The Butler's Flawless Preparations
The smell of toasted bread and sweet, thick caramel syrup. Rich roasting meat baking away in the oven, and stews simmering with spices layered into every bite. The kitchen was in full, feverish swing, getting ready to welcome the Grand Duke home.
Tak-tak-tak-tak. Meriel, one of the young maids of the kitchen, had a huge bowl clamped against her side and was whipping cream with all her might.
When she spotted me, she flashed a bright, toothy smile.
"Lady Freya! The eggs are so fresh today. Could it be the hens know today is a special day?"
"That's what happens when you tend to them with love, Meriel."
Meriel blushed and gave a soft, sheepish laugh.
"Oh, Lady Freya, really."
How adorable. I showered her with encouragement, then made my way over to Lend, the head chef.
"How's the lamb looking?"
"Excellent, Freya. Swapping out the food merchant was the right call. Better quality AND a better price, can you believe it?"
Lend let out a booming laugh.
The very first thing I'd done after becoming the Grand Duke's butler was overhaul the estate's trade arrangements with its merchant partners.
Even if our master had been filling in as interim butler, there were limits to what one man could do.
My master wasn't the Grand Duke's butler—he was a vassal. A living legend of the butler's craft, yes, but he shuttled between House Millard and the Grand Duke's residence, which made it hard to keep a close eye on the inner workings of House Ballot.
Still, it seemed his mere presence had kept the merchants dealing with the ducal house on their toes. Compared to the stretch when the butler's post sat empty, nothing had gone seriously wrong. Things had just gotten a little... lax.
But I had no intention of letting even the smallest slip slide. The merchant I'd made an example of was the one supplying our food.
Anyone who toys with what people eat does not get forgiven.
I smiled contentedly.
"I'm glad to hear it. If there's ever a problem with supplies again, tell me right away."
"You know I will!"
"Ah—and the Grand Duke and his knights will arrive within two hours."
"That soon?!"
"At their marching pace, it might not even take two hours. Have the meal ready to serve the moment they arrive."
"Got it! I'll time everything so it comes out of the oven the second they ride through the gate, so don't you worry!"
Lend thumped his thick fist against his broad chest—leave it to him, that gesture said.
I turned away with a smile.
Kitchen, confirmed.
First the annex, now the main residence's kitchen.
Perfect.
Leaving the kitchen behind, I headed for the central hall, walking the route the Grand Duke would take—as if I were the Grand Duke myself.
Every corner of the staircase, every curve of the banister's handrail. Wherever my eyes landed, I traced and inspected with a hand in a white glove.
When I reached the top of the fourth-floor stairs—the threshold of the fifth—I felt a strange little thrill at the fact that not a speck of dust clung to my fingertips.
Perfection. Absolute perfection.
Every floor, from the first to the fourth.
It couldn't be better. It was exhilarating—like the moment of victory on a battlefield. No. Maybe even more than that.
Smirking down at my gloved fingertips, I let my gaze drift to a black iron door standing a short distance away.
The fifth floor.
"The fifth floor of the main residence is restricted. Do not even THINK about going up there."
My master's scolding echoed in my head.
Mmm. Today, as every day, I stood before that iron door and tested the limits of my patience.
It was nothing more than a massive door of iron—and yet for two years now, it had endlessly, mercilessly stoked my curiosity.
That diabolical thing!
If I'd ever happened to find it open, I might well have walked straight in without a second thought.
But the door stayed sealed tight whenever the Grand Duke was away.
I think I've seen his aide go in once or twice...
I did not assume that a butler was somehow lesser than an aide. Which meant that someday, perhaps, I too might cross that threshold.
Why had I become a butler at all?
To win the Grand Duke's trust and unravel the mystery of this body of mine. And to take the Grand Duke's head—the one that would one day be offered to Serhin.
Once I was the butler, I could stand at the Grand Duke's side, closer than anyone. Close enough for my outstretched fingertips to reach the pulse fluttering in his throat.
I became a butler for that reason, and that reason alone.
Of course, climbing to this position had been anything but easy.
Once my master had switched me from maid training onto the butler's track, he'd drilled me like a man possessed.
He did found the Butler Academy, after all.
He'd once said the number of students who'd fled his training could fill Lake Redianar behind the ducal residence to overflowing—and then some.
I felt that statement in my bones.
If I hadn't had a purpose, I might have run away too.
"A butler who cannot count the spoons, forks, and knives does not exist—and shall not exist!"
"Shall not exist!"
"If the silver candlesticks lose their shine, that house is doomed! Polish until your fingerprints wear away, then polish again!"
"Polish, polish!"
"The lamp on the second floor of the east annex, fifth from the end—what color is it?"
"...I beg your pardon?"
"Four o'clock from the garden fountain—how many fingers is the goddess statue holding folded?"
"......."
Sooner or later he was bound to demand I count every hair on the Grand Duke's head.
So I crammed every scrap of information about the ducal residence into my skull and memorized it the way other people breathe.
My master wasn't satisfied until I could recite not only the layout of the main residence, but the position of every last little vase tucked into the annex's farthest corners.
Running back and forth across that sprawling estate cost me a toenail a few hundred times over. Just traversing the grounds was training enough—I never needed a separate conditioning regimen.
There was even a time I bled from the nose so hard it got raw.
I endured. Out of pure spite, I endured.
This was a post that ordinarily demanded a diploma from the Academy—a position open only to graduates with credentials I didn't have.
With a background as murky as mine, the only way to become the Grand Duke's butler was to prove it with my own two hands.
My stubborn, single-minded obsession with getting that seat no matter what was what carried me through.
Along the way, I'd cheated death more times than I could count when my aura ran rampant, and I'd lived for a stretch with bruises blooming down my legs from torn muscle.
Ah. Wait. Just a moment.
I braced a hand against the wall and dropped my head.
Haaah.
Recalling the past made the tip of my nose sting for no good reason.
That's enough. What good does dredging it up now do?
I had already achieved my goal, and the Grand Duke was coming home. All that past effort was about to bear fruit at last.
I stole one more glance at the black iron door.
Truly. Desperately. Utterly curious though I was about what lay behind it—
My destination is right in front of me. I can't risk touching that thing now and getting thrown out at the finish line.
It wasn't as if my curiosity was worth dying over. Forcing the urge back down, I turned away.
Full disclosure: I had, under the pretense of cleaning, fiddled with that door's lock on one or two occasions. Every now and then. Casually.
That was enough. More than enough to quiet an impulsive curiosity.
With every preparation confirmed, I returned to my quarters and checked my appearance one final time.
This was the most important task of all.
Because today was the first time I would meet the Grand Duke as his butler.
I had taken the post half a year ago—while the Grand Duke was away at war.
"His Highness gave his approval in advance."
That was all my master said.
At first, I was suspicious. Was the plan to place me in the butler's seat and let an intruder sneaking into the house kill me off?
But watching my master train me half to death, I realized that wasn't it at all.
I straightened the frill at my throat with a fingertip and cinched the knot at my waist tighter. After checking the gleaming metal chain and the pocket watch dangling from its end one last time, I met my own eyes in the mirror.
Two years. Two whole years had already passed since I'd woken up in this new body.
By now, I'd grown reasonably used to it.
Running in this body. Wielding aura and sword in it, too.
And yet—
"Hide it as best you can. Hide it, and hide it again. Someday, that secret of yours will save your life when you're in dire straits."
Following my master's advice, I had never once revealed how far I'd actually come.
The Grand Duke probably had no idea just how magnificently I'd grown.
Hmph. I gave a light snort and left the room.
Before I knew it, the tremor of hooves was closing in. The Mars Knights under the Grand Duke's command had reached the front gates of the ducal residence.
Every servant in the household stopped what they were doing and came out to welcome him home.
Along the path connecting the main residence to the gates, countless employees stood in formation, row upon orderly row.
Seeing them lined up straight as if measured with a ruler, my chest swelled with an unexpected warmth.
And among them stood me.
Me—a complete stranger to them all. An enemy, if ever there was one.
Creeeak—CLANG!
The residence's massive iron gates groaned open on either side with a deep, weighty shriek of metal. Through them poured a procession of riders.
Dark gray armor embossed with the crest of House Ballot, and helmets forged into sharp points like the horns of a demon.
The Mars Knights—the knightly order of Grand Duke Ballot, returned from their victory march through the capital.
And at the very head of them, the man leading the charge was, of course—
Grand Duke Kadrian Ballot.
The Grand Duke and his knights slowed their march, coming to a complete halt only when they reached the front of the main residence.
Thud. Thud. Thud. The warhorses stomped in unison, producing a sound of perfect, rhythmic regularity.
The entire residence shook.
Bathing in that pounding like a heartbeat, I looked up at the Grand Duke atop the lead horse.
On a black warhorse, in armor black as night, the Grand Duke looked for all the world like a death god descended to collect my head.
His cool violet eyes, looking down at me, gleamed less with suspicion than with curiosity—the look of a man beholding something novel.
Ah. This was the Grand Duke of the battlefield, the man I never dreamed I'd face alive again. My fingertips went numb.
After staring down at me for a long moment, the Grand Duke raised a hand. Every horse stopped moving at once.
The thunder that had shaken the earth and rung through the chest fell silent, and stillness swept in.
Under that suffocating tension, I felt crushed beneath a weight I could hardly describe.
Only then did the Grand Duke dismount.