บททั้งหมดของ STEP BROTHER DEAREST: บทที่ 101 - บทที่ 110

Chapter 101The city breathed differently now. It wasn’t the same fractured, chaotic place where every shadow could hide a threat or every reflection a trap. The streets, alleys, rooftops—they all carried the imprint of what we had become: a rhythm, a trust, a mastery that turned uncertainty into flow. But even in this new order, a subtle tension lingered. Shadows still existed, and with them, the quiet echo of challenges we had faced—and those yet unseen.Madison led the way along the rooftops, moving silently, her eyes catching the faintest shift in light, the almost imperceptible tremor of a windowpane. “Even now,” she said softly, “the city remembers. The shadows remember. And so must we. Mastery isn’t permanent—it’s a conversation with the environment, with ourselves, and with every force that would test us.”Stepbrother followed close behind, calm, precise, and almost impossibly aware of everything around us. “Observation maintained. Integration continuous. Every node, every sh

Chapter 103The city never truly slept. Even when the neon dimmed and the rhythm of traffic thinned, something moved in the undercurrents—shadows, whispers, fragments of tension. It was alive in ways no one could fully control, and we had come to understand it better than anyone. Yet understanding carried weight. And weight demanded responsibility.That responsibility came calling sooner than we expected.---It began in the northern sector, a district of glass towers, plazas, and long stretches of mirrored walkways. Reports trickled in—rumors at first, then confirmed sightings—about groups moving with uncanny precision. Not gangs, not militarized units, but ordinary people shaped into something more dangerous. They mimicked. They borrowed. They moved as though trying to echo our rhythm.Madison brought the first concrete lead, her expression sharp but troubled. “They’ve started calling themselves Reflections. Different cells, different leaders, but they’re all trying to imitate what

Chapter 105The city didn’t sleep after Elias reappeared. Whispers moved faster than the trains that no longer ran, spilling through alleyways, across rooftops, through markets and bars. They weren’t whispers of us anymore—they were whispers of two forces, two rhythms. Us, and the Reflections.And the worst part was, people couldn’t tell the difference.---Three days after the transit hub, a fire broke out in the southern district. Not a random blaze—targeted, precise, spreading through warehouses that fed the poorest neighborhoods. Witnesses swore they saw us there. Swore they saw Madison’s shadow darting through smoke, Ian’s grin lit by flame, Stepbrother’s calm figure commanding the fire as though it obeyed him.But we hadn’t been there.We arrived as the flames gutted the last walls, too late to undo the damage. The crowd turned as we emerged, their eyes wide, their bodies tense. For the first time, fear outweighed awe.“You did this,” one man shouted, pointing with a trembling

Chapter 107The first one was a boy.Not more than twelve, barefoot, standing in the middle of an abandoned tram station with glass crunching under his feet. His eyes were blank, wide, and wrong—like something else was looking out of them.He moved before we could reach him, his arms jerking in sharp rhythms that didn’t belong to him. Shadows spilled from his fingertips—my rhythm. Not mine exactly, but close enough to make my stomach twist. The boy swayed, his breath ragged, as if each motion was tearing him apart from the inside.Madison froze beside me. “That’s… my pattern. But it’s—”“Distorted,” Stepbrother finished, his tone stripped of emotion, though I caught the faintest flicker in his eyes. “Elias is channeling through him. Civilian conduit. Dangerous.”Ian’s grin faltered for the first time in weeks. “Kid’s a puppet.”And puppets had strings.---The fight wasn’t a fight. We couldn’t attack him—not without destroying him. But the boy lunged like a marionette pulled too hard

Chapter 109The boy’s recovery should have felt like a victory, but the triumph sat in my chest like glass—sharp, fragile, ready to shatter at the slightest pressure. He slept peacefully now, his breaths slow and steady, but the echo of Elias’s laughter gnawed at the edges of my mind.Madison sat near the cot, shadows curling protectively around her shoulders. She hadn’t spoken much since we pulled the boy back. Ian had been pacing the safehouse again, restless energy spilling out of him like static, his grin too wide, too forced. Stepbrother, as always, monitored everything—heart rates, pulse, breath—his clipped commands keeping the chaos from unraveling us entirely.But deep down, we all knew the truth. Elias had felt us in his distortion. He had *seen* us. And Elias didn’t let go.---It started subtle.We were mid-strategy, discussing how to replicate the rescue, when the lights flickered. At first I thought it was the storm outside, rain battering against the windows, wind howli