The scent of roasting meat and fresh coffee replaced the faint, metallic tang of crimson blood from Rayn's nightmare. He and Ken sat in the brilliant white, minimalist dining room—a conscious design choice reflecting the clean, optimized reality Rayn preferred.
Their cook, Raven, a lean man in immaculate whites, placed Rayn's favorite, deceptively simple breakfast before him: a perfectly toasted sandwich layered with crisp beacons and two delicate egg whites. Simple, yet exquisitely prepared—a dish that defined Rayn's taste for efficiency and quality.
Raven then joined them, but before the three could lift a fork, a soft laugh drew their attention.
A woman emerged from her private wing. She wore a simple white t-shirt and white shorts, her black hair contrasting vividly with her clothes, her black eyes sparkling with maternal affection. This was Valerie, Rayn's stepmother.
She walked directly to Rayn and wrapped him in a warm hug from behind. "Dear, what are you doing? Eating breakfast without your mother?"
Rayn tilted his head back, returning the affection with a familiar, practiced warmth. "No, Mom. I didn't want to disturb you, so I personally told Raven to prepare your breakfast as well. You shouldn't starve."
Valerie kissed his forehead, her smile both sweet and sharp. "How sweet. And why, I wonder, do you love this stepmother more than your unknown real mother?"
It was a standard, slightly painful joke in the household, but Valerie then shifted, posing a serious question, testing the stability of her son's affections. "If your birth mother came to you now, Rayn, and asked you to leave with her, who would you choose?"
Rayn took a moment, his red eyes settling on her. He had already calculated this scenario countless times. "Mother, of course, I would choose you. But..." he added, maintaining the logical detachment necessary for his survival code, "if her reason for leaving me was accurate, sad, and justified—if it presented an optimized path for our collective security—then I would invite her to join our family."
Valerie's smile broadened. "That's my boy. Always calculating the variables." She joined the table.
Chef Raven, ever respectful, tried to get up. "Mrs. Valerie, please sit, I will serve you."
"No, Raven," she replied smoothly, already reaching for the serving plate. "I'm perfectly capable of getting my own breakfast." She took the same beacon sandwich and egg whites as Rayn, signaling their tight familial unit.
As they ate, Valerie brought up the day's business. "Rayn, Ken, do you remember your appointments? You both have a major interview today."
Ken, the company's CEO, nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, Mom, at three o'clock. It's a full network interview." He sighed dramatically, gesturing to his brilliant Elder brother. "It's hard work being the CEO of my brother's company."
Rayn dismissed the claim with a flat tone. "I am the one who does everything. You only assist with the main advertisements and appearances. I appointed you CEO because I don't have any other honest person I trust enough to give the title to. I even asked Mom, but she refused."
The four finished their meal in comfortable, competitive silence.
Just as they were leaving, Rayn, ever the strategist, offered one last suggestion to his mother. "Mom, if you don't have pressing work, you could join our interview. The public might like to see the mother who raised both the CEO and the Chairman of the fastest-growing company."
Valerie smiled, brushing his collar. "I really want to, dear, but I have important things to do at the orphanage today. Perhaps next time." Rayn nodded, understanding and accepting the refusal.
They separated. Valerie entered her sleek sedan, heading towards her charitable work. Rayn and Ken entered their long, black luxurious executive vehicle, headed for the corporate battlefield.
Upon reaching the obsidian-and-glass tower that housed their corporate headquarters, every employee who saw them bowed low and greeted them with unified respect: "Good morning, Sir!" Rayn and Ken returned the nods, their synchronized movement a reflection of their power.
They took the private executive elevator. Ken pressed the 49th floor, his office level. Rayn, however, continued to the top floor penthouse office.
Once inside Rayn's vast, silent sanctuary, Ken noticed the faint shadow lingering around Rayn's red eyes. "Hey, Rayn, why are you like that? Did something happen this morning?"
Rayn glanced sharply at his brother. "Why are you in my cabin? Your CEO cabin is one floor down."
Ken held his ground. "Just answer the question."
Rayn relented, detailing the bizarre dream—the shattered gods, the crimson blood, the furious vengeance of Yaowang Ming.
Ken's reaction was predictable and disgusted. "That's why I told you and Mom not to watch the anime and read those ridiculous fantasy novels! It's polluting your mind!"
Rayn sighed, allowing the excuse to stand for the benefit of his brother. "I am also thinking the same. I have to maintain my work focus."
Ken finally left. "I'm leaving. I have an important appointment with our other branch company executives."
Rayn was alone. His demeanor instantly changed from tolerant brother to Chairman. He sat at his custom desk, the city spread beneath him like a plaything. He was not thinking about sandwiches or filial duty; he was thinking about control.
He checked the company's statistics. In a few short years, he and Ken had taken a modest startup and propelled it into one of the world's highest-valued corporations. He saw an article on his desk, featuring his own magnificent photo in a white suit, looking both brilliant and intimidating.
His true mantra, his code of conduct, played in his mind:
"I never measured success in profits; I measured it in control. Every relationship is an investment, every setback a calculated variable. My only principle is the optimization of my destiny, and I use every resource—soft or hard—to ensure the graph trends upward. I invest all my mind and thoughts to make this company big. Now I am here, standing where so many people only dreamed of."
He was a master strategist, an alchemist turning data and ambition into gold. But now, the dream of Yaowang Ming introduced a new, frightening variable he couldn't control.
The concentration was broken by his phone. It was Ken. "Rayn! What are you doing? It's two o'clock. Come down, we are going to eat." Ken then asked, "Which restaurant do you want to visit?"
"I want to eat in the cafeteria of our company," Rayn replied. It was a calculated move—a small gesture of "humility" that yielded immense returns in employee loyalty and public relations.
They both walked into the bustling company cafeteria, grabbing trays and eating the standard, excellent corporate fare. Employees rushed to greet them, shocked to see the Chairman and CEO eating among them. Rayn and Ken didn't dwell on the surprise, focusing on the principle: If you dwell on the thoughts of others, you can achieve nothing. Ignore external opinion and move forward.
A moment later, a woman approached Ken from behind, closing his eyes. "Guess who?" she asked in a playful tone.
Rayn smirked—he knew exactly who it was.
Ken smiled easily. "It is Rhea, right?"
The woman, beautiful and direct, stepped in front of him. "How did you find out it was me?"
Ken chuckled. "Who else would dare to walk up and blindfold the CEO of the company?"
Rhea greeted Rayn with polite respect. "Rayn, I want to visit your interview. I want to appear on TV!"
Rayn gently declined, his response cold and strategic. "I cannot allow that. If you come, the world will confirm that you and Ken are romantically involved. After that, you won't be able to walk the streets normally. Worse, in a bad market or business downturn, people will think you love him only for his money and the company. It is best you hide your relationship until I approve the timing."
Rhea understood the cold logic of the corporate world and nodded sadly.
Ken checked his expensive watch. "Rayn, it is 2:45. We have to leave right now. The interview is at three o'clock sharp. We must be on time."
They quickly left the office, entering their car with bodyguards following close behind. As they neared the news company's headquarters, the media circus erupted. Reporters and cameras surrounded the vehicle.
"See, Rayn?" Ken observed, excited by the frenzy. "People are dying to see us!"
Rayn's expression was icy, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. "What you see and what I see are different," he stated, his voice heavy with cynicism. "The whole world is not kind. If someone rises too high, others will go to any length, even murder, to drag them down. Those reporters are eager to find any small flaw to write headlines like: 'The Youngster Got Mad: Chairman Displays Arrogance and Bad Behavior.' That is what the world wants."
He paused, letting the weight of his experience settle. "If you want to survive, you have to understand the predatory nature of this world."
With that harsh lesson delivered, Rayn and Ken stepped out, flanked by guards, and entered the towering, technologically advanced building of Momentum Global Wire (MGW) to participate in the interview—a public display of the young moguls' power before the world.
The two worlds are poised for intersection. Rayn is now placed squarely in the global spotlight.