Emrah grabbed a sleek black suitcase, each motion deliberate, methodical. He rifled through racks of clothing, selecting pieces that bore no resemblance to his usual style: sharp suits, casual but refined shirts, and a few items with bold colors he would normally never wear. He added a couple of sunglasses—small, dark, subtle markers of his new persona.
Once packed, he closed the suitcase with a snap and slid it under his arm.
He picked up his phone and called Efsun and Efsane.
"Someone dear to me is arriving soon," he said casually. "Could you bring him here?"
There was a brief pause, then both girls agreed, their curiosity piqued.
By the time Emrah arrived at the airport, he was no longer Emrah Aybeyli—he was Emre Aybeyli. His back was straight, his steps precise, and there was no cane in sight. His presence commanded attention effortlessly, and for the first time, he looked completely free.
The girls arrived just as he descended the wide airport stairs. Their eyes widened.
He moved past them without hesitation, as if he didn't even notice them.
"Emrah??" they called together, voices a mixture of shock and disbelief.
He stopped, turned slowly, and gave them a polite, measured smile.
"Sorry to disappoint you," he said smoothly, "but that's my brother. My name is Emre Aybeyli. Nice to meet you. And you must be?"
Efsun and Efsane froze, trying to reconcile the man in front of them with the one they knew. Every gesture, every step, every inflection told them—this was not Emrah.
After a long, tense moment, they accepted the truth.
The three of them moved toward the car. The city's noise faded behind them as Emre Aybeyli slid into the back seat, his gaze calm, measured, and impossibly confident.
And so, the legend of the Aybeyli twin began.
But somewhere beneath the surface, behind the carefully constructed illusion, Emrah's true self watched, waited, and prepared.
For even in disguise, the game was just beginning.
As the car glided through the streets toward the Aybeyli mansion, the system stirred in Emrah's mind.
Identity Protocol: Secondary Persona Initialized.
Designation: Emre Aybeyli.
Status: Active.
Deception Stability: Optimal.
Public Perception Shift: Successful.
Emrah felt the familiar hum of control ripple through him. Every gesture, every glance, every subtle nuance had already begun to reshape how others perceived him. He wasn't just pretending—he was Emre Aybeyli to the outside world.
Efsun and Efsane sat beside him, still trying to reconcile what they were seeing. The system confirmed: the illusion was complete. They had no reason to suspect the truth.
And in that quiet, controlled space inside his mind, Emrah allowed a small, almost imperceptible smile to form. The game was far from over—but now, he had an edge no one else could see.
The car hummed smoothly through Istanbul's streets, the city lights reflecting off the windows. Efsun and Efsane sat in the back, still wide-eyed, glancing at the man who had just introduced himself as Emre Aybeyli.
Emre leaned back in the passenger seat, his jacket slightly unbuttoned, one arm draped casually along the top of the seat. He smirked, eyes flicking between the two women.
"So… you're the infamous Efsun Haznedar and Efsane Saygın," he said, voice low and teasing. "I've heard a lot about you. Don't worry, I promise not to be too terrifying."
Efsun raised an eyebrow. "Terrifying? You're the one pretending to be my friend's brother?"
Emre chuckled, leaning forward slightly. "Pretending? Nah… I'm just the brother you didn't know you wanted." He winked at Efsun, then turned to Efsane with a playful grin. "And you? Don't think I forgot about you. Dangerous, smart, and impossibly alluring. You're trouble in a good way."
Efsane's fingers twitched nervously, caught off guard by the boldness. She tried to maintain composure. "You're… very forward."
"I prefer honesty over small talk," Emre replied, shrugging. "Life's short. Why waste time?" He tapped the dashboard like it was a drum, glancing out the window for a moment. "Besides, a bit of action keeps the blood pumping, don't you think? You never know when chaos might hit—and I love chaos."
Efsun smirked, leaning closer slightly. "You certainly seem… reckless."
"Reckless is my middle name," Emre said with a grin. Then, leaning back, he added smoothly, "But don't worry—I know how to protect what's mine. Especially when it comes to fascinating company." His eyes met both their gazes, daring and confident.
Efsane's jaw tightened slightly, both annoyed and intrigued. "You're… very different from your brother, aren't you?"
Emre laughed softly, tossing his hair back. "Different? That's an understatement. Emrah… he's precise, calculating, cautious. Me? I dive in headfirst, guns blazing if I have to. Action, adventure… danger. And a little flirting doesn't hurt either." He leaned forward again, grinning mischievously. "So… ready for the ride, ladies?"
Both girls exchanged glances, unsure whether to be amused or exasperated, but the undeniable electricity in the car made it clear—this was going to be a very interesting night.
The car rolled to a stop in front of the Aybeyli mansion, and Emre stepped out first, adjusting his jacket and scanning the scene like a predator assessing his territory.
Black SUVs lined the driveway, their tinted windows hiding armed bodyguards inside. A soft murmur of voices floated through the air—members of the Saygın, Ergün, Haznedar, and Aybeyli families were gathered, forming clusters of strategy and quiet tension.
Efsun and Efsane stepped out behind him, both straightening instinctively. Despite their experience, the sight of so many influential figures in one place was imposing.
Emre's grin widened. "Looks like everyone's here to see little ol' me… or maybe just my charming brother," he quipped, his voice low enough for the girls to hear. He gave a subtle nod to the guards, acknowledging their presence without fear.
The women exchanged quick glances. Even as Emre played the flirtatious, cocky persona, there was a sharpness in his gaze—he was taking in the alliances, reading the subtle tensions, and calculating risks like a seasoned strategist.
One of the Aybeyli lieutenants approached, bowing slightly. "Sir, everyone is assembled and waiting for you inside."
Emre smirked. "Of course they are. Lead the way." He offered his arm to Efsun first, a playful wink to Efsane as he held his other arm out. Both girls, though slightly hesitant, allowed themselves to be guided into the mansion.
Inside, the grand hall was buzzing with hushed conversations, the air thick with anticipation. Members of the four families stood in small clusters, some observing Emre curiously, others whispering among themselves.
Emre, walking with confident strides, made no effort to hide his boldness. Yet every movement, every casual glance, subtly asserted his presence. He didn't speak much, but his posture, his calm demeanor, and the faint smirk on his lips broadcasted a quiet dominance.
Efsun leaned slightly closer, whispering, "He's… not just your brother, is he?"
Emre chuckled softly. "Oh, he's nothing like me. I mean… Emrah would have already calculated everyone's blood type, their weaknesses, and probable alliances by now. Me? I just make sure they know who they're dealing with."
Efsane's eyes narrowed, both impressed and wary. She could feel the dangerous charm radiating from him, the perfect balance of charisma and threat.
As they moved further into the mansion, the leaders of the other families began to notice them. Heads turned. Conversations paused. Eyes, sharp and calculating, measured every step.
It was clear: this gathering wasn't just a meeting. It was a display of power, and Emre was very deliberately making his mark.
And somewhere deep in the back of the room, whispers began spreading: "That's not Emrah… that's Emre."
Emre stepped forward, removing his sunglasses. The room fell into an almost reverent silence—the dark lenses had hidden his eyes, but now his sharp gaze scanned everyone like a predator assessing the field.
Emir Aybeyli cleared his throat. "Everyone, allow me to formally introduce my son… Emre Aybeyli."
Heads turned. The leaders of the Saygın, Haznedar, and Ergun families all studied him carefully. Whispers ran through the room.
Emre gave a casual, confident smile. "Pleasure to meet you all. I've been hearing quite a lot… some of it probably true."
Cengiz Saygın, Efsane's grandfather, leaned slightly on his cane, his piercing gaze fixed on Emre. "So this is the younger Aybeyli. You're bold for someone so new. Boldness can be admirable—or dangerous. Which are you?"
Emre tilted his head, meeting Cengiz's stare with unflinching confidence. "Depends on the questioner, sir. But mostly, I'd say dangerous only if provoked."
Adil Saygın, Efsane's father, chuckled. "Good answer. Confidence is key, but remember, strength is proven in action, not words."
Emre's grin widened. "Actions speak louder than speeches, sir. Don't worry, I prefer letting mine do the talking."
Haznedar, Efsun's father, leaned forward. "So this is the brother we've been told about? I must say, you have quite a presence."
Emre smirked playfully. "Expectations are boring. I like to keep people guessing."
Emir Aybeyli rested a hand on Emre's shoulder. "Remember, this is more than a formal introduction. This is a planning session for what's coming. Allies and enemies alike will test our strength. Show them we are ready."
Emre straightened, leaning slightly back, his tone casual but commanding. "Understood, father. Consider it handled."
Cengiz Saygın's sharp gaze lingered, his tone careful. "Very well. Let us begin. Our enemies know of our alliance now. We must anticipate their moves and plan our response. Speak honestly, and no one holds back."
Adil Saygın added, "Agreed. Every strategy, every resource, every weakness must be considered. We have no margin for error."
Emre leaned on the back of a chair, his dark eyes scanning each family leader. "Then let's get to work. No point wasting words. They'll strike soon, and we need to be ready before they even make the first move."
A subtle tension filled the room. While Emre appeared relaxed, his presence radiated dominance. Every minor gesture, every glance he cast communicated control. It was clear: the Aybeyli family had not just arrived—they had arrived prepared.
The families exchanged nods, settling into strategy. Maps were brought out, intelligence shared, and plans whispered in careful tones. But every so often, eyes flicked to Emre, who observed quietly, his mind already calculating. He was a storm in disguise—his calm was deception, his charm a weapon, and everyone knew it, even if they didn't admit it.
Cengiz Saygın's gaze sharpened as he leaned slightly forward. "Emir… why have you hidden this child from everyone? From all of us?"
Uncle Mehmet chimed in, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "Even from me… someone who's like your brother? You kept him hidden?"
Emir Aybeyli's expression remained calm, but his eyes flicked to Emre. "For your own good," he replied carefully. "He is… different. A bit different than everyone else in our world, you see."
The room fell silent. The leaders and family elders exchanged cautious glances, curiosity mixed with unease.
Efsane, sitting beside her grandfather, furrowed her brow. Different… how different?
Emre, leaning casually against the table, let out a low, playful laugh. "Different, huh? I like the sound of that." His gaze swept across the room, daring anyone to challenge him.
Cengiz's voice dropped, deliberate and measured. "Different can mean many things. It can be a gift… or a curse. We'll see which this one is."
Emir gave a subtle nod, signaling Emre to remain composed. But even under the surface, a silent acknowledgment passed between father and son: this is just the beginning.
The silence didn't last long.
Maps were unfolded across the long table. Names were spoken in lowered voices—rival families, smuggling routes, pressure points, alliances already fraying. Plans layered over plans. Caution. Timing. Patience.
Emre listened for a while, arms crossed, jaw tight.
Then he laughed.
It wasn't loud—but it cut through the room like a blade.
Everyone turned.
"It doesn't matter where," Emre said, stepping forward, palms pressing onto the table. His eyes burned with something raw, unfiltered.
"It doesn't matter when."
A few of the elders stiffened.
"I will destroy them," he continued calmly, almost casually. "I'll mince them until only a fraction is left. Enough to remember what happens when you mistake restraint for weakness."
The room froze.
The women exchanged uneasy glances. Some looked away. Others stared at him in disbelief. This wasn't strategy. This was annihilation.
Efsun inhaled sharply, her fingers tightening in her lap.
Efsane, however…
Her reaction was different.
She tilted her head slightly, eyes lingering on Emre longer than necessary. One hand rose unconsciously, fingers brushing through her hair as she studied him—not with fear, but with curiosity.
Dangerous, she thought.
And honest about it.
Cengiz Saygın broke the silence with a low chuckle.
"He reminds me of myself," he said, eyes narrowing with approval. "Back when the world still bled when you cut it."
He leaned back in his chair, studying Emre like a weapon being evaluated.
"Unpolished. Brutal. Effective."
Emir Aybeyli didn't interrupt. He didn't correct his son. He simply watched the room react—watched as Emre's words rewrote the atmosphere.
No one challenged him.
Because despite the shock, despite the aggression, one truth settled heavily over everyone present:
This wasn't empty bravado.
This was a promise.
And somewhere deep within the Aybeyli estate, unseen and unheard—
The system observed silently.
A king had not spoken.
But a conqueror had.
The first gunshot shattered the night.
Then another.
And another.
Sharp cracks tore through the air outside the mansion, echoing off stone and glass. Conversations died instantly. Chairs scraped back. Hands moved—some to weapons, others to phones.
Emre was already moving.
He didn't ask for permission. He didn't wait for guards.
He walked.
The doors swung open, and cold night air rushed in. Outside, the black SUVs stood untouched—but one of them smoked faintly, a bullet hole punched clean through the windshield. On the ground, pinned to the hood with a combat knife, was a folded piece of paper.
The attackers were gone.
Professional. Fast. Deliberate.
Emre pulled the paper free and read aloud, his voice calm, almost amused.
DISBAND THE ALLIANCE.
OR WE WILL END YOU.
A murmur spread behind him. Anger. Fear. Disbelief.
Cengiz stepped forward, eyes dark.
"So," he said quietly, "they've chosen war."
Emre smiled.
Not a pleasant smile.
The system's voice rose in his mind—clear, absolute.
Hidden Conditions Confirmed.
Threat Declaration Detected.
New Mission Unlocked.
Mission Title:Total Erasure
Objective: Hunt down opposing families one by one.
Clear Condition: Only you and your allies remain.
Failure Condition: Alliance dissolution or loss of a major ally.
Warning: Mercy will result in escalation.
Emre folded the paper slowly and tucked it into his jacket.
He turned back to the gathered families. The lights from the mansion framed him in shadow and gold, sunglasses still in his hand, eyes burning openly now.
"They've made a mistake," he said.
No shouting. No theatrics.
Just certainty.
"They think this alliance is fragile," Emre continued. "That fear will make us retreat."
His gaze swept the group—Saygın, Ergün, Haznedar, Aybeyli.
"They don't understand something."
He stepped forward once more.
"I don't retreat."
The night seemed to hold its breath.
Behind his eyes, the system waited.
And somewhere in the city, the first targets had just been marked.
The war had begun.