THE ANCESTRAl HEIR SYSTEM

Chapter 02: Young Master

Without any warning, the caller abruptly terminated the call, leaving Ethan in a state of bewildered curiosity. 

He questioned the identity of the mysterious "Young Master" and wondered how an unfamiliar voice had obtained his private phone number.

Despite the pain of his wife's betrayal, he pushed it aside and eagerly pressed the down-floor button, longing for the safety of the lobby.

As the elevator doors glided open, Ethan stepped out into the vibrant and bustling lobby. 

His thoughts were consumed by the painful scene of his wife's betrayal, playing on a loop in his mind.

 

Lost in thought, Ethan accidentally collided with a stylishly attired man adorned with sleek black glasses.

 

"I'm sorry," Ethan mumbled apologetically. 

However, the man, his expression concealed behind an inscrutable mask, adjusted himself with composure and silently walked away, leaving Ethan unsettled and unanswered.

 

Moving toward where he parked his cab, Ethan's mind became a whirlwind of apprehension.

The unknown caller's words about his ailing father reverberated in Ethan's thoughts, instilling a profound sense of worry that gripped his heart.

As Ethan reached the cab stand, a voice called out, grabbing his attention.

"Apologies, sir, I'm Alex. May I have a moment of your attention?" A man, dressed in a sleek black suit radiating authority, stood before Ethan, a self-assured smile gracing his lips.

Curiosity mingled with caution as Ethan responded, "Alright, what can I do for you?"

 

"I'm looking for Mr. Ethan Sinclair," the man explained, his gaze shifting towards three sleek black Maybach cars parked in a formidable formation. "Me and my teammates."

 

"We traced the car's license plate number to this location," he continued, his gaze fixed upon Ethan. 

"Are you acquainted with the person associated with this vehicle?"

 

Sensing the gravity of the situation, Ethan's instincts kicked in, and he cautiously responded, "I hope there are no problems. I am the person you're referring to."

Without wasting a moment, Alex swiftly retrieved a scanning device and focused his attention on a picture displayed on the screen. Methodically, he compared the image to Ethan's face, his scrutiny yielding a satisfactory match. Confirming his discovery, Alex reached for a small microphone attached to his suit.

"I found him!" he declared triumphantly, relaying the message through the microphone to his team.

 

With perfect choreography, five additional bodyguards emerged from the Maybach vehicles, their presence commanding attention.

Donned in sleek, dark suits, their collective aura hinted at a connection to someone of significant power and wealth.

The coordinated arrival of these security personnel made the situation even more confusing and mysterious.

Caught in the whirlwind of this unexpected encounter, Ethan's mind became a battleground where curiosity clashed with mounting apprehension. 

He found himself encircled by these enigmatic strangers, their motives cloaked in secrecy. 

The pressing question loomed: Who were these men, and what was their purpose in seeking him out? Uncertainty weighed heavily as Ethan braced himself for the unknown ahead.

In a surprising turn, the bodyguards synchronized their movements, bowing in perfect unison. Their voices resonated as one, filling the air with a harmonious chorus, "Young Master, welcome back!"

Confusion washed over Ethan's face as he struggled to comprehend the unexpected address. 

Being referred to as a "Young Master" left him bewildered, searching for answers. 

The mystery deepened, leaving him more perplexed than before. 

Caught off guard, Ethan stuttered, "Who... Who is the young master?"

Alex responded with resolute certainty, "You are, of course."

Ethan's jaw dropped in sheer astonishment, his finger trembling as he pointed towards himself. 

"Me?" He echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief and wonder.

Alex's voice rang out with unwavering assurance. "Yes," he confirmed. "Your father has sent us to find you."

Unable to contain his amusement, Ethan burst into laughter at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

"You must be kidding!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with disbelief. 

It seemed incomprehensible that such a strange turn of events could be anything other than a playful prank.

Because he was fully aware of his reality, Ethan had a clear understanding of his father's circumstances. His father was a humble man, constantly grappling with financial challenges. 

The notion of his father employing bodyguards or owning luxurious vehicles like the Maybachs parked before him seemed utterly unfathomable. 

The stark contrast between his father's modest life and the extravagant display before him only deepened his disbelief and skepticism.

 

Their cramped apartment spoke of financial struggles, making indulgence impossible. 

But Alex remained resolute. "I understand how it may seem unbelievable," he began, a hint of determination in his tone. 

"But I assure you, Mr. Sinclair, we're not playing games. Your father has been eagerly anticipating your return."

 

Ethan's laughter died down, replaced by a growing unease. His mind raced with questions. 

Who was this "father" they spoke of? And why would he send such men after him? A dark suspicion began to take root in his mind. Could this be some elaborate scheme, a cruel prank played on him by someone with a twisted sense of humor? 

But Ethan, left with no alternative, cautiously followed them into the Maybach. 

"What about my cab?" Ethan queried, trailing Alex into the luxurious car. 

"I'll take care of that," Alex assured him, and one of the imposing bodyguards skillfully drove the cab alongside them.

********* 

Arriving at the Sinclair estate, Ethan's breath caught in his throat. The fancy gates sparkled in the evening sun, leading to a display of riches that made his big apartment seem insignificant.

Expensive cars filled the driveway, each surpassing the previous in sophistication. 

Serious-looking bodyguards stood guard in sharp suits, their eyes icy and calculating.

Graceful maidens moved quietly through the well-kept gardens, their white uniforms standing out against the green plants.

Coming out of the car, Ethan's foot was suspended just above the red carpet, and the marble driveway suddenly felt like hot coals. 

As he hesitated, the air crackled with a sudden, reverent hush. Every head bowed in unison, guards, maidens, even the gleaming cars, their voices booming in a chorus that sent shivers down his spine: "Young Master, welcome back!"

The title, a gilded cage before it was even explained, pressed down on him. He stepped forward, his mind spinning, and found himself enveloped in the oppressive embrace of the estate. 

Marble floors, polished to a mirror shine, stretched into the distance, reflecting the crystal cascade of a chandelier that hung like a fallen star in the opulent foyer. 

Every corner whispered of secrets kept in silk and gold, a stark contrast to the chipped paint and threadbare carpets of his apartment.

A wizened maiden, her face etched with a lifetime of secrets, stepped forward. "Your father is waiting for you in his room, Young Master," she murmured, her voice like dry leaves rustling in the wind.

Ethan's face contorted. "Just call me Ethan," he growled, frustration bubbling up like a geyser. 

"And can you all just... stop with the bowing? It's creepy."

The maiden, unfazed by his outburst, merely inclined her head. 

"Your father's wishes are our commands, Young Master," she said, her voice as smooth as the marble beneath his feet.

Ethan swallowed his response, the weight of the mansion's opulence and the mysterious title hanging heavy in the air. 

With a heavy heart, he followed the maiden, each step leading him deeper into the gilded labyrinth of his unknown past, towards a father who held all the answers and a life he never knew he had.

The old maiden, her face a mask of unwavering duty, opened the double doors with a silent flourish.

In a cozy setting, Mr. Sinclair sat comfortably, surrounded by the pleasant light emanating from a crackling fire. He appeared delicate and weak, his body that was once robust and strong now covered by a black suit that appeared oversize on his diminished frame.

 

Yet, his eyes, the same piercing blue that Ethan saw reflected in his own mirror every morning, burned with an intensity that defied his years.

"Ethan," his voice rasped, a tremor of emotion threatening to shatter his composure. 

"Welcome, son. I've been waiting for this day to come."

Ethan stood there, rooted to the spot, the vastness of the room and the weight of his father's words pressing down on him. 

He felt like a child again, lost in a world of towering ceilings and gilded furniture that whispered secrets he wasn't ready to hear.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until Ethan finally found his voice. 

"Father," he said, the word a tentative offering in the face of the unknown. "What is all this?"

Mr. Sinclair's smile was a flicker of light in the shadows. He gestured towards the chair opposite him, its plush leather a stark contrast to the hardwood Ethan had grown accustomed to. 

"Sit, son," he said, his voice softer now, laced with an unspoken plea. "There's a lot to tell you."

Ethan took a hesitant step forward, his eyes drawn to the framed photographs that lined the walls. He saw himself, younger and carefree, alongside a woman with eyes that mirrored his own, a woman he barely remembered. 

He saw his father, strong and vibrant, standing at the helm of a vast empire he could only imagine. And in each image, there was a shadow, a hint of darkness that lurked beneath the gilded surface.

As Ethan sank into the chair, the fire crackled, casting dancing shadows across the room. He knew, with a certainty that chilled his bones, that his life was about to change. 

The game had begun, and he was a player, whether he wanted to be or not. He looked at his father, his face a canvas of questions, and whispered, "Tell me everything."

Mr. Sinclair's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. 

"There is a legacy, passed down through generations. A system that guides us, shapes our lives, even across the Earth, and it has been around long before I was born," Mr. Sinclair explained, his words rapid and intense, "designated Ancestral Heir System."

 

Ethan's mind reeled. "Ancestral... You mean my ancestors?! Are they still alive? And what about this next Earth you mentioned? Why the poverty, when you have all of this?"

Mr. Sinclair grinned wryly. "Ethan, our lives are extended; we're immortal. We don't just die; we move to another Earth, as a part of the grand plan. But poverty? That was just a test, a challenge set by the system to earn our rightful position on this planet."

Mr. Sinclair sprang to his feet and strode toward the untamed window beside his desk. Standing there, he surveyed the mesmerizing city lights shimmering below. 

"Ethan," he declared with conviction, "that world out there is a crucible—an opportunity for you to prove your worth and, to claim your rightful place in the grand design."

 

During Ethan's father's time, when the Ancestral legacy was brought to life, Mr. Sinclair found himself living as an insignificant in-law in his wife's family, where he was despised by everyone to the point where he contemplated giving up. One fateful morning, he mustered the courage to confront his father, Mr. Denise Sinclair, and beat him up so that he reveals his true identity, only to discover a hidden system that could help shape their lives in profound ways. Fortunately, Mr Sinclair was so lucky that Ethan didn't do that to him.

Mr. Sinclair spun around and grabbed a polished black card from his desk. Handing it to Ethan, he spoke with a serious tone, "Ethan, I know the Reynolds haven't made things easy for you. But from today onward, you're not just a son-in-law," Mr. Sinclair declared, his voice resonating with determination.

"Resign from your job and assume the position of the new president of my company. I want to see you happy and help you move on from your past. Join my empire, Ethan. I've already consulted with the company's lawyer, and she assured me that everything is under control!"

"Okay, Father, I will, but make this a promise to me that you won't announce it publicly!?!" Ethan said, staring at the embossed words on the card.

"What about this?" Ethan said.

The VIP card holds its value in Los Angeles due to exclusive access granted to one family - the Sinclairs, known as the wealthiest individuals in the city.

"That! It is a VIP card that holds millions more than the richest man in Los Angeles possesses. Once you start your first ever task, it might come once or twice, your details will move into it!?!" Mr. Sinclair decided. 

"And what happens if I fail?" Ethan added.

Mr. Sinclair's eyes, once filled with warmth, turned steely. "Failure is not an option, Ethan. For you, it means dying both in the mortal realm and... beyond."

Mr. Sinclair took a deep breath, his attention shifting towards a concealed panel on the wall. 

He moved toward it and with a practiced touch, he unlocked the panel, exposing a metallic contraption pulsating with energy.

 

Ethan's anxiety spiked as Mr. Sinclair neared, holding the device in his hand. "Consider this... a safeguard," Mr. Sinclair uttered, his voice low and solemn. He pressed the injection against Ethan's flesh.

With the device emitted a pulsating light, enveloping Ethan in its glow. 

His surroundings blurred, and numbers danced across his vision, unlocking cryptic secrets that remained indecipherable for the moment.