Valmont Series - Inheritance Code

Aria stirred slowly, her body sinking deeper into the whisper-soft mattress before her eyes even fluttered open.

No alarms.

No rude beeping.

Only a soft, melodic hum — like a private orchestra playing just for her.

Above, the ceiling blossomed with pastel sunrise hues, pulsing gently in harmony with her breathing. Faint strokes of pink and gold rippled across the kinetic surface — a living canvas tuned precisely to ease her into consciousness.

A soft floral aroma, balanced with crystalline notes, drifted through the air — carried by temperature-controlled microcurrents that caressed her skin with curated gentleness.

Far off, orchestral strings intertwined with ambient solar tones, designed not to jar her awake, but to invite her into the day.

She exhaled softly. The sheets wrapped around her were like silk infused with liquid glass — they clung and fell away with frictionless grace. Even the pillow had reshaped itself in her sleep, intuitively supporting every curve of her neck and shoulders as if the bed itself had memorized her body's ideal comfort profile.

RoomCore active. Welcome back, Aria Lancaster.

Mood settings: Post-Arrival Recovery → Soft Revive Protocol engaged.

The voice was smooth, confident, yet eerily intimate.

Aria blinked, trying to orient herself.

She shifted under the sheets — and paused.

Her skin.

It felt... unreal.

Her skin was impossibly smooth — softer than anything she'd ever achieved with facials, serums, or hours of prep. No makeup residue. No clogged pores. Not even faint lines or pillow creases

Her lips were pillowy, every trace of dryness erased. Even the tension she always carried along her jaw, especially after a stressful sleep, had simply... vanished.

Her fingertips glided across her cheek. Not just baby-soft — almost artificial in its flawlessness.

Not skincare.

Correction. Optimization.

"What...?" she whispered aloud.

"SleepCore Protocol completed overnight derma-repair and neural balance routines.

Hydration, epidermal pH, and serotonin levels optimized. No manual skincare required, Princess."

Lyric's voice chimed through her ONYX, sounding far too pleased.

Aria's lips parted, part impressed, part unsettled.

So... Avalon didn't even allow imperfections while sleeping?

For a moment, she lay there, letting it all wash over her.

It was perfect.

Too perfect.

A flicker of unease tugged quietly in her chest.

She knew luxury. She'd grown up in penthouses and presidential suites, where everything whispered indulgence and taste.

But this?

This wasn't luxury — not the kind she knew, anyway.

It was something far more curated. Elevated. A version of indulgence the outside world hadn't even dreamed of yet.

Everything — from the perfect air, to the flawless sheets, to the subtle way the pillows cradled her body — was tuned to her without her even asking.

Not just for comfort... but for perfection.

She felt a rush of delight. Thrilled, even.

Like stepping into a world designed entirely around her — where every detail whispered, You belong here now.

And yet, beneath the excitement, something tugged at her.

It was too perfect. Too seamless.

Not pampering, not indulgence...

Integration.

For a fleeting moment, it felt less like being spoiled — and more like becoming part of something bigger.

She pushed the thought aside, letting herself enjoy the moment.

After all, if this was Avalon... she could get used to it.

Finally sitting up, Aria let her gaze sweep across her Suite for the first time properly.

It wasn't a room.

It was a statement.

Kinetic glass walls stretched floor-to-ceiling, softly tinted to protect her from morning glare. At her wake, they shifted—showing not only the skyline of Avalon but ambient overlays, blending nature and data into breathtaking living art.

The glass floor beneath her feet — warm to the touch — responded to her movement, dimming slightly to guide her way. Not a single switch, remote, or visible device marred the design. Everything responded to her presence.

A quiet elegance threaded through everything: displays that shimmered with minimalist precision, hidden panels that revealed themselves only when needed, and even the faint scent trails that adapted subtly to her breath and stress levels.

This wasn't a dormitory. It looks like a supervillain lair curated for the beautiful and ruthless.

Her fingers brushed along the vanity as she passed — no clutter. A StyleForge console sat embedded seamlessly into the wall, holographic outfit suggestions already arranged in her House Solara palette.

"Presidential suite vibes," she muttered.

Correction, Lyric said.

House Solara — The Crest Suite. The design is scaled to your rank. Room for upgrades if you perform. Avalon believes in ambition.

Aria pressed her lips together, eyes sweeping the breathtaking space once more.

Upgrades?

She could hardly believe there was anything more elevated than this. The Suite already felt like the pinnacle of curated living — seamless, opulent, and so perfectly tuned to her that it bordered on surreal.

And yet... the higher you stood, the further there was to fall.

Everything shimmered with possibility. And pressure.

Next: The Suite Life(and its rules) - Avalon doesn't just upgrade your life. It rewrites your baseline.