Max hated waking up early—especially on holidays. The kind of mornings where the world outside was too loud, too bright, and too cheerful for a guy who just wanted five more minutes in bed.
The sunlight poked through his curtains like it had a personal vendetta against his sleep. He groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over his head.
But something felt wrong.
There were no sounds from the kitchen. No soft humming. No banging of plates. No scent of tea or toast.
Most importantly… no voice calling out his name.
His mom was always up first. Always made sure he had breakfast. Always yelled "Max! Wake up, birthday boy!" at the top of her lungs every single year. It had been their tradition since he was a kid.
He sat up, alarm bells going off in his head.
"Mom?"
No answer.
"Mom? Where are you?"
He threw on his hoodie and padded barefoot down the long hallway of the mansion. The house was silent. Too silent. The kind of silence that clung to the walls and echoed in your chest.
He checked her bedroom. Perfectly made bed. No phone. No shawl.
Her favorite scarf was missing. Her slippers, too.
Max checked the balcony, the garden, even the pantry.
Gone.
It didn't make sense.
"Where the hell is she…" he muttered, panic tightening his chest.
Then he saw it.
A folded piece of thick cream-colored paper sat on the center table of the hall. Unmarked. Sealed with golden wax and a strange, ancient-looking emblem.
Max walked toward it slowly.
His name was written on the front in beautiful cursive: Max.
He broke the seal with trembling hands.
---
Max,
If you're reading this, then I've already left.
I'm sorry. I know it's sudden. I know it hurts. But I need you to be strong now, stronger than ever before.
Today is not your 16th birthday. It's your 18th.
Yes—I altered your memories. Slightly. It was the only way to protect you until the right time. And now, the truth must come out.
You are not entirely of this world.
You were transmigrated into this life, Max. From another plane. You may not remember it, but your soul doesn't lie. You've always felt different, haven't you? Like a stranger in your own life?
Our family… we came from a higher realm. A world beyond this one, where strength is power and bloodlines rule everything. We came here to settle old matters. To hide. But now… I must return.
And you cannot follow me.
Not yet.
You're not ready.
But I've prepared everything for you to grow strong. I've left behind tools, clues, and a path to awaken the power that sleeps inside you.
There's more, Max.
I've chosen eight women, each with special bloodlines that can help enhance your strength. They are more than partners. They are part of your destiny. Chosen carefully. Raised to walk beside you.
Find them.
Grow stronger.
Then come find me in the upper world.
I'll be waiting.
Love,
Mom
---
Max read the letter twice.
Then he laughed. A broken, sarcastic sound that echoed in the quiet hall.
"Is this some kind of joke? Did Mom lose her mind or something?"
He dropped into the leather couch, his hands shaking.
Transmigrated?
Another world?
Special girlfriends with magic bloodlines?
It sounded like a bad anime plot. The kind his friends used to binge at night and laugh over.
Except deep inside… it made sense.
Too much sense.
Because Max always knew he was different.
Not just rich-kid different. World different.
The dreams. The instincts. The weird sense of déjà vu whenever he touched old things or looked at the stars too long. The way he learned sword techniques in video games faster than anyone, like he'd done it before.
Now he knew why.
He was never meant to live a normal life.
He wasn't even from here.
And that terrified him.
"I'm not some damn chosen one…" he whispered.
He shook his head hard. "Nope. Not doing this. I just want a normal life. A family. Peace. Not eight magical girls and secret dungeons and flying swords."
He sank into the couch, overwhelmed.
His thoughts spiraled.
Memories of playing with his sisters as kids. Watching cartoons on the couch while their mom made popcorn. Snowball fights in winter. Getting scolded for sneaking out at night. He didn't want to lose those moments. That life.
He just wanted to be Max. Just Max. The lazy, kinda-sarcastic, semi-loner boy from the big house on Windmere Hill.
Not a reincarnated warrior prince or whatever this was turning into.
And that's when a familiar voice broke the silence.
"Talking to yourself again, young master?"
Max jumped.
Standing in the doorway, tray in hand, was Maria—the head maid.
Her long auburn hair was braided, her eyes soft behind round glasses. She was only a few years older than him but always carried herself like a seasoned adult.
She walked over with her usual quiet grace, placing a steaming cup of coffee on the table.
"Happy birthday," she said shyly. "I didn't want to disturb you earlier…"
"Thanks," Max muttered. He looked at the cup, then at her. "Have you seen my mom?"
Maria hesitated, then shook her head. "She left early. I thought she was going to meet your sisters."
Max blinked. "She didn't tell you anything else?"
"No…" Maria looked genuinely puzzled. "She seemed… sad, though. Smiled a lot. But her eyes looked far away."
Max nodded slowly, staring into the black coffee like it held all the answers in the universe.
He didn't want to drag Maria into this.
But she stayed by his side, awkward but warm.
"You can sit," he said after a moment.
Maria's eyes widened. "Me?"
"Yeah. Just… sit. Please."
She hesitated, then quietly took the armchair across from him. She kept glancing at him like she wanted to ask something. Maybe she saw the panic in his eyes.
He wanted to say something. Anything.
But he couldn't.
Because the chandelier above them flickered.
And the letter in his hand—still warm—crumbled into golden dust.
Max stood up in alarm.
"What the—"
The pendant fell into his palm. Small, jade, and inscribed with glowing symbols.
Then… a low click echoed from behind the bookshelf.
He turned.
The shelf on the far wall creaked open slowly, revealing a hidden passageway. A dark stairway led downward, lit by faint green runes along the stone.
Maria stood up too. "Young master…?"
Max stared into the shadows.
His peaceful life… was over.
---
The Secret Room
The stairs led into a stone chamber beneath the mansion. Dusty shelves. Strange orbs. Weapons mounted on walls. A sealed gate with three glowing locks.
At the center stood a stone pedestal.
On it, a floating orb of light.
As Max approached, the orb shimmered… then spoke.
> "Max, son of Velana. You have awakened. The path begins now."
The pedestal released a scroll—marked with the same wax symbol from the letter.
Max opened it.
It was a list.
Name: Aria Duskveil
Location: phoenix sector
Bloodline: heavenly phoenix
Status: Unawakened
A photograph was attached. A girl with silver hair and violet eyes. Calm. Mysterious. Beautiful.
Max stared at the name. "Aria…"
The pendant