The handsome butler moved with practiced, fluid grace, assisting his master in correcting his posture and teaching the proper etiquette of the table. He tied a crisp white cloth around Hermes's neck and draped a blue silk covering over his legs. Only after every crease was perfect did he give the silent permission for the meal to begin.
Hermes placed a hand on his chest, heaving a quiet sigh of relief. He was lucky—it seemed his fanatic servant hadn't detected the "imposter" soul yet.
"So, Justin," Hermes began, adjusting the cloth around his collar. "May I ask the reason for the sudden disappearance of the other servants? Is their master's behavior perhaps the cause, hmm?"
Justin chuckled softly. "Certainly. They could not sustain your ruthlessness and harsh treatment, so they decided to resign. For the record, ninety-nine percent of them fled the mansion last year."
Hermes's eyes bulged, his heart nearly stopping. Justin let out a playful giggle at the reaction. "Just kidding. Forgive me. That isn't the reason at all."
Hermes didn't find the joke funny. He wished the man would consider his blood pressure before delivering "punchlines."
"What about security?" Hermes asked, resting his right arm beside his plate while reaching for the soup bowl with the other.
Justin moved instantly, pulling the bowl closer and ladling a portion of the fragrant soup onto Hermes's plate. Then, reaching into what appeared to be a dimensional pocket within his coat, he produced a crystal glass. He filled it with dark grape juice, set it down, and retreated exactly three steps.
Hermes continued to eat, forcing himself to maintain a regal posture to avoid suspicion.
"I'm afraid to say, sir... the security forces who pledged themselves to protect you also decided to leave the mansion last week. In short, the only people living here are us," Justin said, a wide, disturbingly happy smile plastered on his face.
'Why are you so happy about that bad news?!' Hermes screamed internally, his lips pursing in a thin line of frustration.
"Well, that's that, sir," Justin added.
Hermes rubbed his chin. "Oh."
Inside, he was panicking. As expected. Another bad omen. Zero servants and zero guards meant he was a sitting duck. He raised an eyebrow, deciding to squeeze his butler for the real story.
"May I know why they resigned? Did they even ask for my permission? I won't tolerate such reprehensible actions; it is absurd and against the law of this territory." He took a slow sip of the juice, trying to look composed while cold sweat prickled his skin. "What a bunch of silly bastards. Shame on them."
'Fuck this life. My safety is on the verge of a total collapse,' he thought, his lips retracting into a grimace. He pierced a piece of meat with his fork. "Well, I suppose it might be my fault, huh?"
At those words, Justin flinched. A look of intense guilt and shame washed over the butler's sharp features. He had planned to keep the truth hidden to avoid disappointing his master again, but the weight of Hermes's "disappointment" from earlier was clearly crushing him.
Hermes locked eyes with him. "What is it? Spill it."
"It's nothing, Boss... please, continue your meal," Justin shivered.
"No. If you have something to say, say it right now. Spill it out," Hermes commanded, wiping sauce from his lip and taking a long drink of water to steady his nerves.
Justin broke. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead as he stammered. "It's about the same topic, sir. You see... it's a New Year. People want to spend time with their families. They chose their kin over their employer. You shouldn't overthink it, my Don," he explained, his eyes darting shiftily around the room.
Hermes wasn't buying it. "Tell me the truth," he demanded, pressing his lips firmly together.
Justin bent his upper body in a deep, shamed apology. "I'm sorry, my Don!"
"You're hiding something, Justin. Don't make me disappointed again," Hermes said, his voice dropping an octave. To stretch his stiff, new muscles, he cracked his neck from left to right and then began popping his knuckles one by one.
'Ah, crap. I'm not used to this body yet. I need to exercise later,' Hermes thought.
But to Justin, the sound of cracking bones was the sound of an impending execution. His face turned a sickly shade of blue. 'The Boss is angry again!'
"Raise your head. Look at me, Justin," Hermes demanded.
Justin obeyed, trembling.
"Avoiding eye contact? Appalling," Hermes remarked. "Concealing information is a crime against the clan. Do those bastards not realize their Don is in imminent danger? Am I so unfortunate that I let them leave without my permission? Now, tell me..." He picked up his glass, his eyebrows twitching. "Did I do something wrong?"
Justin clenched his fists and finally gave in, dropping to one knee. "You did nothing wrong! Your words and actions are more stupendous than any of your peers! You paid them fairly and treated them with exceptional reception! To tell you the truth... it was all my fault."
'Really? That's a relief,' Hermes thought, his trembling hands finally steadying. "Oh?" He looked down at the kneeling butler, questioning him menacingly. "What kind of 'treatment' did you give them?"
'You motherfucker,' Hermes added internally. 'I thought I was the villain here, but you're the one who cleared out my army!'
"I... I don't know how to put it, my Don," Justin stumbled.
"Elaborate. Now." Hermes's face turned darker.
"Last November, I heard from our spies that other organizations were undergoing massive recruitment. Their rookies were becoming elite soldiers in just a year," Justin explained, his voice frantic. "So, without your approval, I decided to surprise you. I mandatorily trained our servants and guards every day, nonstop. But they were useless, weak-minded rascals! They couldn't even pass a simple 'test of courage' every night."
Justin leaned closer, his eyes wild. "I created new trials. New manuals for rapid growth. In six months, the progress was successful! But then... just as we reached the peak... those morons escaped! Forgive me, Boss! I have failed you for the fourth time! You should execute me with your bare hands!"
Justin reached out, excessively grabbing Hermes's hand as he pleaded for his own death.
"Shut it, Justin! Release me!" In a blind surge of panic, Hermes flailed his arm, accidentally slapping Justin's hand away with a sharp smack.
The sudden violence echoed in the kitchen. Hermes's heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. He stared at his own hand in horror, realizing he had just struck the most dangerous man in the mansion. To his surprise, the physical rejection seemed to act like a bucket of cold water on the butler's hysteria. Justin immediately withdrew, his posture collapsing into one of profound apology.
"I am sorry again, my Don," he whispered, hanging his head so low his black hair veiled his eyes.
"I won't kill you, bastard. I won't," Hermes managed to say, his voice thin as he tried to mask his terror with the mask of a tired aristocrat. He covered his face with his palm, heaving a ragged sigh. "But this scenario is unacceptable. What will happen to me now? Who will guard and protect me in this world if you've chased everyone away? What can we do now?"
"Don't worry, my Don." Justin clenched his fist upward, his green eyes shimmering with a delightful, predatory light. "It was already settled last year. I already disposed of those traitors, to be honest. Not only that, I made sure that all of the assassins sent by our enemies were annihilated."
'What the heck? You're too vicious!'—the words screamed in Hermes's mind, but he swallowed them down. He was terrified that if he showed any real mercy or shock, Justin would realize he wasn't the "cunning" leader he worshipped.
Silence returned to the dining hall as Hermes tried to focus on the food, though it now tasted like cardboard.
"My Don, I almost forgot. It is great timing to report this news," Justin said, pulling a folded parchment from his vest. "My apprentice maid, who left this morning, gave me this letter. She might have already reached her home. This letter is solidified only for you. Want me to read it for you?"
Hermes passionately sliced into a portion of the turkey, casting a wary glare at the butler. "Wait, an apprentice of yours?"
"Yes, my Don. Out of all the servants, she was the best—the only one who actually finished the training," Justin confirmed.
"That surprises me. Someone actually survived your 'training'?" Hermes remarked, trying to sound bored. "Then why did she suddenly decide to leave?"
Justin scratched his cheek, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. "Umm, actually, she didn't want to leave, but she had an important task to finish at her home. To be honest, I planned to make her your exclusive maid. She has the ability to be a promotion to that job. That way, whenever I go for a hunt to massacre our enemies, she could be there for you at all times as a meat shield. But never mind. Let's skip it."
'Meat shield? What?!' Hermes's eyes opened wide, his fork hovering in mid-air.
"But to be frank," Justin added, his tone turning gossipy, "she might be using that as an excuse to escape your hands. I know you remember what happened last eve. Oh, my Don... how romantic you were that night. You performed a clarifying performance I won't dare forget. Yet, the problem occurred. My apprentice rejected your love and pushed you away. I witnessed how you easily stole an important thing from her. This Justin here is truly impressed."
"Tuck our lips? What are you saying?" Hermes's eyes trembled, his face heating up from sheer confusion.
"You stole her first kiss, my Don. She called you a pervert and a molester under her breath. You just replied with a disappointed tone: 'How boring, just leave if you don't want that.' Umm... well, that's that," Justin explained, breaking a turkey leg and placing it on Hermes's plate.
"What? Did I really... kiss her? Seriously?" Hermes's hand shook. He hadn't been here last night! "Crap, let's just forget about her then. Forget whatever you saw that night," he demanded, desperate to bury the awkward revelation.
Hermes grabbed his glass and gulped down the water until it was empty. "Change the topic. Please."
"Hmm... Men are like beasts ready to eat their prey when they see a desire. It is part of your genes, I think. Having the characteristics of a womanizer from your father—temptation and lust. You are the 'sole survivor,' after all. I will try my best to forget the event, my Don. But I pledged to you five years ago: I will always be with you until my last breath. You are the best among your peers."
Hermes froze. The phrase 'sole survivor' felt like a physical blow. "Wait, stop right there." He spat a small portion of oiled meat into a napkin. "I'm confused. 'Sole survivor'? That's ridiculous. Do you mean the only surviving member of the organization?"
He let out a forced, nervous giggle, shaking his head in denial. "You're telling me my relatives and siblings are dead? You're a funny guy, Justin. Stop joking around."
Justin tilted his head, his face a mask of genuine confusion as he refilled Hermes's glass with grape juice. "Fufu~, my Don, you are funny too." He took two steps back, his expression turning strangely serene. "Of course, you already know the answer. You are the only one still alive in your family. Your parents, elder siblings, and other relatives... they are all dead. They died during the war between Archnemesis and Corleon five years ago."
Hermes flinched, his entire body turning to stone. A wave of nausea hit him so hard he almost puked, but he held his breath and swallowed it back. This was devastating. This contradicted the entire plot of the game he knew. In his memory, the family lived until the end of the story.
"Y-you're joking, right?" Hermes squeaked.
"How ironic." Justin placed an arm on his chin. "You were so happy that they died back then, but now you act worried. I guess since we buried them five years ago, you have simply forgotten. Oh, I get it!"
Justin grinned and gave a thumbs up. "Rest assured, my Don. They are dead, sleeping in their tombs where the worms eat their flesh. Please, let the happiness you felt at their death move you forward. It's a new year; you should stop your hobby of digging up their tombs to make fun of the corpses, okay? Change yourself for the good of the organization, but stay who you are for your family. And sir... why do you look so worried?"
Hermes's mouth hung agape, unable to form a single word. He was standing in the ruins of a story he no longer recognized, serving as the master of a monster who thought desecrating graves was a "hobby."
"Umm..." Hermes coughed twice, trying to reclaim his composure. "There is nothing to be afraid of, Justin. I was just... uh, surprised by how good the breakfast was. Not only that, I was too exhausted from last night. Don't be bothered," he lied, desperate to deflect the butler's sharp intuition.
"Oh, I see. The documentation and relevant paperwork you signed earlier made you exhausted, huh? I guess that's one of the reasons why you look so wary," Justin chortled in joy, seemingly satisfied with the explanation.
Hermes gulped. This butler was a landmine. One wrong step, one slip of the tongue, and he would meet his maker. All of this bizarre, life-threatening tension was the fault of that "Stump G." He clenched his teeth, his trembling hand picking up the glass of water to steady himself. He swallowed a breath of air, forcing his heart rate to slow.
"I'm done eating. I need to go back to my room," he said, moving to stand.
"Oh, so early, my Don? By the way, what are you planning to do today?" Justin moved in to assist, expertly removing the white cloth from Hermes's neck. He pulled a silk handkerchief and leaned in, gently wiping a stray crumb from Hermes's cheek. "I know you're scheming something. Please, feel free to spill it out to make me spout with pride."
Hermes tilted his head. "What do you mean, Justin?"
"Well, my Don, you are the new head of the Archnemesis Family," his servant answered simply.
"Wait, that's not the answer I wanted to hear," Hermes corrected, feeling the weight of the title.
"Oh, well, sir. Are you going to continue your cruel works in the village?" Justin asked.
"I don't get it." Hermes placed a hand on his chest, a look of genuine perplexity crossing his face.
Justin moved even closer, fixing Hermes's collar with meticulous care before smoothing out his sleeves. "There, you're ready. If you want to go to the village, please let me know, okay?" He turned away to begin clearing the table.
'Wait, a village?' Hermes contemplated the word. "Oh. The village?"
Justin's brows curved upward as he glanced back at his master. "Yes, your wrecked village under your protection. You always terrorize your territory to gain prestige and help them remember who is in charge of that place. You've even hired a mercenary group to collect the protection money from them, though," Justin simpered, stacking plates and glasses onto the tray with a rhythmic clinking.
"What? I did that?" Hermes rested his chin on his hand, staring out the window at the distant landscape. "Hmm, let me ask you something. Just... just tell me straight to my face. If I go to that place, what might possibly happen to me?"
"You are a hundred percent going to get tortured and beaten to death if they catch you alive," Justin replied cheerfully. "There are a lot of people who loathe you. Regardless of your wealth, several men have been plotting to assassinate you for the last couple of years since you took the throne."
Hermes's legs began to tremble. He had known the character was a villain, but he had no idea his reputation was this toxic. He was living at the center of a target. He stood up abruptly and leaned his back against the wall for support.
"Seriously?" Hermes bit his lip, his posture awkward against the cold stone.
"Umm, yes, my Don. By the way, I know it's kind of rude to ask, but why have you become so interested in that village? Why so many questions?" Justin offered him another glass of grape juice.
"W-What?" Hermes took the glass and took a sharp sip. "Do I have no right to ask about my own subjects?" he asked with a flicker of feigned annoyance.
Justin stepped closer. "Hmmm, oh, you do. I remember now—we lost contact with our spies in that place last week. Let me recall what I should report." He pressed a palm to his forehead and sighed. "My bad, let's just forget those useless pricks. It's not worth reporting yet. I already killed the primary spy because of his false report," he confirmed casually.
"You killed who? Never mind. Tell me anyway. I want more information about the villagers," Hermes insisted, hammering his right hand against the wall to emphasize his point. He ignored the casual mention of murder, his focus entirely on the village.
Justin hung his head in a mock show of submission. "Now, proceed. How are the people living there?" Hermes asked.
"I was just teasing you earlier, but to think you're so keen to accumulate information is very interesting," Justin mused. "May I ask why you're so curious about those commoners? Do you have business with them today? Are you planning another round of cruelty to increase their fear and respect for your power, my Don? If yes, I fully suggest calling your mercenaries residing on the island of Malta to raid the place. Just say the word. ASAP."
Justin was practically vibrating with the hope of a massacre.
It was the complete opposite of what Hermes wanted. Why was he so interested in that place? Because in the game [[Mafioso]], that village was the primary site for character development for the female protagonists. Any of the twelve heroines who visited there would gain massive experience and attributes.
While the original Hermes didn't care about the commoners, Aljen knew the village was a goldmine of plot points—and a death trap for villains. There were Ancient Weapons buried within the Island of Sicily, and one of those artifacts was located directly beneath his territory. The heroines needed those weapons to stop the upcoming Demon Invasion from the Middle East.
However, Hermes was anxious. The plot was clearly diverging from the game he knew. Death flags were popping up everywhere, and four major plot points were centered in that hostile village.
He drained the juice until the glass was empty and set it firmly on the table. "You see, I thought about this last night. I've reached a final solution. I think it is the right time to stop messing with those morons. Playing around with them makes me want to puke; their screams of suffering have become... boring. We are calling it off. Period."
"What, my Don?" Justin tilted his head, his smile faltering. "But we have the mercenaries ready to strike them down for good."
"Then void the contract," Hermes commanded. "Now."
Justin's eyes snapped wide, his hands flying to his mouth in a gesture of utter horror. The silver tray in his other hand rattled violently against his thigh.
"My Don... if you do that, how will the world ever know your cruelness? How will they fear the shadow of the Archnemesis on this island?" Justin's voice wavered, his eyes searching Hermes's face for a sign of a joke. "Sir, what truly happened last eve? Are you still... yourself?"
"Yep, I am still myself." Hermes stood tall, masking the cold sweat running down his spine with a mask of regal dignity. He placed an arm across his chest, projecting an aura of absolute certainty. "Hermes Archnemesis."
The atmosphere in the room turned arctic. Justin fell silent, his head bowing. Then, Hermes watched in horror as the butler's frame began to shiver—not with fear, but with a rising, violent anger. Justin's eyes bled into a deep, supernatural red, and a dark aura began to coil around his limbs like black flames dancing on a torch.
'What the hell is going on?' Hermes asked himself, his knees nearly buckling.
Justin stepped forward, the floorboards groaning. "Did someone sneak past my radar? Did some pathetic rat brainwash you, my Don? Or perhaps... an unknown entity has possessed this body?" His voice dropped to a guttural growl that shook the glassware on the table. "I will tear your soul apart to find the parasite hiding within your flesh!"
"Justin, you're wrong! Calm down!" Hermes replied, his heart hammering.
Justin's veins popped along his neck, his lips retracting into a snarl. "That is not what I want to hear! The Don I know would never speak of peace! You are an imposter!"
He began to weave his hands through the air, shadows bleeding from the corners of the room as he prepared to cast his magic spell [Agenda] to search the area and purge the "intruder" from Hermes's mind.
In that moment of life-or-death pressure, a fragment of Aljen's gaming knowledge surfaced. He remembered a hidden developer note in the character's setting: The original Hermes frequently used physical discipline to 'reset' his fanatic servant's mania. Hermes didn't know if it would actually work in this reality, but he had no other choice. He lunged forward and, with a bold, ringing crack, he delivered a sharp slap to the butler's cheek before the magic could reach its peak.
The effect was instantaneous. The dark aura dissipated, and the dispirited Justin blinked, his eyes returning to their normal green. He clicked his tongue, stunned into silence by the familiar, cold violence of his master.
"I told you, you moron. It's me. I'm still myself, stupid! Your boss!" Hermes barked, his voice steady despite his trembling insides. He ordered Justin to sit and listen.
"But my Don? Are you seriously want to do it? Are you really still sane?" Justin condemned. "If it was not because of elixir or manipulating skill, what could be the reason for that change?"
Hermes leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. He needed a perfect alibi to keep this monster from suspecting him again. "Justin, think. I am tired of this petty mafia game because it is inefficient. Do you really think I'm becoming 'good'? No. I'm bored of being a target."
"A... target, my Don?"
"Exactly. We have no servants, no security, and our rivals are watching. If I continue as 'Don' now, I am playing into their hands. My 'teenage life' is a smoke screen. If the world believes I've retired and disbanded the family, they will lower their guard. I will become a phantom. I will vanish from their radar and build a new power in the shadows while the Corleon and Verdugo destroy each other over empty territory. It is the ultimate deception."
Justin's eyes widened to the size of saucers. "A... strategic retreat? To become the wolf in sheep's clothing?"
"Precisely. Why rule a village of screaming morons when I can eventually rule the world from the darkness where no one expects me? Messing with them now is a waste of my genius. I want a 'peaceful' life on the surface so I can prepare the ultimate massacre in the deep. Do you understand, or do I need to strike you again?"
Justin began to tremble, but this time it was with a terrifying, ecstatic joy. He unintentionally dropped the tray, breaking the plates and spilling beverages as he tried to grasp the 'brilliance' of the plan.
"F-forgive me, my Don! My narrow mind could not grasp your complexity! You aren't abandoning the tradition... you are evolving it! To live as an ordinary teenager while plotting the world's end... it is the most sadistic, brilliant scheme I have ever heard!"
"Exactly," Hermes sighed, leaning back. "So, we disband. We clear the board. No more 'Don' status for now. Just a mob character in a quiet village."
"I see! I shall help you maintain this 'peaceful' facade, my Don! I will protect your secret with my life!" Justin declared, kneeling in devotion.
Hours later, Hermes walked through his garden, passing the beautiful white roses. He sat by the fountain, looking at the clear blue sky. He had successfully avoided the "Villain" death flag for now, but by promising a "Darker Empire" to Justin, he had accidentally set a new timer on his own life.
"Now what?" he asked the water. He had the lead to become a normal teenager, but in this world, 'normal' was the most dangerous role of all.