TBMGW 4

Episode 4

I had hoped for a rapid promotion, but this wasn’t what I had in mind.

I wanted a cushy position, not the role of serving the final boss!

“The duties aren’t much different. You’ll clean, attend to his needs if he asks…”

“And if he wants me to disappear from his sight?”

“Then it’s fine to step out for a while.”

“Yes, Miss Margarete.”

Why on earth would they assign me such a weighty position just for cleaning his room once?

Of course, I wasn’t the only one appointed as Ian Brighton’s personal servant.

I’d heard that around half a dozen were assigned—since one person simply couldn’t handle him alone.

And apparently, all of this came at the duchess’s orders.

“Lady Brighton… cherishes her children dearly, you see.”

Naturally. That’s why, instead of shunning or despising the son who carried a demon, she fought tooth and nail to protect him.

“If the work becomes too much, say so. We can always change your assignment.”

Margaret’s face was rather desperate.

It made me wonder—just how many attendants had collapsed while serving Ian Brighton so far?

What kind of disasters had happened, that a newbie less than a week into employment is praised so highly just for acting a little polite and tidying the young master’s room?

“And one more thing…”

After hesitating, Margaret spoke again.

“Never face the young master alone in the dark.”

I gazed at her silently, then nodded.

With her warning complete, she left. Finally, I could enjoy a free and peaceful breakfast.

“Mmm. Delicious.”

Food of this quality was unthinkable back at the count’s house.

The servants’ menu here even changed daily depending on what the duke and duchess ate.

‘I want to eat here for the rest of my life.’

For that, Ian Brighton needed to stay alive.

Not just alive—he needed to stay sane.

Otherwise, the protagonist would one day come and strike him down, revealing to the world that a demon resided in the duke’s son. At that point, the Brighton family would quietly dismantle their household.

True, they had provided recommendation letters for the dismissed servants, but still.

‘Honestly, where else would I find a job with pay and benefits as good as this?’

To reach my goal, I’d need to save steadily for about ten years—at the Brighton wage scale.

‘The protagonist arrives to face Ian—or rather, the demon sealed inside him—six years from now…’

From the moment the hero steps into the ducal estate, Brighton’s downfall begins.

Even side-character servants are sacrificed along the way.

And I could easily end up one of them.

‘That won’t do. No way!’

There had to be a way to separate the demon from Ian’s body.

Alright.

First, I’d become his dedicated attendant. Then I’d think about it.

A demon lived inside Ian Brighton.

That was why everyone feared him.

But still, only one thought lingered in my head.

‘There’s no way this is worse than the count’s household.’

A demon or a cruel employer—evil is evil.

And Count Grington and his wife were most certainly the crueler kind.

Meager wages, overwork, nonexistent benefits… that was far more demonic.

“How long do you think she’ll last?”

“Who knows. If she doesn’t quit within a day, that’ll be a miracle.”

Ignoring the whispers, I stood before Ian’s door.

Silence from within today.

No word of him going out or taking a walk—so he must be inside.

“Young master, I’m sissi. As of today, I’ve been appointed as your exclusive attendant. I’ve come to prepare tea and clean your room.”

Instead of the expected “Get out,” silence continued beyond the door.

Was he napping?

“Excuse me, then.”

I pushed the door open carefully, tray in hand, peeking inside first.

As always, a gloomy, dim room greeted me.

“My word… he really is asleep.”

Despite it being broad daylight, the heavy curtains kept almost all light out.

I set the tray down quietly on the desk and gazed at the figure curled up in bed.

That’s when I heard it—skittering sounds brushing past my ears.

Finally, I realized the true state of the room.

Around the slumbering Ian, rats and centipedes scurried in swarms.

The walls, touched by faint light, were crawling with them too.

So the demon commanded vermin and crows, did it?

A normal servant, seeing this sight, would have screamed and bolted.

Second rule: Never enter Ian Brighton’s room while he is sleeping.

Ah. So that’s what it meant.

“Heh… rats and centipedes, it’s been a while.”

But compared to the servant quarters at the count’s house—or the punishment cell where they’d stuff me whenever they felt like it—this was nothing.

That place had snakes, too. Thanks to that, I even learned that a good whack with a stick could render them immobile.

Different species needed different handling, of course.

But look—none of these creatures were attacking me.

In fact, there was plenty of empty space for me to walk. Happily, I stepped onto the clean floor and approached the window.

Throwing the curtains wide, sunlight spilled into the room, and the vermin scattered into corners.

Some slipped through window cracks, others into gaps in the woodwork, vanishing altogether.

So easy to drive away. Too easy.

“What the…”

“Oh my, did I wake you? I apologize.”

The sunlight reached Ian’s bed as well.

Perhaps irritated by the sudden brightness, Ian frowned deeply and finally opened his eyes.

The moment he saw me—

“You… you’re the one from yesterday!”

—he pointed straight at me.

At least he wasn’t throwing things this time. Better than expected.

“Good morning, young master. Allow me to introduce myself properly. I’m sissi, and I’ll be your exclusive servant from today.”

Ian’s expression was a muddle of shock and confusion as he scanned the room quickly.

A rat, not quick enough to hide, caught his eye.

Then his gaze snapped back to me.

“I’ve brought tea and came to clean your room. Also, I heard you take meals in your chambers rather than the dining hall, so—do you have any particular dish you’d like today?”

“Tell me exactly what you see right now.”

“Pardon, young master?”

“What do you see?”

His eyes, sharp crimson, burned like cursed rubies.

That wasn’t just a question—it was an interrogation. A test.

So I answered lightly.

“You, who just woke up. And rats. And insects.”

Ian Brighton fell silent. He leaned back into the shadows, hiding his expression.

But honestly, what he felt didn’t matter much.

What mattered was—

“I apologize for failing to recognize how poorly kept the room was. I’ll clean it thoroughly right away!”

That was my job, after all. Cleaning. Serving.

That’s how I earned my pay. Hard work meant a good impression with my superiors.

And that meant promotions. Promotions meant raises. Raises meant… someday, I’d have a home of my own…

But my daydream cut off when Ian suddenly grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me close.

“Ow!”

The pull was rough, but not truly painful.

Just enough to bring his crimson eyes inches from mine.

His gaze swept across my face, studying every detail—eyes, nose, mouth, even my ears.

Finally, releasing my hair, he muttered coldly:

“Are you this stupid…?”

“They called me stupid plenty back at the count’s house too.”

Instead of arguing, I calmly agreed.

“But that’s why I worked hard to avoid making even dumber mistakes. Serving you won’t be a problem, young master.”

“…Have meals sent up. No pomegranates or figs in the desserts.”

“Yes, I’ll make sure of that.”

Reclining sideways on the bed, Ian propped his chin on one hand, staring at me.

Neither hostile nor friendly.

“What’s your name again?”

I just told him!

“I’m Cici.”

“Cici’s your full name?”

“…Yes!”

Normally, it would have been sissi Grington.

But the count had been so reluctant to give his illegitimate child his family name that I’d been left with nothing more than a flimsy name plucked from nowhere.

Plenty of commoners and orphans went by a single name, so it wasn’t strange.

It was just… like being Hong Gil-dong. I was a Grington, but couldn’t call myself one.

“…Alright then, sissi.”

Ian’s eyes narrowed in shadow. And then he suddenly declared:

“Tell the others—all my attendants except you are dismissed.”

The broom I’d just picked up froze in my hand.

“Sorry, what?”

“From now on, you alone will handle all meals, cleaning, everything.”

“Me? By myself?”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

That smile—like it was obvious I’d have no complaints.

But I only blinked.