While Max was deep in thought, contemplating his future in the Marvel Universe, a gentle knock on the door broke his reverie.
"Master Max, may I come in?"
A soft, aged voice filtered through the door. Max, momentarily caught off guard, hesitated before responding.
But with the memories of his new body now firmly rooted in him, he could assume the persona of Max Knight with greater ease.
"Yes, you may enter," he responded calmly, though a flicker of nervousness remained inside him.
The door creaked open, revealing an elderly woman, likely in her late sixties. She entered with a disciplined posture and professional demeanour, but her warm, caring eyes softened her presence.
Wrinkles lined her face like pages of a long, dignified story. Her white hair was neatly tied in a bun, and her well-ironed clothes spoke of her role as the house's caretaker—one she clearly took pride in.
She regarded him for a moment before speaking, her voice gentle.
"Master Max, it's good to see you're trying to improve your sleeping habits by waking early."
She paused, then asked, "Would you prefer breakfast now, or a bit later? If there's something special you'd like for today, I'd be happy to prepare it."
Her tone was warm and considerate.
Max listened to her voice intently. For the first time since arriving in this world, a strange calm washed over him.
The constant tension he had carried—born from transmigration, disorientation, and the merging of two lives—seemed to ease.
He didn't fully understand why her voice had such a soothing effect, but when he looked into the memories of Max Knight, it made sense.
This woman was more than just a caretaker. She was more than family.
"I'll freshen up soon. Something light will be fine," he said with a soft, tired smile.
For a second, the woman seemed startled—perhaps by the rare sight of that smile—but then returned it with one of her own. A gentle, knowing expression only an elderly heart could offer.
"As you wish," she replied warmly.
Just as she turned to leave, Max hesitated. "Grand…ma," he stuttered. "You can just call me Max. Like always."
She paused, a flicker of emotion flashing in her eyes. Her lips trembled slightly, but she nodded with a teary smile.
"As you say."
Before closing the door, she added one last thought.
"Max… try to relax. These hard times will pass."
Max stood silently as she left, her words echoing in his mind.
They weren't meant just for the old Max Knight—but for the soul inhabiting him now.
And somehow, they sparked something inside him.
"Yes… These troubles will pass. But I must stand strong, as I always have," he murmured to himself, a new resolve hardening in his chest.
His eyes burned—not with fear, but with determination. This world was dangerous. Unpredictable. Marvelous.
But if he was to survive here—if he was to thrive—he had to rebuild himself first.
"Before I face the world, I need to strengthen my foundation."
He rose from bed and stretched, slowly acquainting himself with the sensations of this new body.
With a deep breath, he walked to the bathroom to clear his mind with a cold shower and prepare for the challenges ahead.
…
Martha, after gently closing the door, stood still for a moment, remembering Max's smile.
She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.
She had been with this family for generations, ever since Max's father, Arthur, was a boy.
From Arthur's birth to his first day of school, to his wedding and the birth of Max, Martha had witnessed it all.
Arthur had always been like a son to her. She had no children of her own, but in the Knight family, she had found the family she never had.
When Max was born, she rejoiced as though he were her blood, cradling him in her arms with boundless love.
Arthur's parents had passed away shortly after his marriage, and Martha had naturally stepped into the role of the family's elder.
Arthur respected her deeply, on par with his birth mother.
When Max was born, Arthur had allowed her to call him her grandson. That small gesture broke a lifetime of tradition and meant the world to her.
She had everything she could ask for. Not by birth, but by bond.
But two months ago, the accident shattered that peaceful life.
Arthur and his wife were taken too soon, and Martha's world was shaken. It felt like she had lost her own son and daughter.
Even in her grief, she knew Max needed her now more than ever.
She couldn't offer wealth or powerful connections. But she could be there for him. She could be his family.
In the days following the funeral, she noticed a profound change in him. He never smiled. Not even once.
The day he received the news, he had cried—just once—for an hour, holding her tightly in the privacy of their home.
And then… he changed.
He became distant. Guarded. Afraid to form bonds that fate could rip away in an instant.
He still respected her, and perhaps still loved her, but he kept everyone at arm's length—emotionally and physically.
But today… Today, after a long time, she saw a flicker of the boy he used to be. That soft smile. That word—Grandma—spoken with warmth.
It was enough to stir hope in her heart.
He was still there. Beneath the pain. Beneath the burden.
With a quiet smile on her lips, she turned back toward the kitchen.
She would prepare something nice for breakfast—not because he asked, but because that's what a family does.
And she would wait—patiently, lovingly—for the day he would open up again.
….
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