In an age where reincarnations and transmigrations were more common than delayed coffee orders, Leo received his inheritance:
A great-grandmother.
(╯°Д°)╯︵┻━┻
Sunlight poured warmly into the living room. On a spacious leather sofa, a girl who looked suspiciously like Tifa Lockhart sat duck-legged, wearing nothing but an oversized white shirt. Her posture? Defiant. Her gaze? Lazy. Her existence? Profoundly confusing.
Across from her sat Leo, resisting the overwhelming urge to bury his face in her thighs and just... scream.
One thing was clear—this "great-grandma" was anything but normal. Leo had no clue how she existed, what she was made of, or what dimension she hailed from. And honestly, he was too scared to ask.
It was, without a doubt, anti-scientific.
He had once fantasized about bumping his head and waking up with a system. Instead, a mythical milf had erupted from his abdomen, claiming seniority.
"My worldview... My school-funded worldview... it just died," Leo muttered, staring blankly.
Once upon a time, he thought fairy tales were lies. Now he knew textbooks were too.
"You're a descendant of the Lee clan, and I'm your ancestor. So by bloodline logic, I'm your great-grandmother. Simple math. Your dad called me that too," she said, puffing out her chest.
"But if you're his great-grandma, and he's my dad, then... doesn't that make me your...?" Leo's voice cracked.
"You look younger than me!" he protested, sipping tea for courage.
"I died at eighteen," she said flatly.
PFFFFT—
Tea exploded from Leo's mouth, spraying across her shirt.
She frowned and wiped her chest, revealing through her now see-through fabric that she was... clearly going commando. Leo, being a decent man, didn't feel right rummaging through his wardrobe for a bra.
He sighed and tore open the second letter from his father:
> "If you're reading this, your worldview has probably been shredded by your great-grandmother. Don't panic. Growth requires cognitive collapse.
>
> The world you know is a snowflake on an iceberg. Every dad should open the door to a bigger world for their son. Most dads teach procreation. I'll teach you perception.
>
> You're not ordinary. You're a Bloodline Descendant—an heir of the ancient yokai. When your body and soul fuse with your great-grandmother, your powers will awaken. Until then, do NOT mess with the real world.
>
> P.S. Your great-grandma is both a battle spirit and a seductive little monster. Handle with care."
"Handle with care"?! Leo nearly blacked out.
"What the hell's a Bloodline Descendant?!"
He shoved the letter toward her. "Great-grandma, care to explain?"
She barely glanced at it. "It's literal."
"Can you elaborate?"
"Sure. But first—got any Capri Sun?"
"Huh?"
"Ring Pops?"
"Uh..."
"Hot Cheetos? Dippin' Dots?"
"…."
She puffed her cheeks, frustrated. "You don't have any snacks?!"
Leo blinked. "Most of those were discontinued... like, twenty years ago."
Her face paled as if the world had ended. She clutched her chest in melodramatic grief. "Wynne Lee, you bastard! You left me sealed for two decades! And for what?! A snackless future?!"
She threw herself onto the sofa, wailing like a dramatic heiress.
Her legendary aura? Gone.
"Okay, okay! I'll get you some snacks."
Leo ran downstairs, hit the convenience store, and returned with Oreos and Lay's.
She was at the window, staring at the skyline.
"So many buildings now," she said quietly.
Leo relaxed. "It's been twenty years, after all."
"What year is it?"
"2025."
She blinked. "One hundred fifty years already..."
"What."
"I sleep. I wake. The world changes. But me? I stay the same. Time gave up on me."
Leo nearly wet himself.
Then she spun around, aura gone again, and pointed. "Where's my chips?! If they suck, I'll beat you."
Leo handed them over.
*Crunch.* *Crunch.* "Mmmm… so good… this era's not bad at all."
After devouring the entire bag, she lay on the sofa, rubbing her belly.
"Let's talk," she said. "Your dad asked me to be your mentor before he resealed me."
Leo sat upright. Finally. Answers.
Minutes passed.
"…Grandma?"
"What?"
"You were going to explain?"
"Thinking. Don't rush me."
After more silence, she adjusted her seat, folded her arms, and asked, "Do you know about the Ancient Yokai?"
"Nope."
"They were the rulers of the Earth before humans even existed—beasts of intellect and power. Not myths. Facts."
"Pretty sure the dinosaurs were the rulers," Leo muttered.
"Dinosaurs were just guests," she snapped. "Earth's history is billions of years long. Secrets are buried deep."
"...It's actually 'billions', not 'millions', grandma."
"Shut it. I'm explaining."
"Okay, okay, my bad."
She continued, "Humans weren't the first intelligent beings. The yokai were blessed with natural powers—moving mountains, controlling weather. What humans call 'superpowers'? Just their birthright."
Leo squinted. "Next you'll tell me they could fly."
"They could. And humans saw it. That's where the idea of immortals came from. It wasn't fantasy—it was memory."
"But if they were so powerful, why'd they disappear?"
"They didn't. Their bloodlines survive. Every human, plant, and animal carries a fragment of yokai genes. Some are dominant."
Leo snorted. "So even dogs could be yokai descendants?"
"Exactly. Which is why some of them act like they own the place."
"Continue. Darwin's rolling in his grave but I'm invested."
"The Bloodline Descendants have always lived among humans—hidden, powerful, dangerous. In history, they ruled as emperors, warriors, monsters. In modern times, they've gone underground. Since 1949, they've been regulated by international organizations."
"So they don't run wild?"
"Of course not. The strong prey on the weak, yes. But they don't mess with society."
"…Sounds kinda awesome," Leo said. "So… how did my dad die?"
"If you live by the sword, you die by the sword," she whispered.
"…So was it, like… cancer? Or a car crash?"
She looked away.
"Your father died in battle. As a warrior should."