STABLE BOY ; Trash of the Count's Family

12. INFILTRATE

"Tell me. What can you do to make yourself useful?"

When Cale asked him that, South answered easily.

"I can be a decoy."

Cale sighed. "Choi Han," he turned to the taller man and pointed at South, "smack him over the head for me one time."

"Whuh— ACKH!"

Choi Han actually did hit South on the head, no questions asked. No hesitation at all. His loyalty is terrifying, or maybe he just wanted to hit him too.

"What was that for?!" South whined, holding his head.

His ears were ringing and he could still feel it throbbing as a bump grew on his head.

At least Choi Han held back. South's head would have been taken right off his neck if he used his full strength.

"If you want to be sacrificed so badly, I'll call you next time we run out of food for the horses," Cale seemed actually mildly annoyed. "Look, just make yourself useful."

"Okay, Young Master-nim."

-

"Ahjussi, what are you doing?"

"Oh, this?"

It is still daytime. There was still a lot of time before Cale's plan got put into motion— so, South continued to help out around the village.

Now, the innkeeper had a cart of alcohol, and he was pulling it up the mountain with a woman pushing it up for him.

"We are bringing it up to the Noble's Summer House," the lady explained. "They want to drink today, so we are going up to serve it to them, and then come back right away."

South thought back to what Cale said.

(What can you do to make yourself useful?)

"Can I come with you?" he asked. "Staying in a mansion of rowdy drunk knights yourself? It seems dangerous, noona. And this seems like a lot to take up with two people. Ahjussi, this is bad for your back, so I can pull it up for you."

"Oh, you're so helpful, boy," the innkeeper adored him at this point. "Then, I will take you up on that offer."

-

South didn't like drinking. It messed with his sleep even more than usual, and when he took his medicine on top of it all that was just asking for some kind of overdose.

But he'd always done one thing well— and that was to cosy himself up to people. More often than not, his life always depended on how much people around him liked him. He hated when things hurt, he hated when things were tough— so he always made sure he was submissive and obedient, and people allowed him to live.

"Server boy, over here!"

"Right away!"

He served the knights their drinks and food as they partied in the guest halls of the mansion. They wouldn't have to seriously guard anything until later, so they were indulging for now.

They didn't want to drink too much, but how could they not, when the server boy was so enthusiastic?

"Woah, you're so strong, Orabuni!" he praised when the knights chugged. They did silly tricks with their swords and beer mugs and he laughed, bright and excited, "so cool! Can you do it with two swords?"

And they did.

"You're a good kid! Come and drink with us!"

"Ehhh, I can't," he would be sheepish and adorable, and they would hold him close until he chugged, and then the hall cheered. "You can hold your liquor!"

They teased the little boy, who wore long sleeves and gloves.

"We've never seen you up here before! You should come next time too, Server boy!"

"Ehhh, maybe," he said.

He glanced at his noona as if asking for permission— there was usually only one pretty girl coming up with the old man, but she was stubborn and not very pretty, and she never let any of the knights tough her like this. So, the knights liked this Server Boy.

"Come, come!"

"Yeah, it's rare we get a nice day like this to drink! You should join us more often!"

They drank, and they made the Server Boy drink, and when they finally left as it was time for guard duties to begin, he was just slightly tipsy.

"Bye bye, Knight Orabunis," he waved.

"Come again, Server Boy!"

They brought the cart down with them to the village, not thinking much of it.

-

"You had fun, but was that fine?" the innkeeper asked him. "You won't get in trouble, will you? With your young master."

"No, no," South assured.

"I saw that knight grope you," noona was very displeased. "Why did you stop me? I wanted to smash his nose in!"

"Eh, it's fine," South said, massaging his face as he breathed out trying to sober up a little. His face muscles weren't used to smiling that much anymore. "And if you did that, you would get in trouble. I'm okay, it's just a bit of touching."

He got what he wanted, anyways.

South took off his glove, pulled down his sleeve and looked through his tattoos front and back— he finally found it on his other hand, right around his wrist—

—ah. Where there used to be fire tattoos, now there was a wasteland of swords, circling his forearm in slightly cluttered rows.

"Ah..." he breathed, "they overwrote the ones from my past life... makes sense. I couldn't use those anymore, anyway."