Marvel: Genes of Power

Chapter 006: Really Fragrant!

Feeling the familiar sensation of his own body once more, Smair let out a long, relieved sigh. He reassured himself with a wry grin, unwilling to end up as emotionless and detached as Sebastian Shaw.

"This is so much better," he muttered, letting the warm water cascade down his body.

The steaming hot water from the shower soaked into his skin, absorbing the excessive heat generated by his new abilities. The system had perfected the temperature at a constant forty degrees Celsius, making it the epitome of comfort—neither too hot nor too cold.

After indulging in the rejuvenating shower, Smair stepped out and stood before the bathroom mirror. For the first time, he took a good, hard look at his new body, studying every detail.

The reflection staring back at him was that of a ten-year-old boy, with a mop of golden blond hair, large azure eyes that sparkled with innocence, and delicate features framed by fair, smooth skin. His cheeks were soft and rosy, and his lips were a natural, healthy red. If anything, the face was almost unfairly adorable—a cherubic look that could melt even the coldest of hearts.

It was the kind of appearance that made people want to scoop him up in their arms and cuddle him like a prized stuffed animal.

Though his features leaned toward a Nordic appearance, Smair knew that he was actually of mixed heritage. His father, a brilliant scholar from Huaxia, had an air of quiet sophistication, paired with strikingly handsome features and a gentle temperament. His mother, on the other hand, had been a noblewoman from England, a classic beauty with golden hair and sapphire-blue eyes, embodying the grace of Nordic aristocracy.

Their love story, while straight out of a romance novel, was no mere fairy tale. Against all odds, his mother had cast aside her noble title and wealth to elope with his father. But their shared happiness had been fleeting, snatched away by the horrors of war.

The Nazis had intercepted them while his mother attempted to take him to England for refuge. Smair suspected that his parents' bodies had long since been reduced to ash in a concentration camp furnace.

A pang of sorrow flickered in his heart, but it quickly transformed into a burning resolve. "If I've been given this second chance, I'll make sure to avenge their deaths," he vowed, clenching his fists tightly.

Smair leaned closer to the mirror, touching his cheek. His skin was so smooth and tender that it felt unreal—likely a side effect of the genetic enhancements and integrations his body had endured.

He chuckled to himself, though his expression carried a tinge of bitterness. "Well, I suppose I can play the 'adorable child' role if it gets me what I need. It's shameless, but desperate times call for desperate measures."

In his previous life, Smair had been in his twenties, so acting like a cute, needy kid was a serious blow to his pride. But now, as his stomach let out an angry growl, those thoughts took a backseat to more pressing concerns.

His power usage during his extended flight had drained him completely. Having eaten only scraps during his time in the concentration camp, his energy reserves were utterly depleted.

"Great. Now every cell in my body is screaming for food," Smair muttered, holding his grumbling stomach.

Unfortunately, when he rifled through his pockets, all he found was lint. He'd spent the last of his stolen money on a cheap hotel room and a small meal earlier.

"What now?" he mused, staring at his reflection. "Am I really going to have to act cute and beg for food? No way! I refuse to stoop that low!"

He tried to convince himself that he'd rather starve than resort to such tactics. But as his stomach growled louder, his resolve began to waver.

Lying on the bed, Smair attempted to distract himself by planning his next move. "Tomorrow, I'll figure out how to borrow some funds from a charity or something. Yeah, that's it. I'll just hold out until morning…"

Another loud grumble interrupted his thoughts, keeping him wide awake. Finally, unable to take it anymore, he sat up, threw on a bathrobe, and checked the clock. It was just past nine in the evening.

"I can't sleep like this," he sighed, heading downstairs.

The aroma of freshly cooked food hit him the moment he entered the hotel's small restaurant. The room was alive with chatter, clinking silverware, and the savory scent of roasted meats and baked goods. Smair's mouth watered as his stomach growled incessantly, urging him to act.

As he scanned the room, a melodic voice called out, "Oh my, whose adorable child is this?"

Turning, Smair saw a stunning woman approaching him. She had the poised elegance of a Western European lady, her golden locks cascading over her shoulders. In her hand was a plate of steak, its enticing aroma wafting toward him.

The sight and smell of the perfectly cooked meat made Smair's stomach cry out even louder, betraying his hunger.

"You're such a cute little thing," the woman cooed, crouching down to his level. "Where are your parents, sweetheart?"

Smair tried to focus on her words, but his eyes remained glued to the steak. Judging by its appearance, it was cooked to medium-rare perfection, seasoned with just the right amount of black pepper. His stomach growled again, louder this time, as if pleading with him to swallow his pride.

The woman's gaze softened as she noticed his hungry expression. "You poor thing. Are you hungry?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

Smair hesitated, torn between his pride and his desperate hunger. But in the end, survival won out.

With an exaggerated nod and a childlike voice, he replied, "Yes, beautiful sister."

The woman's smile widened. "You're just the sweetest thing. Here, you can have this."

She handed him the plate, and Smair didn't waste a second. Out of courtesy, he took small, measured bites, savoring the rich flavors of the steak. It was the best meal he'd had in what felt like an eternity.

When he was finished, he stood and bowed politely. "Thank you, beautiful sister. You're so kind!"

The woman laughed, her eyes sparkling. "You're welcome, little one. My name's Charlotte. What's yours?"

"My name is Smair," he said, flashing a shy smile. "Big sister Charlotte, you're the most beautiful lady I've ever met!"

Charlotte's heart melted at the compliment. "You're such a polite and charming boy," she said, pulling him into a gentle hug.

As Smair basked in the warmth of two big melons, he couldn't help but think to himself, Looks like being small has its perks after all.

*****

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