17. The memory hidden in the shelves
Maximilian in His Lavish Room — The Weight of the Curse
Maximilian entered his room and let the door close softly behind him.
For a moment, he simply stood there—straight, unreadable, a king in his own fortress—
but the moment the silence enveloped him, the exhaustion in his eyes became impossible to hide.
He loosened his tie and crossed the spacious room.
The warm golden lights glowed across polished marble floors and designer furniture,
but none of the luxury made him feel any less cold inside.
He went to the floor-to-ceiling window, staring at the vast city.
Hollowmist shimmered beneath him, bright, alive, unaware of the curse gripping his family.
His mother's terrified voice echoed again:
"Max… run…"
His jaw tightened.
A curse.
After everything he had built, after all the power he accumulated,
he still couldn't protect the one person who mattered most.
His eyes drifted to the shelf on the far side of the room.
There it was—
a tiny wooden sword.
The same sword he had carried everywhere when he was six.
A soft breath left him… almost a laugh.
He remembered standing on the bed in his superhero pajamas,
puffing his chest and waving the toy sword.
"I'll protect you, Mama!
If monsters come, I'll beat them all!"
His father had laughed and lifted him high into the air.
His mother had kissed his cheek and called him her "brave little knight."
Maximilian touched the toy sword gently.
How strange that the boy with the wooden sword grew up to become a ruthless CEO,
a man feared in boardrooms and respected in every corner of the business world…
Yet inside, that same vow still burned.
He would protect her.
No matter what it cost.
He walked back toward his bed and removed his coat—
when suddenly the lights flickered once.
Then twice.
The warm air in the room dropped sharply,
like winter whispering against his neck.
Maximilian froze.
Not out of fear.
But calculation.
His eyes scanned the room—every shadow, every corner—his expression sharpening, predatory, controlled.
He didn't see anything.
No figure.
No movement.
Only silence.
But something was wrong.
The air felt too heavy, like a presence brushing past him unseen.
His voice lowered to a colder tone:
"If you followed me here…"
a pause,
"…you made a mistake."
Another flicker.
Just one.
His fingers curled into fists.
But he stood tall, unshaken.
He refused to show weakness.
Not even to something he couldn't see.
He went to his desk, grabbed his phone, and dialed effortlessly.
"Double the security around my mother's ward.
Nobody enters. Nobody leaves.
I want the footage from every hallway in the hospital."
He hung up.
For a moment, he simply stood there, breathing slowly, regaining his composure.
His reflection stared back at him in the dark window.
A powerful man.
A dangerous man.
A son who would burn the world if needed.
His voice dropped into a cold whisper meant only for himself:
"I'll save you, Mother.
Even if I have to fight something not of this world."
The lights stopped flickering.
The air steadied.
But Maximilian understood one thing clearly—
This was only the beginning.
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