The first light of dawn crept into the room, laying its golden touch upon Dong's face. He opened his eyes, not with the laziness of sleep, but with the sharpness of one who had waited for this moment.
Today is not just another day. Today is the beginning.
Dong rose from his bed, the cool air brushing against his skin like a silent challenge. He straightened his robes, his movements calm and precise. A leader does not rush. A leader does not waste words. A leader acts with intention.
"Maid," he called, his voice steady.
The door slid open, and the maid bowed deeply. "Yes, young master. Do you have any order?"
"Go and tell the head butler that I summon him," Dong said without lifting his gaze from the window.
The maid hesitated, her fingers tightening on her apron. "I… I will try."
Dong turned his eyes to her—dark, unwavering, and quiet as a still lake. "No. Do not try. I said, do it. When a command is given, it is to be carried out, not doubted."
His tone was not cruel. It was firm—the kind of firmness that shapes discipline, not fear. The maid bowed lower. "Yes, young master. I will bring him."
As her footsteps faded, Dong clasped his hands behind his back and looked at the horizon. The palace was waking; servants hurried like ants, preparing for another day where the strong would flaunt their titles and the weak would be ignored.
But strength is not only the muscle of the body. It is the clarity of the mind. A man who can move hearts and direct hands is stronger than one who can only swing a blade.
If I cannot command a single servant with my words, he thought, how will I command a kingdom one day?
The first move of a great plan is never loud. It begins quietly—like a seed beneath the soil.
After a few minutes, the maid returned and knocked softly. "May I come in, young master?"
"Yes," Dong replied, his eyes still on the morning light. "And why have you come back alone? Where is Lio, the head butler?"
The maid hesitated. "Young master… Lio said he will not come for a weakling's order."
Dong turned his head slowly, his voice calm but carrying a weight. "Where is he now, and what is he doing?"
"Currently, he is in Room Eight, young master. He is just sitting there… relaxing."
Dong nodded once. "Alright. I will meet him myself. Clean my room while I am away."
"Yes, young master," the maid said quickly, bowing low.
As Dong walked toward Room Eight, the palace seemed to hold its breath. Maids paused in their duties, househelps whispered to one another, their eyes following the young master who had long been ignored. There was no anger in his steps, no rush—just a steady stride that made even silence seem heavier.
Finally, Dong reached Room Eight. He opened the door without a word. Inside, Lio sat lazily on a cushioned chair, a cup of tea in his hand.
Dong stepped in, and with a quiet motion, he closed and locked the door behind him.
Lio's posture straightened immediately. "Sir… why are you here?"
"I summoned you," Dong said, his tone smooth but edged. "Why didn't you come?"
Lio met his gaze, his voice rough. "Because I do not follow the orders of a weakling."
Dong's eyes darkened, but his lips curved into a thin smile. "A weakling, is it?" he whispered, stepping closer. "Then watch carefully… and I will show you what a so-called weakling can do."
Dong slowly pulled out a heavy metal bat from behind his back, its surface gleaming faintly in the morning light. He had hidden it well, waiting for the moment it would speak louder than words.
Lio scoffed, his lips curling with arrogance. "Do you think you can harm me with that? Ordinary butlers and maids may lack strength, but I am the head butler. I have mastered three martial arts techniques."
Dong's gaze stayed cold. "Then let us see," he said, his tone calm as steel.
With a sudden burst, Lio lunged forward, unleashing his Tornado Flying Kick. His body spun in the air, a fierce wind trailing his legs as the wide room echoed with the sound of his movement.
Dong gripped the bat with one hand, steady as a rock. As the kick descended, the bat met the strike with a sharp clang. The force traveled back into Lio's bones, and a sickening crack echoed—his leg fractured instantly.
Lio fell back, face twisted in pain. "You bastard! You dare to strike the head butler?"
Dong stepped forward, voice cold and steady. "This is only the beginning."
Lio roared, his fists glowing faintly as he unleashed an Invisible Punch. The air trembled as it slammed into Dong's face. Blood traced the corner of Dong's lips, but he only smiled. "Ah… this pain feels good. Hit harder if you can."
Angered, Lio used Bear Grabbing, his arms wrapping around Dong with crushing strength. But before he could tighten his grip, the bat swung once more—this time striking his back with brutal force. Bones snapped, a groan escaped his lips, and his body faltered.
"P-please… Master Dong," Lio gasped, his pride shattered, "forgive me… I beg you."
Dong's eyes showed no mercy. "Too late. Regret should come before betrayal, not after."
The bat came down one final time, crashing against Lio's skull. The sharp crack of breaking bone filled the air, and blood spilled onto the polished floor.
Lio screamed so loud that it reached the corridors. Within moments, the third prince and several knights stormed into Room Eight—only to find Dong standing calmly, bat in hand, while the once-arrogant head butler lay broken and bleeding at his feet.
Within an hour, a meeting with the royal council and the king was arranged. The news of the head butler's state had already shaken the palace.
The king's voice thundered the moment Dong entered. "You bastard! Why did you do this?"
The council leader, stern and sharp-eyed, added, "Dong, you broke the law. Such violence cannot go unpunished. One month in prison should teach you discipline."
Dong stood firm, his gaze unwavering. "I acted because the head butler dared to insult the Fourth Prince of the Golden Sword Continent. He called me a weakling and openly said he would not follow my orders."
The council leader narrowed his eyes. "Do you have any proof of this claim?"
The king crossed his arms. "Proof is what matters here."
Dong nodded once. "I do. Maid, step forward."
The maid bowed lightly. "Yes, my lord. The head butler spoke those exact words to me, and I carried them to you as he ordered."
Dong looked back at the council. "There. The proof is before you. No need to waste time with further debate."
The council exchanged glances. The leader finally said, "You may go. But heed this warning—if you raise your hand against the vice head butler next, you will spend a month in prison."
Dong's lips curved faintly. "I see."
As the session ended, Dong turned to the maid. "Thank you for speaking the truth."
The maid lowered her head. "This is my duty, young master. Loyalty is not a favor—it is a promise."
Dong walked out of the council hall, the corridors filled with murmurs.
The First Prince and Second Princess watched him from a distance, their laughter low and mocking. "Soon he'll taste prison walls," one sneered.
Dong glanced at them, raised his middle finger casually, and said, "Keep dreaming, bastards."
They looked away, pretending not to hear, but their smiles faded.
Dong's steps grew firmer as he headed toward his next target: the vice head butler.