(Sylas' POV)
The carriage wheels slowed as the black iron gates of House Valemont rose ahead like the maw of some beast—ornate, beautiful, and utterly ruthless. My gloved fingers rested calmly on my lap, but inside, something coiled tighter with every rotation of those wheels.
This was the heart of nobility. The world I had never belonged to. The world that once crushed everything I had.
And now it welcomed me with open arms.
Because I wore the right uniform.
The carriage halted. A footman opened the door with a trained smile.
I stepped down onto the gravel path—black boots meeting polished stone. The wind smelled like roses and rich soil, imported luxuries from distant lands, fake in their perfection. Ahead, a winding path cut through precisely trimmed gardens, leading toward the mansion perched atop the hill. White marble, gold-tipped spires, and enough elegance to feed a village.
Everything here screamed power.
Everything here reeked of lies.
Two guards at the front gate barely looked at me after I handed them the Duke's letter of assignment. They saw the seal, the uniform, and nodded like automatons.
Good.
Let them think I was just another servant. Just another name.
It was easier that way.
As I walked up the path, I kept my posture exact. Not too stiff. Not too loose. The kind of precision that makes others see a blade—but sheathed.
The manor came into full view—three floors of elegance and old wealth, lined with columns, stained glass, and banners bearing the golden falcon crest of Valemont. Maids and servants moved in practiced rhythm through the open hallways, ignoring the world outside their duties.
No one looked twice at me.
No one ever does.
Inside, the cool air of the marble halls replaced the sun. Polished floors, chandeliers, art hung with the kind of confidence only wealth can buy.
I followed the steward waiting at the staircase.
"You are the new personal attendant assigned to Lady Seraphina," he said without greeting. "The Duke expects perfection. You will report directly to her and fulfill her schedule, preferences, and instructions without fail."
I nodded. "Understood."
He didn't ask questions. He didn't care about my past.
That made him useful.
The second floor was quieter—reserved for the family. The air was scented faintly with lavender, and golden light streamed through the tall windows. Every step I took echoed down the pristine hall, as if the house itself whispered disapproval.
At the end of the corridor, two oak doors stood tall.
"Enter when she calls," the steward instructed, then turned away.
I waited.
From within, I heard laughter—high, soft, elegant. A young woman's voice. "Father really sent someone new again? That's the third one this year."
Someone else giggled.
Another voice—calm, respectful. "Yes, my lady. He said this one is different."
Different?
I couldn't help the faint twitch at the corner of my lips. What a meaningless word.
A few seconds later, the doors opened.
She walked out.
Seraphina Valemont.
Tall, graceful, and annoyingly radiant. Her golden hair fell in smooth waves over her shoulders, tied with a pale blue ribbon. Her dress flowed like water—expensive, simple, deliberate. A noble raised to embody poise and control.
She didn't look at me right away. She was talking to her maid. Laughing.
But the moment she did see me—
Her voice stopped.
Our eyes met.
I stood perfectly straight. No smile. No bow yet.
She blinked once.
Curiosity flickered in her gaze.
Then she smiled—a practiced thing, like every other noble who thought their charm was a gift.
"You must be the new butler," she said, tilting her head slightly.
I gave a small, precise bow.
"Yes, Lady Seraphina. I am Sylas, at your service."
"Hm," she said softly, eyes narrowing a fraction. "You don't talk like the others."
I said nothing.
She stepped forward. I noticed everything—the way she held herself, the way her eyes scanned me, measuring status, usefulness, threat.
Just another noble, pretending the world bent around her smile.
She extended her hand.
I took it lightly and bowed again, just enough to meet etiquette.
"Welcome to House Valemont, Sylas," she said. "Follow me."
She led me through her quarters, speaking casually.
"These are my private chambers. You'll keep things clean, of course, but I expect discretion above all. I don't like being asked too many questions."
"Understood."
She kept glancing back at me. Testing me. Most likely expecting signs of nervousness or admiration.
She'd find neither.
She showed me her schedule—training, tea hours, social events. Explained her preferred wardrobe, her favorite books, her pets.
I memorized everything.
I always do.
Eventually, she stopped near her balcony and looked out toward the western garden.
"It must be strange, being assigned here without even meeting the family first," she said. "Did my father recruit you from the academy?"
"No, my lady."
"Oh? Then where did he find you?"
"A recommendation," I replied evenly. "Someone he trusts."
That was enough.
She didn't push.
She wasn't as curious as she pretended to be.
That disappointed me slightly.
"I hope you'll last longer than the others," she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "The last one broke a vase and kept apologizing like a child. I had to send him home."
"I don't break easily."
Seraphina's lips curved again.
"We'll see."
When she dismissed me, I made my way down to the servant quarters—smaller, plainer, but cleaner than I expected. The walls were stone, the windows small, the air cool and quiet.
I took the cot in the far corner. It creaked under my weight.
For a while, I sat there in silence.
Just breathing.
In. Out.
Everything here was in its place. Elegant. Structured. Controlled.
Just like they wanted.
I closed my eyes.
I could hear her voice in my memory already. Not from the past—but from earlier today.
Playful. Sharp. Dismissive.
She didn't know me. Didn't even consider who I might be. Just another pair of hands to polish her world.
That was fine.
I didn't come here to be seen.
I came here to watch.
And eventually—
To act.
Chapter End