Haman, the butler, left the office. Watching him go, Yohan tapped the armrest of his chair.

'Hmm.'

He pondered for a moment.

'... The Count hired someone that inept as a butler?'

No matter how he thought about it, it made no sense. The Count was an exceedingly meticulous man who always paid attention to even the smallest chores. He would never handle a staffing decision carelessly.

'Did he just pick anyone because it wasn't for his own household?'

That seemed unlikely. Yohan was far too important to the Count right now. The Count had to tread carefully around him; he would not want to offend Yohan over some trivial mistake. He had no choice but to do his best in matters concerning Yohan. He had to bring his wife back to life, after all.

And yet he had hired such a careless butler. Yohan simply could not understand it. After pondering briefly, he rummaged through the stack of documents.

'Found it.'

The documents the Count had given him included the mansion's staff roster. Yohan examined the information on Haman.

Haman von Legash. The youngest son of House Legash and the top graduate of the Academy of Court Service. He was so talented that the royal household had recruited him directly.

Doubt crept over Yohan's face.

'... He's a noble? And the academy's top graduate, at that?'

Some butlers did come from noble families. The youngest sons of minor houses generally inherited no property, so they sometimes entered another noble's service. Haman was one of them.

That alone was unusual, but something else had caught Yohan's eye.

The top graduate of the Academy of Court Service.

The academy offered commoners and lesser nobles a path to advancement. Once they graduated, even commoners could enter public service. Most found employment with great nobles or performed miscellaneous duties for the royal household.

For the top graduate, however, it was a different story. They were appointed directly to a minor administrative post in the royal household. They were the best of the best.

Yohan gave an incredulous chuckle.

'That fool graduated at the top of his class?'

The gap between his first impression and what the documents said was enormous. He stared hard at the page. The portrait was an exact match for Haman's face.

'Good at his studies, but useless at the actual work?'

People like that did exist. All promise and no substance.

Yohan clicked his tongue and closed the file. Apparently, the Count had hired Haman on the strength of his grades alone.

'Sloppy work, by the Count's standards.'

The Count must have been terribly busy lately. He probably hadn't had time to handle everything perfectly. Yohan left it at that.

He had no intention of dismissing Haman, either. The man's professional competence was hardly important to him. They would only see each other a handful of times anyway. Yohan had merely been curious about the Count's hiring decision and the man named Haman.

Now all his questions were answered. The Count had been unusually careless, and Haman was simply a bungler. The moment Yohan reached that conclusion, the matter vanished from his mind entirely. Another concern took its place.

'... Horentz Marcano.'

He would be meeting the man tomorrow. His objective for this meeting was simple: make a good first impression. He needed a good relationship with House Marcano to keep his plans on track.

They were one of the royalist factions loyal to the king. The royalist houses would never recognize the Miyatro domain's autonomy. To become sovereign duke, Yohan would have to start by winning over the royalist nobles.

There were four royalist houses on the Council alone. Of those, House Marcano would be the easiest to bring over to his side. Unlike the other staunchly loyal royalists, the viscountal House Marcano acted solely in its own interests.

As befitted his merchant background, Marcano knew how to calculate profit and loss. He would probably accept Yohan's deal. Yohan knew exactly what House Marcano wanted and was confident he could use it.

Yohan read through the documents the Count had given him, reviewing the information on House Marcano one last time.

RUSTLE, RUSTLE.

For a while, nothing broke the silence but the turning of pages.

"That should do it."

Maphel’tan stretched. The arms extending to either side of him were pitch-black. At some point, he had become a Demon.

He checked outside the window. The sun had set completely.

He gazed blankly outside. Beyond the mansion walls, the streets were still filled with light. True to its nickname, the City That Never Sleeps, the royal capital was as bright at night as it was by day. Only his surroundings were steeped in pitch-black darkness.

A sudden emptiness washed over him.

"What do I do now?"

In the barony, he never had time to be bored, even at night. Raguel, Ilea, Zal’karin, Gaf, Hakain, and the others—whether they were talking, training, or doing something else, there was always a bustle around him.

The royal capital was different. Once the sun set, Maphel’tan could do nothing. He could neither leave the mansion nor explore the city. The moment he walked the streets in his Demon body, he would be a dead man.

The royal capital was full of powerful individuals, and he had to stay out of their sight. In short, he was confined to the mansion.

Maphel’tan swallowed a groan.

"... This is going to be dull for a while."

Having to squander so much time felt almost unbearably wasteful. He needed to find something he could do at night.

He stared blankly up at the ceiling, lost in thought. His thoughts continued for a long time.

How much time had passed? Suddenly, his brow furrowed.

'What's that?'

A rustling sound came from somewhere. He listened closely. The Apostle's keen senses spread through the entire mansion like a spiderweb.

He heard exceedingly faint footsteps, accompanied by the barest whispering. Someone had entered the mansion.

Maphel’tan scowled.

'Haman, you idiot. I couldn't have made myself clearer.'

Apparently, some of the servants had stayed behind. With a long sigh, he activated his power. His figure vanished like a mirage as he concealed himself within Night Immersion. No one could sense his presence.

Merged with the darkness, he sharpened his senses to their limit. He could hear voices, but they were too far away for him to make out the conversation.

He swam through the darkness and left the office. A long corridor came into view. There was no one there. All he could hear were footsteps.

'The stairs?'

He glided toward the center of the second floor.

'Ha!'

Two humans wearing black masks were cautiously climbing to the second floor. They were unmistakably thieves.

Maphel’tan could hardly believe it.

'A break-in on my very first day?'

He was thoroughly taken aback.

Then something even more absurd happened. One of the thieves pulled a map from inside his clothes. Maphel’tan approached to inspect it.

'What the hell?'

The map showed the mansion's layout in detail. Information about the mansion had already been sold.

After consulting the map, the thief pointed somewhere, and his companion nodded. They inspected various parts of the mansion before heading to the office a little later. Maphel’tan followed them in silence.

CREEEAK.

One thief carefully opened the office door. Naturally, there was no one inside. The two immediately entered and began rummaging through the room.

One of them raised his voice slightly in excitement.

"Here, look at this."

He held a large backpack. Through its open mouth, several resplendent holy relics were visible. They were items brought from the forbidden library.

The other's eyes gleamed as he spoke.

"I found something too."

He held a stack of parchment: the Council documents Yohan had received from the Count.

"What are you going to do with scraps of paper? Leave them."

"Idiot. Read a few lines of this. You'll change your mind."

The documents were packed with information worth more than gold.

"All right, just hurry up and let's go."

"What's the rush? Let's look around some more. When will we ever get another haul like this?"

"I'm nervous as hell. This is going too easily. Don't you find it strange that a mansion this big doesn't have a single soldier?"

"It's exactly what the guild told us. What's strange about it? The Watcher of the Abyss or whatever he's called just crawled out of the backwoods. Probably has no idea how dangerous the world is."

Maphel’tan carefully considered their conversation. From their mention of a guild, it seemed information on the mansion had been made freely available to the thieves' organization. Only a day after his arrival in the capital, the state of his mansion was already common knowledge.

He gave an incredulous chuckle in the darkness.

'Unbelievable.'

Who on earth had sold the information? Probably one of the servants.

One of the thieves spoke.

"Whatever. I'm too nervous for this. You can rob the rest yourself. I'm leaving."

"Tsk. Coward. Fine, get lost. Don't come begging for a share later."

Maphel’tan stifled a groan. These thieves were hopelessly inept. There was not a trace of professionalism about them. They were probably two bottom-rung members of the thieves' guild.

Riffraff like this breaking into the residence of a Council house? That made no sense. If the guild really intended to rob this place, someone much higher up should have been involved. That was how Maphel’tan saw it.

One thief shouldered the backpack full of holy relics and started walking.

"I'm going. Wrap it up and get out soon. Don't get yourself caught and drag me down with you."

Just as he was about to leave the office, an eerie voice rang out.

"I will ask you a few questions now."

The thieves froze where they stood. The voice had the power to paralyze a human.

The thief who had stolen the holy relics stammered,

"W-was that your voice just now?"

"... No. Behind you. That thing."

The eyes of the thief holding the documents darted wildly. A hideous being was reflected in them.

A massive black back. Wings that filled the entire office. Two pure-white horns jutting above the back of its head. A being that belonged only in the Book of Doom had somehow appeared between the two thieves.

"Behind me? What do you..."

The thief turned his head stiffly. His pupils dilated. He was staring into blood-red eyes.

He dropped the backpack. Overwhelming terror consumed him. He could not even scream.

Maphel’tan spoke slowly.

"First question. Who sold you the information about this mansion?"

No answer came.

"H-hahhh..."

There was only ragged breathing.

Maphel’tan tapped the thief's forehead with a long claw.

"Answer, and you can die painlessly."

The thief remained frozen. He could not bring himself to speak.

Maphel’tan clicked his tongue and lightly drew his sharp claw downward. Blood streamed from the thief's forehead and seeped into his terror-stricken eye. One of his eyes turned as red as Maphel’tan's.

He suddenly screamed.

"D-Demon! Demon! It's a Demon! A Demon!"

The thief bolted, running faster than he ever had in his life. The sight of him fleeing was quite comical. The corners of Maphel’tan's mouth slowly rose.

"Just when I was getting bored. Some entertainment."

He shouldn't enjoy this, but it was hard to hold back his laughter. Snickering echoed through the dark mansion.

Maphel’tan turned to look behind him. His eyes curved into crescents.

"You should run too. Go on."

The remaining thief backed away, then broke into a run. A nighttime game of tag had begun.