The scent of jasmine and polished mahogany clawed its way into Kaito’s ramen-scented dreams, dragging him from the blissful oblivion of instant noodles and a shared apartment. He cracked open an eye, expecting the familiar peeling wallpaper and the faint hum of his cheap mini-fridge. Instead, sunlight, filtered through heavy brocade curtains, spilled onto a room the size of his entire apartment building. A silk duvet, impossibly soft, tangled around his legs. And on his body, a crisp, tailored suit jacket, black as midnight, with silver buttons glinting like tiny eyes. “What in the…?” He sat bolt upright, the expensive fabric rustling. It wasn't just a jacket. It was a full butler's uniform, pristine and utterly alien. The tailored trousers, the starched white shirt, even a perfectly knotted black tie lay waiting on the bedside table. His tattered jeans and worn band t-shirt, the very clothes he’d fallen asleep in, were nowhere to be seen. This wasn't a prank; it was a kidnapping, but one with an unnerving sense of domesticity. The door to an adjoining room slid open silently, revealing a figure stepping out of a walk-in wardrobe that seemed to stretch into another dimension. The figure paused, running a hand through a mop of unruly dark hair. His amber eyes went round as he caught sight of Kaito. In every discernible detail, the guy was a mirror image. From the slight quirk of their lips to the faint scar above their left eyebrow, a souvenir from a childhood misadventure with a skateboard. Kaito stared. The man stared back. Then, the man chuckled, a light, airy sound that grated on Kaito’s nerves. “Ah, you’re finally up! Good morning, uh… Kaito, was it? You really do look like me, it’s uncanny! Are you sure we’re not related?” He grinned, a disarmingly innocent flash of white teeth. This was the legendary Kenjiro Zenyth, the boy whose face had graced business magazines and society pages since he was old enough to hold a designer rattle. The heir. *His* heir. The thought tasted like ashes. Before Kaito could articulate the torrent of profanities bubbling up his throat, a stern, impeccably dressed man with silver hair and eyes like honed steel entered the suite. This was Jiro, the Zenyth Estate’s Head Butler, a man whose presence alone could probably straighten a crooked tie. He gave Kaito a look that could curdle milk. “Master Kenjiro, your tea. And Kaito, I trust you slept… adequately? Your uniform is laid out. The estate briefing is in five minutes.” Jiro’s voice was a low rumble, devoid of warmth. He placed a delicate teacup on a side table, his movements precise, almost robotic. Kenjiro, oblivious to the simmering tension, beamed. “Oh, Jiro, Kaito’s just woken up! He looks exactly like me, it’s amazing! We could be twins!” Jiro’s gaze flickered to Kaito, a silent, chilling message passing between them. “Indeed, Master Kenjiro. A remarkable coincidence.” He turned his full attention back to Kaito. “You will recall the terms of your… employment, Kaito. We expect absolute discretion and dedication. Any deviation will have… immediate and unfortunate consequences for your sister, Nami.” Ice flooded Kaito's ribs. Nami. They had Nami. The realization hit him like a physical blow. The opulent cage, the uniform, the identical twin – it all clicked into place with sickening clarity. This wasn’t a coincidence. This was a trap. And his sister was the bait. He forced a tight, brittle smile. “Of course, Head Butler Jiro. Dedicated service. You can count on me.” The words tasted like bile. He would play their game, for now. For Nami. Jiro’s lips barely twitched. “Good. Master Kenjiro requires assistance with his attire for today's board assembly. A critical family assembly. Ensure he is presentable.” With a curt nod, Jiro exited, leaving Kaito alone with his doppelgänger. Kenjiro sighed, picking up the perfectly folded tie. “Oh, good. I hate these things. They’re so… constricting. And I can never get the knot right. Aunt Kyoko always says I look like I wrestled a kraken and lost.” He held out the tie helplessly, his eyes wide and innocent. Kaito stared at the rich silk, then at Kenjiro’s perfectly symmetrical face. He was the spitting image of Kaito, yet utterly helpless. A pampered prince, oblivious to the viper’s nest he lived in. Kaito felt a strange mix of exasperation and a flicker of something he refused to acknowledge as kinship. He snatched the tie. “Fine. Stand still.” He moved behind Kenjiro, his hands, accustomed to frying ramen and stacking shelves, now deftly manipulating the silk. He could feel Kenjiro’s warmth radiating through the fine shirt fabric. The resemblance in the mirror was eerie. Two twin faces, one sharp with street smarts and a simmering fury, the other soft with privilege and naivete. One a butler, the other a billionaire. As he tightened the knot, Kenjiro hummed contentedly. Kaito glanced at their reflections side-by-side, a profound sense of injustice settling deep in his gut. This was *his* life. This wealth, this power, this estate. It was stolen. The thought burned. He narrowed his eyes, examining his twin’s face, searching for a tell, a flaw, anything that differentiated them. Then, a flicker. A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer overlaid his vision. It was like a transparent digital display, appearing right over Kenjiro’s head. Floating text, crisp and unnervingly clear, appeared within Kaito’s sight. [Kenjiro Zenyth - Asset Value: SSS]

The Price of a Face