Aron patiently began to delve into all the finer details, carefully explaining everything to Maximus. He clarified that Maximus—or rather, Max Stern—was a seventeen-year-old student in his final year of high school.
However, Max wasn't anything like your average high school senior. Aron emphasized that Max was the youngest heir to the influential Stern family, meticulously detailing their immense wealth, extensive businesses, and far-reaching power. Strangely enough, Aron even went as far as listing Max's relatives, as if this were critical information to grasp immediately.
"You have two uncles, each with their own children," Aron explained methodically, his voice steady and calm. "You also have two aunts, both of whom are married. Each with a sibling who is older than you, placing you squarely as the youngest heir."
Max listened intently, absorbing each detail. Aron's voice softened slightly as he addressed a more sensitive subject—Max's parents.
"Unfortunately, your parents passed away in a car accident while you were attending school," Aron explained gently. "Since then, I've been your legal guardian, responsible for your safety and well-being."
Maximus blinked in surprise. Aron appeared only a few years older than him, yet he was entrusted with guardianship? Max's confusion was evident.
"I realize this is a significant shock," Aron continued, unfazed by Max's obvious bewilderment. "There's a great deal to catch up on, so I'll remain close by, filling you in as thoroughly as possible."
Aron smoothly reached into his jacket pocket and handed Max a large, state-of-the-art smartphone. Max immediately recognized the latest model, identical to the one he'd owned in his previous life. The familiarity gave him a strange sense of comfort.
*This confirms that I'm living in roughly the same time period,* Max deduced silently. Turning on the phone, facial recognition immediately unlocked the device, confirming it had only been three days since he'd been betrayed and nearly killed.
"Do you always carry phones with my face ID ready to go?" Max asked skeptically.
In response, Aron casually produced two more identical smartphones from his pockets, both pristine and fully functional.
"Young master," Aron explained evenly, "this isn't the first time you've lost or damaged a phone. I always keep extras on hand. Each device has my contact pre-programmed, ensuring you can reach me at a moment's notice. Whatever you need or wish, I'll strive to fulfill."
An amused smile spread across Max's face as an idea formed. "Anything? So, if I asked for a red carpet to greet me outside and a new Lamborghini ready for my exit from this hospital, you'd make it happen?"
Aron, without hesitation, retrieved another phone—this one distinctively red—and began dialing.
"I have a request from the young master—"
"Wait!" Max interrupted in panic. "What exactly are you doing?"
"He wants a red carpet rolled out and the latest Lamborghini waiting outside," Aron continued calmly into the phone. "Yes, it's an unusual request. He's woken up with a curious case of 'young master syndrome'... Indeed, quite troubling, but we must oblige."
"Cancel the order!" Max shouted frantically.
Aron glanced at Max, raising an eyebrow subtly. "Cancel the order," he instructed into the phone before pocketing it neatly.
"As I said," Aron reaffirmed, "I'll fulfill any request within reason. But understand I'll openly judge your choices."
"Noted," Maximus replied dryly, shaking his head. The bizarre loyalty from Aron was unlike anything he'd ever encountered, even within his former gang.
Their conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Come in," Aron called.
A doctor entered swiftly, clipboard in hand. "Sir Aron, please sign some paperwork before Master Stern can be discharged. Follow me briefly, please."
As Aron followed the doctor out, Max was once again left alone with his swirling thoughts.
*This is real—I'm actually in a new body, and not just anyone's body, but a Stern family heir. Maybe my lifetime of struggle paid off after all.*
Driven by disbelief once more, he hurried to the bathroom mirror, closely examining his new face again. Seeing a stranger staring back was still unsettling, yet undeniably thrilling.
*With this power and influence, finding out who betrayed me from the White Tigers will be easy. I'll uncover every detail and ensure they pay dearly.*
A dark, satisfied smile crept onto his face. Noticing the unsettling expression in the mirror, Max quickly relaxed his cheeks, attempting a more natural look.
"With a new life, I should fully embrace a new identity," he declared aloud. "From now on, I'm Max Stern—not Maximus."
Studying his reflection closely, Max suddenly glimpsed movement in the mirror's corner. Instinctively, he dodged as a hand lunged toward him, missing by mere inches. Heart racing, Max rushed out of the bathroom into the larger hospital room, spinning quickly to face his attacker.
A man dressed in all-black clothing, a surgical mask hiding his face, stood menacingly where Max had been moments earlier.
*Who sent this guy? Which gang is after me?* Max thought in confusion before reminding himself sharply, *Wait, I'm in a new body—why would any gangs target me now?*
"Come on, kid," the masked attacker sneered arrogantly, lunging forward with reckless punches. Max easily sidestepped each wild swing, frustration clear on his face.
"Who taught you how to fight?" Max taunted, before stepping in swiftly, delivering a firm punch directly to the attacker's face. The man staggered backward, stunned but not down.
Max winced, shaking his reddening knuckles. *Damn, that hurt! In my old body, this would've been nothing.*
"You worthless brat!" the attacker spat venomously, pulling out a pocket knife. "I didn't want to escalate, but you've forced me. Start begging for your life now!"
Instead of fear, Max felt anger surging. Slowly lifting his head, he locked eyes fiercely with the attacker, whose confidence wavered.
"You said this was an easy job," Max said, his voice calm but deadly. "You have no idea who you just threatened with that knife."
As Max advanced, the man instinctively retreated, suddenly unsure why fear gripped him so tightly, sweat trickling down his face.
"Drawing a blade isn't a joke," Max continued coldly. "Just remember—you made this serious first."