After a heartfelt and soothing shower, Max felt surprisingly light as he stepped out of the bathroom, a bathrobe wrapped loosely around him.
He absently rubbed his wet bangs, droplets trickling down his face.
Even bathing had turned into an adventure. If it weren't for the memories of the young, wealthy Max Knight, he might've been overwhelmed by the sheer variety of toiletries.
Many of the items lining the shelves were completely foreign to him—luxuries he hadn't even known existed.
"Tsk… bloody capitalists," he muttered, clicking his tongue for no real reason. Perhaps it was the lingering resentment from his past life's struggles.
Shaking off the shadow of his former poverty, Max focused on the present. He was grateful to Max Knight for his disciplined approach to fitness.
With a lean, well-defined physique and a height of 6'1", at least he didn't have to follow in the footsteps of other transmigrators who had to transform from fat otakus to six-pack warriors through painful suffering.
His eyes wandered to the wardrobe, but his gaze quickly landed on the neatly arranged clothes laid out on the bed.
The bed itself looked impeccably tidy, with no sign it had been slept in just an hour ago.
"Grandma must've arranged someone to prepare this," he mused, picking up a white checkered shirt and a pair of grey pants.
Without much deliberation, he donned them. Once again, he was struck by the quality of the garments. The softness of the well-tailored fabric felt like silk against his skin.
Not just that—when he glanced back at his reflection in the mirror, he saw a handsome young man staring back at him, perfectly dressed and groomed.
"Aha… that's a face worth having," Max exclaimed, rubbing his chin. "This face can definitely be put to good use."
If this weren't his own body, he might've questioned whether his sexual orientation had changed.
Slowly but surely, Max was acclimating to his new life as Max Knight. This was the reality he had to embrace now, and such moments of adjustment would become a frequent occurrence.
Now clean and dressed, it was time to step out of the enormous bedroom and explore the villa.
While his memories gave him a general understanding of the house's layout, his heart still pounded with a mix of excitement and nervousness at the thought of observing everything up close.
He stepped forward, grabbed the doorknob, and opened the door to a wide hallway. To his right, a grand stairway spiralled downwards.
Heading toward the dining room, Max took in the surroundings with quiet awe. The hallway was adorned with collectables and fascinating paintings along the walls and walkways.
Each piece served not only as decoration but also as a subtle showcase of the Knight household's noble roots.
'They really did an excellent job maintaining and decorating everything here,' he thought. 'It's pleasing to the eye and speaks volumes about their status without being overly flashy or irritating.'
It didn't take long for him to reach the dining room.
While he had referred to the house as a "villa," it wasn't so massive that moving around took long.
This mansion was relatively modern, built only a decade ago, located in New York's Upper West Side, a notoriously expensive area.
Though modest in size compared to grand estates of old European nobility, the mansion was still large by local standards, surrounded by lush greenery that added to its charm.
From the perspective of an ordinary person, the house was extravagantly large.
But for the Knight family, who prided themselves on their noble lineage, it didn't quite measure up to the grandeur they desired.
Even so, its design echoed the aesthetics of an English noble's mansion—fine woodwork, antique-style furniture, and walls adorned with valuable paintings and historical artifacts.
Max, as someone who had experienced hardships of common man, couldn't help but let his thoughts stray.
'How much could a thief make if they managed to steal everything here?' he wondered idly, before immediately shaking the thought.
'No… wait.' The absurdity of the thought hit him. This was his. All of it. The furniture, the walls, the paintings. His gaze lingered on a sculpture, darkened slightly, then sharpened—more alert.
Ownership brought responsibility.
His instincts kicked in. He resolved to increase the security measures around the house. He wouldn't share this thought with anyone—to avoid sounding like a bum—but to him, the decision was obvious.
Lost in thought, Max finally found himself in the large dining room.
The table was spacious enough to accommodate more than twelve people if needed, though he now refused to think about cost of everything.
Such extravagances were beginning to feel like a casual occurrence in his new life.
As he moved to take a seat, he paused midway.
After a moment of careful thought and internal adjustment, he settled into the head seat—the symbolic throne of the household.
It was a small gesture, but it marked his acceptance of this life and its responsibilities.
This, too, was part of his effort to acclimate—from major duties to minor nuances of his new role.
He sat quietly for a while, observing the activity around him.
Martha was bustling about, giving orders to the staff and discussing meal details with the cook in the kitchen.
From his inherited memories, Max recalled that the household employed a small but efficient family of four, aside from Martha.
Martha, as the house's overseer, managed their daily tasks with precision.
The cook, Carla, and the gardener, Marco, were an older couple who had been hired when Martha could no longer handle everything on her own post the retirement of previous staff.
Later, their son Leo joined as the driver and general handyman, while his wife, Lily, became the maid, further lightening Martha's workload.
Although Max's father, Arthur, and his mother had often urged Martha to retire and take it easy, she had only agreed to reduce her workload to overseeing the household.
For her, stepping back entirely was out of the question. She considered herself the family's guardian and took pride in her responsibilities, even as her age advanced.
Max understood it was futile to try to stop her. Instead, he resolved to quietly ensure she didn't overwork herself and stayed in good health.
The rest of the household chores were handled seamlessly by the staff family.
Though their jobs seemed specific, their dedication and long-term service had made them more like trusted stewards of the Knight household, often fulfilling many duties beyond their official roles.
For their loyalty, Arthur had given them a modest house adjacent to the mansion, making them exclusive staff for the Knights' and eliminating the need to hire outsiders.
This arrangement had its advantages.
Having familiar people in the household avoided unnecessary trouble and ensured a harmonious working environment.
The staff also understood that the Knights paid well, provided a good atmosphere, and expected diligence in return.
Martha, ever meticulous, oversaw the finer details to ensure no money was wasted and no one took their responsibilities for granted.
As far as the Knights' mansion was concerned, it was clear: this was Martha's domain.
Arthur had long ago entrusted her with full authority over its management, and she embraced the role wholeheartedly.
The staff family managed the house efficiently, handling most of the work.
For larger tasks, like deep cleaning or major upkeep, professional cleaning teams were hired occasionally to avoid overburdening anyone, and they were wealthy enough to afford it.
Max processed all this while quietly observing the organised chaos of the household unfold before him.
Servants moved briskly, each attending to their duties.
It was a well-oiled machine, and Max began to appreciate the system that kept the Knights' world running smoothly.
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