* * *
Ranshel’s mind worked furiously as he spat out whatever accusations he could come up with.
“I’m doing this job to earn money, you know. A privileged young master like you wouldn’t understand, but could you at least cooperate so I can keep getting my paycheck? All you have to do is stay put. It’s not that hard, is it?”
“……”
“If you’re going to keep messing around, at least do it when I’m not here. Don’t go getting hardworking people fired.”
The shock and confusion that had been on Zavad’s face moments ago disappeared, replaced by a fierce hostility.
His expression was so vicious, Ranshel was sure that if Zavad still had a glass shard in his hand, he would have swung it at him without hesitation.
Even so, blood was still dripping steadily from Zavad’s palm.
At first, it hadn’t seemed like a serious injury, but he must have gripped the shard tightly with the intent to stab, causing the cut to deepen.
‘I should’ve just shut the damn door. I’m the idiot who made things worse by stepping in…’
He had made things worse for someone who had been staying quiet.
The taste in his mouth turned bitter.
At that moment, the system notification rang.
[Contribution has changed]
[Event Contribution]
The Sleepless One= 5 → 6%
.
.
.
The Most Villainous One= 0% ]
“Why…?”
Ranshel unknowingly muttered aloud.
His own contribution percentage hadn’t changed, yet that insomniac bastard’s score had gone up by 1%.
‘No way. I was being a complete asshole, and it’s still at 0%?’
Pressing his fingers to his temples, Ranshel let out a long sigh.
None of this made sense.
‘What the hell is going on?’
He tried to recall what had changed since he first checked the contribution stats.
There were only two people in this room.
The only person Zavad had interacted with in that time was him.
It was Ranshel who had provoked Zavad into rage, who had made him grip the glass tightly enough to cut his own hand.
So why had someone else’s contribution suddenly increased?
If someone outside this room was still able to influence the situation…
Ranshel’s gaze slowly swept across the room.
The space was still filled with dust, even though the curtains had been drawn back and the windows were wide open.
The shattered glass shards on the floor were covered in dust, proof that the mess had been left unattended for a long time.
Then, Ranshel abruptly turned his head.
The glass shards.
They had come from a broken ornament.
One of those shards had ended up in Zavad’s hand.
And Zavad had been holding that piece while inside the storage cabinet.
‘Why?’
Of all places, why had Zavad gone into the most secluded part of the room and shut the door?
Ranshel had assumed he was sleeping when he didn’t respond to being called.
But the moment he was touched, he had immediately raised his head.
—They say he locks himself in his room, screaming and making a scene. He even sees things that aren’t there.
The household’s second young master, who was rumored to be possessed by an evil spirit…
What had he been so afraid of that he had hidden inside the cabinet, clutching a shard of glass?
What exactly had he seen?
There was no other choice—he had to ask him directly.
Ranshel lowered his gaze, observing Zavad curled up in the storage cabinet.
Zavad was still glaring at him murderously.
“Young master.”
“……”
“Why were you in there?”
“……”
“Do you like small spaces?”
“……”
Zavad remained silent.
Now that Ranshel thought about it, the only words Zavad had ever spoken to him were orders to stay away.
If he really saw Ranshel as an insubordinate servant, shouldn’t he have lashed out, threatening to fire him?
‘He probably already knows it’s pointless.’
If the second young master had any real power to get a servant dismissed, the other household staff wouldn’t act so blatantly disrespectful.
A physical injury was different—it was solid proof.
For now, one thing was clear= there was no reason for Zavad to keep crouching in such a filthy place.
At the very least, he should be comfortable in his own room.
‘And I need to treat that wound quickly…’
After a brief moment of thought, Ranshel tapped the cabinet door.
Then, as if it wasn’t a big deal, he said,
“You’re not coming out?”
“……”
“You’re in the way, so move. You don’t want to keep living in this dust pile, do you?”
He pointed at the broom and dustpan with his finger.
Zavad still didn’t answer, but after a pause, he slowly stretched his body and finally stepped out of the cabinet.
Then, sluggishly, he walked over to the corner of the room and sat down in a chair.
Ranshel watched, wondering what he was planning to do next.
Zavad simply pulled his legs up onto the chair, wrapped his arms around his knees, and pressed his forehead against them.
He just curled up again, in the exact same position as before.
The only difference was that his location had changed.
‘…Seriously. This is just pitiful.’
Ruffling his hair in frustration, Ranshel turned his gaze toward the shattered glass.
Among them, he spotted a shard stained with blood. Zavad’s blood.
At first, Ranshel had assumed Zavad was the one who broke the ornament.
It made sense—after all, his previous attendant had left, and until Ranshel arrived, there had been no one assigned to clean up the mess.
And that was partly true.
But there was one key difference.
Zavad wasn’t the one who broke it.
The real culprit was undoubtedly the one whose contribution score had risen to 6%.
‘That’s why his score increased when Zavad got injured.’
The wound wasn’t caused by Zavad himself, but by a shard from something that person had broken.
That person, despite not being in this room, had still played a role in the injury.
Which meant that if Ranshel left the wound untreated and it got worse…
The contribution score would rise again.
Ranshel let out a dry chuckle and glanced around the room.
Everything in sight was covered in gold and jewels—decorations with no real function.
Even the handkerchiefs on the desk were made of luxurious fabric, trimmed with delicate lace.
There wasn’t a single thing that looked easy to use.
Of course, no matter how expensive a scrap of cloth was, it couldn’t be more valuable than a person.
Using it to stop the bleeding would be the obvious choice.
But that wasn’t what made him hesitate.
‘…I don’t trust it.’
Someone had already broken into this room once before and shattered the ornaments.
Nothing felt truly safe anymore.
It had reached the point where he wondered if that handkerchief had needles laced with poison hidden in it.
No other choice.
Ranshel bit down on the sleeve of his newly issued servant uniform and tore it off.
Rip.
The sharp sound of fabric tearing startled Zavad, who had been curled up on the floor.
He lifted his head in surprise.
It probably wasn’t a sight befitting a nobleman, but Ranshel had no scissors on hand, so this would have to do.
‘I need to figure out exactly what’s in this room after I clean up.’
Holding the torn cloth, Ranshel strode toward Zavad.
He extended a hand toward the boy, who was glaring at him with wary eyes, his body bristling like a frightened cat.
“If you keep sitting there, the rug’s going to be drenched in blood. The room’s already a mess—are you trying to make more work for me on purpose?”
“……”
“I’m not leaving until I’ve cleaned this place spotless. If you want to stay up all night with me, then be my guest.”
That was a lie.
* * *
