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One of the many advantages of my skill [Herculean Physique] was that it lessened my need for sleep, enhancing my body's capabilities in every conceivable way. I didn't require much rest, which was both a blessing and a curse.

It's just a human basic wish to have a nice and comfortable long sleep.

Right on cue, Alfred entered the room as I let out a soft sigh, his steps soft and measured. "Good morning, Master Draven. Would you like your breakfast now?" he asked with his usual calm demeanor.

"Yes, as usual," I replied, knowing he understood that this meant I'd be taking my early workout and bath before sitting down to eat. Alfred nodded and left the room silently.

As I moved through the hallways towards my private training grounds, I could hear the whispers of the servants. Their voices, hushed and reverent, carried a mix of awe and trepidation.

"Did you see the Master this morning?" one maid whispered to another. "He seems different... kinder, perhaps?"

"Kind? The master?" the other replied, disbelief evident in her tone. "He's changed, yes, but I wouldn't call him kind. More like... controlled."

Their words faded as I continued on my path. I entered the training grounds, a space I had meticulously crafted to mimic the gyms of my previous life. Running, sit-ups, and other exercises were part of my routine. I had recreated some of the workout tools from my past like barbels, enhancing them with [Chyrisus' Touch] to match the capabilities of my [Herculean Physique].

They gleamed in the morning light, crafted beautifully yet designed for function.

I really hope I could make a treadmill, but it would require a magic crystal capable of replacing electricity. I don't have enough time to craft one yet.

The maids and servants often watched my training in awe, their fear of the former Draven lingering but slowly fading as they observed this new version of their master. Their admiration was palpable, though tinged with trepidation. The previous Draven had ruled with an iron fist, and I was still dealing with the consequences of his tyranny.

As I ran, I could hear the murmurs of the staff gathering to watch. Their whispers were a constant background noise.

"Look at him, so strong... nothing like the tyrant before," one voice said.

"Do you think he's really changed? Or is it just another trick? Maybe the master was actually hiding his abilities all this time?" another questioned.

"Shhh, he might hear you!" a third warned, their voice barely audible over the others.

After finishing my workout with a rigorous sword training session, I wiped the sweat from my brow. The servants who witnessed my training seemed to momentarily forget their fear, caught up in the sight of a master who now seemed more human, more approachable.

I made my way to the bathhouse, a vast and unnecessarily large space that I usually occupied alone. The architecture was grandiose, with marble columns and intricate mosaics depicting scenes of mythical heroes and legendary battles. The high ceilings were adorned with chandeliers that sparkled like a starry night, their light reflecting off the shimmering water below.

The bath itself was an impressive structure, large enough to fit a small army. It was heated by a combination of a magic circle and a magic crystal, releasing a soothing aroma that filled the room due to the incense. The steam rising from the water carried the scent of lavender and eucalyptus, creating a tranquil atmosphere that was almost surreal in its perfection.

The maids often offered to help me undress and clean, a vestige of the former Draven's indulgences to feel his authority. Their presence was a reminder of the old ways, of a time when the master of the house wielded his power over even the smallest aspects of daily life. But for a modern man like me, it was annoying and unnecessary.

I waved them off with a thought, preferring to handle it myself with psychokinesis. Their disappointment was palpable, though they masked it well behind polite smiles and lowered eyes. They retreated to the edges of the room, their whispers barely audible over the gentle splashing of the water.

I slipped into the hot water, feeling it seep into my muscles and wash away the tension. The bath, now imbued with healing properties thanks to [Chyrisus' Touch], worked wonders on my body. The warmth enveloped me, soothing the aches from my workout and leaving a pleasant tingling sensation in its wake.

I closed my eyes and allowed myself a rare moment of relaxation, feeling the healing magic mend any minor strains and rejuvenate my muscles.

As I sank deeper into the water, the voices of the maids echoed faintly from outside the bathhouse.

"He's bathing alone again. Do you think he misses the company?" one maid speculated, her voice barely a whisper.

"I doubt it. He seems so self-sufficient, almost like he doesn't need anyone," another replied, her tone tinged with curiosity.

"Still, it must be lonely," a third added softly, her voice carrying a note of empathy.

Their words floated through the air, mingling with the steam and the scent of the incense. I listened, not out of interest, but as a reminder of how much had changed. The former Draven had reveled in the attention, in the subservience of those around him. But I had little use for such displays. They were relics of a past that I was trying to reshape, a history that I was determined to rewrite.

The bathhouse itself was a testament to the excesses of the previous master. The sheer size of it, the lavish decorations, the opulent fixtures – all spoke of a man who had valued grandeur and luxury above all else. Yet, for all its beauty, it felt hollow, a gilded cage that I was now the keeper of.

After a while, I reluctantly emerged from the bath, feeling the healing magic having done its work. My muscles were relaxed, my mind clearer. I dressed, the clothes adhering to my body with a thought, and made my way to the dining room. Alfred escorted me, his presence a comforting constant in this unfamiliar world as always, a fact that I wouldn't get bored of acknowledging.

The dining room was, as always, a testament to luxury. The food laid out before me was exquisite, each dish prepared with meticulous care. Despite my stoic exterior, I couldn't deny the pleasure of such fine dining. The body I now inhabited moved with an elegance that was second nature, to the point where even scratching my arm felt like an exercise in grace.

As I ate, Alfred approached with a small silver tray. "Master Draven, a letter arrived for you this morning," he said, his voice calm but tinged with an undertone of caution.

I glanced at the tray, noting the letter's fine parchment. Before I could reach for it, Alfred swiftly covered it with a lid used to cover food in restaurants. A second later, the lid muffled a sharp explosion, a flare of magic that might have done more damage had it not been contained.

"Foolish," I muttered, continuing to eat as though nothing had happened. Inwardly, my mind raced. The explosion was a stark reminder that many still sought to kill me, remnants of the former Draven's many enemies. The constant threat was tiresome, but it was the reality I had to navigate.

The original Draven made too many enemies, after all,"

Alfred remained composed, his expression unreadable. "Shall I dispose of the remnants, Master Draven?" he asked.

"Yes, see to it," I replied, my voice steady. The interruption hadn't marred my appetite, but it served as a reminder of the precarious position I still occupied. I sighed, feeling the weight of another's past sins pressing down on me.

As I finished my meal, Alfred cleared his throat delicately. "There is another matter, Master Draven. An invitation from the head of the Icevern family. It concerns your engagement."

I set down my fork, a sense of irritation bubbling beneath my composed exterior. The engagement was another relic of the former Draven's life, a political alliance I had little interest in. Yet it was a duty I couldn't easily escape.

"Very well," I said, my tone as cold as the ice I often manipulated. "Arrange for my response. I will attend."

Alfred nodded, understanding the unspoken dismissal. As he left, I leaned back in my chair, my mind already shifting to the next task at hand. The explosion, the engagement, the countless plots and schemes – it was all part of the intricate dance of power and politics in this world. But the more important thing.

"The Royal Banquet,"

As I rose from the table, I heard faint whispers from the kitchen staff who were cleaning up.

"Did you hear about the explosion?" one asked in a hushed tone.

"Yes, it's terrifying to think someone would try to harm him again," another responded.

"He's handling it well, though. Much better than the previous master would have," a third added.

The day was just beginning, and there was much to be done. My duties as the head of the household required my attention. I made my way to the study, a grand room filled with books and documents.

"Let's finish some work first,"