Aiden, already dressed in his butler’s uniform, stood immaculate. The white gloves clung perfectly to his hands, not a wrinkle in sight; the vest pressed sharp against his fra, showing discipline as much as taste.
His silver hair was combed in precise waves, catching the faint morning light spilling through the hallway windows.
He walked with a deliberate calmness, posture straight, shoes polished to such a shine they reflected the glow of the chandeliers above. His presence, though quiet, seed to dominate the corridor.
The other butlers nodded as he passed. Aiden returned the gesture with a faint tilt of his head, his expression polite but distant. The maids, so already dressed in lighter sumr uniforms that revealed more skin than usual, giggled softly when he smiled their way.
Their laughter was light, musical, tinged with bashfulness. Aiden, ever the professional, kept his gaze brief, resisting the urge to let his eyes wander too long.
He knew how dangerous attention could be—how much power a single lingering glance held. Still, a few of the girls deflated visibly when his eyes moved on, disappointed at being deprived of his attention.
Behind him, John followed. Unlike Aiden’s composed stride, John’s steps were heavy, the faint clank of armor echoing along the polished floors. The spear he carried tapped rhythmically, an impatient trono against the marble tiles.
His chest plate reflected the hallway torches, though it bore scratches from training. He looked at everything Aiden did, watching the small smiles, the way servants leaned toward him, the subtle aura of control Aiden exuded.
"Aiden..." John’s voice broke through the silence.
Aiden did not turn, but his lips curved. "John... I know exactly what’s running through that head of yours."
John narrowed his eyes, jaw tightening. "...I haven’t even said anything." His free hand clenched, faint embers of fla flickering between his fingers in frustration.
Aiden, without breaking stride, bowed lightly as he passed Sansa, a maid far down the hall. His movents were precise, his tone calm but edged with amusent. "...You’re probably thinking, ’What does this bastard have that I don’t? Why do people turn their heads for him and not for ?’"
"....."
The words landed like a hamr. John’s silence betrayed him, the truth stinging worse than any blade.
"...For fuck’s sake, tell then." John finally snapped, voice rising. "You were a servant once too. What did you do? What do I need to do to reach where you are? To be more like you? To get more bitc—"
Aiden stopped abruptly, pivoting with a smirk that cut like a knife. His eyes glead, daring John to finish.
"Go on. Say it."
John faltered, his anger boiling beneath his skin.
Aiden’s smirk widened. His voice lowered, smooth yet commanding.
"Jealousy is fine, John. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. It’s fuel. But you—" he tapped his chest lightly "—you’re doing it wrong. You’re only pointing, not doing. You are only thinking, not planning. You are only wishing and hoping, when every second of your life should be spent breaking down to build what you want."
The words pierced deeper than John expected. His spear felt heavier in his hands.
"..."
"If it’s won you want," Aiden continued, his tone sharpening, "then learn to present yourself better. Stop walking around with sweat-stained armor. Invest in a proper set of clothes. A scent matters more than you think—buy perfu, even if it’s cheap. And for the gods’ sake, bathe. I can sll that you haven’t washed in two days."
John froze, embarrassed, his knuckles tightening around the spear shaft.
Aiden pressed on, relentless. "Talk. Approach people. Don’t just watch them from afar. If you can’t do it yourself, I’ll even introduce you to a few won. But John..." He paused deliberately, letting the silence hang like a blade above John’s head.
"...Yes?" John asked, quieter now, his gaze lowered.
"Try. At least try. Your looks aren’t hopeless. Train that body of yours, sharpen it, style your hair properly, and you’ll see results. You’ll be fine." Aiden’s tone softened at the end, his hand coming to rest firmly on John’s shoulder.
For a mont John’s chest loosened, the fire in him dimming. "...You really think I can pull it off? Like you?"
Aiden chuckled darkly. "Like ?...Never. Don’t even compare yourself to ."
"Fuck you."
"Hah. There’s that aggression. Good. Hold onto it. You’re only on an eight-hour shift today, aren’t you? When you’re done, we’ll head out.... Maybe I’ll even flush you a warm little... distraction...with so huzzz."
John’s eyes lit instantly, his heart thundering with sudden excitent. His thoughts darted shalessly toward won, toward the promise of warmth and touch he had never experienced. His pants tightened, his body betraying him.
Aiden, ever perceptive, noticed. A faint smirk ghosted his lips.
’This guy is gonna die a virgin’, he thought, amused, but left the matter unspoken.
[Transmuting Complete.]
Aiden’s gaze flickered as the familiar blue overlay materialized in his vision. His ember drained rapidly, leaving his body tense with sudden exhaustion.
[New Usable Skill Achieved]
[Original Skill: Hypermind (rapid cognitive processing, tactical genius).
Transford Skill: Favorability Scan
Effect: Emits a psychic pulse to read a target’s emotional disposition toward , visualized as a colored aura (purple = lust, gold = high favor, blue = low favor, red = hostility).
chanics: Provides a 0–100% favorability score and reveals one emotional vulnerability (e.g., "craves approval"). Usable once per target per encounter, 1-minute cooldown.
Range: 30 feet, line of sight.
Duration: Instant read, 10 seconds.
Limit: Inaccurate against emotionless beings (constructs, those with ntal wards).]
Curiosity flickered across Aiden’s face.
"So that’s why..." he murmured under his breath. He rembered the tis he had tried to call upon other abilities—healing when wounded, Lionbane when pressed in combat—only to fail miserably.
Back then, he couldn’t understand why the system mocked him with locked powers. But now, at last, the pieces clicked into place.
His gaze lowered to the ember bar.
[Ember: 15.96%]
A wave of hunger burned through his veins, raw and aching. Need to recharge, he thought, jaw tightening. His body throbbed with lust, desire clawing at him from within. Gods, I want to bury myself in soone right now...
He forced a deep breath, tightening his gloves. Control. Always control. He had a lord to et, responsibilities to uphold. Later, yes—later he would indulge. That was why he kept a new slave, after all. Recharge was only ever one command away.
He pushed the thought aside.
"Knock, knock." Aiden rapped softly against the office door.
No answer.
Strange. At this hour, the lord should have been buried behind paperwork, the door locked as usual. Yet it hung ajar.
Aiden pushed gently. The scent of fresh tea drifted out, rich and expensive. He stepped inside, eyes narrowing. The office was empty at first glance. The desk stood untouched, but the balcony doors were open. Morning light spilled in, carrying the fragrance of rare imported leaves.
And there—on the balcony—two figures sat.
He blinked, then instinctively triggered his new skill. Ember bled from him again, vision narrowing, the world dimming until only two glowing silhouettes remained in focus.
Augustus. And beside him... Sabrina.
The lord waved casually, his golden aura shimring bright. "Ah, Aiden. Just the man we were speaking of." His tone carried both warmth and command.
Sabrina’s crimson eyes t his, a fan hiding her mouth. Yet the smirk behind it was unmistakable. A swirling violet light wrapped her, thick and overwhelming.
Aiden bowed smoothly, concealing the racing of his heart. "...Yes, my lord. John ntioned you had summoned ." His voice held its usual calm confidence, though his pulse quickened at the duchess’s presence.
Augustus chuckled, his laughter booming. "You seem unusually cheerful this morning, boy. Eager to serve, eh? Hahaha!"
Aiden smiled politely. On the surface, he played the role of loyal servant. But inside, his body itched, his trousers tightened. The gold aura of his lord ant little compared to the deep, pulsing deep purple radiating from Sabrina. Her desire, hidden expertly from the world, pressed against him like heat.
’So... she burns....for ,’ Aiden thought, suppressing a grin.
He bowed again. "Serving you, my lord, has always been my dream, and now that dream has co true. Of course, I cannot contain the warmth swelling in this humble heart of mine."
Augustus roared with pride, slapping his thigh. "Hah! If only half the staff shared your devotion, Gerald would’ve retired in peace years ago!"
"Co, sit with us." The viscount gestured broadly.
Aiden lowered his gaze humbly. "My lord, I am but a peasant. Such a seat is far above my place." Above my place... yet below your wife, whom I have already taken in ways you’ll never know.
"Nonsense!" Augustus barked, puffing his chest. "You’re capable, loyal, sharper than Gerald ever was. You deserve this seat. Don’t you agree, my lady Duchess?"
Sabrina’s fan fluttered closed. "Hah... Augustus, your eyes serve you well. The boy has earned it." Her voice dripped with elegance, though her crimson eyes glimred with sothing far less pure.
And so Aiden sat, across from his lord, just close enough to feel Sabrina’s perfu tickle his senses.
He could sll it, sll it so clearly, not just her perfu, but the reining sches and plans, ruffling in those prideful eyes, sothing more, sothing tainted.
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