"Urgh!"
Max's hand shot toward his head, a sharp pain jolting through him like an electric shock. The sudden assault on his senses yanked him out of a deep sleep, ending his beauty rest abruptly.
His head pounded, and he felt the sting of sweat clinging to his skin.
Eyes fluttering open, he blinked into a haze, struggling to focus. His mind was a blur, thoughts jumbled, and the world around him swam in a disorienting fog.
Gradually, the fog lifted, and he focused on the ceiling above him. It was unfamiliar, with intricate designs he couldn't recall seeing before—maybe in movies or on some influencer's Instagram post flexing their wealth.
"Hm."
Pressing his forehead, Max noticed something soft beneath him. Shifting slightly, his body sank deeper into a plush mattress, far too comfortable and luxurious compared to his lumpy old bed back home.
Confusion gnawed at him as he sat up, the disorienting sensation of luxury throwing him off balance. He rubbed his temples, trying to recall the events of the night before, but his mind remained a blank slate.
'Had I drunk too much? Why can't I remember anything?'
The headache subsided slightly, giving him a moment's reprieve. His eyes wandered around the room, and they froze when he saw his surroundings.
The sheer opulence was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Polished wood furniture, artistic detailing, and soft, ambient lighting filled the space.
His gaze drifted to the window, where sunlight poured through exquisite curtains—fabric so fine, it was far beyond anything his meagre salary could have ever bought.
A sudden panic gripped him. 'Where the hell am I? How did I even get here?'
Questions swirled in his mind, his thoughts disjointed, as if his brain was malfunctioning. Desperately, he tried to breathe deeply, calming himself. He needed answers—someone had to have answers.
Turning his head to the left, his gaze froze again. His entire body tensed, as if his nerves had suddenly decided to betray him. His heart pounded in his chest, mind refused to process what his eyes were telling him.
Before him was a mirror, a beautifully crafted piece of art—its carving exquisite, the kind he'd never even imagined owning.
But it wasn't the craftsmanship that made his breath catch.
It was the reflection staring back at him.
A young man with blond hair, chiselled features, and piercing blue eyes. Handsome didn't even begin to describe him—this face belonged in a high-end fashion magazine.
Max's hand trembled as he reached up to touch his face, and the reflection mirrored his movements.
'How...? This doesn't make any sense.'
His mind raced, and words caught in his throat, unable to form coherent thoughts. He had no idea who would give him the answers he so desperately needed.
Before he could begin to process the situation, a flood of memories—like a dam breaking—crashed into his mind.
It hit him hard, overwhelming his senses, and he clutched his head as dizziness swept over him. For a moment, it felt like his brain was overheating, trying to process more than it could handle.
Then, just as quickly as it came, the torrent of memories faded, leaving a strange calm.
Max let out a deep sigh, his breaths shaky. The chaos in his mind slowly started to settle, leaving behind only fragments of clarity. The memories—though fragmented—were enough to offer him a glimpse of understanding.
The body he now inhabited was named Max Knight.
Max Knight? A strangely similar name, yet the surname was new. It sounded... classy. Even somewhat noble, if he allowed himself a moment of vanity.
Whatever the case, one thing was clear: he had somehow transmigrated into this body, into this life.
The last thing he remembered of past life was celebrating his promotion at work with some office buddies, drinking a bit too much.
After that? Nothing. His memory was a blank slate.
NO Truck-kun, No yandere, NO revenge plot at all! Yet somehow he was here.
But one thing remained clear—he had woken up in someone else's life.
In his past life, Max had been an ordinary office worker—what he liked to call a "corporate slave." Long workweeks, gruelling shifts, and fake laughter at his boss's terrible jokes.
Sure, he'd had small rebellions—like flirting with his boss's wife when the opportunity arose, even taking things a step further when the boss was away on "business trips."
It was a dangerous game, but Max liked to think of it as life's way of giving him something small to claim as a victory.
Thinking of his affair, 'Poison, maybe? No!' He shook his head. He was very thorough… right?
Ahem. But none of that mattered anymore. It was all irrelevant now.
This new Max Knight, however, was a completely different story.
Just the room alone told a tale of wealth. The luxury, the scale—it screamed of someone born with a golden spoon in their mouth, or at least a silver one. From the fragments of memories that had flooded his mind, he pieced together the story.
The Knight family was once a noble house in Europe, fleeing the chaos of endless wars. They had relocated to America generations ago, starting over in New York.
Though they'd lost their titles and lands, they had built a solid fortune over the years. Now, the Knight family was firmly in the billionaire category, and Max was the heir.
If it weren't for the few fragments of unsettling memories, Max might've revelled in his newfound life. But the pieces of this strange puzzle wouldn't let him rest.
Tony Stark? Stark Industries? Oscorp? What the hell is going on?
With an awkward chuckle, Max tried to brush it off as just his overworked brain mixing up reality and fiction. But the more he dug into these memories, the clearer it became that this world was far from ordinary.
Stark Industries. Oscorp. Names he recognised all too well from the Marvel universe.
Max had grown up on Marvel comics and movies. Not knowing Stark Industries or Oscorp would be as absurd as claiming to be an alien.
A deep sigh escaped his lips as he pressed his fingers to his temples. If this were the Marvel Universe, then it wasn't just some exciting new reality—it was a terrifying one.
Gods, heroes, villains... Thanos. He shuddered at the thought.
Just then, out of the corner of his eye, something caught his attention. A strange icon—something resembling a game's loading screen. It looked almost like the Animus logo from Assassin's Creed.
He blinked, focusing on it. It grew larger, confirming he wasn't imagining it.
====
Loading….
====
Is this... some kind of cheat?
He frowned, a mixture of confusion and frustration bubbling up. It shrank back into its miniature form when he looked away.
"I hope it's worth something," he muttered to himself, vaguely aware of novels where cheats were trashy, he didn't want a sinking ship with him as a passenger.
Max tried to push it out of his mind for the moment. There were more pressing matters to attend to.
The memories also revealed that Max Knight's parents had recently passed away in a tragic car accident.
The previous Max had handled the funerary proceedings and inheritance paperwork. The assets were mostly safe, but the government's taxes had surely taken their share.
His father's will had been meticulous, ensuring that most of the family's wealth was preserved in such emergencies.
However, the exact state of his inheritance remained unclear.
Max would have to go through everything carefully to understand exactly what he had inherited.
The weight of his new reality settled on him. Waking up in the Marvel Universe. Losing his parents. Stepping into the shoes of a young heir to a vast fortune. It was all overwhelming.
But there was no time to waste.
Max rubbed his temples, pushing aside his fatigue and anxiety. He had a busy day ahead. He needed to figure out his inheritance, secure his footing, and prepare for whatever the Marvel Universe might throw at him.
Because, in this world, danger was never far behind.
From this moment onward, Max was no longer just an ordinary office worker. He was the heir to the Knights' legacy.
….
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