"M-Master Herbon? I think you might be mistaken, guards," Auren said, blinking in confusion after hearing them address him by a title he didn't expect.

The butler stepped forward with perfect posture.

He was tall, silver-haired, and carried the scent of polished oak and clean linen.

"Now that you are a verified member of the Blue Bound, we are all required to address you as Master Herbon," he explained, clearing his throat politely.

"It is our formal code, and a direct mandate from Lady Alyssa herself. Please, get used to it."

"I see," Auren said after a short pause, trying to hide his awkward smile.

"Well, you're all doing a great job maintaining the headquarters. It's spotless here."

"It is our pleasure to be of your service, Master," the butler replied. "By the way, you have yet to dine, have you? The kitchen has already prepared your meal."

"Now that you mention it," Auren said, rubbing his stomach, "I haven't had a bite since afternoon."

"Then please, follow me."

The moment Auren stepped into the dining hall, his breath caught. The table was long enough to seat twenty, and it gleamed beneath a chandelier of blue crystals.

'wow all of these just for me?'

Roasted chicken, spiced fish, glazed lamb chops, golden-brown bread, and bowls of steaming soup lined the table. Several dishes shimmered faintly with mana—a sign of enchanted cooking. For one man, it was far too much.

"Enjoy your dinner, Master," James said as the servants carefully placed the final platter.

Auren lifted his knife and fork, eyeing the sea of food.

"Thank you. You may all sit down and dig in."

"Excuse me?" James blinked, exchanging confused looks with the servants. They had clearly misheard.

"I said, sit down and eat," Auren repeated, already biting into a drumstick with enthusiasm.

"How do you expect me to finish all this alone?"

The butler looked horrified for a moment. "Pardon us, Master Herbon, but we are not permitted to—"

"I insist," Auren interrupted, gesturing toward the line of servant maids behind him.

"That includes you too. Come on, sit down."

The staff hesitated.

A few glanced nervously at each other, as if unsure whether this was a test.

Auren smiled at them, his tone soft but firm.

"Don't be ashamed to eat with me. You take care of this place when we're away and work harder than most of us when we're here. I'd like to know the people who make this place feel like home. And the best way to do that,"

He said, tearing another bite from the drumstick, "is by sharing a meal."

James's composure cracked into a grin.

"If you truly insist, Master… then we shall."

Gradually, the tension melted. The servants sat with visible restraint, still eating with etiquette even as the aroma of spiced meat filled the air.

The room, once too quiet, now hummed with quiet chatter and warmth. It seems the servants were happy to dine with him.

"So, James," Auren began, leaning back on his chair, "where are you from? How'd you end up here?"

James dabbed his lips with a napkin before answering.

"I was born in a small village called Katri, south of the Khodian territory. Third among five siblings, all born into a line of butlers. Lady Alyssa herself recruited me after my years in royal service for the Katana family, to oversee and maintain the Blue Bound estate which is personally bought by her when she established Blue Bound with master Essel three years ago. It has been both an honor and a challenge ever since."

"Sounds like fate had plans for you," Auren said, smiling faintly. "And the others?"

Each servant shared their story in turn. Some were locals recruited for their loyalty and work ethic.

Others came from distant towns, driven by need or gratitude. None carried the stench of deceit or greed, only simple lives tied by service and survival.

Through subtle reading of gestures and tone, Auren knew they were good people—though a few had eyes that hinted at hidden pasts. Secrets, perhaps, but not dangerous ones.

When the last plate was cleared, Auren thanked them sincerely. They bowed deeply, visibly touched by the rare kindness of a master who treated them as equals.

Later that night, silence filled the manor.

Only the faint hum of mana lanterns echoed down the corridors as Auren went to his next work, his satchel brimming with ingredients from the market. He set everything neatly on a workbench and rolled up his sleeves.

"Time to make something useful."

He lit a small flame orb above the table, its glow flickering across rows of herbs, vials, and alchemical glassware.

With practiced movements, Auren began mixing, grinding, and refining the materials. His hands moved like clockwork, every motion guided by knowledge and instinct taught to him by Robert himself.

Hours passed unnoticed.

"That's ten," he muttered, placing the final high-grade healing potion beside the others. "Not bad."

Even with a healer now on the team, preparation was essential. Out there, anything could happen—and no one, not even a healer, was immortal.

But Auren did not stop there. He continued working through the night.

Twelve high-grade mana potions. Ten smoke bombs. Five paralytic fog bottles. Three Repel potions and Two Passion Lures—the same type he once used to lure ogres out of a cave.

And several rejuvenation tonics that enhanced stamina and reflexes. He even brewed a few experimental mixtures, just in case fate threw him another curveball.

"This should do for the next mission," he said, wiping sweat from his brow.

With a wave of his hand, the tools, vials, and potions vanished into his storage ring. The room cleared instantly, leaving only the faint scent of herbs and metal.

"Now for some practice."

He stepped into the training yard before dawn.

The air was cool and damp, the first rays of morning light barely brushing the rooftops. Drawing a deep breath, Auren summoned his new sword—a reddish double-edged blade, about a meter long, with a leather-bound grip, not as elegant than his Divine Rapier but good enough for him.

"Let's get familiar with you."

The sword cut through the air with a crisp whistle as he began his routine.

Each swing flowed into the next—basic slashes, thrusts, parries, and spinning forms—an hour-long dance between precision and rhythm. By the end, his shirt clung to his skin with sweat.

He rested on a chair, watching the blade glint faintly in the light.

"The balance is slightly off for my size," he said to himself, "but it's good enough. You'll shine once I tune your runes."

Without resting, he walked to the Blue Bound's smithy. The air smelled of oil, steel, and warm dust. A few staff members peeked curiously as he entered, but Auren shut the door behind him, wanting privacy.

On the table, he placed the sword carefully, then took out a delicate magical silver pen from his storage ring. It wasn't an ordinary pen—it was an Elven Rune Inscriber, gifted to him long ago by one of the elven craftsman back in Runewood. Its nib glowed faint blue when mana passed through it.

Auren traced a circular formation on the table, setting the sword in the center. He whispered a chant under his breath, and the rune circle flared to life.

"Since this blade's made of orichalcum, I'll add mana infusion channels and elemental resistance. That should do."

He worked tirelessly for another ten hours. Each line he etched glimmered with faint gold before sinking into the metal. Sweat beaded his forehead, but his focus never wavered. This wasn't just a weapon upgrade—it was an art form, one requiring both intellect and soul.

When the last rune sealed, he exhaled deeply.

"That should be strong enough to cut through awakened beasts," he murmured, sliding the finished weapon back into his ring.

Satisfied, Auren stepped outside. The first full light of morning filled the corridor.

James was already there, waiting patiently. "Is there anything I can help with, Master Herbon?"

Auren hesitated. Fatigue was finally catching up to him. "Yeah," he admitted with a small yawn. "Is there a spare room where I can rest?"

"Of course," James replied with a slight bow. "Each member of the Blue Bound has their own quarters. That includes you. Please, follow me."

They walked down a polished hall lined with portraits of each members, even he has one, too bad Auren was too tired to notice it.

Auren stifled another yawn as the butler stopped at a large door engraved with his name. When it opened, Auren froze in awe.

The room was massive—at least a hundred square meters—with a soft carpet, elegant furniture, and wide glass windows overlooking the city. A small personal library stood beside a king-sized bed, and a magical chandelier pulsed faintly with blue light. Even the air felt purified, cooled by enchanted vents.

"Now this is more like it," he said, stepping inside.

James smiled, gesturing to a bronze bell beside the bed. "If you require anything, please ring this bell. It will alert me instantly through a magic link."

Auren examined it, noting the intricate runes carved around its base. "Understood. Thank you for everything, Mr. James."

"Always a pleasure to serve you, Master Herbon," the butler replied, bowing before leaving quietly.

Minutes later, the sound of running water echoed through the room as Auren took a long, hot bath. The warmth soothed his muscles, washing away exhaustion and soot. For the first time in weeks, he felt peace settle on his shoulders.

He slipped into bed, the sheets soft as cloud silk. "Better enjoy this comfort while it lasts," he murmured, eyes already heavy.

As sleep finally took him, the manor fell silent once again. The moonlight stretched across the floor, pale and quiet.

Yet deep inside, Auren knew.

This peace would not last.

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