Slowly, Max lifted both hands up protectively in front of his face, lowering his stance and slightly bending his knees. His earlier cockiness vanished, replaced by focused intensity. He was no longer taunting or smiling; now, he was completely serious.
The attacker hesitated, suddenly uncertain, thrown off by Max's abrupt change in demeanor.
"You're just a kid!" the attacker shouted desperately, lunging forward with the knife extended.
But as the man closed the distance, Max swiftly moved forward with calculated precision, completely unafraid of the blade. Just as the attacker thrust the knife, Max skillfully deflected his wrist upward, narrowly avoiding the sharp edge.
With impressive agility, Max locked onto the attacker's arm, gripping tightly at the elbow and twisting inward forcefully. His other fist rapidly collided with the man's face once, then again, in a relentless assault. Punch after punch connected sharply, weakening the man's grasp until the knife clattered onto the hospital floor.
Max delivered one final devastating strike, sending the attacker sprawling backward into the wall. The man slumped to the floor, legs sprawled awkwardly, groaning softly.
"It...it hurts," the attacker muttered weakly, barely conscious.
Max bent down and calmly retrieved the knife, stepping toward the fallen man. "When you threaten people with weapons, you should expect them to be used against you," he warned coldly.
Max grabbed the attacker by the shirt, attempting to lift him but quickly realizing the body's limited strength. His younger, weaker form couldn't handle the weight, causing frustration to flash across his face.
"P-please," the attacker whimpered, barely audible.
"I wonder how many times you've ignored someone else saying those exact words," Max said grimly.
The door slid open suddenly, catching Max by surprise. He glanced over quickly, meeting Aron's wide, startled eyes. Aron, normally composed, stood frozen in shock at the chaotic scene before him. Swiftly, Aron collected himself and closed the door firmly behind him.
"Young master! What are you doing?" Aron demanded, voice strained.
Damn, I nearly forgot, Max thought guiltily. I can't afford to lose control and ruin this new life.
Quickly, he released the attacker and dropped the knife, raising his hands innocently. "I was only defending myself," Max explained hurriedly. "I have no idea who this guy is, he attacked me first."
Aron took a moment, processing the situation. "Go to the room next door. It's empty," he instructed calmly. "I'll arrange someone to bring you proper clothes. You're discharged and free to leave. I'll handle this matter personally and find out exactly what's happening here."
Reluctantly, Max obeyed, trusting Aron's judgment for now. As soon as he left, Aron swiftly took out his phone, dialing urgently. "Right, I need someone to investigate immediately. Thank you," he ordered sharply.
After ending the call, Aron approached the attacker, carefully inspecting him. "A knife, this wasn't a random incident. Someone specifically targeted the young master," he muttered darkly. "Who would be bold enough to attack a member of the Stern family openly? Someone clearly hired this fool."
Aron's inspection revealed more, he noticed the attacker's elbow was severely injured, possibly broken. This wasn't the work of an amateur, which puzzled Aron deeply. As head of Max's personal security detail, he understood threats intimately. But how could Max Stern, who had no formal combat training, inflict such precise damage?
In the adjoining room, Max was met by two silent men in sharp suits who handed him fresh clothing, a perfectly tailored suit. They departed without a word, leaving Max alone. He dressed quickly, feeling familiar comfort in the sharp attire, similar to what he wore in his past life.
"I bet this kid has a hundred of these suits, just like his endless phones," Max muttered, flexing his hand, which now throbbed painfully. His knuckles were swollen, possibly fractured.
"Lesson learned, I can't fight recklessly with this weaker body. To face the White Tigers again, I'll have to regain my strength first," Max said determinedly, glancing at his unimpressive muscles. "But more importantly, who is behind these attacks? Even Aron seems unaware. There's clearly something deeper at play."
The door slid open, interrupting his thoughts. Aron entered, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and carefully observing Max.
"You finally look presentable," Aron commented dryly.
"Considering someone just tried to kill me, maybe appearance isn't the priority," Max retorted sarcastically. "Did you find anything about my attacker?"
"Our private security team is investigating," Aron assured him. "They're highly trained professionals employed directly by the Stern family."
"Well, clearly they failed," Max countered bluntly. "Maybe it's time to hire better security."
Unexpectedly, Aron bowed deeply, nearly ninety degrees. "I sincerely apologize," he said solemnly. "The responsibility for your safety ultimately lies with me. The Stern family employs several private security teams, each serving different heirs. I personally oversee the ninth security team—your team. This failure is mine alone."
Max felt an odd pang of guilt. Aron took his duties seriously, more seriously than Max had initially realized. "It's not entirely your fault," Max conceded softly, uncomfortable with the genuine remorse Aron displayed.
"Once we have more information, I'll inform you immediately if relevant," Aron continued, straightening up again. "But before any of that, there's another important matter. There's a Stern family gathering tonight, and your attendance is expected."
Max's heart sank instantly. Attending such an event without proper knowledge of family dynamics was risky, especially when he needed to conceal his amnesia.
"It's crucial we keep your memory loss confidential," Aron emphasized gravely. "The other family members would undoubtedly exploit any perceived weakness. One more important detail—"
The atmosphere in the room shifted abruptly, heavy with tension. Max felt almost suffocated by the weight of Aron's words.
"When interacting with your relatives tonight," Aron cautioned seriously, "ensure I'm always by your side."
Strangely, Aron's intense protective instinct brought a slight smile to Max's face. It was an unfamiliar feeling to have someone genuinely looking out for him.
"Understood," Max agreed seriously. "I'll heed your warning. But first, how about we get me a proper haircut? After all, first impressions matter, don't they?"