The place I was taken to was the earl's office—right next to the parlor where I first met Erica.
The heavy oak door closed behind us with a decisive click, sealing away the outside world. The room was filled with the scent of paper and ink, musty parchment and the sharp tang of fresh documents waiting to be signed. Just as expected, piles of documents and stacks of parchment were scattered everywhere—covering the massive mahogany desk, stacked on side tables, even arranged in neat towers on the floor like a paper fortress.
The afternoon light filtering through tall windows caught dust motes dancing in the air, giving the cluttered space an almost dreamlike quality despite its chaos.
Nobles really have it rough, huh.
Managing an entire county apparently meant drowning in bureaucracy. I caught glimpses of tax records, land disputes, trade agreements, and what looked like a complaint about someone's pig eating someone else's cabbages.
"Looks like the thing you asked for earlier is going to be approved."
As soon as I sat down on the glossy black leather sofa—the material cool and smooth against my palms, smelling faintly of oil and polish—Adelbater got straight to the point. He moved behind his desk with practiced efficiency, his boots barely making a sound on the thick carpet.
It seems the request I made before has gone through.
"Oh, really!?"
My heart leapt in my chest. I'd been hoping, of course, but part of me had expected refusal. Nobles could be unpredictable about these things.
"Yes. Starting next week, you will also be a member of the Ansheinus household."
He placed a steaming cup of coffee on the desk—the rich, bitter aroma immediately filling the space and making my mouth water—along with—
A jet-black tuxedo, obviously of excellent quality at a glance.
The fabric gleamed even in the muted afternoon light, each stitch perfectly placed, the material clearly expensive. Beneath it lay neatly folded trousers with knife-sharp creases and a gray vest with silver buttons that caught the light.
"Ohhh! This really gives off a Sebastian vibe! Thank you so much!!"
I couldn't contain my excitement. The uniform was everything I'd imagined and more—the kind of formal attire that screamed "distinguished gentleman" rather than "village orphan."
"Seba…? Well, anyway. It wasn't too difficult. I just had to ask the director which position to assign you to."
The earl sipped his coffee, the liquid dark as night in his white porcelain cup. Steam curled upward between us, carrying that intoxicating scent of roasted beans.
What I had asked him for—
Was to become a servant of this mansion.
A few days after becoming Erica's friend, I made that request. It would be far more convenient for me, and also for meeting her regularly. No more expensive inn fees eating away at the modest allowance the orphanage provided. No more exhausting trips back and forth. No more time wasted when I could be training my magic or spending time with Erica.
But more than that—and this was the truth I barely admitted to myself—I wanted to be closer to her. Not just physically, but integrated into her world in a way that felt more permanent than "provisional friend." Servants lived in the manor. Servants saw their employers every day. Servants belonged.
And after years of being unwanted, unclaimed, belonging somewhere—even as the lowest rung of the household—felt impossibly appealing.
"But, are you sure you're okay with this? Making that kind of decision?"
He asked while sipping his coffee and sorting through documents with his free hand. The papers rustled like autumn leaves, and I heard the scratch of his pen as he signed something without even looking at it fully.
"Of course. Actually, I should be the one asking if you're truly okay with it. I get to avoid traveling back and forth and can see Lady Erica anytime. But you, Earl, end up hiring a child like me, and you have to prepare all kinds of things—"
Honestly, him accepting my request was a pleasant surprise.
For the past few weeks, I had been staying at an inn in town and traveling to the estate from there. The room had been small and drafty, the bed lumpy, the walls thin enough that I could hear every conversation in neighboring rooms. Returning to my home village would've taken too much time and money, so the inn was the only practical choice—but it had been wearing on me.
"I could have at least provided you a place to stay, you know…"
His voice carried something like guilt. The cup clinked softly against its saucer as he set it down.
"No, that would make me uncomfortable. A commoner like me getting special treatment feels wrong."
"…I do not care about class distinctions."
Uh-oh.
Adelbater made a slightly stern face, his brows drawing together and his jaw tightening. The temperature in the room seemed to drop despite the warmth from the afternoon sun.
He's rare among nobles in that he doesn't care much about noble or commoner status. I'd seen him treat servants with basic courtesy, heard him address the groundskeeper by name, watched him help a maid who'd dropped a tray rather than berating her.
Back when I told him, "A commoner entering a noble estate is strange, so becoming a servant would be more proper," he made the same face—as if I'd personally insulted his values.
Well, thanks to that reaction, he ended up approving the servant arrangement—and of course, the reason I could even build a friendship with Erica in the first place. His lack of prejudice had opened doors that would've remained locked under any other noble.
"Yes, I know. But even so, I don't want to abuse your authority like that."
When I said that clearly, meeting his eyes with what I hoped was appropriate respect and sincerity, he blinked in mild surprise before his expression softened. His smile was gentle, transforming his stern features into something almost fatherly.
"I see. To say something like that at just seven years old… impressive."
"That's why you approved me as Erica's friend, isn't it?"
"You figured that out, did you? Well, I didn't intend to hide it."
After listening to the conversation between him and the orphanage director that first day, I had a general idea. The pieces had fallen into place slowly—comments overheard, careful observations, the way servants spoke about their master's concerns in hushed tones when they thought I wasn't listening.
Apparently, he had been searching for someone to be Erica's friend for a long time.
But because of her innate power and curse—that dark magic that seeped from her like poison, that made flowers wilt and small animals flee—neither nobles nor townsfolk dared to get close. Children her age were kept away by fearful parents. Other nobles made polite excuses about busy schedules and prior commitments.
So, he consulted the orphanage director—someone who knew his past and owed him a favor—and asked him to recommend a promising child. Someone who might see past the curse. Someone desperate enough, perhaps, to take the risk.
And so, with my unusual intelligence and physical ability for my age—and probably my utter lack of other prospects—I was chosen.
"I will continue counting on you."
His voice carried weight, the kind that came with real hope. He was entrusting me with something precious.
"Of course! Cleaning, laundry, cooking—leave it all to me!"
I practically bounced in my seat, already mentally cataloging all the skills I'd picked up at the orphanage. I could scrub floors until they gleamed, fold linens into perfect squares, prepare simple meals without burning the kitchen down.
"…Cooking is not part of your duties."
He sighed slightly, smiling wryly, and shook his head. The afternoon light caught silver threads in his brown hair.
After that, we handled the servant contract and various paperwork—though all I did was confirm the documents the director had signed, my finger tracing over formal language I barely understood. The scratch of the earl's quill against parchment punctuated our silence, and I watched as he sealed the final document with red wax that smelled like cinnamon.
And thus, I became a member of the Ansheinus household.
Honestly, isn't this a huge promotion?
An orphaned commoner with no connections, becoming the servant of an earl. A roof over my head, regular meals, a position of relative stability. There would be restrictions, sure—servants weren't free to come and go as they pleased—but a few months ago I never would have dreamed of such a step up.
Well, of course, that means I'll have to work harder than expected.
But more importantly, it meant I could protect Erica. Could be there every day to ensure she never walked down that dark path toward villainy. That was my real motivation—the one that drove me more than security or comfort. I wanted to save her from her fate, and I couldn't do that from a dingy inn room miles away.
"…By the way,"
After we finished all the procedures, I asked something else.
"May I go meet Lady Erica while wearing this uniform?"
The earl blinked as if stunned, his coffee cup frozen halfway to his lips.
Then his expression shifted to something almost amused, tinged with resignation.
"…Go ahead."
＊＊＊
I cracked the door open slightly and peeked into Lady Erica's room.
The space was exactly as I remembered—all soft fabrics and delicate furniture, smelling faintly of rosewater and fresh linens. Afternoon light painted everything in warm gold, but the atmosphere felt decidedly cold.
As expected, she was wearing a thoroughly displeased expression.
Her rose-gold hair caught the light like spun copper, but her face was set in a pout that would've been adorable if it wasn't so concerning. Those crystalline blue eyes were narrowed, her rosebud mouth pressed into a thin line. She sat rigidly on her cushioned chair, arms crossed, radiating discontent.
Her maid—a sweet girl named Claire—was desperately trying to cheer her up, but Erica kept her head turned away and didn't respond at all. The poor maid looked close to tears herself.
Hmmm… maybe I kept her waiting too long.
Guilt gnawed at my stomach. She'd been angry when I left, and I'd probably made it worse by taking so long with her father.
"Lady Erica."
I slowly opened the door and called her, my voice intentionally gentle.
She snapped her head toward me with startling speed—those blue eyes wide and blazing—her face full of sorrow and righteous indignation, ready to complain. Claire squeaked in surprise and quickly excused herself, practically fleeing the room.
"Lord Liam, you're late!! Was your conversation with Father that enjoyable!? Do you know how I felt—"
She fired words at me like arrows, each one sharp with hurt feelings. But the moment her eyes registered my appearance—the jet-black tuxedo, the perfectly pressed trousers, the silver vest buttons gleaming—she froze mid-sentence, mouth slightly open.
"My apologies for the delay, my lady. This footman, Liam , has now arrived."
I gave her my most dazzling smile and copied the gentlemanly greeting I saw in a story from my previous life—a slight bow, one hand over my heart, the other extended gracefully.
Yes.
About 30% of the reason I wanted to become a servant was for this moment.
I may be handsome, but my clothes were tragically plain before. Not bad, exactly—they were traditional village garb, clean and serviceable—but next to a noble like Erica, I looked unbearably rustic. Like a wildflower trying to stand beside a cultivated rose.
My face isn't a "simple country boy" type, but more of a "princely beauty," after all. Sharp features, striking eyes, the kind of face that belonged in formal attire.
And this servant tuxedo matches it perfectly. Absolute gentleman aesthetic.
The transformation from orphan to distinguished servant must have been striking.
"W-why…?"
She opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish, those blue eyes wider than I'd ever seen them. Her cheeks were already flushing pink—a color that complemented her rose-gold hair beautifully.
"Well, you see…"
I carefully explained the whole situation—my request to become a servant, the earl's approval, the arrangements starting next week. The words tumbled out while she stared at me, and I noticed her hands gripping the armrests of her chair, knuckles white.
She looked stunned the whole time—probably only absorbed half of it. Her expression shifted between confusion, surprise, and something I couldn't quite name.
"So… Lord Liam… you became my servant?"
Her voice was small, uncertain, as if afraid the answer might be different than she hoped.
"Well, technically my employer is Lord Adelbater, but since I'll be in charge of your needs, you could say—"
Suddenly, my body was yanked forward.
I had trained enough that I shouldn't lose my balance easily—hours of sword practice, careful cultivation of my physical abilities—but I was completely off guard, still mid-sentence. And the strength pulling me was unexpectedly powerful, impossibly strong for a seven-year-old girl.
I was pulled straight into—
Softness against my right arm, a tight hold that threatened to cut off circulation, and a sweet scent brushing my nose—roses and something uniquely her, warm and slightly floral.
This was the action beat that changed everything. One moment I was explaining logistical details, the next I was pressed against her in a way that made my heart race and my face burn. The dynamic shifted from servant-employer to something far more complicated.
"Then… then… then. Does that mean Lord Liam… is mine?"
Her voice was breathless against my ear, and I felt every word vibrate through where she pressed against me.
"Eh? N-no, that's not quite—"
Wait, did Erica just pull me like that!? Even if I was off guard, she had enough strength to topple me? And she's squeezing my arm like a vice!!
Was this the cursed magic enhancing her physical abilities? Or just pure determination?
"Hehe… then, I look forward to working with you… okay?"
And her smile— It's… terrifying!?
Her eyes have zero light!! Those beautiful blue eyes have gone completely dark, like windows into an abyss!! She looks like she's channeling dark magic just by smiling!!
I could actually feel the temperature drop, see wisps of that familiar black aura curling around her like smoke.
"Liam…"
A voice came from behind. Flat. Exasperated. Heavy with paternal concern.
"Ah—Lord Adelbater! Please, help—Lady Erica is—"
I twisted to look at the doorway where the earl stood, silhouetted against the hallway light.
"It's good to see you two growing closer."
N-no, Father!!
Your eyes are scary too!! They have the exact same darkness as your daughter's!! I do NOT need a reminder of your bloodline connection right now!!
The protective father aura was suffocating, and I could practically feel him mentally cataloging ways to dispose of a body.
After that, Erica clung to my arm for a full hour—her grip never loosening, her smile never wavering—while Lord Adelbater watched from a chair with the intensity of a hawk observing a mouse. The room's temperature never quite recovered, and I swore I could taste copper on my tongue from the ambient cursed magic.
When she finally released me, my arm had gone completely numb, and Lord Adelbater's attitude toward me had become noticeably colder. He spoke to me in clipped tones and refused to make eye contact.
Just what is going on here?