Unexpected Servants
One morning in my past life, I woke up with an exceptionally pesky disposition and did something outrageously irresponsible.
Something so outlandish that, even today, thinking back, I don't understand what madness had taken hold of me.
It was so rash that my normally unflappable father showed me a glimpse of sheer fury, his eyes slicing keener than a knife. So serious was my misdemeanor that he personally went to rebuke me.
As punishment, I was banished to the 5th Army, where my sister Rias Fireheart had been posted, for half a year.
Of course, this did not alter my intolerable personality.
This punishment did lead to my second meeting with Isabella, though.
Though, in fact, that encounter had been nothing but trouble for her.
The lesson I learned from this lengthy memory was simple: stay away from Isabella for at least another half-year.
So why, then, was she standing at my door—here, in my room—before the time had even passed?
The first thing I saw when I opened the door was a face I shouldn't see for months. Of course, my surprise was deserved.
This has to be a dream…
"I did sleep late last night…" I grumbled, attributing my own tiredness to the fantasy. Maybe sleep deprivation had finally caught up with me.
I let out a sigh and shook my head, ready to withdraw and lock the door.
Then—a pull on my clothes.
Glancing downward, I saw small hands wrapped around the waistband of my shirt. Following the direction of her hands up, my eyes locked onto the unmistakable eyes of Isabella.
…This isn't a dream.
Confusion and awareness crashed around in my brain as I saw her attempting to speak.
"I… I—"
Before she could go on, someone burst in, moving with the swiftness and ease of a striking serpent. Their hand slapped my grip out of her hand.
"Ow!"
She shrieked, releasing me at once and stumbling back, half hurt, half shocked.
And then my eyes widened in spontaneous recognition.
Her unexpected arrival was already overwhelming. But here, standing before me, was Max.
Bloody hell…
I cursed under my breath, relieved that the words stayed inside my head and did not slip out of my mouth. If they had, I would have been killed with embarrassment or plain fear.
Max was livid as he turned on Isabella, scolding her harshly.
"Isabella! How many times have I instructed you on how to act in the presence of the young master?!"
…Young master?
He went on, his voice hard as stone:
"Apologize at once!"
"I'm sorry, grandpa…
"No! Apologize to the young master, brat!"
"S-Sorry, young master!"
What… what was even going on right now?
Struggling to make sense of the scene, Max bowed deeply in front of me.
No… why was the Blade Sovereign bowing to me?
Could someone please explain this insanity?
"From today, I, Mark, am at your service. We are in your debt, and while I am a frail old man, I will serve you to the best of my ability," Max uttered with reverent deference.
Mark? Not Max?
He looked at Isabella, who promptly sank into a humble stance, speaking with a quivering but firm voice.
"S-Starting today, I, I… Isabella, will work the young master with my grandpa. I… I look forward to your instruction."
Serve… whom?
"Me…?"
A wave of dizziness came over me, my eyes blurring for a moment as I raised my hand to hold my head steady. Understanding faltered, and panic simmered beneath the surface.
To truly grasp my situation, one must be familiar with who Max really is.
He is one of the Heavenly Paragon, the three strongest martial artists in the Martial World, whose accomplishments overshadow many more.
The Black Dragon—now the defeated king, Evil Drake—had fallen to him, and not much later, he became the leader of the Martial Alliance.
He got the name Blade Sovereign just because of his unparalleled strength. At that time, prior to the emergence of the Night Lotus Demon, he was probably the strongest creature in the world.
Now such a creature wishes to serve me?
Why?
Why would the mightiest warrior of the Martial World hide behind an alias and come here?
Even the four honorable clans would have given him a hero's welcome and applause.
I could not find any reasonable explanation. Maybe he was in debt to my father, Loret Fireheart, and therefore had been called.
Does my father know?
This never happened in my former life.
The last time I saw Max, nothing like this happened. Maybe I had made a bad impression back then, because of my naughtiness and ineptitude.
My head hurts…
My strategy had been uncomplicated: quietly regain strength as the Orthodox Demonic War came to a close. I had wished to remain in obscurity, gradually adapting to the inevitable.
But now… the future had permanently altered.
I lowered my palm from my forehead, trying to gauge Max again.
At first glance, he looked an unassuming old man, his humble smile deceiving his real strength. Had Isabella not been present, I would have written him off completely.
But… what am I to do now?