March 24, 2025 – 10:00 AM
Eden Emika straightened the cuffs of his suit tailored, pristine, and far too expensive for a man who had earned none of it honestly.
The courtroom buzzed behind him, a dull murmur of anxious voices, shuffling papers, and lives waiting to be decided. He stood at the center of it all ,not as Eden, the twin who had lost everything, but as Adan, the one who should have died.
And maybe, in some twisted way, he did manage to survive.
Eden had lived as his dead twin for years, thriving in the dual life of predator and prey. He raised his chin as the judge's gavel echoed through the chamber. Cameras clicked from the gallery. Reporters scribbled in frenzied silence.
The man he was defending today had blood on his hands and Eden knew it. Everyone did. But in this world, evidence could be buried, and truth was just another variable in a well-played game.
A game he had mastered.
Every lie, every bribe, every twisted legal loophole was a brushstroke on the portrait of Adan Emika, the identity Eden had stolen and lived.
But today, something felt different. The weight of the name on his chest pressed heavier. The mask was tighter. And somewhere, amidst the scrutiny and flashbulbs, he could feel it:
Someone was watching.
Someone knew.
And the game he'd been winning for so long?
It was about to end.
The gavel struck again. The trial had concluded.
Another win. Another soul crushed. He heard the victim's family sobbing, cursing him from the gallery—a melody he had grown to accept in his line of work.
In this world, nothing is more important than wealth, title, and status.
And Eden would keep it that way, even if it meant staining the name of his dead twin forever.
"Adan Emika."
He heard his stolen name, crisp and authoritative. He didn't miss the voice. Eden turned around and met the gaze of the one man who'd never been fooled. The stress and tension line from the older man can be seen.
He understands the animosity coming from the older man. To be honest, he would hate himself too.
"Ah, if it isn't my secret admirer—Detective Hariz," Eden said coolly, arms crossed. His tone, calm but condescending. "What is it this time? Another autograph or selfie?" The practical smile plastered on Eden's face.
But the detective wasn't playing today. In one swift motion, Hariz stepped forward and cuffed Eden's wrists.
"You're under arrest, Eden Emika " he said evenly, "on suspicion of identity theft and corruption of the law."
Eden's face paled the moment he heard the name leave the detective's lips.
No. It couldn't be. He had worked too hard—lied too well. He built this life of a prestige lawyer by deceitful brick.
"What are you accusing me of? Identity theft? Seriously!?" Eden barked in disbelief , a flicker of fear behind his eyes.
"I know you hate my methods, but—"
"Save it," the detective cut in, reciting the all-too-familiar lines. "You have the right to remain silent. You can speak to your lawyer at the station."
Later. In the interrogation room.
The ticking clock was deafening in the silence.
Eden and Hariz stared at each other across the table, tension thick enough to slice with a knife. Finally, Eden leaned back, arms folded, exhaling sharply. Exhausted from the unofficial staring contest, he spoke up.
"Detective, do you have—"
"I do," Hariz snapped, eyes narrowed. "In detail. Why, heating your brain gear to slip past your little crime again? Unfortunately , that won't work today."
Eden chuckled dryly, frustrated by the man in his forties .Always cutting his words. Classic Detective Hariz manner.
"Please, amuse me. What makes you think I'm not Adan? Been watching too many crime dramas, have you?"
He smirked until Hariz slid a thick file across the table.
Photos. Documents. Records. And finally, the irrefutable proof that he was Eden, not Adan.
For a brief moment, Eden caught the satisfied glint in the detective's eyes. It made his blood boil.
"Sometimes," Hariz said, leaning closer, "the best fiction mirrors real life. Bit by bit, detail by detail, they built the perfect little criminal."
He smiled coldly.
"Like you, Eden Emika."
Hariz's voice dropped to a whisper.
"It's over. Your lies, the stolen identity, your game—it ends today. So go ahead. Use those silver-tongued tricks of yours. But you won't escape this trap."
Living as Adan Emika hadn't been hard for Eden.
After all, he'd already spent seventeen years as his twin. He took Adan's identity after the real one was declared brain dead, two years into a coma that began during their senior year of high school. The twins were nearly identical—matching natural jet-black hair, matching medium skin tone, similar height at 5 '7 " , identical features even same blood type O positive.
The only difference is a mole behind Eden's ear,a little contrast of their personality and their fingerprints.
To erase suspicion, Eden had burned off his thumbprint, damaging the dermis layer. It healed—imperfectly. Just enough to pass. If anyone asked, he claimed a lost ID or the birth certificate, paid the fine for losing the important documents , and filed a new record.
The government workers care less about citizen issues after all. As long as they get paid.
And if suspicion arose?
Well, Eden always had a lie and trick up his sleeve.
But at that moment, the lie was useless.
The truth had cornered him. Inevitable. Sharp. Unforgiving.
He had lost the game he had spent nearly two decades perfecting.
The empire he built on someone else's name—the courtroom victories, the whispered bribes, the curated image—shattered beneath the weight of justice.
His judgment had come.
One desperate thought clawed its way to the front of his mind.
He could spew nonsense. He could spit out a hundred clever distractions. Bullshit, if needed. But it wouldn't matter. Not now.
Unless...
Unless he took the deal.
The one from months ago, from a caller ID that didn't exist—a voice he still couldn't forget. Smooth. Cold. Not quite human.
He had dismissed it as a prank back then. Some elaborate trick, maybe a scam.
"When the game ends, Emika, I will offer you another. Say yes, and you'll get a second chance. But it will cost you something you don't yet value."
At the time, it was laughable.
But now?
He needed a way out.
And even if it was insane and sounds fake , even if it was damnation dressed as salvation, he was desperate enough to say yes.