Breeding System: Populating Another World

With a gentle knock on my bedroom door, I reluctantly peeled open my eyelids, still heavy from sleep. Another day, another relentless clash with my mother's unwavering beliefs awaited me, and I felt a familiar sense of frustration welling up inside. A soft voice from behind the door coaxed me into the waking world. "Adam, it is time to wake up."

My eyes lazily drifted around my room, taking in the regal, stained oak furniture that stood in stark contrast to the stacks of textbooks, various computer monitors, and a tangled web of cables strewn haphazardly around them. A sigh escaped my lips as I acknowledged the start of another day.

"Thank you, Mackenzie," I responded in a flat tone. "I'll be ready in a sec." With that, I rolled out of bed, my gaze scanning the floor for the T-shirt and blue jeans I had dumped on the floor after a late night of studying.

After dressing, I slid my feet into leather boots, ensuring the knife sheathed within was secure. That precaution had become necessary since my unfortunate kidnapping incident last year. I pulled the jean's leg over my boots and stood up.

Approaching the large vanity, I leaned in to scrutinize my reflection in the expansive mirror. Shaggy blond hair met my fingers as I ran them through it. My sharp, blue eyes, with slight bags under them, scanned my angular, diamond-shaped face. Flashing a crocked smile that gave my otherwise severe features a roguish charm.

I grabbed my school bag and opened the door, finding Mackenzie waiting outside. She was my personal maid, a somewhat shy but diligent girl who had recently turned fourteen. Waist length brunette hair cascades in gentle waves that framed her slightly round face. Her small, delicate features seemed tailor-made to exude an aura of innocence and charm. A petite, upturned nose set gracefully between a pair of slightly chubby cheeks covered with a sprinkling of light freckles and large deep brown eyes like a deep abyss that would suck you in if you lingered there too long.

Mackenzie's family had served mine for generations, although evolving societal norms had transformed them into more like employed caretakers and assistants than traditional servants. Her mother, Julia, had been my nanny in my since I was born, and when I was three, she gave birth to Mackenzie, raising us together. Julie has been teaching Mackenzie to be my personal maid since we were little, helping me with things like cleaning, keeping my schedule and serving my food. Although I generally saw her more as a cute little sister, she would always insist on maintaining the airs of being my maid.

Leaning in closer to Mackenzie, I playfully asked, "How is my cute little maid doing today?" A goofy smile adorned my face.

Mackenzie blushed slightly and replied, "Adam, the madam is already downstairs eating breakfast, and the car service will be here soon to take us to school." Mackenzie said with a slight blush as she looked away with a slight pout, her hands held nervously in front of her nubile budding breasts just visible under the soft, pastel yellow sun dress she was wearing. Despite her insistence on maintain her role as my maid, there was a warmth in her presence that always managed to pierce through my cynicism.

"Let's go then," I responded, planting a quick peck on her soft cheek. As I walked past her, I couldn't help but notice the small squeak that escaped her lips, causing my smile to widen ever so slightly.

---

As I passed through the mansion's drawing room, a sense of mystery and antiquity enveloped me. The room exuded refined elegance, with mahogany paneling adorning the walls and oriental rugs adding intricate patterns underfoot. Brass sconces bathed the room in a soft, warm glow, illuminating the aged vellum of ancient tomes that lined shelves spanning an entire wall.

My attention was drawn to the grand fireplace at the room's center, framed by an ornate mantel. Above it, a large, gilded mirror reflected the room's intriguing contents. Soft crackles from the fire illuminated rich tapestries and velvet draperies in deep, enigmatic hues.

On various side tables and occasional stands lay an array of objects that hinted at arcane interests—crystal spheres, intricate tarot decks, and intricately carved wooden boxes, secrets concealed within. A faint scent of aged parchment lingered as I approached a table displaying ancient manuscripts and grimoires, their pages filled with forgotten wisdom and mystical diagrams.

"Adam, is everything alright?" Mackenzie asked, her curiosity and slight concern evident in her tone.

With a sigh, I turned and began walking toward the double doors leading to the dining room. "Not really," I admitted, "I'm just lamenting my upbringing."

Pushing open the heavy oak doors, they swung silently, revealing a space filled with refined design and ornate details, transporting me to a different era. Rich, textured wallpaper adorned the walls with intricate patterns, and delicate crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, inviting glow.

A grand dining table dominated the room, its polished mahogany surface reflecting the ambient light. Set with fine porcelain china, sterling silver cutlery, and crystal glassware, it showcased the meticulous attention to detail that defined the room.

Sitting in one of the high-backed dining chairs, my mother beckoned me to take a seat. Her fiery red hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her perky breasts that protruded proudly beneath a plain white T-shirt. She sat engrossed in an ancient-looking book on the table, the open page displaying an intricate array of symbols and lines.

Julia, dressed in a traditional maid's attire, stood behind my mother. Her ankle-length navy-blue dress and apron accentuated her wide hips and ample bust. Her long, dark brown hair was tied in a tightly wound bun, and her petite features bore a warm, motherly expression.

"Good morning young sir, Mackenzie", Julie greeted us with a nod, pulling out a chair next to my mother.

"You don't have to bother, Auntie, especially on my account," I said as I sat down to eat, with Mackenzie quietly standing behind me.

My mother, still leaning over the old tome on the table, inquired, "Have you been keeping up with your studies, my baby?" Her bra-less, bountiful breasts pressed against the table straining against her shirt, a sight I was trying hard to ignore.

A sigh threatened to escape my lips as I replied, "Well, Mom, I've been focusing on engineering and chemistry recently."

The room filled with tension as my mother, and I were about to have yet another argument. The subject of our contention was her unwavering belief in the occult and her relentless insistence that I should study it. From my perspective, her insistence was both confusing and frustrating.

"Adam, I can't believe you're still dismissing my beliefs in the occult," my mother exclaimed, her voice trembling with frustration. "It's an important part of who I am, of who you are, and I wish you'd take it more seriously."

I sighed, struggling to find the right words to express my point of view. "Mom, I've told you a hundred times," I replied tersely, "I don't buy into all that supernatural stuff. It doesn't have a place in the world anymore, and other than being of some historic interest has no benefit to me."

Her exasperation was evident as she countered, "But Adam, it's not just 'supernatural stuff.' It's a way of understanding the world, of tapping into ancient wisdom and hidden truths. You're missing out on so much. Our family has been collecting, practicing, and protecting the hidden knowledge of the world for hundreds of years."

I leaned back in my chair, feeling the weight of our recurring argument pressing down on me. "Ancient wisdom? Hidden truths?" I sighed, unable to contain my frustration. "Mom, it's all just superstition and nonsense. I have better things to do with my time."

Her anger flared at my dismissive tone. "Better things?" she shot back, her voice rising. "Like what, wasting your life on video games and mindless TV shows? The occult can give you purpose and insight into the mysteries of life."

"Even if I accept your arguments about occultism, what about forcing me to take gymnastics and practicing HEMA? When is being able to know how to swing a sword and being limber ever going to help me?" My usually calm tone was rising in pitch, almost pleading.

"It is tradition, although normally it would be a male relative that would teach you but considering we are the last of the Campbell lineage alive today," her voice became quiet before continuing, "it was an unfortunate necessity to take those classes. As for gymnastics, many athletes, even The Rock, recommend taking dance lessons to stay flexible."

I clenched my fists, my patience wearing thin. "Mom, it's my life, and I'll choose how I spend it," I retorted, my voice edged with defensiveness. "I'm not interested in chasing after some mystical nonsense or upholding useless traditions."

Her persistence was unwavering. "Adam, I just want you to be open-minded and explore different perspectives," she implored, her voice softer but no less earnest. "You never know what you might discover if you give it a chance."

I could feel my frustration boiling over as I replied, "Mom, I've heard it all before. Can we please drop this topic? I'm not changing my mind."

With a resigned sigh, my mother conceded defeat, though disappointment still lingered in her voice. "Fine, Adam," she said, her tone heavy with resignation. "I just hope someday you'll realize the value of what I believe in."

I nodded, though my heart wasn't in it. "Yeah, whatever, Mom," I muttered, the argument leaving a bitter taste in the air that seemed unlikely to dissipate anytime soon. My chair screeched against the polished floor as I pushed myself away from the table.

Standing, I turned to my mom and said, "I love you, see you later," because even though I was frustrated with her, she was still my mom. Then I made my way out towards the car waiting outside to take me and Mackenzie to school.