The First Mark

“Better than yesterday.”

At Ibelin’s single remark, I immediately tucked my chin and bowed. “Thank you, my lady.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“I will keep it in mind.”

“Still… why do you look so relieved?”

My heart lurched. I tried to freeze my expression, but it was already too late. Damn it—her observation was far too sharp.

Ibelin set her teacup down and stared straight at me. Her golden eyes narrowed like a predator’s. “Kyle Lowell.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Were you always this timid?”

While I searched for an answer, Ibelin watched the silence itself with interest. “Answer.”

“……I possess as much fear as is necessary to survive.”

At that moment, her gaze shifted ever so slightly. “Survive?”

“It is the most important virtue for a servant.”

“Quite insolent, coming from a servant in front of nobility.”

“If I have offended you, I apologize.”

“No.” Ibelin rested her chin on her hand with elegant poise. “It’s amusing.”

Tears of blood welled inside me. Entering the “Interest” stage meant the worst possible path had finally opened.

Ibelin flicked a luxurious black velvet box across the desk with her fingertip. “Take it.”

Even at a glance, it was nothing a low-ranking butler should touch. “What is this, my lady?”

“Open it.”

I did not want to. I desperately wished to refuse, yet I had no right to disobey my superior’s command. With careful hands I lifted the lid, revealing an ornate silver pocket watch set with a blue gem. At the same time, a red warning flashed before my eyes.

‘System, what happens if I refuse?’

The system was no help at all. If both choices led to a cliff, I would pick the one that kept my head attached for now.

“My lady, this is far too valuable for someone of my station. I cannot accept it.”

“I’m giving it to you.” Ibelin’s eyes cooled. The air in the room dropped below freezing in an instant. “You don’t like my gift?”

The correct answer was fixed. I bowed deeply. “……I will gratefully accept it.”

My fingertips went rigid. Numbers had finally appeared on the obsession stat that had been zero. Only two, yet the difference between zero and two was the difference between heaven and earth. The forbidden door had opened.

Ibelin lifted her teacup again, looking satisfied. “It means you must keep your appointments from now on. Don’t lose it, don’t sell it, and…… never forget who gave it to you.”

“I will cherish the grace you have shown me for the rest of my life.”

When I tucked the box into my coat, its heavy weight pressed against my chest.

Even after leaving the drawing room, the chill refused to leave me. The silver pocket watch. It was Ibelin’s “mark” disguised as a gift. A vicious declaration of ownership: I will remember you, so you must remember me.

In the corridor leading to the kitchen, the servants’ gazes had changed. Word had already spread through the household that the young lady had summoned a low-ranking butler twice in a row.

I quickened my steps, only for a heavy voice to catch my ankle from behind.

“Kyle.”

It was Veronica, the head maid. Her expression darkened the moment she saw the velvet box in my hands. “What is that?”

“……The young lady bestowed it upon me.”

“Ha!” Veronica pressed a hand to her forehead in disbelief. “What exactly have you been doing these past two days? The young lady giving a personal gift to a servant is unprecedented in the history of noble houses.”

“Then perhaps I should return it even now……”

“Are you insane? Returning a gift already bestowed is an insult to the nobility! Keep it without fail. But don’t flaunt it, and don’t hide it either. If anyone asks, say only that it was by the young lady’s command.”

Veronica stared at me intently and lowered her voice. “Kyle. Being noticed by the young lady might be luck, but it’s only one step away from becoming deadly poison.”

The poison had already reached my marrow. Danger Level A+, Obsession 2, Survival Probability 0.1%.

Just then, a rough knock sounded from the pantry door.

Knock, knock!

When the door opened, a young maid stood there, panting. “Miss Veronica! A distinguished guest has gotten lost in the east wing corridor!”

A bad feeling crept over me. My heart began to pound unnaturally. “Is she…… silver-haired?”

The maid’s eyes widened. “Huh? Yes! How did ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you know?”

So it had come after all. Seraphina Estelle. Possibility of re-contact confirmed. The system’s prediction was cruelly accurate.

Veronica jerked her chin toward me. “You guided her yesterday, didn’t you? Go.”

“It would be better if someone else went. I still need to organize the young lady’s belongings……”

“Neglecting a guest is a bigger problem. Go now.”

I had no grounds to argue. Swallowing tears of blood, I headed for the east wing corridor.

From afar I saw the familiar silver hair standing beneath the stained-glass light. Seraphina, dressed in a worn but neat gown, brightened the moment she saw me. “Kyle!”

I wanted to beg her not to call my name so happily. “It is good to see you again, Lady Estelle.”

“You…… remembered my name?”

“I confirmed it on yesterday’s visitor list.”

“Ah, I see……” Seraphina smiled bitterly, as though disappointed. “I thought you remembered me specially.”

I remembered her far too well—enough to want to run away. “Remembering guests is a butler’s natural duty.”

“Then you’ll keep remembering me from now on?”

Her eyes were clear and transparent, like blue glass marbles. Yet beyond them I could see the future Saintess who would save the empire—and my own miserable death buried beneath that story.

“……Yes. I will remember you.”

I swallowed a groan. Today was clearly a cursed day when affection points accumulated just by breathing.

“I will escort you to the drawing room.”

I drew a professional line and walked ahead. Only the sound of two people’s footsteps echoed hollowly through the corridor.

Seraphina was the first to break the silence. “Thank you so much for yesterday. The other servants simply walked past me.”

“I only did what was required.”

“This mansion is so vast and grand…… I’m not used to places like this.”

“You will grow accustomed to it soon.”

“You really are kind, Kyle.”

The word “kind” stabbed like a knife. “I was merely showing proper courtesy as a butler of the ducal house. If you encounter any difficulties in the future, please call another servant nearby.”

Seraphina tilted her head and looked at me. “I can’t call you?”

My heart screamed no, but my body was steeped in the habits of long servitude. “……If I happen to be nearby, I will assist you.”

Even Seraphina had entered the orbit of obsession. My head throbbed.

The moment we reached the drawing room door, I stopped at once. “We have arrived, my lady.”

“Thank you, Kyle.”

Just as I was about to step back after her polite farewell, a voice cold enough to freeze my eardrums pierced my back from the opposite end of the corridor.

“Kyle.”

I turned slowly. At the far end of the corridor, Ibelin Rosenberg stood with her crimson hair whipping like flames. Her arrogant golden eyes swept over the silver box in my arms, then shifted to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Seraphina.

“Why are you with that woman?”

The air around us froze in an instant. “She lost her way, so I was merely escorting her to the drawing room.”

“Who gave you permission?” Ibelin approached slowly. Her footsteps made no sound, yet the pressure was suffocating. “Who told you to wander around giving tours?”

The rate of increase was insane. Seraphina instinctively stepped back, sensing the threat, and at last the gazes of the original story’s two heroines—the Saintess and the Villainess—collided head-on in midair. I stood trapped in the center of the storm where their toxic gas swirled.

“It is an honor to meet you, Lady Rosenberg. I am Seraphina Estelle.”

Seraphina offered a careful curtsy, but Ibelin only scanned her up and down with cold eyes. “Estelle? Ah…… a fallen border family.”

The insult was deliberate. Seraphina’s pale face stiffened with shame, her fingertips trembling visibly.

If I sided with Seraphina here, Ibelin’s obsession would explode. If I played along with Ibelin, my relationship with Seraphina would head straight for ruin. Silence was the correct answer. Yet at the sight of the trembling heroine, my mouth moved of its own ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠accord.

“My lady.” Ibelin’s piercing golden eyes bore into me. “If the arrangement of the drawing room is delayed, it may damage the ducal house’s reputation. It would be wise to invite the guest inside.”

“……Are you trying to lecture me now?”

“It is merely the loyalty of a low-ranking butler concerned for your noble dignity.”

A suffocating silence pressed down on the corridor. Ibelin glared at me as though she wanted to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠kill me, while I kept my gaze fixed on the floor without moving an inch. After several seconds that felt like eternity, Ibelin let out a low laugh.

“Dignity, is it……” She jerked her chin coldly toward Seraphina. “Go inside. I will treat you as a guest.”

“Thank you……”

Seraphina entered and the door closed, yet Ibelin did not step into the drawing room. She came right up to my face and whispered, “Kyle. I’ll see you later—alone.”

It was a clear declaration of war.

I closed my eyes. The proposition of survival had not changed, but one fact had become painfully clear. My ambitious plan to survive long and quietly in this insane ducal house had been completely shattered before it could even begin.