"Ten resonances?!!"
The moment Mathias was finally allowed to head home, told to wait for the next call, he went straight to his grandfather and told him everything. And Glover, poor old man, had been peacefully eating his pasta when the news hit. He immediately spat it out, sauce and noodles spraying across the table.
"Ten. Yes," Mathias confirmed, already moving to fill a glass of water and handing it over.
Glover grabbed it and gulped it down in one go, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor, and stared at Mathias with wide, disbelieving eyes.
"And you're telling me this like it's nothing?!" He grinned and reached over to ruffle Mathias's blond hair like he was still a kid. "Ten resonances, Mathias! How many women are you planning to bring into this house, you little rascal?!"
"None," Mathias replied curtly, ducking away from his grandfather's hand. "They're soulmates, not fiancées or whatever."
Technically, soulmates weren't obligated to marry. Most did, sure, spending time together, discovering each other, growing closer. The bond naturally developed that way. But it wasn't a requirement.
"Don't be so dramatic, boy! I'm sure you're excited deep down, aren't you?" Glover's grin only widened, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Sit back down, Glover. You're gonna break your spine," Mathias muttered, shrugging off his coat and tossing it onto the back of a chair.
"I'm not that old! And don't call your grandfather by his name!" Glover scolded, though he was still grinning.
"Right, right. You're only seventy-six," Mathias said with a faint smirk, gently pushing the old man back into his seat. "Now sit. Do you need a diaper change while I'm at it?"
"You little brat!"
Mathias laughed and grabbed a bottle of orange juice from the fridge before heading toward his room.
He'd been living in his grandpa's small apartment since he was ten, ever since his parents' messy divorce. Glover had been everything to him since then. Father figure, friend, the one person who never gave up on him.
Back in his room, Mathias slumped into his chair, cracked open the juice, and booted up his game console. He grabbed the controller and immediately dove into his current obsession, an open-world assassin game he'd been grinding through for weeks.
Six hours passed in what felt like minutes. His gaze stayed flat and monotonous the entire time, fingers moving on autopilot as he completed mission after mission. Eventually, though, his head started to pound. His eyes burned from staring at the screen for so long.
He didn't even bother with dinner.
He just collapsed onto his bed and passed out, still fully dressed.
***
The next morning, he was jolted awake by the sharp sound of the doorbell ringing.
Groaning, Mathias blindly reached for his phone on the nightstand and squinted at the screen.
7:06 AM
"Who the hell... at this damn hour..." He muttered, his voice groggy.
Forcing himself upright, he dragged a hand through his messy hair and stumbled out of his room. When he reached the hallway, he saw his grandfather already at the door, speaking to someone outside.
"Who might you be?" Glover asked, his tone wary.
"We are here for Mathias Blight."
"He's my grandson. What do you want with him?"
Mathias stepped forward before they could answer, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He stopped beside Glover and looked at the visitors.
Two tall men stood in the doorway, both dressed in sharp black suits. They looked professional. Too professional. Like bodyguards or hired muscle.
"It's me," Mathias said. "What's up?"
"We are here to accompany you following the results of the Resonance," one of them said.
Mathias stared at him. "And you expect me to just... follow you? Are you with the Society?"
There was a pause.
A long one.
"That's what I thought," Mathias said, already moving to close the door.
But the man's hand shot out, stopping it.
"We are not with the Society," he said carefully. "However, we belong to the party of one of your soulmates. You are requested to meet them."
Mathias stared the man's face for a moment, then glanced at his partner. Neither of them flinched.
"Already?" Mathias asked. "It hasn't even been a day."
Both men nodded.
Mathias sighed. "Give me ten minutes."
He shut the door and turned around to see his grandfather grinning at him like a kid on Christmas morning.
Ignoring him, Mathias headed back to his room.
He took the fastest shower of his life, threw on a clean shirt and jacket, laced up his shoes, and walked back out.
"Have fun, Casanova!" Glover called after him.
Mathias didn't dignify that with a response.
***
Outside the apartment, a sleek black car was waiting. One of the men opened the rear door for him, and Mathias slid inside without a word.
The car started moving immediately.
Mathias didn't bother asking where they were going. He just stared out the window, watching the early morning streets of London roll by, quiet, grey, and still half-asleep.
After nearly an hour of driving, they finally reached their destination.
A residence.
No, rather a villa.
The white iron gates swung open automatically as the car approached, and they rolled up a long, pristine driveway. Mathias looked out at the immaculate garden, trimmed grass, carefully arranged flower beds, hedges shaped with mathematical precision.
This was sheer wealth.
When the car stopped, Mathias stepped out and immediately noticed the crowd.
There were at least a dozen people standing around the entrance, all of them dressed in professional suits. But they weren't uniform. Different styles, different cuts, different mannerisms. Clearly, they belonged to different groups. Different parties.
The moment they saw Mathias, every single one of them turned to look at him. Their gazes were sharp, assessing, measuring him like a piece of merchandise.
Mathias didn't spare them a glance.
He kept his eyes forward and walked straight toward the villa's entrance.
Once inside, Mathias was led deeper into the villa.
He looked around as they walked, taking in the hallway, polished marble floors that reflected the light from crystal chandeliers overhead, walls painted in soft creams and whites, framed artwork that probably cost more than his grandfather's entire apartment.
(Yeah. This is definitely a villa.)
He still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that this was someone's home. A place where people actually lived. Wasn't this overkill? All this space for what, one person? Maybe two? It felt wasteful. Excessive. But then again, what did he know about the world of the ultra-rich?
He was perfectly fine with his small room and his grandfather's cramped apartment. It had everything they needed. This? This was just... empty grandeur.
"Here."
One of the men stopped in front of a set of tall double doors and pushed them open.
Mathias stepped inside.
And immediately stopped.
The room was massive. Not just big but massive. A living hall the size of several apartments combined, with vaulted ceilings that stretched so high it felt almost cathedral-like. Everything was pristine white and gold, plush sofas arranged in a semi-circle, a grand fireplace that looked like it had never been used, floor-to-ceiling windows draped with heavy silk curtains.
It was so grand it actually made him feel a little sick.
What was the point of all this space when most of it was just... empty?
But his discomfort with the décor quickly faded as his eyes swept across the room and landed on the people waiting inside.
There were more bodyguards stationed along the walls, at least a dozen of them, all standing stiff and silent like sentinels. But they weren't what caught his attention.
No.
What made him pause, what made his brain momentarily short-circuit were the women seated throughout the room.
Eight of them.
Each one sitting separately, claiming their own space on different sofas and armchairs, their postures ranging from relaxed to rigidly formal. And none of them were ordinary, he could tell that from a single glance.