Chapter 3

Angered by Brandon's defiant attitude, Young Master Dean pushed him backwards roughly while aiming to punch him in the face.

Being a person who constantly worked out, Brandon was able to easily dodge the blow while sending one of his own that connected with young Master Dean's flawless face.

As the punch came into contact with Dean's face, he staggered back while holding his face in pain. "You damned peasant! How dare you raise your hand against me! I'm going to kill you! What are you waiting for? Get him for me!" He bellowed angrily as he signaled to his bodyguards.

Brandon, who had lost his rational thinking to anger, stood with his head held high as the huge bodyguards charged at him. He was able to dodge the first few punches sent his way; however, he was soon sent into the wall as the bodyguards attacked at the same time.

As his back hit the wall with a loud explosive sound, the wall caved in, and Brandon coughed out a mouthful of blood as he slid down the wall onto his buttocks. Without giving him a break, Young Master Dean charged in to let out his anger. He kicked Brandon all over him while throwing curses at him.

Brandon smirked up at him and muttered, "Pathetic," as he wiped his lip with his ringed finger, staining the whole of his fingers with blood. Hearing his taunt, Young Master Dean completely lost it, and he continued his assault.

As Brandon began to lose consciousness, he heard a mechanical voice ring through his mind. The voice was as clear as day, sounding as if the person was speaking into his ears.

'DNA registered. DNA sample match. System activated.'

'System synchronizing with the host,'

'Generating the host's information'

'Creating a profile for the host,'

'System has noticed the host's body is in a badly damaged condition; the system will begin the repairs,'

'Repair will last for an hour; please stay in a safe place to enable complete repair' the mechanical voice instructed as Brandon completely passed out.

He jolted awake and groaned in pain as he felt a head-splitting headache from how fast he had jumped out of the unfamiliar bed he had been sleeping on. With his hands holding his aching head, Brandon looked around the extravagant and expensively decorated room in confusion.

Feeling extremely out of place with his bloodied and tattered clothings.

"Where am I? How did I get here?" He muttered to himself as he continued looking around in alertness.

Just one glance at the large sparkling room, Brandon could tell he was way out of his comfort zone. Not even his in-laws could afford such luxury and extravagance.

As he continued to wonder what happened and how he had been brought to such a place, the heavy doors of the room were pushed open, and in walked a young man in his thirties, dressed expensively in designer attire. Following him were rolls of maids carrying different trays with their heads slightly bowed.

"I see you are finally awake," the man noted as he sat casually in the huge bed where Brandon was sitting. "How do you feel?" He added, and Brandon raised a suspicion brow.

"I feel like I got run over by a train," he replied calmly. "And who are you?" He asked, but instead of replying, the man gestured to the maids, and all of them walked over to Brandon.

Soon, Brandon's appearance changed from that of a pauper to that of a rich billionaire. He stared at his appearance in the mirror with wide, surprised eyes, while the maids waited at the side for the next instructions.

Brandon looked away from the mirror to the man casually sitting at the corner, drinking wine. It was the same young master from the previous night at the club. The one who had been so focused on the wine while the others got entertained by the scene.

"You heal faster than anyone I've ever seen," the man voiced as he looked away from his cup to the neatly dressed Brandon. "That should be expected from the man who wears the dragon ring," he added with an approving nod, and Brandon raised a brow in confusion.

"What are you talking about?" He questioned.

"You all may leave; I need to have a word with my guest," the man instructed. The maids bowed towards the two and left. Once the doors were tightly shut behind them, the older man let out a breath of relief.

"It's too stressful being so uptight in front of everyone," he breathed out in frustration, earning him a skeptical look from Brandon, who still wasn't sure of what was happening.

As if finally realizing there was someone else in the room with him, the man cleared his throat and wore a serious expression as he gave Brandon a pointed stare. "Where did you get that ring?" He asked and pointed to the ring on Brandon's fingers.

With pursed lips, Brandon lifted the ring to his face, trying to remember where he had actually gotten it. "An old man I helped years ago gave it to me and told me to always keep it with me, and fate will direct my path," Brandon replied. "Not that I believed him though; I just kept the ring because I liked the feel of it on my fingers."

Hearing his words, the other man's face twitched in annoyance, already imagining his long, exhausted life serving the ignorant man before him.

"By any chance, did you notice anything wrong with that ring when you wore it?" The man asked.

"Not really. No wait, you don't think the ring is the reason for all my bad luck, do you? I started noticing the bad luck after I had the ring, is it sucking away my luck? Do you want to help me exercise it?" Brandon asked with a frown, and the man's eyes continued to twitch as he forced down the urge to attack Brandon.

"I don't mean that kind; was there any weird phenomenon? Like a strange voice or something?" He continued to ask. "Aren't we saying the same thing here? If there is a strange phenomenon, does it not mean I'm in trouble?"

"And before you start asking me questions, aren't you supposed to introduce yourself? I don't know you, and I'm not obligated to answer your questions." Brandon voiced as he noticed the man's unfriendly expression.

Letting out a deep breath, the other man placed his hands on his chest and bowed lightly. "My apologies. It would be truly bad if I had not introduced myself to you; I'm Henry Adams," he introduced, and Brandon went stiff in place.

"You are him? Him? Henry Adams?"