Surviving As An obsessive servant | Book - 1

Chapter - 18

So, I went to the Duchess, whom I usually only exchanged greetings with, and made a request for the first time.

“May I ask Robell to guide you through this mansion?”

“That child is Edric’s exclusive servant.”

You don't know how hard he tried to convince the Duchess to refuse with a troubled face.

He added in an unappetizingly wretched way to just ask Edric for him.

But whether it was delivered well or not, the servant came the next day.

Manellano had the most sympathetic smile he could ever make up.

“Did you say robel? no formal greetings nice to meet. Call me Manel.”

There was no way his servants could turn away from his precious nickname.

Like a boy of northern descent, he has a tall stature, cool appearance, and sophisticated manners.

The children of the prestigious family, men and women of all ages, all envied Manellano and tried to share one more word.

There was no place where he was not the main character except for Hwangseong.

However.

"Yes."

… … Again, that thought was completely wrong.

The cheeky acolyte spit out a reckless short answer, showing that he was going to die of annoyance.

It was a completely different thing from being formal in front of the door.

His back face, guiding all over the mansion, was hardened, and he tried not to say a single word other than essential words.

'That damn bastard.'

That fact ignited his strong desire to win.

“Robel. What are your hobbies?”

As we reached the fountain, Manellano asked.

It was a universal cornerstone for building friendships.

But this time, I got an unexpected answer.

“An ancient interpretation.”

Perhaps the answer was unconsciously, the servant's back suddenly twitched.

In an instant, Manellano recognized that he had stepped on his unknown tail.

Then you should grab it properly and bite off the neck.

He asked indifferently, hiding his cruel intentions.

“Ancient language interpretation? are you doing it?”

“… … no. I like to listen when the master interprets the ancient language. It’s good to hear the master’s voice.”

At those words, Manellano savagely pulled one corner of his mouth.

Confucius doesn't know how to write, but can he speak ancient languages? It wasn't even an idiot to believe.

Isn't it just for the sake of the owner and bluffing?

'Can't he have something to do in bed? I'll go to sleep.'

But the servant said abruptly as if he had read his mind.

“It is not a lie. Sometimes they teach me ancient languages. Thanks to you, I learned quite a bit.”

“… … AHA? okay?"

Manellano's smile widened.

Finally, I came up with a plan to devour this servant.