The Obsession Paths Have Opened

I couldn't sleep. Not when a bizarre string of numbers was blazing in front of my eyes as bright as daylight. No human on the entire planet could possibly drift off peacefully under these conditions.

I pulled the blanket over my head, but the bluish status window pierced straight through my vision anyway. Saying the number out loud made it sound even more horrifying. Not one in a hundred. One in a thousand. It was practically a death sentence.

And right below it sat that cruel warning.

“What the hell is an obsession path…?”

It was the least welcome feature imaginable. Just a few hours ago I had been an ordinary modern guy, lying in the subway on my commute, reading web novels and occasionally cursing while still paying for the next chapter. Now I had opened my eyes as a doomed extra servant inside that very novel.

Kyle Lowell. The name still felt awkward on my tongue, but this body was perfectly conditioned to the brutal survival routine of waking at dawn to scrub hallways, getting scolded by head maid Veronica, and keeping my head down.

Don’t stand out. Speak as little as possible. Never go against your master’s mood.

That was the only life lesson this body had ever learned.

The problem was that on my very first day of possession, I had somehow burned my existence into the minds of both the novel’s greatest villainess, Ivelin, and the main heroine, Seraphina.

“This is insane. Actually insane.”

A dry laugh slipped out. In the original story, Seraphina was supposed to awaken as the Saintess, win the crown prince’s love, and save the empire. Ivelin, consumed by jealousy, would drag her entire ducal house down with her in a miserable collapse. And the lowly butler Kyle Lowell? He would get caught between those two whales and lose his head in a single throwaway line: “Involved in the treason incident.”

When I had read it as text, it was just another cliché fall of a villainous family. Now that I was the extra whose neck was on the chopping block, every single sentence felt like a noose tightening around my throat.

I couldn’t stay lying down any longer. The panic attack had ended yesterday. From now on, I needed to plan with ruthless precision. My knowledge of the original novel was the only cheat key I possessed.

I rose from the bed and moved to the desk. Pulling the candle closer to banish the darkness, I picked up the worn quill and began writing down every piece of information I could remember in clear, organized lines.

1. Maintain absolute distance from Ivelin.

2. Never get entangled with Seraphina.

3. Cut off all contact with the male lead, the crown prince.

4. Gather enough funds within three years to escape the ducal house.

5. Survive by any means necessary.

When I wrote that final fifth line, the tip of the quill pressed down with heavy force. Extra or transmigrator, it didn’t matter. The one currently breathing and moving a heart in this world was me. Therefore, I had to live. No matter what it took.

“……Again?”

I reflexively looked up at the empty air. The transparent window vibrated faintly before new detailed entries poured out one after another.

My ominous premonitions had never been wrong. I hurriedly flipped to the next window.

Bang!

I couldn’t hold back and slammed my forehead against the desk.

“I’m completely screwed.”

Ivelin: recall. Seraphina: re-contact. Both of them had zero intention of erasing me from their minds. Still, I couldn’t give up. Their obsession levels were still at zero. The affection levels were within the safe zone. If I could somehow relinquish ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the morning tea duty and minimize all routes where I might encounter Seraphina, I might still slip away from the original story’s storm.

Just as I was desperately rerouting my thoughts, the door burst open with a violent bang.

Head maid Veronica stormed in. The sharp eyes beneath her tightly bound brown hair looked twice as fierce as usual.

“Kyle! What are you doing in here before dawn?”

“……I was organizing some records.”

I quickly flipped the paper containing the original story information upside down to hide it. Veronica’s suspicious gaze swept across the desk, but she soon sighed and grabbed my wrist.

“There’s no time for personal scribbling. Comb your hair properly and move immediately. The young lady is looking for you.”

My heart plummeted. It had only been one day. One single day since I’d been possessed, and this was already the second summons.

“……Already?”

“You don’t have any complaints about the young lady’s schedule, do you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then run. The young lady’s mood is at an extreme low today. Don’t add any unnecessary comments. If she asks you anything, answer only in short sentences. And don’t make eye contact for no reason.”

Veronica roughly straightened my clothes and yanked my tie tight. Her touch was rough, but it carried her own clumsy kindness—the kind she secretly showed toward the lower servants of the house.

“Kyle.”

“Yes, Miss Veronica.”

“If you want to survive long in the Rosenberg household, remember my words clearly. Catching the young lady’s eye is ruin. Falling out of her favor is also ruin.”

“Then is there no middle ground?”

“There isn’t.”

It was a decisive, one-hit strike. I swallowed a bitter smile and lowered my head. For someone whose very existence had become a massive error in the grand narrative, the advice to “just stay in the middle” had already missed its timing by a long shot.

The marble corridor leading to the East Wing Drawing Room felt even longer and more distant than yesterday. On the silver tray sat the same bergamot-scented black tea as before, but the tremor in my fingertips was far worse.

Absolutely do not stand out. Be diligent, but thoroughly ordinary and unremarkable.

That was today’s clear directive. I reached the drawing room door and took a deep breath.

Knock, knock.

“Enter.”

At Ivelin’s permission, I opened the door. She was still seated at the head chair by the window, elegantly turning the pages of a book. Today she wore a deep navy dress instead of black. The red ruby ornament resting against her snow-white nape looked both dangerously precarious and breathtakingly beautiful.

It felt like facing a beautiful poisonous mushroom.

I kept my gaze fixed firmly on the top of my own head and stood at perfect, polite attention.

“You called for me, my lady.”

Ivelin didn’t lift her eyes from the book. She spoke slowly.

“You’re late.”

“My deepest apologies.”

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

“You were late yesterday too, and all I get today is another apology.”

“I will be especially careful from now on.”

“You really are good at apologizing.”

“……It is a basic skill a butler must possess.”

The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. I had let slip a witty reply I didn’t need to give. The corner of Ivelin’s lips curved upward in the tiniest arc.

I shed bloody tears inside. I couldn’t understand why my score kept rising over such trivial conversation. I moved like a robot, as stiffly and forgettably as possible, while brewing the tea. Suppressing the body’s muscle memory that perfectly controlled leaf density and water temperature, I deliberately adjusted the brew to be slightly bland and ordinary.

But before I could even set down the finished teacup, Ivelin rested her chin on her hand and commanded,

“Today, you drink first.”

My fingertips froze solid in midair.

“……Me, my lady?”

“It might be poisoned, after all.”

Her tone was so casual and natural it was almost frightening. In that instant, the original story’s setting flashed through my mind. The Rosenberg Ducal House, the greatest power in the western empire, was surrounded ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠by enemies on all sides. Assassination ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and poisoning attempts were commonplace. Having a servant taste a superior’s food or drink first was an extremely common safety measure in this world.

The problem was that I didn’t have any useful passive skill like poison resistance.

Surely I’m not going to get poisoned and exit on the very first day.

Swallowing my tension, I carefully lifted the cup and took a sip. Fortunately, only a bitter, subtle fragrance spread across my tongue. There was no abnormal reaction in my body.

“There is nothing wrong, my lady.”

Only then did Ivelin accept the cup with a satisfied expression.

“Were you scared?”

“No, my lady.”

“Liar.”

Ivelin smiled sweetly as she brought the cup to her lips.

“When you lie, you avoid eye contact.”

I immediately shut my mouth. In front of this cunning villainess, the more I spoke, the more weaknesses I would hand her. Ivelin savored the black tea deeply, then closed her eyes in elegant satisfaction.

“It’s to my taste. It matches the tea I had yesterday exactly.”

“……Pardon?”

I was stunned, as if someone had struck me in the head. I had clearly adjusted the brewing time this round on purpose to dull the flavor. And yet she said it matched?

“Deliberately avoiding tricks and bringing out the tea leaves’ natural bold taste. It means there is no unnecessary flourish in your fingertips, and I like that.”

She had completely misinterpreted my intentional “half-assed job” as perfectly customized service just for her. They say too much talent can be a problem; this damn body was properly tripping me up.

Tap.

Ivelin slid a small, exquisitely crafted wooden box toward me.

“Take it.”

“……What is this?”

“Open it.”

When I opened the box, a silver pocket watch appeared, its intricate golden gears turning with precision. It was a luxury item no low-ranking butler could ever afford even if he poured his entire yearly salary into it.

“This is your reward for serving tea that suited my palate both yesterday and today. I will not accept refusal.”

I couldn’t comprehend why such an excessive reward was being given for nothing more than two cups of tea. My ominous premonitions always struck straight through the heart with perfect accuracy. This woman was pulling me into her territory far faster and more meticulously than I had expected.

At that moment, the status window blinked cruelly.

I was truly in serious trouble. No matter what I did, the crack in the original story had already begun to veer off course at an uncontrollable speed.