Razer Kilmond.
The second son of the Kilmond Viscount family. Foul-mouthed, tyrannical in personality—commonly called the "ore-sama" type, though "childish" might be more accurate. The kind of character who spoke in self-aggrandizing terms and expected the world to bow.
However, his devotion to the protagonist was single-minded, unwavering to the point of obsession. And his visual design ranked among the top—sharp features, striking coloring, the kind of face that launched a thousand fan arts.
This gap between his rough exterior and devoted heart apparently captured the hearts of otome game players. His popularity was considerable, evidenced by the merchandise, the fanfiction, the dedicated forum threads.
...I never could bring myself to like him much, though. His childish bratty-ness won out over any innocent child-like charm in my mind. Well, admittedly, as a character he was well-constructed and memorable... but that didn't mean I wanted to deal with him in person.
And yet, now, that very character whose personality I'd found so grating stood right before me in flesh and blood
"Dance… with me, was it?"
Erica's voice carried an edge sharp enough to cut, her blue eyes narrowing dangerously. The temperature around us seemed to drop several degrees.
"Yeah, that's right. This great me is telling you I'll dance with you."
His tone dripped with arrogance, as if he were bestowing some great honor rather than making a request. The casual rudeness would have been shocking if I hadn't been expecting exactly this attitude.
While I'd been talking with Erica, the entertainment had ended, and we'd already entered the social dancing portion of the evening. The musicians had struck up an elegant waltz—strings and piano weaving together in sophisticated harmony—while she and Razer glared at each other across the table.
Actually, only Erica was glaring. Razer wore a strangely confident, insolent smile, as if he found the entire situation amusing. His dark golden eyes gleamed with something between mischief and malice.
Was this kid always this stupid?
Does he not understand the hierarchy between a viscount and a count?Or is he taking advantage of Adelbäter's casual attitude toward social rank…?No, that doesn't quite fit.
Also—why is Razor here?
Sure, it's not strange for a viscount's son to attend a count's daughter's birthday party…But I never expected any connection between the Kilmund family and the Anshines family.
As far as I remembered, there were no lines, no hints, nothing in the original game suggesting they knew each other.Right? …I think?
It's been ten years since I played it, so my memory is fuzzy.
Though I suppose at this point it's not "a game" anymore—I'm living in the world itself.Maybe that's why things feel off.
Either way, I'm pretty sure there shouldn't be any relationship between them.
So is this… some sort of untold backstory?
"Is that so? Then I must decline."
While I stood there frozen, tangled thoughts swirling in my head, the conversation moved on without me.
Erica turned her gaze away from Razer's outstretched hand—the gesture dismissive, almost contemptuous, as if she were swatting away an insect. Her disgust was palpable, visible even to someone who didn't know her well.
"Hah?"
Razer's expression soured immediately, his face twisting with barely contained anger. He leaned forward aggressively, closing the distance between them. The scent of his cologne—something expensive but overpowering—wafted across the table.
Erica pulled her face back slightly, and I felt her grip on my hand tighten, her fingers squeezing mine hard enough that the pressure bordered on painful.
"I'm asking you nicely! Why the hell are you refusing!?"
"Because I feel absolutely no desire to dance with you. And… and besides, I—"
"You little—!!"
That line?That's exactly what I want to say to you, Razor.Out of shock and exasperation, though—not anger.
Cutting her off, Razor suddenly thrust his hand forward—far more violently than what could be considered an invitation to dance.
I had been willing to overlook it up to this point, but this crossed the line.
"—!"
I grabbed Razor's wrist with my free hand.
Maybe I used too much strength; his hand tensed as if warped by the pressure.
"What the hell!?"
"Liam , Lady Erica's attendant."
Gently releasing her hand, I stood and faced Razor.
He was slightly taller, so I had to tilt my head up to look him in the eye—but I felt no intimidation, no fear.
"Tch. A servant shouldn't stick his nose into a noble's business."
"…Lord Adelbäter instructed me to protect Lady Éléonore from any ill intentions."
"—!"
He tried to shake free by jerking his shoulder violently.
But he wasn't escaping my grip that easily.
Realizing he couldn't force his arm free, Razor glared at me sharply.
"You—you're making fun of me, aren't you!? This counts as violence! Violence!!"
And who was the first one trying to use violence here?I wanted to shout that, but I restrained myself.I had to handle this calmly
"You attempted to harm the young lady, did you not? That is how I interpreted your actions. My duties allow for discretionary judgment, and I find no issue with my response."
"What? What the hell are you babbling about!?"
Razor's ears flushed red, and his glare sharpened even more.
"Don't you dare defy me, servant!!"
"My mission is to protect Lady Erica. I will carry out that duty."
"What!? I just said I wanted a dance! Why the hell are you butting in!?"
"Then please behave with the decorum and manners expected of a noble."
My retort made him flinch.
But judging from his posture, if I released him now, he would probably swing at me immediately.
A fight breaking out here would be bad—disastrous, even.
"Please calm down. I have no desire to escalate this further. If this becomes a serious incident, it will reflect poorly on the Kilmund family."
"W-what? Why!?"
"Is it not obvious? If a lower-ranked viscount's son harms a higher-ranked count's daughter—or her servant—it becomes a major issue."
"H-huh?"
His earlier flush faded a little, as if guilt or panic finally caught up.
…But he didn't seem to understand why it was a problem.Not fully.
Talking to him made it painfully clear—
This kid is way too childish.
His speech and mannerisms are crude—not noble-like at all.More like a bratty commoner.
Then again, if this is meant to be Razor's "childhood" version, it fits perfectly with what players imagined his younger self to be.
As I recall, he and Erica were the same age anyway.(Though that applied to half the cast, really.)
Meaning he's ten years old right now.For a ten-year-old, his behavior makes… unfortunate sense.
Still, as a noble? It's unacceptable.
"If you back down now, I won't report this to Lord Adelbäter. Even if someone questions me later, I won't give detailed testimony. So please—let us end this here."
"…Fine."
Whether out of fear or resignation, Razor finally gave in.
Phew…That was a hair-trigger moment, but it seemed to have ended peacefully.
Hopefully this experience would mellow him out a little before the main storyline began.
If things proceed normally, he'll likely enter the academy too.When that happens, we'll cross paths again.
"…Very well then."
Receiving his response, I finally released his arm.
And in the next second—
my vision spun.
This was the action beat that changed everything. The moment I let my guard down, the moment I showed mercy and assumed the conflict was resolved—everything shattered. Literally and figuratively.
—CRASH!!
The sound of breaking glass and the impact against my body. I realized I'd been knocked down by Razer, thrown backward onto the table behind me.
"Liam!?"
Erica's voice rang out like a scream.
I tried to respond with "Are you unharmed, Lady Érica?"—but pain exploded across my cheek.
Only a second later did I process what it meant:
He punched me.
"Why the hell should I let a servant tell me what to do!?"
Razor had leapt over the table and was now straddling me, glaring down with wild, feral eyes.
Seriously?
The pain wasn't the issue—It was the sheer shock and disbelief.
I hadn't expected him to snap like this.I may have miscalculated.
He's a child—a noble child, which is even worse.I underestimated how dangerous that combination could be.
Or maybe I'd been too influenced by his older version from the game, assuming he'd have some sense of restraint.
Either way—too late now.
"You—!"
His second punch came down.
At that instant, I thrust my right hand toward him.
"Sleep."
Instantly, Razor's furious expression slackened.
His raised fist fell limp, his body collapsing onto me with a dull rustle of clothes.
"Shelly! Call Lord Kilmund! And Lord Adelbäter as well!"
"Eh—ah—yes!"
Slipping out from under Razor's unconscious form, I restrained both his arms—he should remain asleep for a while, but better safe than sorry.
Then I issued a few quick instructions to Shelly, who was nearby.
"......""......…"
Whispers spread through the hall.
When I looked toward the crowd, dozens of eyes were fixed on us—staring, wide-eyed.
Well… after the loud crash, the broken glass, and an almost-violent incident, who could blame them?
Damn it.This became a real mess.
"Liam…"
I turned toward Erica.
She looked at me with deep worry in her eyes.
"…Lady Erica. Are you hurt?"
"D-don't worry about me! Worry about yourself! Liam, are you all right!?"
She hurried toward me, hands hovering uncertainly near my face as if afraid to touch and worsen the injury.
Feeling the sting in my cheek, I muttered a healing spell under my breath.
"Yes, this is nothing. I'm glad you're safe, Lady Erica."
I offered her a gentle smile.
She responded with an expression that was part exasperation… and part sadness.