In less than half an hour, the large convoy escorting Zeyden arrived at the legendary main residence of the Arclain family, Drakenhof Estate—a historic legacy that had stood since ancient times.
The estate sprawled across hundreds of hectares, completely isolated from ordinary civilian settlements. Every facility imaginable, from the most basic to the cutting-edge, was available without limits, creating a self-contained world of opulence and mystery.
At the heart of the estate loomed a massive manor in medieval style, meticulously modernized to preserve its historic grandeur. The structure radiated an overwhelming aura of majesty, leaving first-time visitors utterly awestruck, as if facing a palace from a dark fairy tale.
Zeyden's limousine glided smoothly into the main lobby, greeted by dozens of female servants in their iconic tight maid uniforms. They formed two neat rows on either side of the manor's grand entrance, while a mature woman of striking beauty stood alone in front, right in the center of the doorway between the lines. She was the head maid of Drakenhof Estate.
Her light brown hair cascaded in long waves, her bright pink irises captivating, her skin as white as snow and smooth as porcelain. Her body was tall and curvaceous yet perfectly proportioned: a slim waist, plump and firm buttocks, and G-cup breasts that were full, round, large, and thrust proudly forward. She was voluptuous only in the key areas, creating a deadly visual harmony—a blend of maturity and primal allure.
Ophelia Geraldine—that was the full name of this 40-year-old head maid. She had married at a remarkably young age, but her husband died shortly after the birth of their first daughter.
Like Flora, Ophelia held absolute loyalty to Zeyden, coupled with a deep, almost maternal affection—or perhaps something more. Rumors had once circulated that she herself had killed her husband for daring to forbid her closeness to Zeyden. To this day, the truth remained a secret known only to Ophelia.
"Stand tall, bow your heads slightly, and welcome our master with all your heart," Ophelia commanded firmly, her voice cold like that of a ruler, implying that even the smallest mistake would not be tolerated.
Ophelia was known for her zero-tolerance policy on indiscipline—strict, and unafraid to impose measured or even extreme punishments if necessary.
With elegant movements, she approached the limousine, opened the door, and greeted her master. Her expression shifted entirely: soft, gentle, and welcoming—a complete 180 from her demeanor toward the other servants.
A few new young maids were stunned by the change but quickly steadied their postures and neutral expressions before Ophelia noticed.
"Good evening, Master. Would you like to bathe right away?" Ophelia asked, subtly suggesting it as she noticed his slightly dirtied state after a grueling day.
Though it might seem presumptuous, no one minded. Zeyden himself understood, given that this woman had cared for him since he was a child.
Zeyden didn't respond immediately. He stood still, gazing at Ophelia with warm eyes. He could feel a surge of deep affection flowing toward the woman before him. It seemed that, despite his reputation as a ruthless scoundrel, the old Zeyden was still human, with genuine emotions.
"Ahem... My body feels a bit sticky after that rough day."
Hearing his words, Ophelia's face darkened with sorrow. She recalled the most terrifying moment of her life: the news of Zeyden's helicopter crash. In that instant, her world had shattered, until hours later, word came that her beloved master had miraculously survived without serious injury.
Now, Ophelia wrestled with the urge to embrace him tightly. But to set a professional example for the new maids, she restrained herself—for the moment.
As she escorted Zeyden inside, Flora bid farewell to head home to her nearby residence. She still had plenty of work awaiting her.
"Take care, and don't push yourself too hard," Zeyden advised Flora, not as a boss, but as a man who truly cared for her.
"In the end, everything will fall into our hands," he added affirmatively, to make it sound more convincing.
This special attention from Zeyden made Flora's heart race, her lower belly fluttering like a swarm of butterflies. She nodded slightly, smiling sweetly with flushed cheeks. "Umm... I understand, Sir. Thank you for your concern," she replied in a soft, warm voice.
Watching Flora exit through the main door, Zeyden refocused on the interior of his new home in this world.
Wow, this is truly luxurious and breathtaking. Those paintings and furnishings... everything looks so expensive and premium!
Zeyden marveled inwardly, but outwardly, his face remained neutral, without a ripple. After all, everything here was his; no need to overreact and raise suspicions among the servants.
Before executing his plans, Zeyden wanted to confirm the whereabouts of his wife and his seven famously beautiful adopted daughters. He was intensely curious about what they looked like in person, right before his eyes.
"Oh, right—where are they all?" Zeyden glanced left and right, seeing no signs of movement. He hoped to be greeted by his wife or at least one of his daughters.
Ophelia let out a heavy sigh, then explained carefully. "The Madam happened to leave for a vacation to the Island of the Gods with the seven young misses this morning." Seeing Zeyden's silence, she hurried on, "But don't worry, Master. They headed straight back on the private jet after hearing about the incident. They should arrive at the airport tomorrow morning."
Ophelia explained in a rush, knowing how sensitive and quick-tempered Zeyden had been toward his wife and daughters in the past.
But strangely, this time, Zeyden seemed far calmer in Ophelia's eyes. No radiating anger like before. She had even braced herself for a outburst, given the severity of the incident—yet his family had gone off on vacation. Though, in truth, it wasn't their fault; no one could have predicted the accident today.
Zeyden noticed the tension among the veteran servants around him. Even Ophelia, renowned for her cool composure, seemed nervous and awkward in her explanation.
How pathetic—the old Zeyden would get emotional over something so trivial. Despite being hailed as an unbeatable genius and calculative mastermind, he was apparently paranoid and overly suspicious. But now, with a new personality data set, I can adjust and fix that rotten temperament, Zeyden thought to himself.
Zeyden nodded slightly, showing understanding. "Hmm... They shouldn't rush. I'm fine, after all," he said casually, with no trace of irritation in his tone.
Witnessing this unexpected change, the servants were shocked and frozen in place. A few stood petrified, mouths agape. The master who was always emotional, venting rage over minor slip-ups, had suddenly become calm—as if he were an entirely different person.
"Ahem, in that case, allow me to guide you to the bathroom, Master," Ophelia cleared her throat softly, breaking the awkward silence. She approached, linked her arm with his, and led him to the first-floor bathroom.
A few new young maids trailed behind, following Ophelia's orders to learn firsthand how to serve their master properly.