The moment those words left my mouth—
"Why are you still here?"—
the maid froze.
Her fingers tightened around the tray slightly.
For a second, she simply stood there silently with her head lowered.
Fenrir glanced between us lazily before resting his head back onto the floor like this conversation had absolutely nothing to do with him.
Lucky bastard.
Meanwhile, the maid looked like she was standing before a judge awaiting execution.
"…Because," she answered quietly, "I belong to Young Master."
I blinked.
"…Excuse me?"
She flinched immediately after speaking, probably realizing how strange that sounded out loud.
"I-I mean—!"
Her face turned pale.
"T-The Patriarch assigned me to serve Young Master several years ago…"
Her voice grew softer with every word.
"And when Young Master was expelled from House Valtor… I was transferred together with you."
Ah.
Right.
The Patriarch did say something about "taking the maid with me."
At the time I was too busy getting punched through walls to care.
Now that I thought about it carefully…
That was weird.
Very weird.
Because noble households didn't just hand servants away casually.
Servants were assets.
Especially personal attendants trained to serve noble bloodlines.
Yet the Patriarch threw her at me like unwanted baggage.
Still, if she's here because of that I rather let her go then staying here.
"You still have chance, What'll you do?"
"Pardon…?"
"What'll you do?"
The question lingered heavy in the air, sharper than a blade.
She blinked rapidly, as though the words themselves were unthinkable. Her lips parted, closed, then parted again, but no sound came out.
I stepped closer as she flinched slightly back at the closing distance.
"You followed Damian Valtor because of his name. Because of the privileges it granted you. That's gone now."
Her knees buckled, but she caught herself on the bedframe, clutching it so tightly her knuckles whitened.
"N-No… Young Master, I…"
I crouched before her, my voice dropping low, calm, almost cold.
"Answer me honestly. If I told you to leave now—to walk away and save yourself—would you do it?"
She shook her head so fiercely her hair whipped across her face.
"I won't! Please don't send me away, Young Master! I… I chose to serve you. Even if you lose everything, even if you're cast aside… I'll stay."
Her words trembled, but they struck with unexpected force.
For a long moment, I just stared at her. My chest tightened, not with pity, but with something sharper. Trust was dangerous in this world. Loyalty could be a dagger in disguise. And yet… she was all I had left.
I reached out, brushing away the tears at the corner of her eyes that were ready to spill. My voice softened, though the steel beneath it remained.
"Then you'll stay as my responsibility. Not the Patriarch's. Not the family's. Mine."
Her lips quivered, and she nodded, bowing so low her forehead touched the floor.
"Yes, Young Master."
I straightened, a grim smile tugged at my lips.
The Patriarch thought he'd cast me into ruin. That I'd crawl back on my belly, begging for scraps.
But he'd made one mistake.
He'd let me go.
And Damian Valtor, disgrace of the family or not, still remembered every detail of the story that was supposed to bury him.
I had no intention of playing the trash extra villain's part any longer.
----
The next few days passed quietly.
For the most part, I stayed inside the hotel recovering while my body slowly healed back to normal.
Apparently getting punched by a monster wearing human skin had long-term side effects.
Who knew?
The bruising disappeared quickly thanks to healing magic, but the soreness lingered stubbornly beneath the surface. Every morning felt like I'd been run over by a truck during the night.
Still, compared to dying?
I'd take it.
Honestly, there were far bigger problems waiting for me anyway.
And the biggest one of all was—
Money.
"Lena!"
"Yes, Young Master?"
Lena looked up from where she sat on the couch brushing Fenrir's fur.
The oversized traitor had completely adapted to hotel life already. He was sprawled across half the couch with his tongue hanging out happily while receiving premium treatment.
Meanwhile, I was having a financial crisis.
"It's about my money, Lena!" I declared dramatically. "Money! My rapidly disappearing beautiful money!"
Fenrir opened one eye lazily before going back to enjoying life.
Ungrateful beast.
Lena blinked calmly.
"…Good morning to you too, Young Master."
"This isn't a joke."
"It's eight in the evening."
"That's not the point."
I grabbed both sides of my head in despair.
"I can handle getting beaten half to death."
Lena raised an eyebrow.
"Questionable statement, but please continue Young Master."
"I can even accept being disowned by my family."
"…Another questionable statement."
"But my money?" I pointed at myself in horror. "My sweet, innocent money did nothing wrong!"
Lena stared at me silently.
"You don't understand," I continued seriously. "Without wealth, I'm basically a commoner now."
Technically, that was exactly what I was.
A disowned noble without official backing.
Socially speaking, I'd fallen straight off the aristocratic ladder.
Which was terrifying.
Because somewhere along the line, Damian's noble habits had started infecting my brain.
I liked soft beds now.
Expensive tea.
Warm baths.
Expensive Good clothes.
Apparently once you experienced luxury, your standards became permanently corrupted.
Tragic.
"A very handsome commoner," I muttered bitterly. "But still a commoner."
Lena slowly lowered the brush.
"…Young Master."
'If I can't recklessly waste money on unnecessary things anymore, then what's even the point of transmigrating into a noble body?' I thought bitterly in my head.
"That might be the most ridiculous thing you've said this week."
"Only this week?"
"There are still four days left."
I stared at her in betrayal.
Meanwhile, Lena let out a long-suffering sigh before setting the brush aside completely.
Honestly, compared to when we first met at the my room and in this hotel, she'd relaxed considerably around me over the past few days.
The terrified trembling was mostly gone now.
Though occasionally she still looked at me like she expected me to suddenly transform back into Old Damian and start throwing furniture.
Can't really blame her.
"I already handled most of the financial situation," she said calmly.
"…You did?"
"Yes."
I blinked.
Hold on.
What?
Lena stood up and walked toward the small kitchenette before continuing naturally.
"While you were unconscious for two days after getting punched through a wall by the Patriarch—"
There it was.
That subtle sarcasm again.
I was starting to notice it more lately.
"—I contacted a legal firm specializing in noble asset disputes."
I straightened slightly.
Wait.
Seriously?
"They're currently helping secure whatever remains under your personal ownership before House Valtor freezes everything connected to the family."
"…How much did we save?"
Lena thought for a moment.
"Enough to avoid homelessness."
"…That answer scares me."
"It should."
She opened a folder resting on the counter and pulled out several documents.
"I liquidated most non-essential properties registered directly under your name."
My eyes widened.
"You owned three apartments in the capital, two luxury vehicles, shares in several entertainment clubs,…"
Lena continued calmly.
"The legal firm also established temporary shell companies and asset trusts to protect your remaining liquid funds."
I stared at her blankly.
"…Lena."
"Yes?"
"Why are you so competent?"
She looked mildly confused.
"I was your financial attendant for three years."
"…I had a financial attendant?"
"You had four."
I nearly choked.
What kind of spoiled rich villain lifestyle was Damian living?
Lena continued speaking while preparing tea.
"Most of your accessible accounts are frozen for investigation now, but the protected assets should remain untouched."
"How long until I regain access?"
"Several months."
I grimaced.
"That long?"
"Possibly a year depending on how aggressively House Valtor pursues reclamation."
Pain.
Emotional damage.
Actual suffering.
Still…
Considering I expected to become completely broke, this outcome was far better than anticipated.
"…Seriously," I muttered. "When did you even manage all this?"
I asked her again, knowing the answer that she would give me.
Lena gave me a flat look over her shoulder.
"When you were unconscious for two days after getting beaten unconscious by the Patriarch, Young Master."
Yep.
Definitely sarcasm.
I stared at her suspiciously.
"You've gotten bolder lately."
"You've gotten less unbearable lately."
"…Fair."
Fenrir barked once as if agreeing with her.
Traitor.
Again.
I leaned back into the couch slowly while processing everything.
So financially speaking, I wasn't ruined.
Not immediately anyway.
That solved one major issue.
Unfortunately…
The much bigger problem still remained.
Strength.
Right now, my current rank was only [D].
Pathetic by noble standards.
Especially for someone with [SS-Rank Potential].
"…Yeah," I muttered quietly."I'm still completely screwed."
Lena paused slightly at my tone.
Then after a moment, she asked carefully—
"…Young Master."
"Hm?"
"What exactly are you planning to do now?"
The room became quieter.
Even Fenrir lifted his head slightly.
I stared at the ceiling silently for several long seconds.
What was I planning?
Survive.
Get stronger.
Avoid my scripted death.
Prevent the apocalypse somehow.
Fix Damian's reputation, it's not going to be easy but I wasn't going to kiss others ass either.
I'll do it my way, which is more efficient then the old Damian ways.
I'll just fill you the details later, no need to overload your brain with information that you definitely will forget.
Possibly stop the protagonist from hating me enough to kill me later.
Simple things, really.
"…First," I said slowly, "I need money."
Lena nodded.
"Then?"
"I need complete the 500 hours community service as punishment issued by academy and gave them 250,000 Credits of compenstion."
Those greedy basterd, looting from someone who's already has nothing left at all.
Another nod.
"And after that?"
I smiled faintly.
"…I'll head back to academy."