POV: Priam Lockhart
I crossed the Hall of Crests in less than three seconds, my dress shoes clicking against polished marble. Every noble in the room turned to stare—a mere servant moving without permission during the Oath ceremony was practically heresy.
Edric's flames blazed brighter, casting dancing shadows across Liana's tear-streaked face. His hand trembled so violently that embers dripped from his fingers like molten rain, scorching the floor where they landed.
"Wait!" I called out, sliding between them just as Edric's arm drew back to strike.
The noble's eyes widened. Up close, I could see the whites shot through with red veins, pupils dilated with something beyond anger—terror barely contained beneath fury's mask. His breath came in short, sharp gasps.
"Move, servant," Edric hissed, but his voice cracked on the last word. "This doesn't concern you. Know your place."
"I know my place perfectly well," I said, keeping my voice calm, non-threatening. I'd dealt with plenty of angry people in my previous life—customers screaming about late deliveries, managers taking out their frustrations on subordinates. The key was never to challenge their authority directly. "That's precisely why I'm here, Lord Renault."
His brow furrowed. Behind me, I could feel Liana's presence—she'd gone very still, her sobbing cut off as if someone had flipped a switch. Interesting. Most people in genuine distress can't stop crying that quickly.
"Explain yourself," Edric demanded. The flames around his hand flickered but didn't extinguish.
I bowed—not too deep, not too shallow. Just enough to show respect without groveling. "My lord, as a servant of House Valois, I'm required to report any breaches of academy protocol directly to my lady. This... situation"—I gestured carefully at Liana without looking at her—"appears to be a commoner who entered the Hall of Crests without proper authorization."
Edric's jaw clenched. "That's what I—"
"Which means," I continued smoothly, "that this is an administrative matter, not a disciplinary one. If you were to punish her using magic before the proper channels are followed, you could be accused of assault on academy grounds before the term has even begun." I lowered my voice conspiratorially. "I've heard that Headmaster Aldric takes a very dim view of students who create incidents during the first day. Something about setting the wrong tone for the year."
That part was true. In the game, several characters got expelled for fighting before the opening ceremony concluded. The academy had strict rules about violence—not because they cared about the victims, but because they wanted to maintain the illusion of civilized society.
Edric's flames guttered. I could see the calculation in his eyes, fear wrestling with ingrained aggression. His father would punish him for showing weakness, yes—but his father would punish him even harder if he got expelled from the academy on day one.
"Lord Renault." A new voice, smooth and cultured, cut through the tension.
Prince Cedric Aldmoor strode toward us, and the crowd parted like he was Moses at the Red Sea. The prince was everything a fairy tale royal should be: tall and elegant, with hair like polished mahogany and eyes the color of amber. His academy uniform—midnight blue with silver threading—fit him perfectly, tailored to emphasize his aristocratic bearing. At his side hung a ceremonial sword with a jeweled pommel that probably cost more than a small village.
But what struck me most was his presence. There was a weight to him, an aura of command that made people instinctively defer. This was someone who'd been raised from birth knowing the world would bend to his will.
In the game, Cedric had been the "crown prince" love interest—cultured, diplomatic, secretly lonely despite (or because of) his power. Players loved him because he treated Liana like an equal, valued her mind and spirit rather than just her appearance.
But the game had glossed over the darker implications of his character.
Cedric has everything, I thought, studying him. And what do people who have everything fear most? Losing it. He's not kind out of genuine compassion—he's kind because it maintains his image as the "good prince." Everything is calculated. Everything is a move in the great game of politics.
Cedric placed a hand on Edric's shoulder—a gesture that looked friendly but was clearly a restraint. "I believe this young man makes an excellent point. We wouldn't want any... unfortunate incidents to mar your family's reputation, would we?"
The threat was velvet-wrapped but unmistakable. House Renault was a minor noble family that survived on royal favor. If Cedric decided they were a problem, they'd be crushed.
Edric's flames died completely. He jerked away from Cedric's hand, his face flushing red—from anger, shame, or both. "Fine. Fine. Let the administration deal with the commoner trash." He spat the words like venom, then spun on his heel and stalked away, shoving through the crowd.
I watched him go, noting the way other students pulled back as if his anger might be contagious. No one reached out to him. No one asked if he was alright.
Isolated. Feared even by those who might be his friends. How long has he been alone with nothing but his father's voice telling him he's worthless unless he's perfect?
Not my problem. I had bigger concerns.
"Thank you," Liana's voice was soft, trembling. She'd turned those doe eyes on me, full of gratitude and something else—assessment. "You saved me. I don't even know your name."
Up close, I could see details the game sprites couldn't capture. Liana Hart was beautiful, yes, but it was the kind of beauty that required careful maintenance. Her rose-gold hair, while lustrous, showed signs of recent treatment—probably dyed to achieve that exact shade. Her skin was clear, but I could see the faint marks of makeup designed to look like she wasn't wearing any. Even her "patched" dress, while certainly worn, was clean and mended with precise, skilled stitches.
This wasn't someone who'd stumbled into the academy by accident.
Her backstory from the game: Orphaned daughter of minor merchants. Grew up in the slums of the capital. Discovered she had magic powers when bandits attacked her village. Saved by a passing knight who recommended her to the academy.
But now I could see the holes in that story. Slum orphans didn't have access to hair treatments. They didn't learn the kind of precise needlework visible in her clothing repairs. They didn't move with the careful grace of someone trained in etiquette, even if that training had been recent.
Who are you really, Liana Hart?
Before I could respond, Cedric stepped between us. "You must forgive Lord Renault his... enthusiasm. The stress of the first day affects us all differently." He offered Liana a warm smile that had probably made thousands of game players swoon. "I am Prince Cedric Aldmoor. And you are?"
"L-Liana Hart, Your Highness." She curtsied—not perfectly, but well enough. "I'm so sorry for the trouble. I didn't realize I wasn't supposed to—"
"Nonsense," Cedric said smoothly. "The fault lies with our administration for not providing clearer instructions to new students, especially those unfamiliar with our customs." His amber eyes swept across the watching crowd. "I trust everyone here will remember that all students at Crimson Imperial Academy are to be treated with respect, regardless of their origins. Those are the Emperor's own words."
The crowd murmured agreement, though I caught plenty of skeptical looks and whispered comments.
Cedric turned to me, his expression cooling slightly. "And you are?"
"Priam Lockhart, Your Highness. Servant to House Valois."
Recognition flickered in his eyes, followed by something that might have been pity or contempt—hard to tell which. "I see. Well, Priam Lockhart, you have my thanks for your level-headed intervention. It's refreshing to see wisdom in unexpected places."
Backhanded compliment. 'Unexpected places' meaning 'from a mere servant.' Subtle reminder of my place in the hierarchy.
I bowed. "You honor me, Your Highness."
Cedric returned his attention to Liana, already dismissing me from his awareness. "Miss Hart, perhaps you'd allow me to escort you to the administration office? I'll personally ensure you're properly registered and oriented to academy life."
Liana's eyes widened. "I... Your Highness, I couldn't possibly impose—"
"I insist." Cedric offered his arm.
Liana hesitated just long enough to seem appropriately humble, then took it with a shy smile that had "first meeting scene" written all over it.
As they walked away, Liana glanced back at me. Our eyes met for just a moment, and her expression shifted—the gratitude melting into something calculating, measuring.
She's memorizing me. Filing me away as a potential asset or threat. Good. At least one person in this story treats servants as more than furniture.
"Lockhart."
Seraphine's voice cut through my thoughts like a blade through silk. I turned to find her standing mere inches away—I hadn't even heard her approach.
This close, I could see that her famous violet eyes weren't just one color. They held depths of purple, hints of blue, flecks of silver that seemed to shift in the light. And they were currently filled with something that might have been anger or amusement—possibly both.
"You interrupted my ceremony," she said softly. "You moved without permission. You drew attention to House Valois in a situation that did not concern us." Her riding crop tapped against her palm. "Give me one reason I shouldn't have you whipped again."
The watching nobles leaned in, eager for the spectacle.
I met her gaze directly—something servants weren't supposed to do—and spoke in a voice low enough that only she could hear. "Because if I hadn't intervened, this is what would have happened: Edric would have seriously injured or killed Miss Hart. Prince Cedric would have been forced to publicly punish House Renault for the incident. The academy would investigate, and they would note that House Valois was present but did nothing to prevent it. Your reputation—already questionable among your peers—would suffer another blow. The whispers would say you encouraged violence against commoners, that you're as cruel as the rumors claim."
Seraphine's expression didn't change, but I saw her pupils contract slightly.
I pressed on. "But now? Now you can claim that your servant acted on your implicit orders to maintain academy peace. You demonstrate leadership and wisdom while Prince Cedric looks like he arrived late to play hero. House Valois gains respect, and you personally avoid being painted as the villain in today's inevitable gossip."
Silence stretched between us. Her crop stopped tapping.
Then Seraphine smiled—a slow, genuine smile that was somehow more terrifying than her anger had been.
"How... interesting," she murmured. "The beaten dog has teeth after all." She raised her voice to normal volume. "You're correct, of course. I ordered you to intervene because I could see the situation escalating. Well done for following instructions so promptly."
The crowd's interest deflated. A servant following orders wasn't nearly as exciting as a servant being punished.
Seraphine turned away, gesturing for me to follow. As we walked toward the Valois dormitory wing, she spoke without looking at me. "You're smarter than your predecessor. That may be a blessing or a curse. Time will tell which."
Predecessor? Oh. Right. Original Priam.
"The previous... me," I said carefully. "What happened to him? Truly?"
"He failed." Seraphine's voice held no emotion. "He was weak, clumsy, and worst of all, boring. So I let Ravager have him."
She's lying.
I didn't know how I knew, but I was certain. There was something in the way she said it—too casual, too rehearsed. Like she'd told this story before and perfected the delivery to sound appropriately callous.
What really happened to the original Priam?
But before I could probe further, we arrived at the dormitory.
The Valois Suite was located in the academy's North Tower, the section reserved for the most powerful (or most feared) noble families. The accommodations were lavish beyond anything I'd seen even in the main house: a sitting room with furniture that looked like it belonged in a museum, walls covered in silk wallpaper, enchanted windows that showed different views depending on your mood, and a bedroom that could comfortably house a family of five.
Seraphine settled into a high-backed chair by the fireplace, which ignited with violet flames at her gesture. "Unpack my belongings. Prepare tea. Then stand ready in case I require anything."
Standard orders. But as I moved to obey, I noticed something odd.
Seraphine's hands were shaking.
Just slightly, barely visible, but definitely trembling as she gripped the chair's armrests. Her breathing was controlled but too controlled—the kind of forced steadiness that came from fighting panic.
She was scared. When Edric's magic flared, when the situation looked like it might explode into violence—she was scared.
Not scared for herself. Scared of... what? The situation? The attention?
I filed that observation away and got to work.
Unpacking revealed interesting details about my new mistress. Her belongings included:
Seven books on advanced magical theory, all well-worn and filled with detailed notes in elegant handwriting
A collection of pressed flowers, each carefully preserved and labeled with dates and locations
Multiple journals, locked with magical seals I didn't dare try to break
A small music box that played a haunting melody when opened
No personal correspondence—no letters from family, no tokens from friends, nothing that suggested anyone cared about her beyond formal obligations
That last detail struck me hardest. Every other noble I'd seen arriving had servants carrying piles of letters, gifts, well-wishes from family and allies.
Seraphine had nothing.
Alone. Completely alone. How long has it been since someone spoke to her without fear or calculation in their voice?
As I prepared tea—selecting the precise blend she preferred according to Priam's memories—I heard a soft sound from the bedroom.
Crying.
Quiet, suppressed, the sound of someone who'd learned to weep silently so no one would hear.
I stood frozen, teapot in hand. Every instinct screamed at me to ignore it, to pretend I'd heard nothing. Acknowledging her vulnerability could get me killed. Seraphine's reputation was built on cold cruelty. Any crack in that armor would be attacked by her enemies.
But...
She's seventeen years old. Same age as Priam's body. Same age I was when I left home for the first time, terrified and alone in a Tokyo apartment that cost more than I could afford.
I set down the teapot and walked to the bedroom door. Knocked softly.
The crying stopped instantly.
"My lady," I said quietly. "Your tea is ready. Would you prefer it in the sitting room, or should I bring it to you?"
A long pause. Then: "Leave it on the table. Return to the servants' quarters. I won't require anything further tonight."
Her voice was perfectly controlled again. The mask firmly back in place.
"As you command, my lady."
I did as ordered, setting out the tea service before gathering my things. But as I reached the door, I paused.
"Lady Seraphine," I said, not turning around. "For what it's worth... you were right to worry about the incident in the Hall of Crests. If violence had erupted, everyone present would have been investigated. You were wise to have me intervene."
It was a fiction, and we both knew it. But it gave her an out, a way to explain her fear as strategic thinking rather than weakness.
Another long pause.
"You're dismissed, Lockhart."
But her voice was softer. Just slightly.
I left, closing the door behind me.
The Servants' Quarters were located three floors below, in what amounted to a glorified basement. Unlike the opulent noble suites, this area was all function and no form: narrow hallways, cramped rooms, communal bathrooms that reeked of mildew.
My assigned space was a cell barely large enough for a bed and a small trunk. The mattress was thin, the blanket threadbare, the single window looking out onto a brick wall two feet away.
I collapsed onto the bed, every muscle aching. The adrenaline from the day's events was wearing off, leaving me exhausted in ways I hadn't felt since my old life's worst crunch periods.
So. Day one of my isekai adventure. I've pissed off at least two nobles, drawn the attention of the crown prince, met the protagonist, and discovered my mistress has hidden depths. Also, I'm pretty sure I'm going to die horribly.
But as I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my mind churned through everything I'd observed.
Edric Renault: Abuse victim lashing out because he's terrified of failure. Dangerous, yes, but also potentially redirectable if I could get through to him. Or at minimum, predictable if I understood his triggers.
Prince Cedric: Smooth politician playing the role of benevolent royal. Rescued Liana because it cost him nothing and earned him social capital. Would he be so "kind" if helping her actually threatened his interests?
Liana Hart: The big unknown. She was definitely not the innocent commoner girl the game portrayed. But what was she? A noble's bastard trying to rise above her station? A spy from a rival nation? Someone with a hidden agenda that the game never revealed?
Seraphine de Valois: The villainess who cried alone in her room. The monster who preserved flowers and studied magic theory. The ruthless noble who was terrified of violence.
There's a story there. A reason she became this way. And if I can understand it, maybe I can change her fate. Maybe I can save both of us.
A knock on my door jolted me from my thoughts.
"Lockhart? You awake?" A male voice, unfamiliar.
I opened the door to find a young man about my age wearing servant's livery similar to mine, but with House Thorne's crest—a silver fox. He had messy brown hair, freckles, and a friendly smile that seemed genuine.
"Name's Marcus," he said, offering his hand. "Serve Lord Garrick Thorne. Saw what you did in the Hall of Crests. That was either the bravest or stupidest thing I've ever seen a servant do."
I shook his hand. "Still deciding which it was myself."
Marcus laughed. "Listen, some of us servants meet up after the nobles are asleep. Share information, watch each other's backs. You interested? Being alone in this place will get you killed faster than standing up to nobles."
An information network. That could be useful.
"Yeah," I said. "I'm interested."
"Good." Marcus clapped me on the shoulder. "Midnight, eastern courtyard. Look for the statue of Emperor Aldmoor the Third—the one that's missing its head. Can't miss it."
He left whistling, and I closed the door.
Alright. So I have potential allies among the servants, a crazy mistress I need to keep alive, a protagonist who's more manipulator than victim, and about two dozen noble students who'd love to see me dead.
I pulled out a small notebook I'd found in Priam's trunk and started writing. If I was going to survive this, I needed to track everything: character relationships, important events, potential threats, opportunities.
Main Objectives:
Survive
Keep Seraphine from being executed
Prevent Liana from building her power base
Maybe, possibly, find a way to break my indentured servitude
Known Threats:
Liana Hart (protagonist, hidden agenda)
Prince Cedric (will support Liana)
Duke Roland (will support Liana)
Lord Edric (unstable, dangerous)
Lady Clarisse (manipulator, Seraphine's rival)
Literally every noble at this academy
Potential Allies:
Marcus and the servant network
Seraphine? (If I can earn her genuine trust)
Anyone who benefits from Seraphine not being destroyed
Unknown Variables:
Why did I reincarnate specifically as Priam?
What happened to the original Priam?
Is there magic I can learn despite being a "commoner"?
Can I actually change the game's story, or am I locked into its rails?
As I wrote, something strange happened. The words on the page began to glow faintly, then rearranged themselves into new text:
[SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
[Butler's Path Unlocked]
[Quest Available: Survive Your First Week]
[Reward: ???]
I stared at the glowing text, my heart racing.
Oh. Oh no.
This wasn't just a reincarnation into an isekai world.
This was a reincarnation into an isekai world with game mechanics.
And I had a terrible feeling I knew what that meant.
End of Chapter 1