The very next morning, the first thing I did was get the absolute hell out of the Coldstone district. With two and a half million dollars freshly resting in my newly minted bank account, I had zero intentions of spending another minute in that rat-infested, blood-stained apartment. I packed exactly nothing, tossing my keys on the rickety kitchen counter and walking out the door with only the clothes on my back and my cracked smartphone.
I bought a modest, sleek flat in the Arkum district, an upper-middle-class area where the streets were actually paved, the streetlights functioned, and the air didn't constantly smell of stale urine and desperation. It took me a grueling two days of throwing obscene amounts of cash at real estate agents to fast-track the formalities, but by Wednesday evening, I was officially a resident.
During all this time, Chloe didn't try to get in touch with me. Not that I minded in the slightest. The later she called, the better. Getting involved with a 22-year-old ancient vampire heiress and her psychopathic, head-reaping pseudo-fiancé was a headache I was more than happy to postpone.
Today, I was sitting in the plush leather chair of my new, sunlit living room, staring at the massive monitors of a ridiculously high-end computer rig I had just bought. I had recently decided to dive headfirst into learning coding and cybersecurity. Why? Because while being a supernatural punching bag for ten million dollars was a great initial windfall, I couldn't always depend on weird, immortal creatures coming to my doorstep asking for favors. I needed a stable, independent source of income, preferably one that didn't involve getting decapitated on a Tuesday night.
To my absolute delight, coding was turning out to be a total breeze. My system-enhanced intelligence and upgraded memory retention made absorbing complex programming languages feel like reading a children's picture book. I was practically downloading Python and C++ directly into my brain, my fingers flying across the mechanical keyboard in a blur.
Just as I was getting deeply into the rhythm of compiling a new script, my phone buzzed on the desk.
I picked it up, glancing at the unknown number on the screen. "Yes?"
"Hello, am I speaking with Mr. Samsara Yu?" a deep, impeccably polite voice asked.
"Yeah, that's me. Who is this?" I leaned back in my chair, stretching my legs.
"My name is Berker. I work for your grandfather, and I am contacting you on his behalf," the voice replied smoothly.
I completely froze, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. My grandfather? The sheer audacity of it left me momentarily speechless. These were the same grandparents who had treated my existence like a communicable disease, the people who had utterly abandoned a fifteen-year-old kid to starve in the slums after his parents overdosed. And now they were reaching out?
"They would like for you to come and meet them when you are available," Berker continued, filling the heavy silence.
"Really?" I asked, a sharp, bitter laugh escaping my lips. "They want to meet me? After all this time?"
"Yes, it's true."
I thought about telling him to go to hell. I thought about hanging up and blocking the number. But a dark, morbid curiosity started bubbling up inside me. I wasn't the scared, malnourished kid they had thrown away anymore. I was immortal, incredibly wealthy, and dangerously strong. I wanted to see the look on their faces. I wanted to see the pristine, perfect world my mother had rebelled against.
"Tell them I'll be there in a few moments," I said coldly.
"Certainly, sir. I will send you the coordinates."
I hung up the phone, a heavy sigh escaping my lungs. I got up from my desk and headed straight for the glass-enclosed shower. I let the hot water beat down on my back, washing away the lingering tension. Once I was dry, I walked into my walk-in closet and pulled out the new clothes I had bought yesterday. I threw on a fitted marine-blue t-shirt, a sleek dark leather jacket, and a pair of perfectly tailored black jeans paired with high-end sneakers.
As I stood in front of the vanity mirror to style my hair, I paused. Without me even realizing it, my hair had grown significantly longer, the dark, silky strands now brushing against my sharp jawline. Combined with my piercing, vibrant eyes and flawless skin, I looked entirely foreign to myself—like a rogue prince out of a dark fantasy novel.
I grabbed my keys and headed out into the crisp afternoon air. The coordinates Berker had sent me pointed directly to the "Blue Gate" district, arguably the richest, most disgustingly opulent neighborhood in Nebula City. The district quite literally earned its name from the massive, heavily guarded wrought-iron blue gates that separated the billionaire elite from the rest of the city's mortal population.
Since I hadn't bothered to buy a car yet, I took the city transit, arriving at the towering blue gates about thirty minutes later. I pulled out my phone and dialed Berker's number. Less than a minute later, a sleek, heavily armored luxury sedan—easily worth over a million dollars—glided silently up to the gates.
I stood there, staring at the vehicle, once again violently reminded of just how obscenely wealthy my maternal grandparents actually were. They possessed this kind of money, this kind of boundless resources, and yet they had let their own daughter die in a moldy room and left their grandson to rot in Coldstone. My jaw tightened, my upgraded muscles tensing with suppressed anger.
The rear door opened, and a handsome, middle-aged man with sharp black hair, tailored suit, and silver-rimmed glasses stepped out. He extended a perfectly manicured hand toward me.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Yu," he said, his tone perfectly neutral.
"Nice to meet you too," I replied, shaking his hand firmly. "You don't have to call me Mr. Yu. Just call me Samsara."
"As you wish, sir. Please, step inside."
The ride past the gates took less than five minutes, but the scenery was staggering. We drove down a sprawling, private, tree-lined avenue that looked like it belonged in a royal botanical garden. When the property finally came into view, calling it a 'mansion' felt like a gross understatement. The thing was basically a modern castle, a sprawling fortress of glass, marble, and pristine white stone.
Berker guided me through the massive double front doors and down a cavernous hallway adorned with priceless art and antique vases. I was stunned by the sheer beauty and scale of the place, but the opulence only fueled the bitter fire burning in my chest.
He led me through a set of heavy mahogany doors and into a vast, sunken living room.
Entering the room, I immediately noticed a large group of people gathered together, the low murmur of their conversation halting the absolute second I stepped over the threshold.
Sitting on a luxurious velvet sofa in the center of the room was an elderly couple. I instantly knew they were my grandparents. The man, my grandfather, had a full head of pure, swept-back white hair. Deep wrinkles marred his stern face, but his eyes were sharp, calculating, and full of heavy character. Beside him sat my grandmother. She possessed a cold, noble disposition, her sharp bone structure hinting at the breathtaking beauty she must have been in her youth. Looking at her, I could see flashes of my mother's face—the very same junkie who had dragged me into hell. The resemblance made my stomach churn with old, unresolved resentment.
Occupying the other plush seats scattered around the room were seven other people, clearly the rest of the pristine family tree I had been ruthlessly pruned from.
Berker guided me toward the center of the room, executing a flawless, practiced bow toward my grandfather. "As per your instructions, sir, I have brought your grandson, Mr. Yu."
Being called 'mister' at seventeen still bugged me, but Berker was clearly a man of strict formalities.
Instantly, a suffocating, heavy silence descended upon the grand living room. Every single pair of eyes in the room snapped toward me, locking onto my figure with varying degrees of shock, curiosity, and disdain.
It was a deeply weird sensation, being the center of attention in a room full of hostile strangers who shared my blood, but I kept my posture relaxed and my expression completely composed. I let my vibrant eyes lazily scan the room.
I could see a complex, unrecognizable emotion swimming in my grandmother's eyes as she stared at my face. On my grandfather's stern visage, there was a visible crack of genuine surprise. Perhaps they had expected Berker to drag in a hunchbacked, malnourished street rat in rags. They certainly hadn't anticipated a towering, 189-centimeter powerhouse radiating an aura of dangerous, untouchable confidence.
My gaze shifted to the others. There was a middle-aged man with two teenage girls—likely his daughters. There was a younger woman, probably in her mid-twenties, watching me with mild curiosity.
But then, my eyes landed on the final trio sitting on a loveseat to the right. A wealthy-looking middle-aged man, a luxuriously dressed woman who exuded a chilling arrogance, and a teenager sitting between them who looked to be exactly my age.
My upgraded brain instantly recognized the teenager. My blood ran cold, and then, a slow, dangerous, highly amused smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth.
It was him. The spoiled, entitled billionaire's son from the coffee shop. The absolute bastard whose fragile ego had caused him to send a pack of hired goons to beat me into the pavement and get me fired from my only source of income just three days ago. The irony of the universe was so profoundly delicious I could practically taste it.
Cole was staring at me with an extremely bizarre, violently conflicted expression. He clearly recognized me—the stained apron, the bruised face—but his brain was entirely short-circuiting trying to reconcile that pathetic barista with the impeccably dressed, physically flawless giant currently dominating his family's living room.
My grandfather finally spoke, his deep, gravelly voice shattering the silence and interrupting my vengeful internal monologue.
"Thank you for the trouble, Berker."
"Not at all, sir. I shall take my leave then," Berker bowed once more and silently exited the room, leaving me alone in the lion's den.
My grandfather turned his piercing gaze back to me. His first words weren't a greeting, an apology, or an inquiry about my well-being.
"You look a little bit like your mother," he stated flatly.
I didn't comment. I just stared at him, my expression hardening into a mask of pure ice. He sighed heavily, a world-weary sound, and gestured to an empty armchair across from the main sofa. "Take a seat."
I walked over, my movements fluid and silent, and sat down, crossing one leg over the other. I didn't wait for him to dictate the pace of this little family reunion.
"What do you want from me?" I asked directly, my voice devoid of a single ounce of warmth or respect.
Hearing the absolute, freezing indifference in my tone, both of my grandparents actually flinched slightly.
"You shouldn't speak to Father with that tone, you impertinent kid!" a voice suddenly barked.
I turned my head. It was the wealthy-looking middle-aged man sitting next to Cole. He was glaring at me as if I had just tracked mud across his priceless antique rugs.
I looked at him, completely nonplussed. "And who exactly are you?"
"I am Thomas Green. Your uncle," he sneered disdainfully, adjusting the cuffs of his expensive suit. "Show some respect to your betters."
I let out a short, hollow laugh that echoed sharply in the quiet room. "I don't have an uncle. I don't have a family. I am an orphan who survived the Coldstone district entirely on my own. I honestly don't know why I should afford you an ounce of respect."
"You...!" Thomas's face turned a violent shade of crimson, and he started to rise from his seat, ready to blow up.
"Enough, Thomas!" my grandfather snapped, raising a single, authoritative hand.
"He's right, Thomas," my grandmother interjected, her voice trembling slightly as she looked down at her hands. "We didn't do a single thing for him his entire life. It's perfectly natural that he considers us strangers."
My grandfather sighed again, looking significantly older than he had five minutes ago. "I suppose I should introduce everyone to you, Samsara."
He pointed a weathered finger at the first middle-aged man. "This is my eldest son, John Green. His wife passed away thirteen years ago. These two are his daughters, Maddie, who is eighteen, and Laure, who is seventeen."
"Nice to meet you," the two girls chimed in unison, offering small, polite smiles. I just gave them a curt nod.
"This is Carrie Green, my second daughter and my youngest child," my grandfather continued, pointing to the young woman in her twenties. A flash of deep melancholy crossed his eyes. "Your mother was my very first daughter."
Finally, he gestured toward the hostile trio on the loveseat. "And this is my second son, Thomas. His wife, Mel Wade, and their son, your cousin, Cole."
Thomas was still glaring at me with open, vitriolic displeasure. But it was his wife, Mel, who suddenly caught my undivided attention.
She was looking at me piercingly, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that felt completely unnatural. As I held her gaze, the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up. My supernatural instincts, the very same ones that had screamed at me when I first saw Chloe rip out a man's throat, were suddenly blaring like air raid sirens.
She gave me a profound, undeniable feeling of otherness.
And when I shifted my gaze to Cole, the spoiled brat who was still looking at me with a mixture of confusion and dawning horror, I felt it from him, too. It was a subtle, hidden frequency that I hadn't noticed when he was just an entitled rich kid screaming at a barista. But now, with my fully awakened, upgraded senses, the supernatural taint clinging to them was impossible to ignore. They weren't just wealthy snobs; there was something fundamentally inhuman lurking beneath their designer clothes.
Before I could fully dissect this alarming new revelation, my grandfather leaned forward, clasping his hands tightly over his cane. The melancholic, nostalgic atmosphere vanished in an instant, replaced by a suffocating, heavy gravity.
"I have a very important announcement to make," my grandfather stated, his sharp eyes locking onto mine. "And that is precisely why I have gathered you all here today."