It had been nearly the whole day since Liam had locked himself in his room and told Evelyn, the head maid, not to disturb him. The sun had already dipped toward the horizon, its warm glow fading into the cooler hues of dusk, and still, he hadn’t emerged.
The atmosphere in Bellemere Mansion was... tense.
Evelyn stood in the hallway outside the kitchen, speaking quietly to Clara and Mira. Her usually calm expression had tightened just enough to betray the concern she felt.
"Dinner is ready," Clara murmured, glancing toward the grand staircase that led up to the private suites.
"He’s not come down all day," Mira added in a low voice. "Not even for lunch."
Evelyn pressed her lips together. "I know. But he told me very clearly not to disturb him."
"But what if something happened?" Mira asked, her tone dropping further. "He could be ill... or—"
Evelyn gave a small shake of her head. "Only a day has passed since we started working here. The last thing we should do is overstep. We don’t know how he runs his household yet."
Still, the three women exchanged uneasy glances. The guards, too, seemed to be on edge — more than one had glanced up at the darkened windows of the master suite, as if expecting to see movement. But no one dared to go upstairs.
For now, all they could do was wait.
Upstairs, the mansion’s stillness was broken only by a low groan.
Liam’s eyes fluttered open. For a few seconds, he simply lay there, staring up at the faintly lit ceiling. His entire body felt heavy, almost numb, as if he’d been asleep for days. Slowly, he turned his head — and realized he wasn’t in bed.
The cool marble walls around him, the faint echo of dripping water... he was in the bathroom.
Memory came rushing back in a flood: the vial of Molecular Enhancement Nanites, the cold water, the unbearable pain, the way the system’s progress counter had crawled toward completion. The last thing he remembered was that final surge, and then... nothing.
He blinked, sitting up slightly in the tub. The water was still crystal clear, shimmering faintly under the soft bathroom lighting.
He had half-expected to see some kind of murky residue, or at least some visible trace of whatever had been purged from his body. In old-world body cleansing treatments, the water was often left a sickly yellow or black, carrying with it whatever toxins had been expelled. But this—this was as pristine as when he had filled it.
If anything, it looked cleaner.
He exhaled slowly and braced his hands on the rim of the tub, intending to push himself up. The moment his palms pressed against the marble, however—
His eyes widened as his hands shot back instinctively. He looked down and saw a spiderweb of fine cracks spreading across the spot where he’d just been leaning.
"...Did I do that?" he muttered, voice tinged with disbelief.
For a moment, he just stared. It hadn’t even been a strong push — no more than the pressure he’d normally use to get up from a chair. Yet the marble had fractured under his touch.
Shaking his head, he forced himself to be more careful this time. He eased out of the tub, moving with deliberate control, almost afraid of breaking something else. The cool air prickled against his damp skin as he padded over to the shower.
The moment the hot water hit him, steam rising around his shoulders, a strange realization settled in: his sense of touch was sharper. The warmth felt richer, the flow of water over his skin more distinct. It was as though his nerves had been... upgraded.
After he’d rinsed off and toweled dry, he stepped in front of the large mirror above the double sink.
The reflection staring back at him was... him, but not.
His hair, once a deep chestnut, was now a darker shade — almost black under the bathroom lighting — yet it had an unmistakable sheen, like each strand had been polished. It looked thicker, fuller, effortlessly falling into place without a single tangle.
His skin, too, had changed. The slight unevenness of tone was gone, replaced with a smoothness that looked almost unreal. There was a faint, healthy glow to it — not the unnatural pallor of artificial treatments, but the kind of radiance that came from perfect health.
And his face... the subtle asymmetries that every human had seemed to have evened out. His jawline was sharper, more defined. His cheekbones seemed higher. It wasn’t that he’d been "beautified" in a generic sense — he was still recognizably Liam — but there was something magnetic about his features now. A balance of elegance and strength.
Then his gaze drifted lower.
His chest and shoulders were broader, with well-defined muscle that looked sculpted, not bulked. His abs had taken clear shape — a perfectly symmetrical six-pack that didn’t look like the result of endless hours in the gym, but rather like it had always been there, hidden beneath a layer of imperfection the nanites had stripped away.
His arms and legs held the same proportion: lean muscle, dense and corded without a hint of excess. Even the tendons in his hands looked stronger, his veins subtly more visible under the skin.
He inhaled deeply without even thinking about it — and froze again.
The breath had felt... different. Easier. Fuller. As though his lungs could take in more air than before, as though each inhale was reaching deeper into his body.
He didn’t know how to explain it in words, but he felt alive in a way he never had before.
For a moment, he just stood there, letting it sink in.
The Molecular Enhancement Nanites had done more than change his body. They’d rebuilt it and perfected it.
And the strangest part? He didn’t feel alien. He felt... had always been the body he was meant to have.
He smiled to himself in satisfaction. There was still a lot more changes in his body that he hasn’t looked into yet, but he decided to leave them for later.
It would be more fun to find them out later.
He dressed quickly — a simple black t-shirt and dark jeans — and stepped out of his room for the first time that day.
By the time he reached the grand staircase, he realized just how hungry he was. It wasn’t the light, casual hunger of a skipped lunch. It was deep, primal. The kind of hunger that gnawed at him from the inside, as though every cell in his body was demanding fuel.
When he reached the dining room, Evelyn appeared almost immediately.
"Mr. Liam," she greeted with her usual composure, but he noticed the way her eyes lingered on him for a fraction of a second longer than normal.
"Evening," he said simply. "Could you serve dinner?"
"Of course," she replied, though there was the slightest pause in her voice.
She returned moments later with a plated dinner — a portion more than enough for a normal person. But the moment Liam saw it, he knew it wouldn’t be close to enough.
"Evelyn," he said before she could set it down. "Make a lot more. Five full adult servings. As fast as you can."
Her eyebrows rose just slightly. "Five?"
"At least," he confirmed. "And make sure it’s ready quickly."
She was worried that he might not be able to finish the foof but there was that certainty in his tone that he would finish every bite.
Evelyn inclined her head and left without another word, though he caught the faint surprise in her eyes.
Clara and Mira appeared to help, and he could feel their curious glances as they passed. It wasn’t just his request that had caught them off guard — it was him. The man sitting at the head of the table looked like the same Liam they had met yesterday... and yet somehow entirely different.
They didn’t know what had changed, but the difference was undeniable.
Left alone, Liam pulled the first plate toward him and began eating.
He didn’t savor the food. He didn’t even think about it. Each forkful vanished in seconds, his hands moving almost faster than he realized. In less than half a minute, the plate was empty.
He leaned back slightly, frowning.
Just as he’d thought — it wasn’t even close to enough.
As the distant sounds of activity came from the kitchen, Liam drummed his fingers on the table impatiently. His body was practically buzzing, each muscle fiber was vibrating with a strange combination of strength and emptiness.
While he waited, he decided to do something he’d put off earlier.
"System," he murmured under his breath. "Show me the notifications I dismissed."