The Iron Duke's Gaze
“Kyle Lowell.”
“Yes, Head Butler.”
“I’ve heard the rumors. You’ve been nominated as the Young Lady’s personal butler candidate.”
“I am honored to have received such an order.”
“What are your true intentions?”
I paused to choose my words carefully. Before a veteran administrator like the Head Butler, both clumsy humility and excessive confidence would be poison. The only correct answer was a mechanical response that placed the family’s safety above all else.
“I am well aware that my abilities are woefully insufficient to assist the Young Lady. However, now that my master’s command has been given, I will devote every ounce of my strength to ensure that the name of Rosenberg is not tarnished.”
Martin set down his quill and narrowed his eyes.
“A textbook, safe answer.”
“You flatter me.”
“It was not a compliment.”
I couldn’t help but wonder why everyone I met today spoke in exactly the same manner. Martin slowly flipped through my personnel file.
“Kyle Lowell. Two years since joining. Performance evaluations: average. No records of tardiness or absence. No internal conflicts. No outstanding talents or noble background whatsoever.”
He closed the file and looked me straight in the eye.
“Why do you think someone as ordinary as you caught the Young Lady’s attention?”
I didn’t know the answer either. Whether it was due to the system’s forced correction or my survival instincts—based on my knowledge of the original novel—provoking Ibelin’s twisted side.
“……I myself do not clearly understand the reason.”
“You don’t know?”
“Because this favor was not something that occurred within my own intentions or plans.”
Martin’s finger lightly tapped the desk.
“Unintended interest, is it? That is far more dangerous than a sycophant aiming for advancement. Someone with a clear purpose can be controlled by satisfying their greed, but someone whose purpose cannot be discerned is like a time bomb that may roll anywhere at any moment.”
[Martin Gray]
* Danger Level: A / Current Emotion: Precise Observation, Latent Caution
Martin turned toward Veronica.
“You will be in charge of this man’s dedicated training. If he fails to meet the standard within a month, I will use my authority to demote him to a junior butler and transfer him to the outer estate.”
“I will keep that in mind.”
Martin shot me another sharp glare.
“One final warning, Kyle. Do not forget your place by becoming intoxicated with the Young Lady’s favor. In Rosenberg, a noble’s favor always demands a price several times more cruel than the favor itself.”
It was not mere pressure, but the bone-deep advice of an old man who had survived this bloodstained household.
While walking down the corridor after leaving the Head Butler’s office, someone was waiting for us around the corner. Neatly combed brown hair, a high-quality silk butler uniform without a single wrinkle. A man with a slim, smooth build. It was Rowen Hart.
He wore the gentlest smile, like the most harmless saint in the world. Yet his eyes were as cold as a frozen lake.
“Veronica. And…… our new rising star, Kyle.”
Rowen approached and placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Congratulations. You’ll become the idol of the junior butlers. Becoming a personal candidate in one leap.”
“I am merely a provisional candidate. I cannot even reach the tip of Senior Rowen’s toes.”
“How modest. Especially after receiving such a precious pocket watch from the Young Lady.”
His gaze sharply pierced the golden pocket watch hanging from my chest. It lasted only an instant, but that look carried jealousy bordering on murderous intent.
[Rowen Hart]
* Hostility: 37 → 44 / Current Emotion: Extreme Displeasure, Humiliation
“It is merely a whip the Young Lady bestowed so that I might learn the strictness of time. To a servant, a master’s possession is an excessive burden.”
“Quite the silver tongue. Well then, use that cleverness to survive for a good long while.”
He patted my shoulder a couple of times and passed by without lingering. His words were not a blessing, but a declaration of war for the hunt that was about to begin.
When afternoon arrived, preparations for the audience with the Duke began. Veronica drilled survival rules into my head like a machine.
“Never speak first in front of the Duke. Answer questions with only short, direct responses—nothing but the essence, no embellishments. He sees people not as people, but as ‘resources.’”
If useful, he would take them. If useless, he would discard them. Dangerous elements were eliminated in advance. I had to hide my existence within that iron-blooded value system.
Around the time the sun sank below the western horizon and the mansion’s interior filled with long shadows, Ibelin emerged from the study. Dressed in a deep black velvet gown with a red shawl reminiscent of blood, her appearance was eerily beautiful. I noticed her fingertips trembling ever so slightly. Even the great Ibelin felt tension before her father.
“Kyle.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Are you afraid?”
“It would be a lie to say I am not.”
“I like your honesty.”
Ibelin scanned my attire with a satisfied gaze.
[Ibelin Rosenberg]
* Affection: 41 / Obsession: 31 / Current Emotion: Possessiveness, Anticipation
The corridor leading to the Duke’s office was deathly silent. Among the knights guarding the door, a familiar blond man bared his teeth at me in open hostility. It was the guard knight, Derick Carlton.
“My lady. Is this low-ranking servant of ambiguous status truly accompanying you to the Duke’s audience chamber?”
Ibelin’s eyes instantly turned ice-cold.
“Derick. Since when was it your position to monitor and evaluate my judgment and choices?”
“……I misspoke. I will obey.”
Derick quickly lowered his head, but the glare he shot at me looked ready to draw his sword and behead me on the spot.
[Derick Carlton]
* Hostility: 42 → 47
The door to the Duke’s office opened with a heavy sound, as though the gates of hell were swinging wide. The moment I stepped inside, the very pressure of the air felt different. The man standing by the window with his hands clasped behind his back slowly turned. Edmund Rosenberg, the Duke. His golden eyes were identical to Ibelin’s, yet they were like cold steel orbs from which all emotion had been erased.
“Ibelin. You’ve come.”
“Yes, Father.”
I bowed at a perfect right angle two steps behind Ibelin.
“It is an honor to meet you. I am the servant Kyle Lowell.”
The instant the Duke’s gaze touched the crown of my head, a chilling shiver raced down my spine.
[Edmund Rosenberg]
* Danger Grade: S / Current Status: Potential Value Assessment
“So you are the low-ranking butler my daughter personally selected.”
“Though unworthy, I stand here at the Young Lady’s command.”
“Raise your head.”
At his stern command, I slowly lifted my gaze and met the Duke’s frozen eyes directly. The afterimage of this family being branded as traitors and vanishing beneath the guillotine’s blade in the original novel flashed through my mind. My fingertips stiffened ever so slightly. The Duke did not miss that momentary tremor.
“You fear me.”
“The only servants bold enough to face the Empire’s Iron Blood without fear are assassins.”
“Quite the clever tongue. Ibelin, why did you choose this man as your personal butler?”
Ibelin answered without the slightest hesitation.
“Because he is useful. Though cowardly, he does not run, and he possesses the cunning to cross lines for my safety.”
The Duke’s eyes narrowed.
“You mean he has crossed your lines?”
A single wrong answer would mean immediate execution on the spot. Suppressing my heartbeat, I gave the most essential reply.
“I once committed the rudeness of remarking that the Young Lady’s complexion appeared precarious. I judged it necessary counsel for my master’s well-being.”
The temperature in the room plummeted. The Duke stared at me for a long moment before finally leaning back in his chair and murmuring.
“He speaks the words necessary to survive. Very well, Kyle Lowell. I shall grant you exactly one month’s grace. However, should you bring even the slightest harm to my daughter or show any sign of leaking the family’s secrets, I will erase you without a trace the moment it happens.”
In Rosenberg, “erase” meant physical annihilation, not mere social burial.
[Edmund Rosenberg has temporarily approved you.]
[A hidden entry in the Danger Personnel List has been activated.]
6. ???
* Danger Level: Unmeasurable (UNKNOWN)
* Current Status: Under Observation, Interest Aroused
The moment I read the words “Unmeasurable” appearing in the corner of my vision, my gaze unconsciously lingered in the air.
“Kyle Lowell.”
The Duke’s low, heavy voice struck my eardrums.
“What exactly were you looking at above my head just now?”
My heart felt as though it had stopped. The Duke had precisely caught my unnatural gaze fixed on the system window in midair.
“……I beg your pardon. The Duke’s imposing presence momentarily made my mind go blank and my vision blur.”
“A component with poor stamina cannot be used for long. Manage your health thoroughly.”
The Duke did not press further, but that did not mean his suspicion had been dispelled. The pendulum of my limited time had merely begun to swing faster.
Late at night, after piercing through countless watchful and wary gazes, I finally returned to my assigned servant’s quarters. I collapsed onto the bed, yet my mind refused to stop. Ibelin, Seraphina, the Duke, Rowen, Derick, Martin. And the unknown “???” beyond the system.
[??? has taken a deep interest in you.]
[Current Survival Probability: 0.1%]
In the dark room where the candle flickered, a grotesque sensation wrapped around my entire body—as though some enormous gaze from beyond the vast garden outside the window was looking down upon me from above. Dangerous enemies did not exist only inside the mansion. This insane novel world itself was slowly tightening its grip, preparing to swallow this foreign substance called me whole.