[General POV]
Bruce's mother, seated at the breakfast table in her mansion, watched her son intently. She knew he was a brave and fearless young man, always chasing after dangerous adventures — and that worried her deeply.
"Son, we need to talk," she said firmly.
Bruce looked at her, slightly wary, but he could tell right away that she meant it.
"What is it, Mom?" he asked, uneasy. She took a breath and continued:
"Your life is incredibly precious to me, and I can't just let you go out there taking unnecessary risks," she said. "You need to act with more caution and responsibility. You could've been attacked by a wild animal, and since it was still nighttime, there would've been no way to call for help."
Hearing his mother's concerns, Bruce stayed silent for a moment, reflecting on her words. He knew she was right — but he also knew he had to stay in shape and be ready for anything in this shadowy world.
After a brief silence from them both, Bruce finally looked at his mother and said:
"You're right, Mom, like I said yesterday. From now on, I'll act more cautiously and responsibly."
His mother listened and nodded. He'd said the same thing countless times before, but today was different. That day — unlike the others — she felt there was truth in his words. Realizing this, she smiled at her son, relieved to have gotten through to him about the importance of acting responsibly.
She knew Bruce still had many adventures ahead, but now she hoped, if at all possible, that he'd take a little more care, protect himself better, and avoid unnecessary danger.
They continued talking, and Edward soon joined the conversation.
He spoke excitedly about how he wanted to go to Europe and defend innocent people in the war. It was strange — the younger, smaller brother eager to go to war, while the older, stronger one didn't even consider it an option. The elder brother even mocked Edward's idea, calling it madness to want to go to war.
And so, amidst conversation and laughter, they continued eating until they were full…
Later that same day, as the sun began to dip below the horizon and long shadows stretched across the mansion's well-kept gardens, a distinct sound echoed from the gravel path at the front gate. It was the rhythmic, metallic growl of a modern engine — a rare and almost jarring noise in the aristocratic calm of such a traditional estate.
At the main entrance, a brand-new Ford Model T, gleaming in the golden afternoon light, came to a stop before the wrought-iron gates. The car, a true marvel of recent engineering, cost a small fortune — the kind of luxury only the global elite could afford. But despite its polished exterior and mechanical sophistication, there was something unsettling about its presence. Something subtle but instinctively alarming — even the birds fell silent.
Inside the car, three figures sat motionless, their presence as oppressive as the silence around them. They were dressed in impeccably tailored suits — dark, finely woven, yet old-fashioned, with details that hinted at another era. Their skin was unnaturally pale, almost translucent, like freshly polished marble — white as moonlit snow. And their eyes were a deep, searing red, like burning embers hiding an ancient, restrained fire.
They were vampires — and not just any kind. They belonged to the Volturi, the oldest, most powerful, and most feared coven in the supernatural world. Their authority crossed borders, and even the eldest vampires whispered their name with dread. Though the three in that car weren't among the highest-ranking members of the hierarchy, they served directly under the clan's leaders — especially Aro, the most dangerous and cunning of the ancients.
These men, silent and lethal agents, were there on a specific mission: to observe and assess potential recruits. And the mansion before them was a veritable nest of potential.
Aro, always alert to the emergence of special talents, had personally ordered the two young men in that house to be watched. One of them, Bruce, had already shown unusual physical strength and courage, as well as a sharp intellect. The other — possibly Edward — displayed more subtle gifts, but no less valuable ones, including a unique musical talent and a heightened sense of justice.
The vampires didn't need to leave the car. Their heightened senses allowed them to pick up every movement inside the house — every heartbeat, every breath, every shift in tone of voice. They were shadows watching from afar, silent as death, patient as time, and as dangerous as the abyss.
At that moment, the red eyes of one of the vampires fixed on a window upstairs, where a faint plume of smoke was still drifting out — Bruce's room.
They knew it was too soon to reveal themselves. But they wouldn't leave. They would just watch... for now.
Meanwhile, in Bruce's room...
BOOM
A cloud of smoke began to spread, and from within it emerged young Bruce, his hair slightly singed.
[Main POV]
Oh my God, what the hell did I just do? I'm such a complete idiot. How did I manage to screw up such a simple experiment? Now my room's a disaster, I shout—silently—to myself.
I glance over and catch sight of my bedroom mirror. I search for my reflection to make sure all my limbs are still attached. There I am—hair an absolute mess, face covered in soot. My clothes are a little scorched too, but at least I didn't get hurt. The smoke and the burnt smell are going to linger for a while, and I'll probably get another earful from my mom.
I look over at the failed experiment and start thinking about where I went wrong. I sit down on my dusty bed and go over every step in my head…
After breakfast with my mom and my brother, I came up to my room to study a bit and run some chemistry experiments—training not just my body, but my mind as well. Today I was trying to create a chemical mixture to see if I could spark an interesting reaction. It was supposed to be a basic reaction, but it used chemicals that aren't exactly easy to get.
Then again, this is the early 20th century—an era where, if you've got money, you can even buy a radio. So getting some acid and sodium isn't that hard.
The experiment was based on combining sulfuric acid with sodium nitrate—or at least, that's what was supposed to happen. Apparently, mixing these two should cause an exothermic reaction.
At least that's what the book I picked up at the library said. Luckily, my dad's loaded, so we have access to the best school in Chicago. That means I even get to read original works by Germain Henry Hess, one of the godfathers of thermochemistry.
The experiment should've worked. I followed the instructions carefully—or at least I thought I did. I added the acid to the nitrate and waited eagerly for a reaction, but nothing happened. No smoke, no heat, nothing. I got frustrated, and since I was already annoyed that I couldn't go hunting at night, I decided to add a little more acid, just to see if anything would change.
That's when everything went sideways. The mixture started bubbling and suddenly exploded into a cloud of smoke. It happened so fast I didn't even have time to back away.
Now here I am, staring at the ruins of the failed experiment, trying to figure out what went wrong. I jump up from the bed, struck by a sudden epiphany, and start scribbling calculations on the wall with a piece of chalk.
Technical-scientific content warning. If this isn't your thing, feel free to skip this part...
I use the clearest wall in the room—the one I always scribble formulas on whenever inspiration hits. I take a deep breath, raise the chalk, and start writing, trying to organize my thoughts:
NaNO₃ + H₂SO₄ → NaHSO₄ + HNO₃
This was the base reaction between sodium nitrate and sulfuric acid. In theory, it should yield sodium bisulfate and nitric acid. A relatively straightforward reaction—at least on paper. But as I stared at the equation, I saw the mistake: I'd gone overboard with the acid.
That caused an overproduction of nitric acid, and since I wasn't using a fume hood—just my bedroom!—the vapor concentration and heat levels skyrocketed, until the whole thing literally blew up in my face.
I felt like a complete moron.
How could I forget something so basic?
I crossed out the first equation and wrote the correct stoichiometric ratio:
2 NaNO₃ + H₂SO₄ → Na₂SO₄ + 2 HNO₃
Now it made sense. Two moles of sodium nitrate react with one mole of sulfuric acid to produce sodium sulfate and two molecules of nitric acid. I had used way too much acid. It wasn't just a dosing mistake—it was a lapse in focus, fueled by impatience and frustration.
But now I knew exactly where I went wrong. More importantly, I knew how not to screw it up next time.
I put the chalk away, still staring at the equation on the wall. The smoke in the room felt symbolic now—dissipating along with my ignorance. All that was left was to clean up the mess… and start again, the right way.
End of technical-scientific content.
I got lucky, because right after breakfast, my mom went out. Now I just need to clean everything up before she gets back and kills me. I think it's safe to say I'm never doing another chemistry experiment in my room. Maybe I should set up a real lab for this kind of thing.
Actually… I need to find a way to build my own lab.
I have to figure out how to make money—I can't depend on my dad forever. Besides, I want to enjoy everything that money can offer in this life.
I've got a lot of problems to solve, and at the top of the list is money. Second on the list? Also money. But the most important of all is securing my own safety—and for that, I need money.
As I repaired the broken pieces scattered around my room, my mind kept turning over ways to make cash. Once I finished cleaning up, I changed my clothes. I couldn't help thinking it would've been so much easier to make money if I'd been born a few years earlier.
A few years ago, I could've invested in companies like General Electric, Standard Oil, or Ford. But now, GE's already a major corporation, Standard Oil doesn't even exist anymore, and Ford is well established.
That's when the idea struck me—to invest in something still in its infancy.
Something like… the entertainment industry.
To be continued…
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[A/N] If you've read this far, thank you! And since I'm terrible at handling compliments, please, insult me instead!