Chapter 2 - The Head Butler Orvin’s Work Journal
◆ Holy Calendar Year 1009, March 4 (Rain)
Another maid quit today.
It seemed she had been subjected to cruel harassment by that utterly hopeless excuse for a young master—Lord Hollow—and she handed me her resignation in tears.
The food was too bland, her face was unpleasant, she lacked initiative—complaints upon complaints.
The young master’s arrogance only grew worse with each passing day.
Why the master of the house never scolded that fool of a son was beyond my understanding.
Had the mistress still been in good health, none of this would have happened.
Mistress Layla had been the sun of the Heisenberg family. Ever since the day she collapsed, the gears of this household had been thrown out of order.
I still regretted it deeply.
Why had I allowed her to go alone to slay the Heaven-Eater that day?
Even if I had to plead, even if it meant defying orders, I should have accompanied her.
I would carry the weight of that foolish decision for the rest of my life.
◆ Holy Calendar Year 1009, March 5 (Clear Skies)
That spiteful, good-for-nothing young master—Lord Hollow—came to me requesting swordsmanship training.
Frankly, I was astonished.
For the embodiment of sloth to willingly seek out sword training...
What’s more, unbelievably, he actually asked me politely at first.
When I inquired what had prompted this, his answer was, “Just on a whim.”
For a fleeting moment I thought could it be...?, but no—he was still the same old wastrel as ever.
Nevertheless, we ended up arranging a mock battle at the training grounds.
I saw this as an opportunity.
A chance to cross blades with Lord Hollow was rare indeed.
Through these lessons, I hoped he might come to understand the joy, the beauty, and the depth of the sword.
If so, perhaps it could be the first step toward reforming him.
But—I lost.
I was defeated by Lord Hollow, who had only just held a sword for the first time today.
I, who had been born without any talent for magic, had made my way in life relying solely on the sword.
That pride, that conviction... my very existence until now... all of it was denied in that instant.
Just as despair was about to engulf me, something unthinkable happened.
That arrogant Lord Hollow praised my sword.
In his words, I glimpsed the image of the mistress.
That voice filled with warmth and compassion—it was exactly like Mistress Layla’s.
Could it be... he had truly changed?
No... it was far too soon to make that judgment.
At the very least, from tomorrow onward, we would begin full-fledged swordsmanship training.
◆ Holy Calendar Year 1009, March 6 (Sunny)
Today, Lord Hollow’s sword training began in earnest.
We started with observational practice.
I demonstrated the forms as an example, and the young master was to imitate them.
My initial plan was to continue with this for the first month.
However... Lord Hollow instantly grasped the forms I had shown.
After seeing them just once, he replicated them flawlessly.
I had already known it, but it was clear once again—he was a genius.
If not for that one fatal flaw in his character, he would be a man to represent his entire generation.
That morning, we focused on basic drills. In the afternoon, we headed to Mount Garan, which the Heisenberg family owned.
It was here, in her youth, that the mistress had devoted herself to training.
Here, Lord Hollow was to attempt the rock-splitting.
The sword is an incredibly delicate weapon.
One must read the grain of the rock precisely and strike at the correct angle.
Otherwise, the blade would chip in an instant.
The mistress, a Sword Saint, had accomplished the rock-splitting after only a single month of holding a sword.
If it was Lord Hollow... perhaps even sooner.
With that in mind, I demonstrated the technique.
The young master simply nodded with an “I see,” and in a single stroke, he cleaved the rock in two.
He sliced through it as if it were tofu.
What was truly terrifying was the cut surface—so smooth it seemed crystalline in its beauty.
Unable to suppress my excitement and curiosity, I led him to the largest rock on the mountain—the Garan Jewel.
Breaking the usual training rules, I allowed him to use magic, and had him attempt a full-power test slash.
The result... was staggering.
Not only was the Garan Jewel before us sliced clean in half, but the mountain beyond it as well.
The master’s magical power combined with the mistress’s physical strength—Lord Hollow’s body housed the power of a god.
My heart leapt.
How far could the young master’s strength go?
I wanted—no, I needed—to see the limits of his journey.
◆ Holy Calendar Year 1010, March 6 (Sunny)
For the first time in nearly a year, I took up my pen.
During this time, I had spent my days training alongside Lord Hollow.
The young master had changed. He had been earnest toward his sword.
His inborn laziness and arrogance had all but vanished, replaced by a humble and steady dedication to hard work.
I too swung my sword without holding back.
In the days that had once been a mere repetition of habit, something like tension—purpose—was born.
In the sepia-toned landscape of my life, vivid colors began to seep in.
I even found myself wishing that these days might last forever.
But... it seemed that would not be the case.
Tomorrow, I would most likely be defeated.
I could not explain why, but I felt a certainty about it.
In just this single year, Lord Hollow had grown unrecognizably strong.
Against an ordinary swordsman, there would no longer be a contest.
Spirit, stamina, physical strength—his body housed a god.
At present, I forbade him from using mana to enhance his body so that he might focus purely on the sword.
Yet I could not help but wonder... what would happen if that mana were unleashed?
The thought alone set my chest ablaze.
I had already prepared my letter of resignation.
That young man was a genius poised to lay his hand upon the summit of strength.
There was nothing more someone of my limited skill could teach him.
Having a half-measure such as myself remain at his side would only hinder him.
And so, I resolved to step away.
In the end, I had simply lacked the eyes to see.
Looking back, what happened a year ago had likely been nothing more than the throes of youth.
He had gone a bit too far, true, but boys are often that way.
When I was young, I too, was mischievous, and I lost count of how many times my father’s fist found my head.
Considering Lord Hollow’s sad circumstances—his life without love—it had been inevitable that he would lash out as he did.
What angered me more was not his behavior, but our own failings.
Why had we never scolded him?
Why had we not faced him properly?
Why had we not stood at his eye level?
As head butler, I could only feel shame.
Lord Hollow would surely become a fine lord.
His strict self-discipline, his gentle consideration toward the maids—lately, he was beyond reproach in all things.
Though his manner of speech still carried a sharp edge, there was now genuine affection and sincerity within it.
It had been forty years since I first entered the service of House Heisenberg, and this would be the final entry in my work journal.
My foolish words of scorn toward Lord Hollow—these I would leave as a stain upon my life.
No... I would keep them as the greatest glory of my life, treasured until my last day.
Let me write honestly—
This past year I spent with Lord Hollow had been so joyful I forgot the passage of time.
It had been a year of drawing close to the very essence of swordsmanship.
I had recalled the days of my youth, when I swung my sword with all my heart.
In my withered old frame, hot blood had once again surged.
Let me write it once more, deliberately—
This year had been the finest of my life.
Thank you, Lord Hollow.
And... farewell.
◆ Holy Calendar Year 1010, March 7 (Clear Skies)
Tonight, I once again take up my pen, swallowing my shame.
To state it plainly—just as I had expected, I was defeated.
It was a pure and simple loss in the art of the sword—no excuses to be made.
Strangely, I felt no regret.
In fact, I was astonished at how refreshing it felt.
The swordsmanship I had devoted my life to honing had been truly inherited by Lord Hollow.
If it was the young master, he would surely take my sword to even greater heights.
As a swordsman, there could be no greater happiness.
I had been on my way to perform my final duty—to hand my resignation to the master—when something I could scarcely believe occurred.
[Hey. What time tomorrow?]
Lord Hollow invited me to tomorrow’s training.
He had seen through everything.
He had known I meant to step down.
And yet, he invited me to train again—not in a way that would wound the paltry pride of this old man, but with nothing more than those simple words: “What time tomorrow?”
How refined... how tactfully indirect those words were.
In that moment, I was certain—Lord Hollow was destined to be the ruler of the next age.
To fail to answer such a call would be unworthy of a man.
Until the day this body crumbled to dust, I would pledge my eternal loyalty to him.
—Head Butler Orvin Dunkelt
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