Hearing the voice from behind, the black-haired boy, Ayn, twitched his mouth slightly, ignoring the man as he continued his exercises, acting as if the man weren't there.
"Ayn, ignoring me won't help. Let me tell you, the housekeeper from that young lady's family came to see me again. They offered me 300,000 to keep you away from their young lady."
"So, did you agree?" Ayn asked flatly, not even turning around.
"Agree to what? I can't keep an eye on you all the time, and if you insist on meeting with her, there's not much I can do to stop you!"
"Hmm."
"Ayn, I know that young lady Sarina is very beautiful and attractive. She may be young, but it's obvious she's going to grow up to be a stunning beauty. Coupled with her family's status and her own talents, she'll be the perfect woman in every way."
"But Ayn, she's simply out of your league. No matter how hard you try in this life, you'll never be good enough for her. So, give up early, break ties with her now. It'll be better for both of you."
Ayn didn't bother responding to his father's lecture. Sarina was his girl; why should he give up?
"I know you're unwilling to listen, but what can you do? A few generations ago, our family was prosperous, but your grandfather squandered everything, blowing all the wealth left by your great-grandfather and, in the process, turning me into a worthless man."
"If your grandfather hadn't been so wasteful, you might have stood a chance. So if you're upset, save your curses for him, not me. I was ruined by him."
Ayn kept ignoring the man. What was the point of complaining? His luck just hadn't been great. His family history and even his parents couldn't help him now; he'd have to rely on himself.
"Oh, and Ayn, while you're cursing your grandfather, you should spare a few words for yourself. You're a useless waste too! Your Star Compatibility is a mere 3%, a historic low for our family! Congratulations on dragging the entire family down!"
Hearing this, Ayn spun around, glaring at his father, barely able to suppress the urge to hurl his weights at him.
Low Star Compatibility—was that something he could control? Because of that dismally low score, he'd been met with constant ridicule all these years. If not for his strong mindset, he'd have succumbed to self-doubt long ago. But even he felt irritated by the blatant discrimination he faced.
"Ayn, what are you doing? Remember, I'm your father! Calm down!" The middle-aged man, thin and pale, took a few steps back, looking at his muscular young son with caution. "I know you've wanted to hit me for a long time, but remember—there's a law against sons hitting their fathers. If you lay a hand on me, it's off to the reform school for you!"
"Stay out of my things," Ayn replied, gritting his teeth as he looked at the man who'd been making his life difficult for almost a decade.
"Hey, I don't want to, but I don't have money for food!"
"There's 3,000 in the drawer of my bedside table. Take half of it."
Ayn's eyes remained fixed on his father. "But not a cent more. The rest is for my food. If you take more, you can kiss my scholarship money goodbye."
"Fine, fine!" His father grinned, gleefully heading upstairs.
…
Meanwhile, the loud cry of a newborn echoed through a private hospital, quickly followed by cheers.
"Mr. Douglas! Congratulations! You have a healthy son!"
In the delivery room, a young nurse cradled a quiet, swaddled baby as she admired the newborn, showing him off to a man waiting anxiously outside the delivery room.
"Save the congratulations until we confirm my son's Star Compatibility," the man replied without a trace of joy, signaling to his secretary, who'd been waiting patiently by his side, to take the newborn from the nurse.
"Mr. Douglas, if you plan to test your son's potential, I recommend waiting until he's three years old. Testing him now could be rough on him," the attending physician, a woman who had just finished the delivery, advised as she entered the hallway.
"Doctor, that's not really your field, is it? Besides, I've never heard of any permanent damage from Star Compatibility testing," replied the secretary, smiling as she took the baby from the nurse.
"Compatibility testing may not cause permanent harm, but newborns are very sensitive. This test could be painful for him," the doctor added, her tone cautious.
"A Douglas child would never fear pain," the man answered indifferently, leading the secretary carrying his son away.
"These aristocratic families are so heartless," the nurse muttered as she watched them go, her earlier smile fading. She glanced back toward the delivery room. The mother of the child still lay inside, yet no one had come to check on her. The father was only here to take the child for testing.
"It's common for families like theirs. For them, familial bonds are weak, and everything is about profit. If this child's Star Compatibility score is high, he'll live a comfortable life, and his mother will benefit as well, never having to worry about material needs again."
"What if the child's score doesn't meet the standard?"
"In the best-case scenario, he'll be kept around for breeding. Worst case, he'll end up in an orphanage. But most families won't go that far anymore."
"And if he scores exceptionally high, like over 80%?"
"In that case, the entire Douglas family would marshal every resource to support him, making him one of our country's rising stars. But such a prodigy is incredibly rare."
"Life must be good for kids born into these families," the nurse said with genuine envy. "So what's the minimum passing score for Star Compatibility in these families?"
"60%."
"Wow!"
…
Muria examined his surroundings. From his initial observations, the environment appeared safe, so he didn't need to worry about immediate threats.
He quickly gathered that his reincarnated identity was somewhat unique. While not a commoner, he didn't appear to be very high-ranking either. Judging by the man in front of him—likely his new father—who led him into a massive, egg-shaped building, his family had some status, but not much.
Muria noted his father's courteous demeanor as he greeted everyone they passed, even showing a hint of deference to several parents holding infants. Though Muria couldn't yet understand the language, facial expressions were universal. He deduced that his father held a moderate position within society.
It seemed they were going for some sort of assessment, judging by how quickly his father had rushed him to this strange building. Whatever it was, it seemed important for both of them.
"Is this your child, Ox?" In a laboratory filled with specialized equipment, an elderly scientist in a white coat glanced at the man and the baby in his arms with a slight frown.
"Yes, this is my son," Ox replied with a smile.
"Just born, and he still has amniotic fluid on him! Are you in that much of a hurry?"
"Well, doctor, I just want to confirm my son's potential as soon as possible," Ox replied, nodding at his secretary, who then carefully unwrapped Muria's swaddling to reveal a small identification card.
"Alright, I've been a father myself, so I understand your eagerness." The old scientist raised an eyebrow at the card, then took the baby, discreetly pocketing the card.
After a series of tests, the scientist handed Muria back to Ox.
"Not bad. Star Compatibility of 64.68%—well above the standard and even better than your own score back in the day."
"Any chance of error?" Ox asked, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
"What do you think?"
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