At the memorial, my father sneered when he saw the badge on my chest. « You? A soldier? Stop pretending. » I held back and said, « I’m here to bury my brother. » He retorted sharply, « A hero? He was just a useless corpse. » A deathly silence fell over the room as the commanding officer stepped forward and saluted me. « Welcome home, Ghost Walker. » My father froze. I met his gaze, my voice icy, « You just insulted the dead… and the one who’s still standing. » But the worst was yet to come.

At the memorial, my father sneered when he saw the badge on my chest. « You? A soldier? Stop pretending. » I held back and said, « I’m here to bury my brother. » He retorted sharply, « A hero? He was just a useless corpse. » A deathly silence fell over the room as the commanding officer stepped forward and saluted me. « Welcome home, Ghost Walker. » My father froze. I met his gaze, my voice icy, « You just insulted the dead… and the one who’s still standing. » But the worst was yet to come.

During the memorial ceremony, my father laughed as soon as he saw the badge on my chest.

« You? » he said aloud, narrowing his eyes. « A soldier? Stop pretending. »

These words hurt all the more because they came from the man who was supposed to know me, who had seen me leave home at eighteen with only a travel bag and a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep.

But I didn’t come for him. I came to bury my brother.

The chapel was filled with uniforms, flags, and faces etched with grief. A folded American flag lay on a table next to a framed photograph of my brother, Ryan Carter, smiling in his dress uniform.

Ryan was the one everyone adored. The charming one. The funny one. The one my father bragged about while putting me down. And now, he was gone.

My mother sat stiff as a board in the front row, her eyes swollen and closed. My aunt held her hand. People murmured condolences, as if afraid that the grief would spread if they spoke too loudly.

Then my father, Frank Carter, leaned towards me and whispered, « Don’t embarrass us. »

I lowered my voice. —I’m not here for you.

He sniffed. « You’re here to dress up. »

My uniform was authentic. My rank insignia were not a disguise. The badge on my chest was not an item one buys from a military surplus store.

But I didn’t protest. I had learned long ago that my father didn’t listen: he acted. And today, I wanted a show.

At the beginning of the service, the pastor spoke of sacrifice, courage, and duty. His words enveloped me like a veil. All I could see was Ryan’s picture and the certainty that I would never receive his call again.

Then my father’s voice broke the silence. « A hero? » he suddenly blurted out mockingly, loud enough to make the front rows turn around. « He was just a useless death. »

A shiver of terror ran through me. Silence fell over the room so suddenly that it felt as if the air had been sucked out. My mother made a sound: a mixture of a sob and a gasp. The pastor froze mid-sentence.

And then… the boots. Measured and confident steps.

A senior officer rose from the second row. His uniform was impeccable, his posture perfect. He advanced with a confident stride, his eyes fixed not on my father… but on me.

He stopped right in front of my seat. Then, in full view of everyone, he raised his hand and gave a military salute. Not out of mere politeness. Not casually. A deep and solemn salute.

« Welcome home, » he said in a clear voice. Then he uttered a name that made all the soldiers present sit up straight. « Phantom Walker. »

My father froze, as if ice had run through his veins. I rose slowly, returning the military salute. Silence reigned in the room. Even the pain had subsided.

I turned to my father and met his gaze, my voice as firm as steel. « You have just insulted the dead, » I said, « and the one who is still standing. »

My father’s lips trembled, his face paled. But the real shock had yet to begin.