"Evelyn Morgan."
The introduction was short and blunt.
It came from a stunning black-haired beauty lounging in an armchair like she owned the entire room. Her legs were crossed elegantly, one expensive heel dangling from her foot as she scrolled through her phone with the kind of disinterest that screamed I have better things to do. Her blue eyes who were sharp and crystalline, never once lifted to acknowledge Mathias's presence.
She didn't even look at him.
"Miss Morgan..."
The woman standing behind her, a stressed-looking agent in a crisp grey suit, called out awkwardly, her voice tinged with embarrassment. She was clearly trying to salvage the situation, to coax something resembling politeness out of her client.
But Evelyn completely ignored her.
Mathias tilted his head slightly, looking at her face. That sharp yet delicate jawline. Those high cheekbones. The way even seated she had this untouchable feeling.
"Evelyn Morgan," he said slowly. "The American actress?"
He remembered her now. Vividly. She'd been one of those child stars, the kind who started acting at five years old and never stopped. By the time she was a teenager, she was already a household name. Now, at twenty-one, she was one of Hollywood's biggest stars, taking multi-million dollar paychecks and gracing the covers of every major magazine .
"Yes, she is," the agent said quickly, flashing Mathias an apologetic smile that was almost painfully forced.
Mathias looked back at Evelyn, who still hadn't bothered to glance up from her phone. With how gorgeous she was, flawless porcelain skin, perfectly styled hair, those striking features, it made sense. She was built for the camera. Born for the spotlight.
But her attitude?
Yeah. That tracked too.
He'd heard the rumors. Evelyn Morgan was notoriously difficult to work with. Cold. Detached. Professional to a fault, but not exactly warm. She treated most people like extras in her movie, background noise she could tune out whenever it suited her.
And apparently, Mathias was no exception.
Regardless…
(How the hell Evelyn Morgan ends up being my Soulmate?)
Was he dreaming or something?
He exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to say something sarcastic, and turned his attention elsewhere.
"Mathias Blight."
A soft, warm voice called his name, pulling him out of his thoughts.
He turned his head toward the speaker and found himself looking at another girl around his age. She had beautiful dark brown hair that fell in soft, natural waves past her shoulders, and hazel eyes so bright and vivid they almost seemed to glow like liquid gold in the light streaming through the windows. They were easily the most stunning brown eyes he'd ever seen, warm, expressive and full of life.
She smiled at him gently, her expression open and kind, like she was genuinely happy to meet him.
"I am Diana Moretti," she said, her voice carrying a hint of an accent. "Let's get alone."
Mathias blinked. "Along?"
Diana's eyes widened slightly, and her cheeks immediately flushed pink. "Oh! Yes, sorry." She laughed softly, a little embarrassed. "I am still learning English, and I am not as good as everyone else here."
"No, you're doing great," Mathias said quickly, meaning it. "Your English is really good. Where are you from?"
"Italy," she replied, her smile returning.
Mathias's eyes widened in disbelief. "You live in Italy? You traveled all the way here from there? Just for this?"
"Ehm, yes," Diana said, nodding earnestly. "As soon as I learned about my soulmate, I took the first flight I could. Like everyone, I suppose?" She glanced around the room, as if checking whether the others had done the same.
Mathias felt his brain short-circuit.
(Wait. What? Like everyone else?)
He looked around the room again.
(You're telling me Seona, the literal K-pop superstar flew in from Korea? Kyouka traveled all the way from Japan? Diana came from Italy? Charlotte probably flew in from France?)
They all found out about this yesterday. The same time he did. Which means they booked flights immediately, probably private jets, knowing their wealth and flew across continents just to be here…
(What the actual hell?)
The scale of it was starting to hit him. These weren't just random people. These were internationally famous, powerful, wealthy women who'd dropped everything the moment they found out about their soulmate.
And he was just... Mathias. A guy who lived in a cramped apartment with his grandfather and played video games for six hours straight.
This didn't make sense.
"Yes, we did. And it's irritating, but we had no choice."
The sharp, clipped voice cut his thoughts.
Mathias turned toward the speaker, and immediately, his jaw tightened.
A woman sat across from him with one leg elegantly crossed over the other, her posture radiating arrogance and superiority. She'd been staring at him this entire time with the most condescending, judgmental look he'd received so far, like he was a pest she'd discovered crawling across her pristine marble floor. Like he was something beneath her.
She looked around his age, maybe seventeen or eighteen with honey-blond hair that cascaded in soft, sun-kissed waves, pinned back by what looked like an antique hairpin studded with tiny diamonds. Her blue-grey eyes were cold and sharp as winter frost. She wore a tailored emerald-green coat that screamed luxury, the kind of coat you didn't buy in stores, you had it custom-made by designers whose names Mathias wouldn't even recognize .
Everything about her screamed old money.
"So could we hurry this up?" She added icily, her tone tinged with impatience. "I have an appointment."
Her accent was definitely British. Posh. Refined. The one you only hear in the wealthiest parts of London.
The man standing behind her, probably her personal assistant or manager….didn't say a word. In fact, he looked almost terrified to speak, his hands clasped tightly in front of him like he was one wrong move away from being dismissed.
Lawrence sighed audibly. He turned to Mathias with an apologetic expression, as if to say please bear it.
"This is Seraphina Beatrice Rothschild-Windsor, Mr. Blight."
"What..."
He stared at her, his mind struggling to process what he'd just heard.
Rothschild-Windsor.
(There is no fucking way…)
Rothschild was one of the most powerful banking families in Europe, almost a dynasty that had shaped economies for centuries . And Windsor? That was the royal family's surname. The British royal family. Her lineage was tied directly to dukes, duchesses, and possibly even the Crown itself .
This woman wasn't just rich.
She was nobility.
And apparently, she was his soulmate too.
Mathias stared at Seraphina in stunned silence.
She didn't even look at him. Just glanced at her watch with an expression of pure disdain, as if every second spent in this room was a waste of her precious time.
(This has to be a joke.)
(This entire situation has to be some kind of elaborate prank.)
But everyone's stares, the seriousness in Lawrence's voice, the way the bodyguards stood at attention, the way even the other women were watching carefully told him otherwise.
This was real.
Seraphina Beatrice Rothschild-Windsor, descendant of banking empires and royalty, was his soulmate.
And she clearly hated every second of it.
"Well, it does seem you know who Lady Seraphina is," Lawrence said lightly, clearly noticing the shift in Mathias's face.
Before Mathias could answer, Lawrence's attention moved on. His gaze settled on a woman seated a little farther back, a beauty in her early twenties who, strangely enough, looked like the most normal person in the entire room.
She wore a simple but elegant coat, small ring-shaped earrings, and her dirt-blond hair was tied up in a neat bun. Her dark brown eyes were warm, but there was a hint of awkwardness in them as she realized everyone was looking her way.
She cleared her throat softly and gave a small, nervous laugh. "Well, this is a bit awkward," she said. "I'm Elena Haering. I'm a student at St Augustine University and… well..." She scratched her cheek, clearly unsure how to phrase it. "I'm sorry, you're just… younger than I expected." She gave him a sheepish smile. "I hope we'll get along."
"No, it's fine," Mathias said, feeling a strange wave of relief. Compared to the movie star, the idol, the aristocrat, and everyone else in this circus, she felt almost grounded. Normal. Human. Well, apart from being ridiculously gorgeous too.
Elena smiled back at him, and for a moment, the tension eased.
"Now, Miss Astrid, you are the last," Lawrence said, turning toward the only woman who hadn't introduced herself yet.
She was sitting cross-legged on a sofa, shoulders relaxed, phone in hand. Platinum ashen-blond hair was tied back into a high ponytail, and her eyes greyish-green lifted from her screen as she realized it was her turn.
(And another foreign beauty…)
Mathias could already feel the headache brewing. His once quiet life was evaporating right in front of him.
"I'm Astrid," she said bluntly. "And just so you understand—" Her gaze locked onto his sternly "—I have no interest in becoming your soulmate or whatever. Got it?"
Her accent had a familiar northern chill. If Mathias had to guess, she was from one of those Viking countries up in Scandinavia.
"Neither did I," Mathias replied, just as curtly.
A slow smirk formed on Astrid's lips. "Good. Then we understand each other."
"Hmph. Not like any of us had any intention of becoming soulmates with this man who is clearly far below our, or at least my standing," Seraphina cut in her fist on her cheeks. "We are here simply because we were told to be. I bothered to come."
(This girl… she's really getting on my nerves now.)
"Please, Lady Seraphina," Kyouka spoke up gently. "You haven't even taken the time to learn about Lord Mathias. Show some respect. He hasn't wronged you."
"Yeah, you're being too harsh," Yuna added cheerfully. She leaned forward, grinning at Mathias. "Look at him, he's so cute."
"Whatever," Seraphina said, completely dismissing their words. She turned her cold gaze back to Lawrence. "What is the plan, then? Can we leave?"
Lawrence smiled, folding his hands. "No. You are to live here, in this residence, from now on."
Silence crashed over the room.
Mathias stared at him.
The women stared at him.
For a brief moment, even the bodyguards seemed to tense.
Live here.
Together.
In this villa.
(My peaceful life is officially dead.)