Steve's POV
The house was quiet when I woke up—too quiet, for a place meant to hold four restless boys who spent most of their lives on stage.
This house wasn't just any house. It was the first thing we bought together, pooling our hard-earned paychecks from years of performing. To outsiders, it might look ordinary—just another suburban home with a garden out front and mismatched furniture inside. But to us, it was everything. A refuge. A hangout. A shared dream made real.
And yet, that morning, the silence felt heavy.
Maybe because Adra's words from last night still echoed in my head. "I want to take a leave." Three years in the industry without a break, he said. Three years of endless tours, rehearsals, photo shoots, fan meetings. He wasn't wrong—it was exhausting. But still, hearing him say he wanted to quit, even temporarily, was like a crack splitting through everything we'd built.
I pulled a shirt over my head and shook the thoughts away. No point drowning in them before breakfast.
By the time I got downstairs, Gelo was already at the table, staring at a plastic bag from Jollibee like it had personally offended him.
"Morning," I muttered.
He glanced up. "Monique left food. Said we'd probably be too lazy to cook. She wasn't wrong."
I pulled out a chair and sat down. The smell of fried chicken and rice filled the air. Comfort food, but heavy. Exactly what we needed.
Mark shuffled in next, yawning like he hadn't slept in weeks. "Why is it so bright already? Feels like I just closed my eyes."
"That's because you stayed up gaming," Gelo said flatly.
"Research," Mark corrected with a grin, already digging into the food.
"Research for what?"
"For life."
I rolled my eyes. Typical.
Adra was the last to arrive, moving quietly, almost like a shadow. His expression was the same as always—neutral, unreadable—but I noticed the faint tiredness under his eyes. He sat down without a word, picked at his food, and ate in silence.
The air was awkward. None of us knew how to bring up last night's revelation.
So I tried to break the tension. "We should talk to Monique later. About... you know. Options."
Mark groaned. "Can we not do this now? My throat's still sore from last night's concert. The last thing I need is another band meeting over breakfast."
I chuckled. "Fine. Later."
For a moment, it felt normal again. Just four friends eating together, like nothing was wrong.
The Interruption
We were almost done when the doorbell rang.
"I'll get it," Mark said, pushing back his chair.
A few minutes later, he returned—with a girl beside him.
We all stared.
She looked about our age, maybe a little younger. Long, dark hair that fell past her waist, sharp eyes that gave her a striking presence even though she wore simple clothes. She stood with quiet confidence, like she wasn't intimidated by the three pairs of eyes fixed on her.
"Uh, guys," Mark began, "this is—"
"Adra-kun," the girl interrupted.
I froze. My gaze darted to Adra. His fork clinked softly against the plate, but his face remained calm.
"Who are you?" I asked, standing.
The girl replied in Japanese. "I need to speak with him."
I frowned. I wasn't fluent, but I understood enough. I answered back in Japanese, testing her. "Are you a fan from Japan? We usually don't talk to strangers directly. If you saw him at the last concert, thank you. But now isn't the time."
Her eyes narrowed, unimpressed. She switched to Korean instead, her words flowing smoothly.
Mark blinked. "Wait... I understood that. Did she just say she needs to talk to Adra about something important?"
"Yeah," I muttered. "But still..."
Finally, I asked in English, "Do you speak this?"
"Yes," she answered simply. Her accent was faint, almost unnoticeable.
"Then give me your name first."
"Xiarya Erranya Buenavista. Half-Korean, half-Filipino." She tilted her head slightly. "And yes, before you ask—I speak Tagalog too."
Gelo let out a low whistle. "Wow. Multilingual. You've been testing us, haven't you?"
She didn't reply. Her gaze remained on Adra.
Before I could say anything else, Adra stood. "She's with me. We'll talk in my room. Alone."
And just like that, he walked past us, Xiarya following silently.
Adra's POV
The door clicked shut behind us, muting the muffled voices of the others.
I turned to face her. "What do you want?" My voice came out rougher than intended, the strain in my throat betraying me.
Her expression softened. "I came to apologize."
I laughed bitterly, then coughed. Pain shot through my throat like knives. "Apologize? Do you think that's enough? Because of you, my voice—" Another cough cut me off, harsh and ragged.
Her eyes filled with guilt, but she didn't back away. "I know it's my fault. That's why..."
Slowly, she reached into her bag, pulled out a pair of scissors, and without hesitation, cut through her hair. The strands fell in heavy waves to the floor, scattering like pieces of her soul.
I stared. "What the hell are you doing?"
Her hands trembled, but her gaze was steady. "In Japanese culture, hair symbolizes dignity. Honor. Cutting it means letting go, surrendering pride. I may not be fully Japanese, but this hair... it was sacred to me. I grew it for years. I saved it for the day I'd finally meet my best friend from the orphanage again." Her voice broke for the first time. "But because of the accident... because of you... I can only give it here."
I clenched my fists. "And you think cutting your hair makes up for what I lost?"
"No," she whispered. "It doesn't. But it's all I have."
Her words hung between us, heavy and raw.
I wanted to stay angry. I wanted to scream that no offering could replace the part of me that music had taken away. But the truth was, I understood. She carried her own scars, her own losses.
Finally, I sighed, exhaustion washing over me. "It's fine. You can go."
She nodded, eyes glistening. "Thank you."
Back in the Living Room
When we stepped out together, the others were waiting. Steve's eyes widened like he'd seen a ghost.
"What the—why are there two of you?!" he shouted, pointing.
We all froze.
"What are you talking about?" Gelo demanded.
Steve pointed again, more frantically. "Look at them! Same face! Same damn face!"
Xiarya blinked, startled. She grabbed a small mirror from her bag, held it up, and gasped. Even she looked shaken.
Mark leaned in, comparing our features. "He's... not wrong. You really do look alike."
I felt my patience thinning. "This is ridiculous."
But when I glanced at Xiarya, really looked at her, I couldn't deny it either. Her features—sharp nose, strong jawline, the way her eyes carried a quiet intensity—mirrored mine in ways that couldn't just be coincidence.
The room filled with uneasy silence.
Finally, Xiarya broke it. "I'll change my appearance. Makeup, wig—whatever it takes. I don't want to cause trouble."
Without waiting for our response, she excused herself, heading toward the guest bathroom.
The three of them turned to me. Questions burned in their eyes.
I didn't have answers. Not yet.
Steve's POV
I sat heavily on the couch, still reeling. "I swear, when they stood side by side, it was like staring at clones."
Mark shook his head. "This is insane. First day of college, and we're already in some kind of mystery drama."
Gelo crossed his arms. "Focus. Whoever she is, she's connected to Adra somehow. And until we figure it out, we watch his back."
I glanced toward the hallway where Adra had gone. My chest tightened with a mix of frustration and fear. We'd been through so much together, built everything on our bond as brothers. But now... it felt like the ground was shifting beneath us.
If this was just the first day... what the hell would the rest of the year bring?