* * *
Ranshel will leave the rest for tomorrow.
He washed his hands in the bucket of water, stretched his back after crouching for so long, and lifted his gaze—only to lock eyes with someone staring at him from a chair.
“What are you looking at?”
“…….”
Following Zavad’s half-hearted tilt of his head, Ranshel’s gaze shifted.
‘The wardrobe?’
He opened the doors, revealing neatly hung clothes on their hangers.
Then, slowly, his gaze drifted back to Zavad—his pristine white silk nightwear, speckled with a few drops of blood.
Sweat trickled down his spine.
Was it because of the exhausting scrubbing?
Or because he had completely forgotten that he was supposed to prepare the young master’s attire, leaving him in his nightclothes all this time?
‘He could’ve just said something…’
Of course, it was a servant’s duty to prepare such things without being told, but it still felt unfair.
If the previous attendant had given him a simple list of responsibilities, this wouldn’t have happened.
As he sighed internally, something struck him as odd.
‘Wait, why am I even embarrassed about this?’
More importantly—why was the villain working so diligently as a servant?
He didn’t need to do a good job.
He was the villain!
Being neglectful was practically a requirement of his role.
Yet, as soon as he thought that, reality set in.
‘If I slack off, I’ll get fired.’
Without a personal servant, Zavad would be left unattended.
But as long as there was an assigned servant, he wouldn’t be.
Not because servants were naturally diligent, but for a reason—
Ranshel, a low-ranking servant, had only just started working today.
By evening, a steward would come to check his work.
Not for Zavad’s sake, but because the estate wouldn’t tolerate wasting wages on a useless employee.
So even if he was a villain, even if he fully intended to make Zavad’s life miserable, Ranshel had no choice but to perform his duties properly.
Because the moment he got fired, as a commoner, he’d be thrown out of the castle and lose any access to Zavad at all.
With a deep sigh, Ranshel half-heartedly browsed through the wardrobe.
Every single piece of clothing was lavishly decorated, made from the finest fabrics, each designed for a specific occasion.
As expected of noble attire.
But which one was best for now?
“…Do you have any preference?”
“…….”
Zavad clearly had no intention of cooperating.
His lips remained tightly shut, as if to say Ranshel should figure it out himself.
Left with no choice, Ranshel picked the simplest, least decorated outfit.
Since Zavad would be staying in his room all day, there was no need for anything extravagant.
He pulled the garment from the hanger and held it up.
Zavad’s expression remained indifferent, making it impossible to tell if it was acceptable or not.
The steward wouldn’t fire him just because of this choice, right?
‘This game needs a difficulty adjustment…’
With a sigh, Ranshel trudged toward Zavad.
As he approached, Zavad silently stood from his chair and began unbuttoning his nightwear.
At least he knows how to dress himself.
Ranshel waited as Zavad removed his top, then reached out to take the discarded garment—
Smack!
Ranshel blinked.
Zavad had struck his hand away—hard enough to make his fingers sting.
“Don’t touch me with hands that have been scrubbing the floor.”
A cold voice followed.
Ranshel’s lips twitched.
That little brat.
‘I worked up a sweat cleaning this place, but did he show even a shred of appreciation?’
Not at all.
Typical noble behavior—undervaluing the worth of labor.
‘Well, it’s not like I cleaned for his sake anyway.’
Ranshel clicked his tongue, thinking.
It was true that a servant should be diligent, but in the end, it was merely a means to an end.
The only reason he needed to remain as Zavad’s personal attendant was to torment him, not to serve him with unwavering devotion.
Ranshel flung the clothes in his hands toward Zavad’s feet.
Folding his arms, he watched as the fabric fluttered before landing limply on the floor.
“…What are you doing?”
“I placed them where you can reach them, didn’t I? You can pick them up and put them on yourself, young master.”
Zavad shot him a cold glare.
Ranshel, unfazed, tilted his head slightly.
A heavy silence settled between them.
After a few minutes, Zavad was the first to move.
Clenching his jaw, he picked up the clothes from the floor.
He had no choice.
Right now, he was completely bare under his robe.
Bowing before a servant was humiliating, but it was still better than exposing himself.
And putting the robe back on would have looked even more ridiculous.
‘He really is still just a kid.’
Zavad slowly dressed himself.
Once finished, he took off his robe and hurled it straight at Ranshel’s face.
Ranshel swiftly caught it before it made contact, draping it over his arm.
Clothes should be washed immediately after wearing them.
If the bloodstains didn’t come out, he’d just cut them up and use them as rags.
It’s not like they were short on clothes.
Zavad’s face remained sullen and displeased.
He had been like that the entire time, but the redness creeping up his neck suggested that Ranshel’s actions had truly gotten under his skin.
And of course, how humiliating must it be for a mere servant to toy with him like this?
Unfortunately for him, a lonely noble without the authority to hire or fire servants wasn’t nearly as threatening as the household’s butler or steward.
‘What are you going to do, get mad?’
With an air of triumph, Ranshel checked the system window.
[Event Contribution]
[The Most Villainous One = 0%]
Still, not a single percent had gone up.
Ranshel felt a tinge of despair.
‘Didn’t I do a good job tormenting him this time?’
He made him pick up his own clothes and everything.
That was classic villain behavior.
Just what did this game want from him?
Letting out a sigh, Ranshel recalled the pale body he had glimpsed earlier.
Just like his face, his skin was flawless.
There wasn’t a single scar on him—except for the wound on his palm, which he had inflicted upon himself.
Before he was a noble, he was imperial blood.
No one would dare touch him openly, no matter what happened behind the scenes.
Which meant the only way to break him was through his mind.
But that was proving far more difficult than expected.
Ranshel was starting to think he should track down some other villainous characters and ask how they managed to raise their contribution scores.
Shouldn’t experienced villains be obligated to guide beginners like him?
As he grumbled to himself, Zavad suddenly spoke out of nowhere.
“Ranshel.”
“Yes?”
“What are you?”
“…A servant?”
It wasn’t like he was an object.
What kind of question was that?
Ranshel replied with disinterest.
Zavad’s frown deepened.
“That’s not what I meant, idiot.”
“If you want a proper answer, ask a proper question. What exactly do you want to know?”
Zavad hesitated, lips parting and closing a few times before blurting out,
“Are you new?”
“Yes?”
“Why?”
“…Why do you think? The previous servant quit, so I was assigned here.”
Zavad let out a dry laugh.
“Quit, huh?”
A strange smile crept onto his face.
A sudden sense of unease prickled at Ranshel as he nodded.
“Don’t play dumb with me. You didn’t just end up here by chance, did you?”
“…What are you talking about?”
* * *
