The marble floors of the Lee estate gleamed under the afternoon sun, but even they weren't as polished as the ego of the Lee family members seated around the long dining table. Laughter rang through the air, not the joyful kind, but the mocking kind—sharp, cutting, and aimed at one man standing awkwardly at the corner of the room like a misplaced coat rack.
David Lee.
Clad in a faded shirt and ill-fitting pants, David looked like a street stray who had accidentally stumbled into a millionaire's banquet. His back was straight, his face calm, but his eyes—dark, observant—remained fixed on the steaming bowl of soup in front of him.
He hadn't been served yet.
"You know," said Uncle Marcus, swirling a wine glass dramatically, "back in my day, if a man married into a family, he at least brought something to the table. A skill. A business. Even a functioning brain."
Another round of laughter.
David said nothing.
He'd heard every variation of that insult since the wedding a year ago. The Lee family thought of him as little more than a breathing doormat—someone to kick when business went bad or conversation got slow. He didn't argue. He didn't fight. He just... watched.
"You're awfully quiet today, David," sneered Eleanor Lee, his wife. Her tone was sharp, her beauty equally so—chiseled cheekbones, flawless skin, long black hair tied in a strict bun. But beneath all that perfection was a heart colder than winter steel. "Cat got your tongue? Or are you calculating how many spoons of soup you're allowed this week?"
A few chuckles. Even the butler smirked.
David met her gaze, emotionless.
"No," he replied softly. "I was just thinking how interesting it is... that a family so proud of its lineage fears a silent man so much."
The table went quiet.
"What did you say?" Eleanor narrowed her eyes.
"I said," David smiled faintly, "this soup smells great."
They returned to their conversations, but something shifted in the air.
David finally sat down at the far end, lifting his spoon with deliberate slowness. He could feel eyes on him—always watching, always judging. It wasn't new. The ridicule came with the territory.
After all, he was the son-in-law who had married in through an ancient soul-bond ceremony, arranged by the old matriarch before her passing. A rare tradition, even by their standards. The only problem? David couldn't remember a thing.
Not the wedding.
Not the ceremony.
Not even Eleanor.
The earliest memory he had was waking up on a cold hospital bed, doctors telling him his name, followed by the Lee family lawyers shoving a contract in his face.
"You're married. You live with them now. Sign here."
Since then, he'd been trying to piece together fragments of dreams and whispers in the night—of fire, of metal, of voices speaking in languages that didn't exist on Earth. But in daylight, all he had was this: cold stares and hot meals he wasn't allowed to touch.
After dinner, David stepped into the courtyard, where the night air was crisp and clean. Above him, the moon was full, but something else caught his attention.
A buzzing. Not from insects or electronics—but from within.
He gripped his head. It was happening again. That... sound. Like encrypted code humming through his skull. For a split second, his vision flickered—and he wasn't in the courtyard anymore.
He was on a rooftop, overlooking a city with glowing towers. His hands were wrapped in some kind of black alloy. Blood dripped from his knuckles. Someone behind him said—
"Agent D—mission failed. They know you're alive."
And then—snap. He was back. In the Lee estate. Breath ragged.
He collapsed to one knee.
"Get up," said a voice behind him.
It was Eleanor. Arms crossed, irritation in her eyes.
"You're embarrassing us again."
David looked up at her. "Do you ever wonder," he said quietly, "what would happen if I stopped playing along?"
Eleanor rolled her eyes. "You don't play anything, David. You're just... here."
And she walked away.
But David didn't move. Not yet. Because deep inside him, something had changed tonight.
The buzzing was getting louder.
The visions clearer.
And the calm martial artist they thought was a joke?
Was starting to wake up.