing slightly.
Robert nodded once, the conversation already half-finished in his mind. "We'll talk after dinner. I have a few updates for you about the branch accounts."
Of course he did. Every talk with his father was about numbers that had nothing to do with affection.
Beside him stood Elena Yun, poised, graceful, and distant. Her eyes lingered on Jason just long enough to take measure of the man he'd become. "You've lost weight," she said finally, the words more observation than concern.
"Busy weeks," Jason replied.
A small smile ghosted across her lips. "Try not to burn yourself out before the presentation."
And there it is, he thought. Not warmth. Not pride. Just polished indifference, the family brand of care.
He felt the old ache stir in his chest but buried it beneath a calm exterior. Years ago, he might have snapped, demanded to know why nothing he did ever reached them. Now, he simply nodded.
As servants ushered them toward the great hall, laughter echoed ahead. The other Bright Youngstars had arrived:
Britney Yun, radiant in a white suit, chatting effortlessly with two elders. When she saw Jason, she smiled—not mockingly, not kindly, just a professional's courtesy. "Jason. It's good to finally meet outside of headlines."
Her voice was soft, yet something about her composure made people listen.
Wei Yun, broad-shouldered, already arguing business strategies with a cousin twice his age.
Mei Yun, leaning against a pillar, scrolling through a projection of market graphs, eyes flicking up to study Jason with quiet curiosity.
Jason greeted each with measured politeness. Most nodded back; none lingered. To them he was a rumor given flesh—a man famous for failure and gossip.
He took his place among them at the long mahogany table where the patriarch would soon speak. Servants poured tea; conversation ebbed and flowed around him. From a distance, he must have looked perfectly at ease, another Yun descendant basking in old money's glow. Inside, he was cataloging every expression, every whisper.
Jessy's glance to Alex—alliances intact.
Jane avoiding eye contact—guilt or indifference.
Britney smiling at everyone equally—mask or method.
He sipped his tea, hiding a smirk. Same pieces, same board. New player.
Dinner began when the patriarch entered. The hall fell silent as Grandfather Yun, the family head, walked in with the measured grace of someone who had ruled for decades. His gaze swept the table, stopping for a moment on Jason. The faintest hint of surprise—perhaps approval—flickered before disappearing.
"Welcome home, all of you," he said, voice resonant. "Tomorrow marks the beginning of another evaluation. Remember: this is not competition for vanity. It is proof of strength. The world outside grows sharper each year; we must remain sharper still."
Polite applause followed.
Alex raised his glass. "To progress," he said smoothly.
Jessy added, "And to family."
Jason lifted his own glass last. "To both," he said, meeting their eyes one by one.
When the hall emptied hours later, he slipped out to the balcony overlooking the valley. Lanterns floated over the ponds below, mirrored in the still water like falling stars.
He rested his hands on the railing, feeling the chill of the stone seep into his skin. Behind him, laughter drifted faintly from the banquet room—his siblings, cousins, allies, all basking in inherited glory.
They think they already know how this weekend ends, he thought. They think I'll play the same role again.
He exhaled, watching his breath turn white in the cold air.
Let them. I've learned something they never taught me.
Empires don't crumble from outside attacks. They rot from the inside.
He smiled, small and certain. "Let's begin."