“How radiant…! Flash. Flash.”

For the lady whose occupation seemed to be idling away in bed, a new pastime had emerged.

A luxurious hobby of reflecting her necklace in the sunlight filtering through the windowpane. Her complexion grew brighter day by day, glowing as much as the resplendent necklace.

The corner of her mouth upturned in a smile, her purse became plump.

“100,000 gold… If I sell this, it’ll be 100,000 gold!”

Observing the lady’s materialistic grin, I mused,

‘It’s a good thing I gifted it to her.’

Had I said, ‘Miss, there’s no gift for you,’… I may have had to witness her simmering sullenly like spinach for a week…

I remember, three months ago, I had sneakily indulged in some chicken at the market, and after getting caught, she went into a ‘spinach’ mood for an entire day, a memory that still haunts me.

“I’m not going to bathe. Since I’m practically a beggar already, I might as well become a filthy hobo from a clean loafer.”

I recall the amount of chocolate and bath bombs I offered to soothe the lady’s anger. I don’t remember the exact amount, but it was quite a lot.

The lady, now one with the bed, wriggled like a caterpillar. I asked her, who seemed to have resigned to enjoying a slothful life,

“Do you enjoy it that much?”
“Mhm. It sparkles so brilliantly.”
“Planning to sell it later?”
“No… Not yet. I’m not selling it just yet.”

The lady nestled the necklace between her breasts, hugging it as if embracing a great treasure with a generous heart.

Looking at the necklace, I couldn’t help thinking,

‘I’m damn jealous of it.’

Lately, I’ve found myself envying mere objects. Irritated that an inanimate thing enjoyed privileges not even a butler like me could. It’s not because I have a perverse fondness for chests, mind you. It’s about privilege… the privilege.

“Hehe… 100,000 gold. Enough meat for ten years.”

The lady hugged the necklace tightly to her and snickered, her belly lightly drumming like a miserly old man savoring a meal of plain rice with a dried fish hanging by the dining table. She grinned contentedly, like a delighted fool.

It seems sight alone can satiate hunger.

I left the lady to herself in the room, going over to retrieve the sword I had placed in a corner.

“Where are you off to?”
“I’d like to get in some sword practice. I’ve been feeling a bit stiff.”

“Practice?”

The lady tilted her head, eyeing me with a look that conveyed skepticism, as if questioning the sudden need for practice from someone who used to skip swordsmanship classes at the Royal Academy. It was difficult to make excuses when my past negligence appeared genuine.

There were times when the swordsmanship instructor favored the nobility over commoners, which led me to skip classes, and I hardly ever wielded a sword in front of her—only a handful of instances.

Besides, the lady, an excellent sorceress, had never shown any interest in swordsmanship, and it seemed a bit awkward to show her my unglamorous skills.

It wasn’t the admirable, substantial swordsmanship like Michail’s, nor was it adorned with the flair of Histania’s. My own swordsmanship was plain and rudimentary, making it slightly embarrassing to perform publicly.

“Where will you practice?”
“At the courtyard.”

I pointed out to the mansion’s sun-drenched yard, visible from the window.

A spot clearly visible to the lady on the second floor.

The lady observed me intently, full of exasperation.

She seemed to dislike the idea of perhaps being dragged outside, as indicated by her expression.

She scowled at the bright sunlight outside the window, her display of aversion bringing a smile to my face.

I asked her again,

“Would you like to come out with me?”

The lady shook her head vigorously.

“No. The sun seems furious; it would be terrible to go out now.”
“Just say you’re too lazy to go out.”
“Was it that obvious?”
“Yes.”

Caught revealing her true feelings, the lady flopped onto the bed and flicked her hand lazily.

“Shoo─shoo─”

***

In the sun-drenched yard,

I loosened my right shoulder as if turning a windmill.

After the fight with Balak, realizing the shortcomings I had in facing greatsword-wielders, I stood here to refine my sword technique.

I looked up to see the lady on the second floor, who was munching on chocolates.

I waved back lightly.

“Mistress, where did you get the chocolate from?”
“Chocolate?”

The lady puffed out her chest with pride and pointed to her bosom with her finger, stating with confidence,

“From here.”

On this day particularly, I truly envied the chocolate.

I quickly warmed up my body, rotating the sword in figure eights to loosen my wrists and stretching my legs thoroughly.

After making my stiff body supple, I grasped the sword firmly in my right hand.

-[The genius of weapon techniques has detected the weapon ‘sword’.]
-Your proficiency will surge.
-Your understanding of the sword will leap.
-You will become a sword technique genius.

The alert resounded. I reflected upon the last battle in my mind.

-Can even the young swordsman withstand this?

The heavy swings.

-Quite remarkable.

Myself, struggling to parry.

I remembered the trembling of my hands and the greatsword looming perilously close each time Balak delivered a blow. I was always falling back during that time.

Imagining Balak’s illusion before me, I held the sword steady.

A swordsman who uses a greatsword naturally possesses considerable strength.

Each blow was ponderous like a hammer, and if mishandled, the blade might break under the severe weight.

The same happened during the previous battle.

I saw the phantom of Balak wielding a greatsword.

With its wide reach and explosive aura, Balak seemed to focus solely on offense, making me swallow hard.

‘A real monster indeed.’

If it hadn’t been for Yuria, I might’ve run away without looking back, but seeing an even more monstrous Balak once more stirred a fighting spirit within me.

‘Let’s do this.’

I am lacking in technique.

I had ingrained habits that were hard to correct without a mentor, and there were too many remnants of past experiences etched into my body to start refining from one to ten.

My sole talent was the ability called ‘the genius of weapon techniques,’ and the fact that I had a large canvas to fill.

This canvas called ‘me’ already had plenty of pictures drawn on it, but there was still much space left for more.

A canvas waiting to be filled through numerous experiences and meeting formidable opponents.

I gripped the sword.

‘Let’s go.’

In this moment, filled with tension,

I concentrated all my nerves on the sword.

With the resolve not to be pressed back like before, I grounded myself, channeling strength from my core.

And I swung the sword explosively.

Whoosh. The sword cleaved through the wind as I envisioned it slicing through Balak in the future, and with vigor, I swung the sword.

The imagined Balak’s phantom did the same, swinging the greatsword broadly just like that time.

The moment sword met sword.

-Clang!

As the sword slipped weakly from my grasp, Balak’s phantom cleaved through my neck.

Oh?

An awkward silence followed.

The sword had slipped from my hand, and my right hand trembled.

I looked back and forth between the fallen sword and my trembling right hand.

“Why… why is this happening?”

I picked up the sword from the ground and readjusted my grip. With determination not to let go this time, I grasped the hilt tightly, making a ‘click’ sound.

Once again, I swung the sword broadly.

-Clang.

Again, the sword fell to the ground powerlessly.

Bent over, I swallowed hard saliva. Cold sweat ran down, and my fingertips trembled with an odd sense of unease.

This is strange.

Why won’t strength enter my right hand?

I had eaten well until the morning, so why was my right hand not following commands? I looked up to the second floor with an awkward smile, where the lady resided.

Fortunately, she seemed oblivious to the strangeness, savoring the chocolates deliciously.

I let out a breath of relief.

The lady calmly called out to me to come up quickly. She said if I wasn’t going to practice, I should join her in admiring the necklace instead.

I straightened my back.

After continuously staring at the fallen sword, I let out a deep sigh and went back up to the mansion.

My right hand was still trembling.

***

After waiting for the tremors to stop, I stood in front of the lady’s room.

-Wardrobe?

-Yes. Prepare the chocolate cake and…

-Jingle…

-Here, the money.

-No, my lady! You shouldn’t be taking the money out from there…

-It’s fine. I’m rich.

-It’s not about the money… And you’ve given too much.

-Consider it a tip. But you must certainly do as I asked.

The lady engaged in a significant conversation with the maid.

I couldn’t hear everything said between the lady and the maid’s whispering clearly, but piecing together what I inadvertently overheard, it seemed the lady was sending the maid on an errand.

The lady sending out for errands…

Having wondered where she procured all those chocolates from, and now realizing the transaction point was the maid, I discovered the lady’s covert dealings and couldn’t help a small laugh.

‘So cunning.’

I didn’t want to disturb the lady’s little joys.

She was learning about the economy by giving out tasks, and the maid benefited from tips, making it a win-win situation. I decided to observe a little more.

The conversation between the lady and the maid continued for about three minutes, and the maid’s voice, bidding a polite farewell to attend to other duties, reached my ears.

-I shall have it ready by the date you mentioned.

-Thank you. I’m counting on you.

-Creak.

As the door opened, the middle-aged maid and I locked eyes.

“Mister butler…!”

“Shh. Please, be quiet.”

I placed my finger to my lips and covered the maid’s mouth.

And so time swiftly passed, and three days went by.