The Manager's Reckoning
Abils bowed. Not a simple nod—but a full ninety-degree bend at the waist.
"Y-Yes! Young Lord, we are pleased to see you back!" he exclaimed.
But his words didn't match his expression. His head remained lowered, his face pale, and a single bead of sweat slid down his temple.
Dian studied him calmly.
He looks just like those corrupt officials in the novels and manhwas I used to read on earth… Guess all that reading wasn't a waste after all.
Just as he was about to speak, hurried footsteps echoed from inside the castle.
Ziro—Abils's advisor—stepped out, his stride faltering the moment he saw the scene. But in a heartbeat, he assessed the situation and bowed, standing a step behind Abils.
"Hm," Dian nodded slowly. "So… you planning to talk here? Or should I come inside?" His voice dripped with sarcasm.
Muffled laughter broke out in the background at the sharp remark.
Abils stood up hastily, flustered.
"S-Sorry for my misconduct, Young Lord." He gestured nervously toward the castle. "Please, come inside."
Dian's steps were measured and unhurried as he advanced, his eyes sharp, surveying everything around him. The butler followed silently behind.
Flanking both sides of the pathway were well-tended flower beds. A gentle breeze carried their sweet, fresh fragrance into the air.
Then—Dian noticed something.
Middlemist's Red? In a land manager's garden?
A rare flower bloomed boldly near the edges. Red petals, velvety and deep, swayed in the breeze, their sweet scent dizzying. Water-like dew clung to the edges, glistening under the light.
These weren't ordinary flowers. They only grew near mana crystal caves and required immense magical energy to survive. Their uses ranged from healing to alchemical crafting. No simple land manager should have access to them.
So he's even tapping into mana sources... My judgment was right.
Dian's eyes turned to the mansion's interior. Expensive carpets. Rare portraits. Lavish ornaments. His rage simmered beneath the surface, building with every step.
They finally arrived at a large wooden door. Abils grasped the handles with both hands and pushed.
*Creaaak.*
The study room opened.
A tall glass window bathed the room in light. A table stood before it, papers scattered across the surface. Behind it, a well-polished chair gleamed under the sun.
Dian moved smoothly and sat in the chair, back straight, fingers laced together.
"I think you already know why I'm here, don't you?" he asked, voice cool.
Abils flinched. His gaze darted to the side for the briefest moment, before snapping back.
"N-No, I-I don't understand what you mean, Young Lord," he replied nervously.
Dian studied him in silence for a heartbeat. Then he exhaled.
"Butler."
That single word was enough.
Jones, ever efficient, stepped forward. He pushed the table aside. Beneath it—faint trails marked the floor, a subtle square outline.
Abils's eyes widened in shock. He glanced instinctively at Ziro.
"Don't look at him," Dian's voice cut through the air. "He didn't betray you."
Dian rose from the chair.
Jones crouched, pressing a finger into the faint groove. A hidden compartment popped open, revealing stacks of sealed documents.
In moments, Jones filtered through the papers and handed a set to Dian.
He flipped through them.
Receipts—signed by Abils himself—listing enormous profits earned from unauthorized crop sales. All sold under his own name.
So blatant. So greedy.
Dian didn't even lift his gaze. "Now… what should I do with you two?" he said coldly, eyes scanning the documents.
Neither man spoke.
Ziro was pale as a ghost. Abils's knees trembled. His lips opened and closed, but no sound came out.
How… how did he find them so easily?! Ziro thought, eyes flickering toward Jones—who was smiling.
An unnatural, quiet smile.
Ziro shivered. It wasn't just the smile—it was the cold behind it. A chilling pressure sank into his bones.
Dian looked up.
"The two of you are dismissed."
He turned to Jones. "If they are ever seen on Skyster land again, their heads should roll."
Jones bowed with precision.
"No!" Abils screamed, falling to his knees with a thud.
"Y-Young Lord! Please forgive me! I—I didn't realize what I was doing!"
He bent until his forehead hit the floor, pleading, shaking.
Dian ignored him and turned for the door.
Seeing his final chance slipping, Abils played his last card.
"Y-Young Lord, wait! I was appointed by your father! Please, consider that—give me another chance!"
Dian paused.
Hope ignited in Abils's eyes.
I knew it. Even now, the late Lord protects me…
Dian tilted his head slightly.
"Butler."
*Slice!*
A ripple in the air. The next moment, Abils's hand hit the ground, severed cleanly at the wrist.
Blood exploded like a fountain. The scream that followed was shrill and filled with agony.
"AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
Abils clutched his bleeding arm, falling sideways, tears flowing freely.
Ziro watched, paralyzed, eyes wide with horror.
Dian stepped forward, crouching beside the fallen man.
"You see, Abils," he said quietly. "I am not like my father."
He let the words sink in, then continued.
"He was too soft-hearted. I am not."
He stood and dusted off his sleeves.
"Butler, clean this mess. Appoint one of your trusted men here."
"Yes, Young Lord," Jones said with a bow.
Dian walked out without a backward glance.
Outside, he inhaled deeply and stepped into the waiting carriage.
There was no fear. No remorse. It had been his first time witnessing blood up close—but he didn't flinch.
His beliefs were simple.
Do wrong, and you face the consequences. Even if it means blood. Even if it means heads must roll.
---
A few minutes later, the butler emerged from the castle, accompanied by two limping men.
Gasps erupted from the crowd.
One man's arm was heavily bandaged—his other was gone. The second supported him, barely managing to walk. Both looked pale, hollow-eyed.
---
"Hey… isn't that Lord Abils?" someone whispered from the distance.
"Yeah! It's him! But look at his arm—it's gone!"
"And it happened right after the Young Lord went inside…"
Voices spread like wildfire. Shock. Gossip. Fear.
---
Jones reached the carriage and bowed.
"Young Lord, it is done."
"Good," Dian said calmly from inside. "Let's go. We still have places to visit."
Jones blinked. This wasn't the plan. They were supposed to return home after this.
But he said nothing. Orders were orders.
He climbed aboard, and the coachman snapped the reins. The horses neighed, pulling the carriage back onto the road.
---
Inside, Dian's eyes lingered on Jones. He couldn't stop thinking about it.
He didn't even move… When Abils's hand hit the floor, he was standing exactly as before. All I felt… was a ripple.
And he was right.
Jones—the butler of House Skyster—was the strongest man Dian had ever seen.
A Supreme Mage, 2nd Stage.