The brothers rose from the dining table, each of them still processing the words their father had just spoken. U Kha's deep, unwavering voice echoed in their minds, as they bowed respectfully to Nanda, who remained seated at the table. Her calm demeanor gave nothing away, but they knew she was watching them closely, her gaze sharp as always.
They had been welcomed into this new life, but as they left the table, the weight of that welcome settled heavily upon their shoulders.
"Follow me," a butler's voice broke the silence as the three brothers made their way from the dining hall. He was dressed sharply in a black suit, the fabric as pristine as his demeanor. His face was neutral, unreadable, a man of few words, yet every movement he made suggested he was accustomed to authority.
In his hands, he held a set of suits, perfectly folded, as though preparing for a transformation.
"You are to change into these," the butler said quietly, his tone curt but not unkind. He handed the clothing to each of the brothers, who took the suits with silent obedience. They didn't need to question the reason; they had come to understand that when U Kha or Nandar gave an order, it wasn't to be ignored.
Moments later, the heavy echo of footsteps returned through the hallway. U Kha had just finished a phone call—his expression unreadable, eyes distant with calculation. He stepped into the dining room where Nandar still sat alone, quietly sipping her tea.
He leaned down, placed a hand on her shoulder, and whispered something only she could hear. Her expression didn't change, but her fingers tightened slightly around the porcelain cup.
Without another word, U Kha turned and walked out of the house. Outside, several sleek black cars were already waiting. The men who accompanied him moved with silent precision—sharp suits, sharp eyes. They weren't bodyguards. They were his people—U Kha's underworld shadow, loyal only to the name whispered in back alleys and closed-door meetings.
The mansion gates opened, and the convoy rolled out into the city like a dark omen.
The mansion felt eerily quiet as the three brothers moved through the grand hallways, passing marble columns and intricate tapestries, each turn revealing more about the vastness of their new home. The air felt dense with expectation, every inch of the mansion dripping with wealth, power, and legacy. The brothers had never lived in a place like this—there was an unsettling opulence to it, the kind that whispered both luxury and control.
As they entered the changing room, the brothers quickly undressed and slipped into the suits handed to them. The suits fit them perfectly, as though the butler had known exactly what size they needed, despite not having taken their measurements. This, too, was a symbol of control—a family that had anticipated their every need.
Once dressed, they followed the butler through more winding corridors, each one seeming more ancient than the last. Finally, they arrived at the door of the room that would mark the start of their education.
The butler gave them a brief nod and opened the door. The room beyond was an imposing space. It was dimly lit, with shelves upon shelves of books, their spines old and worn from decades of use. The room smelled of aged paper and leather, a scent that made the brothers feel as if they were stepping into another era. The air felt thick with knowledge, with history. This room had seen its share of use over the generations—men like U Kha's grandfather had once spent long hours here, studying by oil lamp, poring over books that still sat on those shelves. It wasn't just a study; it was a place where ideas had been shaped, where decisions were quietly made, and where lessons—sometimes harsh ones—had been learned in solitude.
A large whiteboard stood at the front of the room, its surface now clean but hinting at years of lessons.A massive oak desk rested quietly near the whiteboard, polished smooth by years of use. Behind it sat an elderly man, perhaps in his late fifties, spine straight as a ruler. His face was lined but sharp, his eyes focused and unreadable. He didn't move, but his stillness carried weight—like a portrait that stares back, refusing to blink first.
Kaung Min, Lin Aung, and Htet Naing moved into the room, their steps tentative but full of the same quiet curiosity that had followed them since their arrival. They sat down at the desk before them, their movements synchronized but their thoughts clearly not. The youngest, Htet Naing, couldn't contain his impatience.
"Well, even if you're a wealthy family, you still need to take proper education, huh?" he muttered, a half-amused, half-puzzled tone in his voice.
Lin Aung, sitting beside him, furrowed his brow and glanced at his brother, his lips curving into a slight frown. "Bro, what are you on about? Of course, we need education. It's not just about books, it's about learning to live in this world, understand it. What do you expect?" His voice was tinged with confusion, but there was no malice behind it—just genuine curiosity.
Kaung Min, the eldest, leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, his gaze sweeping over the room. He exhaled slowly, his voice calm but carrying a hint of reflection. "Well, how do you guys feel about this house? About our new family? I think we're lucky. We've landed in a powerful family, and although father and mother seem cold, even strict, I think they're doing it for our own good. They want us to be strong, to succeed."
Lin Aung nodded, his eyes distant for a moment. "Yeah, I agree. They might seem harsh, but they want the best for us. And as for the mansion—this place, this life? It's nothing like we've ever known. I'm still wrapping my head around it all."
Htet Naing's eyes lit up at the mention of their future. "Yeah, this mansion is huge, and I'm guessing that means our family has tons of money. The way father talked about protecting the family and the martial training? I think that part is gonna be awesome. We start private school next week too. Looks like our lives are gonna get pretty busy, pretty quick."
As Htet Naing finished speaking, the door to the room creaked open, and a cold gust of air swept through the space, making the brothers instinctively straighten in their chairs. The man who entered had the kind of presence that commanded silence. He was tall and thin, with graying hair that matched the sharp lines of his face. His left eye was marred by a long scar that ran from his brow to his cheek, leaving him blind in that eye. Despite his apparent age, he carried himself with the ease of a man who had endured a lifetime of battles—physical, mental, and political.
The moment he stepped into the room, the brothers could feel an aura of authority, intelligence, and terror emanating from him. He was no ordinary teacher—this was someone who had seen the worst of humanity, and yet had chosen to stay in the shadows, teaching the next generation of mafia heirs. The scar over his eye seemed almost symbolic—an artifact of his past, a constant reminder of the dangers that came with loyalty to a family like theirs.
"Sit up straight," the man said, his voice low, gravelly, but firm. His tone carried the weight of command. "I am your guide. I am here to teach you the ways of this family—the rules, the codes, the traditions. You will listen carefully, and you will show respect. To me. To your family. To the legacy that has been built over generations."
The brothers stood up at once, instinctively mimicking the formalities that had been instilled in them since they arrived. "I'm Kaung Min," the eldest said, his voice steady but carrying a hint of respect for the man who now stood before them.
"I'm Lin Aung," the middle brother added, his voice less confident but no less serious.
"Htet Naing," the youngest spoke, his tone a bit too casual for the moment but still respectful.
The teacher nodded approvingly at their introductions. His blind eye, though fixed in place, seemed to pierce through them. "I expect nothing less than your absolute focus. This isn't just education. This is survival. You will learn how to think like a leader, how to fight like a warrior, and how to honor your family above all else."
He paused for a moment, letting the weight of his words sink in. "From today, your real training begins. The lessons you will receive here will prepare you for the future. Not just for school, but for everything that lies ahead."
The brothers exchanged glances, their excitement mingling with a growing sense of trepidation. The world they had stepped into was far more dangerous than they could have imagined, but they knew one thing for certain: they would have to adapt—or perish.
And so, the beginning of their education began, under the watchful eyes of a man who was both a teacher and a living relic of the family's dark, storied past. The next chapter of their lives was about to unfold—one that would shape them, break them, and remake them in ways they could not yet understand.
The morning sun had already begun its slow climb over Yangon, casting long shadows on the glittering façade of the city's most notorious casino. Cars pulled up to the grand entrance in a steady procession — sleek black sedans and armored SUVs, each one polished to an immaculate shine. The engines hummed softly as doors clicked open.
From the middle of this convoy, a figure emerged. U Kha stepped out first, his presence commanding the immediate attention of everyone nearby. He moved with the assured calm of a man who owned every inch of the ground he walked on. His sharp eyes scanned the surroundings as his bodyguards flanked him, discreetly checking every angle and potential threat.
The casino workers—dealers, waiters, security staff—bowed their heads and lowered their gazes as he passed. Respect, fear, and loyalty blended in their expressions, each aware of the power radiating from this man known simply as "Sir Hollow " within the underground.
Among the casino's patrons, a group of young men sat playing cards at a table near the entrance. One of them noticed U Kha's arrival and glanced up, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
"Hey, don't stare at him," whispered his friend sharply, leaning in. "You don't even know who he is."
The first boy shrugged, still watching. "Who is he anyway? Some boss of something?"
"Boss? Man, he's the boss of this casino," the friend said quietly, voice low but certain. "And one of the most powerful mafias in Yangon. Best keep your head down when he's around."
The first boy swallowed his curiosity and looked away as U Kha's figure glided past the tables. The murmur of the casino resumed, but a tense undercurrent rippled beneath the noise.
U Kha didn't linger in the public area. He moved with purpose toward a restricted section—a part of the casino no ordinary visitor would ever see. He approached the elevator, the familiar hum of its machinery greeting him as the doors slid open. Without hesitation, he stepped inside, the quiet efficiency of the ride carrying him down to the ground level.
Once there, the atmosphere shifted immediately. Workers stood in small groups, counting stacks of money with precision. Others carefully opened heavy crates, revealing an arsenal of firearms that gleamed coldly in the muted light. Several of U Kha's trusted men, sensing their leader's presence, bowed deeply and greeted him in hushed tones.
"Boss, Sir Hollow," they said respectfully, their voices low but steady.
U Kha nodded once, acknowledging the greeting without slowing his stride. His eyes narrowed as he approached a room sealed by thick, soundproof glass—a barrier that muted all but the faintest echoes.
Inside the room, a man was tied tightly to a chair, electrodes clipped firmly to his body. His chest rose and fell unevenly, his face pale and sweaty. He was unconscious, flickering on the edge of awareness but not yet responsive.
Outside the glass, a group of men stood watching the scene like sentries. When they spotted U Kha, they straightened immediately and offered another round of greetings.
"What's the situation?" U Kha's voice was calm but carried an edge that silenced the murmurs.
One man stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Boss, he's still not cooperating. No signs of breaking. Refuses to talk."
U Kha's eyes, sharp as a hawk's, fixed on the unconscious figure beyond the glass. "And his details? Do you have everything on him?"
The man produced a tablet, swiping swiftly through encrypted files before sliding it across the table.
U Kha took it carefully, studying the data intently.
The screen showed a young man's face, around twenty years old, sharp features hardened by determination. Beside the photo was a dossier filled with technical jargon, hacking records, and affiliations.
"Moe Thwin," U Kha muttered, voice low but laced with both intrigue and disdain. "Only twenty... and bold enough to hack into our system."
He leaned closer to the tablet, eyes scanning rapidly. "I wonder who's pulling his strings. Someone with guts, or maybe just desperate. Either way, this won't end well for him."
The room remained silent as U Kha contemplated the implications. His empire was no stranger to threats, but a hacker bold enough to breach their defenses was a dangerous game—a game that demanded swift, ruthless answers.
Without another word, U Kha tapped the tablet, and the soundproof room's security systems adjusted. Outside, his men exchanged glances—no doubt preparing for whatever interrogation would follow.
The morning light dimmed as shadows lengthened in the depths of the casino, mirroring the growing darkness surrounding Moe Thwin's fate.
End of Chapter 4
To be continued…