Clearly, Lucian Cross had no qualms about screwing over his own son.
After whisking his wife away on a world tour, he'd left Ethan with just enough money to scrape by—all under the guise of "teaching him independence." Then, like ghosts, the couple vanished without a trace. No calls answered. No trails left.
Ethan half-wondered if Lucian had sniffed out his secret.
Did the old man flee to avoid being sacrificed after realizing I'm a transmigrator?
Shaking off the absurd thought, he unlocked the Consultancy's ornate door.
The Family Business
The interior was spacious, decked out in Taoist motifs—Bagua mirrors, talismans, calligraphy scrolls. Pure theatrics. Lucian's clients ate that mystic aesthetic up, but Ethan knew it was all smoke and mirrors.
He headed straight to the kitchen. The fridge was stocked: vegetables, meat, dairy.
Good. No starving today.
Lucian's abrupt departure meant pantry raids were still viable. A week's worth of meals, easy.
"Time to take over the family trade."
Ethan's plan was simple:
Monetize the Consultancy's reputation.
Hunt horrors under the guise of "exorcisms."
Profit and power-up simultaneously.
In a world drowning in supernatural threats but starved of Awakened, the Bureau couldn't handle every case. Minor entities like the Eight-Foot Lady slipped through—until body counts piled up.
That gap birthed a booming industry: private exorcists.
Most were frauds. Lucian? His Consultancy was a gold-standard scam.
The Devil's in the Details
Ethan slapped an "OPEN" sign on the door and wolfed down a pot of noodles. Fighting for your life on an empty stomach was hell.
Then—an idea.
"Lucian's study might have con-artist manuals. Better 'client relations.'"
The study's centerpiece was a grandiose portrait of Lucian: chiseled jaw, righteous aura. The man oozed "trust me" energy.
Ethan ignored it and ransacked the shelves.
His fingers closed on a leather-bound tome:
[Catalog of Aberrations]
Flipping it open, his smirk died.
"The hell…?"
Page after page detailed hundreds of supernatural entities—abilities, weaknesses, extermination tactics.
Including the Eight-Foot Lady.
[Eight-Foot Lady (Flesh-Type Aberration)]
Origin: Sakura Nation
Threat Range: D-class (base) → C-class (evolved)
Traits: Bullet-resistant flesh, vehicular-speed movement
Countermeasures: To deal with a D-class Eight-Foot Lady, employ specialized containment tactics: Set up...
This wasn't some huckster's scribbles. It was a field manual for hunting horrors.
"So the old man wasn't a fraud. He was a goddamn sleeper agent."
Ethan's temple throbbed. A week in this body, and he'd blindly accepted the original owner's biases.
Memories can lie.
Lucian's reputation as a charlatan stemmed from… unorthodox methods. Like "exorcising" a female client's "demons" straight into bed—resulting in Ethan's birth.
No wonder the original host despised him.
First Client
The doorbell chimed.
A woman's voice, honeyed with panic:
"Is Master Cross available? We're in desperate need!"