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chapter 3
The Butler Who Sees Stars
“I’m sorry, Your Highness.”
Gillott winced, clutching his thigh and desperately bowing his head. Seeing a knight—especially one as notoriously ill-tempered as Gillott—plead like this was a rare sight.
Yet no other knights laughed at him.
Anyone daring to mock him would not be spared by the very person Gillott had wronged.
“Rise, Sir Gillott.”
“Y-Yes, Your Highness.”
Gillott limped to his feet. Moving must have been excruciating, but not a single groan escaped him.
“Today’s sparring ends here.”
Kyle, the adoptive son of the Garden family and the one who had beaten Gillott, held out his hand. Trembling, Gillott accepted the wooden club Kyle offered.
Gillott shivered at the sight of Kyle.
He knew firsthand that no matter what he tried, he couldn’t match Kyle—once his eyes went wild, he would rampage like a raging boar—but before Kyle, nothing worked.
‘A monster…’
The eyes that stared at him were those of a true monster. Gillott had held a sword longer than Kyle, but there was no way he could surpass him at only twenty years old.
A genius.
No, even beyond that—a monster out of any scale.
Kyle had originally enlisted as an ordinary soldier in the Garden family’s guard. Yet he drew attention after tearing apart three senior soldiers who had bullied him.
Fortunately, since the seniors had provoked him first, the incident was considered mitigated—but even that was a downplayed version of the truth. Besides the dead soldiers, one knight’s trainee was left half-disabled and expelled back to his hometown.
A knight’s trainee.
Those destined to become knights were usually tall and skilled enough to face several ordinary soldiers. Yet they had been crippled by Kyle, who was barely twenty.
Later, Kyle charged single-handedly at foreign invaders entering the Garden-controlled province of Auvis, defeating over a hundred enemies and killing five chieftains, catching the eye of the family head.
The family head, Erigo Garden, who had been severely disappointed in his son Myer, was fascinated by Kyle’s remarkable prowess.
Thus, Kyle became Erigo’s adopted son.
From that point on, Kyle overwhelmed Erigo’s knights with his superior skill, pleasing Erigo and instantly becoming the center of the knights’ loyalty.
Admiring the strong is a basic virtue of a knight.
Kyle selected seven outstanding individuals who looked up to him—one of whom was Gillott.
Though Erigo was the family head, these seven had sworn their loyalty to Kyle. They were called the Seven Knights and accompanied him wherever he went.
But Kyle was neither benevolent nor warm.
Fail to complete a task he assigned, and Kyle would not hesitate to strike you. Under the pretense of sparring, he would beat you mercilessly.
Limbs breaking was normal; he hit with the thought that you might even die. Yet the Seven Knights, despite fearing him, remained loyal.
“It must have been Myer.”
“Are you referring to Prince Myer?”
“Yes.”
Kyle didn’t believe the rumors of a ghost in the annex. A knight panicking and fleeing at the sight of a ghost? That had to be Myer, he was certain.
“That can’t be…”
Gillott’s expression showed disbelief.
“Do you not trust my words?”
“N-No, I do, Your Highness.”
Kyle’s icy words made Gillott sweat profusely as he bowed his head. If it truly was Myer, Gillott would be deeply embarrassed.
Defeated by none other than Prince Myer himself.
Kyle’s voice remained cold:
“It seems you sparred hard enough to move about, Sir Gillott. And you even dropped your sword along the way.”
Gillott’s head nearly sank into the ground. Losing one’s sword as a knight was nothing short of shameful.
“Let the ghosts be forgotten from now on.”
With that, Kyle passed Gillott and went inside. In Kyle’s mind, Gillott had long disappeared from his thoughts.
Only one person remained:
Myer Garden.
His younger brother.
Thinking of Myer, the rightful heir who carried Erigo’s blood, Kyle smiled coldly.
“Even a worm will squirm when stepped on.”
Swish, swish, swish.
“Hah…hah…hah.”
In the overgrown center of the poorly maintained garden, Myer had been swinging a sword since morning, panting.
No, he wasn’t swinging the sword—
The sword was swinging him.
Swoosh! Shink!
Yet, despite the awkward form, the blade’s path was decent. The air cut cleanly as the sword moved.
A moment later—
Clatter.
“Hah…hah…hah.”
Myer dropped the sword, too exhausted to hold it. Still, a smile lit his face.
“It…worked.”
Only yesterday, his stomach felt like it would tear apart. But after collapsing and standing again, it felt better. He had recovered quite a bit overnight.
Of course, some soreness remained. But the moment he got up, he grabbed some vegetables from the kitchen and immediately resumed sword practice.
The swordsmanship floating in his mind demanded experimentation.
As a Garden knight, he wanted to test the official sword form even for a second.
And the result was a great success.
“Sword… I’ve mastered the sword.”
Hands trembling, Myer gripped the sword. Though the blade gleamed with deadly sharpness, he no longer felt the paralyzing fear he used to have.
Thus, he could wield the sword.
Although it looked like the sword was controlling him, the form of the strikes was credible for a first attempt.
The swordsmanship in his mind wasn’t an illusion.
“A sword that teaches itself just by touching it…”
Myer tested everything in the annex, but only the sword responded.
“1-star means there must be more after this, right?”
Garden Formal Swordsmanship (★).
The pale script that only Myer could see indicated the sword technique was 1-star. 1-star implied there were 2-star and 3-star levels beyond.
“So the same formal swordsmanship can differ depending on who learns it?”
Each knight’s skill varied. Myer had also seen more than just Garden Formal Swordsmanship.
“Sir Gillott… he was 1-star too.”
A 1-star knight.
Myer recalled the mobile games he played in the past. The weakest characters were always 1-star. Even in a generous game, you could combine 1-stars into 2-stars—but in reality, you couldn’t merge living people.
In other words:
“A brute.”
He took solace in knowing Gillott, who had mercilessly beaten him, was only 1-star. Still, 1-star didn’t mean weak—Myer knew firsthand.
Myer wiped the sweat from his brow, picked up the sword, and stood up.
“Huh?”
Suddenly, he tilted his head in curiosity.
“Someone’s here, I think.”
He felt a presence—but in this deserted annex, no one should be here. Perhaps only Gillott, who had dropped the sword yesterday?
But Gillott wouldn’t hide to spy on him. A knight unafraid of his master’s son must have a corrupted personality.
“Feels like it’ll hurt again.”
This time, the pain came from moving, not being hit. Yet Myer’s expression remained bright.
Muscle soreness meant his body was growing stronger. A sign he was finally moving past his frailty.
“I need to eat properly.”
Struggling with heavy legs, Myer entered the annex. In a corner of the garden, a single rose lay on the ground.
Sword.
Money.
After finishing a quick meal, Myer wrote down what he needed to do. Written in Hangul, no one could read it without permission.
First: sword.
“I want to try someone else’s sword too, not just Gillott’s.”
He wanted to test a superior knight’s blade.
“Among the family knights… the best is… this one?”
Rando Bellins.
Stoic and honest, Rando mastered the medium sword perfectly and was one of the top knights in the family.
“His personality is rigid, so he doesn’t get much credit. But his leadership is excellent—he trains soldiers well, cares for subordinates, and his troops never lose. They call him Viktor…”
Viktor.
The army of victory. The unit commanded by Sir Rando Bellins.
“Huh?”
Myer felt a sense of déjà vu. Another memory linked to yesterday’s newspaper snippet.
It reminded him of…
The “Encirclement Formation”? Go Soon?
Among friends, referring to the Romance of the Three Kingdoms, the name was familiar. Though just one among many fans, it appeared here, now. Myer chuckled.
“Must have hit my head too hard.”
Encirclement Formation? How did Go Soon even become part of a fantasy world? Myer shook his head.
“Impossible, then?”
Returning to the main topic, he shook his head. A knight’s sword was an extra life; having someone else touch it was tantamount to challenging him to a duel.
Next: money.
“I need to live like a human.”
The family had neglected Myer, the legitimate heir, so he would need to survive on his own. Money… for now, he put that aside.
He had no idea.
“What should I do?”
Feeling frustrated, Myer lay back, muscles beginning to ache—surely the soreness would set in soon.
The worst.
Moments later, Myer dozed off. At that exact moment, the door opened, and a neatly dressed man stepped inside.
“Hm.”
The man looked at Myer, then took a small bottle from his coat—a potion filled with red liquid.
He dripped a few drops into a water bottle and onto Myer’s clothes.
As he turned to leave—
Grasp.
“Who are you?”
Myer, who had been sleeping, opened his eyes.
Myer, sensitive from years of rigorous study, was aware of every sound—even a cockroach crawling. But the man didn’t seem hostile, so he waited calmly and grabbed his wrist.
[Hoirun Asher: ★★☆☆☆]
‘2-star?’
A name and stars sparkled above the man’s head—higher than Gillott’s. He was not, at least, a knight.
Startled by Myer’s grip, the man sighed and bowed.
“I am your butler, Hoirun, my lord.”
“Butler? Father’s?”
“Yes.”
Myer looked surprised. Considering his severe abdominal pain yesterday, it was indeed strange he had recovered so quickly.
Apparently, while Myer had fainted, Hoirun had entered and used the potion, just as he did now.
“This is not the master’s will.”
When Myer said nothing, Hoirun clarified: don’t expect anything from me.
‘I wasn’t expecting anything anyway.’
Myer hadn’t. But since Hoirun came and seemed non-hostile, he spoke:
“I don’t know who you are, but if you’re here, you might as well do a bit more, right?”
“Eh?”
“Food. Could you bring me some meat?”
Hoirun’s expression shifted to one of bafflement.
