Aljen tried to piece together the fragments of his memory—the conversation with the self-proclaimed God, the flying kiss, and the dizzying sensation of falling through time. As he analyzed his situation, veins pulsed on his forehead from pure stress. He decided then and there to name the entity responsible for this forced transmigration "Stump G," a title befitting its manipulative and twisted nature.
His gaze fell back to the mirror, and his fury reignited.
"Why him? Why him? There are dozens of characters in this game, but why choose the one doomed to a pathetic end? Curse you, Stump G! If I ever see your face, I'll smack it into a thousand pieces! Do you hear me? I'll smack you!" he condemned, stomping his feet several times against the ornate floorboards.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Three sharp, rhythmic raps at the door cut through his tantrum.
"Boss, are you alright?"
Hermes froze. "Who might you be?" he asked in a slightly annoyed, defensive tone.
"Oh my, boss. What a surprise—you don't even recognize my voice? I must have had too much alcohol last night that my voice sounds a bit hoarse. But anyways, greetings, my beloved boss. It is me, Justin. Your personal head butler, at your service."
Hermes's blood ran cold. Justin. The Head Butler of the family and the Consigliere of the organization. In the game lore, he was also the personal instructor who had trained Hermes Archnemesis in the dark arts of combat and leadership for years.
The young boy couldn't accept the reality he was facing, but he knew he had to act. To avoid an "unpleasant circumstance" that might end in his early execution, he had to play the role of the real Don perfectly. His first objective was to convince this fanatic that he was still the master he knew.
"Umm, uh... sorry, Justin. I was just angry about something. Sorry about that," Hermes explained as he hurriedly took a seat on the chair next to the bed to hide his shaking legs.
"Boss, may I come in?"
"Yes, you may. Please proceed," Hermes concurred.
The door creaked open, and a young man in his early twenties stepped inside. Justin was a striking figure, possessing a sharp, angular face and jet-black hair that was combed back with clinical precision. He wore a crisp, midnight-black suit with matching trousers and a vest that hugged his lean, athletic frame. His hands were encased in spotless white gloves, and his most unsettling feature—a pair of piercing green eyes flecked with strange black spots—immediately scanned the room.
Justin closed the door behind him with a silent click. The young Don pointed out his position with his index finger. "I'm here, Justin."
Justin placed a hand on his chest and heaved out a heavy sigh of relief. To him, facing his boss was like facing God in physical form. His life was solely devoted to this boy. In his mind, he imagined Hermes radiating a dark, authentic aura of malice, though technically, there was no such thing behind the terrified boy's back.
"Boss, I heard your scream outside. You sound so angry. Is there something bothering you? Maybe I could offer the service that someone of my caliber can do?" he asked, moving closer to scan Hermes from head to toe.
"I'm alright, Justin. Don't worry about me." Hermes irritably pushed him away.
The butler instantly took a step back and knelt down on one knee in front of him. Hermes got astonished, a cold sweat breaking out on his neck, but he kept his facade properly. Justin, relieved, let out another sigh. "I'm glad; you're alright. There are no signs of a deadly curse in your body."
'C, Curse?' Hermes commented inside his mind as sweat kept dropping down on his forehead. He quickly wiped his face before his servant noticed it.
"Hey Justin, get up," he asked, waving a hand. Justin took the movement the wrong way, assuming his boss wanted his hand held. "Just don't even try to examine my body. Wai—"
"But boss," Justin said, catching Hermes's right hand and kissing it while maintaining his kneeling position. "...as the butler of the Archnemesis family, I must ensure your safety and health. If you get cursed, I must dismantle it. If you get severely injured, I must heal you immediately. If you get hurt, I must find the person responsible and torture them to death."
Hermes just gave in and tried to compose himself, even if he was embarrassed by the butler's intense, caring nature. He tapped Justin's right shoulder twice, a gesture of "that's enough," which Justin took as a deep sense of satisfaction.
"Boss," Justin's eyes sparkled as he looked up. He lowered his head and released Hermes's hand. "Oh, Don Hermes, you're the last heir of the Archnemesis family. I won't let any harm put you in danger. I will suppress the enemies and won't let anyone escape again... alive."
'V, vicious butler,' Hermes's face turned blue with a fake giggle at the mention of no survivors.
"Lift up your head and... and... you're a good man, but don't do that again," Hermes commanded.
Justin tilted his head to the side, looking confused. He mistakenly believed that "don't do that again" meant his previous failures to catch every single survivor had disappointed the Don. He cried inside his heart and took it as a personal failing.
"I'm sorry, my Don. I won't disappoint you again," he vowed.
'Umm, what?' Hermes questioned. He pressed a hand to his forehead and heaved a sigh. "Okay, fine. Next time, do your job properly and act like a normal person, Justin."
The butler suddenly coughed blood and wiped it immediately. He misunderstood the message as a dire warning of his replacement.
"Forgive me, but this is how I must act. I am the most trusted attendant in the organization. I know I lack self-restraint with enemies, but I have to do it. I'm the only servant who won't let himself leave his master alone. I would rather stay at your side until the end than abandon you. I know my salary is low, but it's insufficient to convince me to disobey my oath."
There was a word that caught Hermes' attention. "W-what are you talking about? The only servant... I have?"
"Aah, regarding that..." Justin saw the time on the clock. "Boss, it's almost time for breakfast. Let me help you dress up."
"No need," refused the young boy, standing up and embracing his own upper body to block the butler.
Justin froze. The color of his pupils seemed to disappear for a moment. Every morning, he had assisted his boss in dressing because the master "didn't know how" to do it. Seeing Hermes reject his touch made him feel dejected and anxious. He was overwhelmed with sadness because his master was no longer interested in his help—and anxious because he wouldn't be able to touch his boss's frail body.
"Boss, are you sure you don't need my help?"
Hermes nodded twice, his lips pursed. "No, I can handle myself."
Justin's whole body trembled as his soul seemingly shattered into pieces. "I, I, I will leave right now."
He stood up with a heavy heart and turned around, his trembling hand grabbing the doorknob.
"Hmm... Where are you going then?" Hermes asked.
Justin turned his head half-sided, surprised. "B, boss, you're so funny. Of course, I'm heading for the kitchen. I will be preparing your breakfast."
He bowed his head once more and exited the room.
After the butler left, Hermes collapsed back into his own predicament. How the fuck did he end up inside this character's body? And how the fuck did "Stump G" manage to transmigrate him into this nightmare? Hermes sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his temples as he tried to recollect the basic lore of the game.
The RPG Mafioso was an action-fantasy epic set in the late 19th-century mafia world. Italia was the primary playground for veteran players—a nation divided into warring states and perpetually drowned in chaos. The developers had originally designed it as a "reverse otome" game, but they had added a brutal, bloody mafia system to keep things interesting. In this world, the protagonist was a girl destined to conquer rival territories and execute the bosses—specifically Hermes, who was one of the final obstacles destined to die a public death at the hands of her "harem" of elite enforcers.
A chill raced down Aljen's spine as he pictured Hermes's tragic end. He gulped, mentally listing escape routes to prevent his impending death in the upcoming Second Holy Mafia War.
'How can I prevent this?' he asked himself, pacing the room. He knew that if he followed the script, his territory would be annexed by a rascal named Arata Kingsman, who would turn the land into a literal hell. Then there was the Verdugo Crime Family, the Archnemesis's main rivals in Sicily. He struggled to remember the leader, a woman known only as Donna; ten years in the gaming industry had made his memory of the finer details fuzzy.
"I need current data. Geography, political updates—everything," he muttered, crossing his legs on the bed in a lotus position. "I have three years to prepare. Should I ask Justin? No, he's too unpredictable."
Frustrated, Hermes decided he couldn't think clearly in the bedroom. "I should go outside to unwind. There's nothing else I can do right now."
Exploring the place like a tourist, his eyes wandered and glowed in amazement as he examined the elegance and delicacy of the hall in his mansion. As he walked deeper, he saw everything from Casta paintings and portraits to large-scale religious altarpieces hanging by the walls. Once he reached the stairway, his glistening eyes followed the high ceilings painted with several beautiful angels dancing in a circle around an alluring Greek half-naked woman, leaving him totally in awe.
He never imagined how beautiful and magnificent the whole place was. It was different from the original illustration of the game. Impressed by his character's hobby, he started to like this man. The only thing Hermes read from the developers' details was that this character was a die-hard archeologist who loved collecting rare and ancient artifacts such as tools used by Neanderthals, clay pots with cuneiform writing, footprints of ancient creatures, bones, and fossils.
However, as he explored, a growing sense of unease began to settle in his gut. The mansion was a tomb of silent treasures.
He turned into a wide corridor lined with marble busts of Roman emperors. He expected to hear the distant chatter of maids or the heavy tread of guards patrolling the wing. Instead, there was only the sound of his own slippers and the eerie, rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock somewhere in the distance.
"Is anyone there?" he called out tentatively.
His voice bounced off the stone walls, echoing through the empty rooms. He peeked into a vast dining hall; the table was polished to a mirror finish, yet not a single chair was out of place. He checked the laundry room; it was impeccably clean, but the baskets were empty. It was as if a ghost crew was maintaining the house, vanishing the moment he turned a corner.
'Where the hell is everyone?' he thought, a shiver crawling down his spine. As the heir of an influential family, his mansion should have been bustling with activity. Even if the Archnemesis family was feared, they still needed a staff to function. The complete absence of life made the statues and paintings feel like they were the ones watching him.
"This is unusual," Hermes whispered, glancing at a dark suit of armor that stood sentinel at the end of the hall. "Something feels deeply off."
~~~Growl~~~
"Where is the kitchen anyway? Man, I'm starving." Suddenly, a savory aroma crossed his nose. His stomach started to growl much louder. He followed the smell like a dog sniffing to find its favorite bone. He realized the aroma was coming through the left side.
"How come there are no people around this mansion? Maybe I should ask Justin when I meet him again," he said, continuing his steps towards the place.
A few minutes later, he arrived at the kitchen door. The wonderful and unique features amazed him so much. The huge door had two flowery pieces of paint around the corner and a black skull in the middle, the symbol of his clan. He then opened it with his two hands; a big round table appeared in front of him as he entered.
'Is this really the kitchen? So.... so huge! But the smell—the smell is very strong here,' he said to himself.
"Oh, boss, you're here." Justin arrived, holding a tray covered with a round cover. "It is amazing that you come here without calling me. I was planning to get you from your room, but you really come by yourself."
"Enough of that. Where's my seat?" Hermes wanted to say the opposite in a polite way. He wanted to reply, "No need to worry. Where should I sit then?" But his mouth said something he unexpectedly spouted out.
When his butler heard his response, he smiled. "Here, my beloved boss," he said, putting down the tray on the table and slowly pulling away from the chair, offering to be honorably seated by his boss.
"Boss...?"
"Ah, sorry, my bad," Hermes startled. "I apologize; I was thinking something earlier. What do you ask again?"
Justin suddenly stopped his movement and looked surprised.
"Nothing, sir," he replied. "Please take a seat."
Hermes sat down in the chair he offered while gently waiting for him to reach its end. Justin knew his boss wouldn't apologize, even for a simple matter. That was the first time he heard those words, making him a little bit unpleased. His eyes turned sharp like those of an eagle.
"Boss, are you really alright?" Justin asked.
"Uh, yes. I'm okay. Don't worry so much, Justin," he replied, smiling at him.
'H, he smiles!' The butler was surprised. Justin covered his mouth, and a shed of tears dropped to his eyes.
"Boss, are you really okay? What just happened during New Year's Eve? Have you reconciled your own sin and now decided to change yourself? Oh my gosh, I never thought it could happen. What could be the main reason for your sudden change? Where is my evil and cunning boss?"
"S-stop it, will ya. What kind of person do you think I am, Justin?" Hermes spluttered.
"A timid and weak boss who will use his money to annihilate his enemies. A cunt leader who will let his hired men do his dirty job and let his servants taste his shoes with their tongue whenever they commit a mistake," the butler professed, opening the cover of the tray. A special marinaded turkey appeared in front of Hermes' eyes.
Hermes's eyes turned blank with a wrinkling face.
"Oh, really? What a splendid and precise description of me," he infuriatingly responded. "Well, whatever."
Justin nodded. "Precisely. That's what you are."