The servant turned around only to see the barrel of the gun pointed at him. But the strange thing was that he didn't seem fazed by it, let alone scared. It was as if he didn't feel anything, or that he didn't fear death itself.

"Who are you?!"

Arthur had been living with the Earl long enough to know that the weapon wasn't just a present, but it was a test. A test to see if he was capable of leading the house. If he could take drastic action if ever a situation called for it.

The servant wore a calm expression as he replied:

"I'm a servant who works here, young master."

Arthur's gaze intensified, as if assessing prey.

"Don't kid yourself into thinking I'd believe that ridiculous excuse of yours. I've been managing the manor for years now, and I'm well aware of every servant working for my family."

Arthur tapped his fingers on the table, his expression contemplative as he said:

"And… you know what the strangest thing is? I don't remember seeing you among them."

The servant clasped his hands together behind his back.

"Young master, when I say I work here, I mean I work inside the manor, but in a different place."

Arthur's hand reached for the glass of scotch that the servant had filled earlier. He swirled it slowly, watching his own distorted reflection in the liquor.

"And you want me to believe you? At what cost? How do I know what you're saying is true and that you do, indeed, serve my family? Pray tell, who are you loyal to? My father or me, huh?"

Arthur could understand what notorious ways his father must've used if he was indeed trained by him, and thus wanted to check if he was one of his father's men or his own.

The servant's peridot gaze fixed on Arthur.

"Though I was trained by the master, I am indeed always loyal to the young master."

Arthur looked at the amber liquid inside the glass, contemplating whether to drink it or not, but then decided to drink it anyway. He took a slow sip of the scotch before placing it back onto the table.

"And how do I trust your words alone? Do you have a way to prove your loyalty?"

The servant's light chestnut-colored hair fell upon his forehead, almost hiding his piercing gaze.

"I am loyal only to you, young master. But if you wish to test me, I'd be happy to die by your bullet."

Arthur smirked at the servant's words.

"Ha! What a brave thing to say for a lowly servant. You're just putting on airs, aren't you? Well, it's not like it would take long to crack your bravado."

Arthur placed his finger on the trigger.

"Any last words?"

"If I survive the shot, I would like to serve the young master. I hope the young master would allow it."

Arthur simply nodded.

"Sure. That is, if you manage to survive."

Arthur's finger lingered on the trigger only for a moment, showing a little hesitation, but he pulled it right after.

The sound of blood dripping on the marble floor reached Arthur's ears.

"You sure are made of different material, aren't you? Even after all this, you managed to not even bat an eye."

The servant's expression was dark as his hand reached toward his left arm, the blood staining his fingers.

"It's all thanks to the young master for showing kindness to a lowly servant like me."

Arthur lowered the gun, smoke still curling from its barrel, and asked:

"For how many years have you been working in this manor? And… how many years were you trained by my father?"

The servant replied without hesitation:

"It's been over a decade, young master."

"Hmm. Do you know how to handle that rat who was eavesdropping?"

Arthur's gaze landed on the man whose shadow could be seen through a slightly ajar door. The bullet had missed the servant's arm and hit the man who had been eavesdropping for a while, standing just outside.

"Yes. I will take care of it."

Arthur nodded and spoke up:

"Alright. I'll leave that thing to you then."

"Yes, young master."

The servant moved and fully opened the door.

The man collapsed onto the marble floor, his blood pooling beneath him. He was wounded, but not fatally. The man had simply fainted from the sudden pain that he felt through the right side of his stomach, and probably from the shock.

Arthur turned his gaze to the head butler, who had stood silently the entire time.

"Why didn't you try to stop me?"

The butler bowed slightly and replied:

"I'm but a mere butler, young master. I dare not question or judge the young master's actions."

Arthur nodded, understanding that the butler wasn't in on this and had passed the test.

"Hmm. I see. Have a doctor take a look at that spy and find out who was behind him by tomorrow. Also, have this gun placed in my room."

Arthur handed the revolver to the butler.

"Understood, young master."

Arthur stepped toward the door, crossing the threshold without even glancing at the man unconscious on the floor.

Just then, a voice came from behind.

"Young master!"

It was the same servant, his peridot eyes lowered to the floor, where the blood from Arthur's footsteps had left a trail.

Arthur clicked his tongue in sheer disgust.

"Tsk!"

'I already wasn't feeling good as it is, and now, I'm feeling like sht. It seems like I'm becoming more of a monster, same as my father.'

The servant crouched before Arthur, his hand reaching toward his foot.

"Allow me to clean your shoes, young master."

He produced a handkerchief from his pants pocket, wiping the soles of Arthur's shoes without hesitation, even as the blood from his own injured arm dripped onto the polished floor.

"What's your name?"

"It's Alfred, young master."

Arthur waited as Alfred continued wiping his shoes, unfazed by his own injury.

"Hm. You may begin serving me starting tomorrow."

"I'd be honored, young master."

By the time their conversation ended, the shoes were wiped clean. Arthur then continued on his way.

"Haa… What a tiring day it was."

The present from Arthur's father wasn't simply the gun, but also the man who would now serve him loyally. But Arthur knew all too well that loyalty in this world meant very little. If he ever trusted Alfred to have his back, he was well aware that Alfred might be the one to stab it.

And more than anything, the reason Arthur didn’t trust Alfred… was because he had never appeared in the novel.

***

The morning mist clung to the windows of Arthur's private study as he sat at his desk, a load of documents placed on the left side of the mahogany desk.

His hand moved the quill pen with quiet precision, doing the paperwork without a care in the world.

'It's about time someone arrived with the further report or a message.'

As if hearing his summons, the head butler stepped inside the private study with a quiet knock and stopped in front of the desk.

Edmund wore an expressionless face as he said:

"Young master, the guests have arrived from the capital, and they wish to meet you as soon as possible."

Arthur's expression remained calm. He had expected them to arrive sooner or later.

"Hm. Where are they at the moment?"

"I had a servant lead them to the drawing room."

Arthur placed the quill pen down and stood up.

"Serve them tea and snacks. I'll arrive shortly."

"Yes, young master."

Edmund bowed and left the room quietly.

'Guests, huh?'

"Follow me, Alfred."

"Yes, young master."

Alfred, who had been standing behind the chair all this time, followed Arthur as he stepped outside the room, his steps quiet on the floor.

'Let's see what they have to say regarding the sudden disappearance of my father.'

Arthur was more curious to find out what kind of excuse they were going to give rather than discovering what had actually happened to the Earl.

***

Arthur stepped inside the drawing room and was met with the sight of three men seated, sipping warm tea.

"What brings you here, gentlemen?"

The men stood up as soon as they saw Arthur. The one in the middle extended his hand for Arthur to shake. He was a middle-aged man in brown-colored attire.

"Greetings. I'm the Royal Inspector, Vincent Montclaire. We're here on the orders of the King. We've come with the letter of appointment and information regarding the previous Earl's disappearance."

'Previous Earl? It seems they've already decided to discard this matter. Are they trying to hide something, or else what could be the reason for them to cover up the incident so rashly? Not even a week has passed and they're already appointing a new head?'

Arthur shook hands with the Royal Inspector, his grip tight.

"Greetings. My name is Arthur Ashbourne. I hope you didn't face any problems on the way here. If you had informed me, I would have picked you up from the station."

The man dressed in white attire with a few medals pinned to his coat spoke up:

"No worries, Lord Arthur. And we offer you our sincerest condolences, as we could not discover the body of the former Earl."

Arthur masked his expression with one of sorrow.

"Ah, yes."

The man appeared to be a naval officer.