Surviving As An Obsessive Servant Chapter 127

…Why hasn’t he come looking for me yet?

I went that far…

Manellano ground his teeth in frustration.

But despite the rough, angry thoughts swirling inside him, his hand holding the handkerchief was nothing but careful.

The fabric brushed against his long, straight fingers with a soft touch.

It felt just like when he had grabbed that guy’s ankle, and Manellano found himself thinking over and over again, Even a handkerchief resembles its owner.

And that wasn’t the only thing.

The handkerchief carried a faint trace of Lobel’s scent.

A natural fragrance, fitting for someone who didn’t bother with perfumes.

…It even has a slight hint of the flowers from the Denkart Garden.

Something he normally wouldn’t have accepted from anyone had changed him drastically.

Lately, he often found himself zoning out, and ever since his return from the imperial city, he had stopped wearing any perfume.

Because he was worried that his scent might overpower and erase Lobel’s.

For someone who had lived his entire life without caring about what others thought, it was utterly ridiculous.

He was even a little ashamed of how he was treating this one handkerchief more preciously than his family’s estate documents.

…Damn it, damn it.

But he couldn’t deny it.

And there was one more undeniable fact—though this one wasn’t necessarily negative.

Manellano’s eyes gleamed as he noticed the golden embroidery at the edge of the handkerchief, instead of Denkart’s usual black.

He gave me something he always carries with him. That must mean our relationship isn’t that bad.

Manellano had a fairly good memory, but when it came to Lobel, he remembered every detail even more vividly.

The first servant uniform Lobel had worn years ago at Denkart, the way he brushed his hair back, the expressions that seemed to say, “You’re really strange. Well, I’m not one to talk, but you’re just as odd.”

And yet, the way he looked at Manellano had visibly softened over time.

Especially recently—when Manellano had chased after him in the imperial city, Lobel had looked at him with a gaze filled with pity.

…He must have been worried about me.

So the fact that he had so readily handed over a personal belonging was an extremely unusual occurrence.

Lobel was an incredibly self-assured person, someone who was never hesitant about anything.

And yet, when Manellano had grabbed his ankle, he had hesitated—something that wouldn’t have happened with other men, who might have just stared blankly at his bearded jawline.

It was undeniable.

Manellano couldn’t help but feel exhilarated.

He’s aware of me… Could this mean Lobel is giving me a chance too?

In poetry, even a single word can carry deep meaning, and knowing how sharp Lobel was, he surely wouldn’t give away a personal item so thoughtlessly.

As these hopeful thoughts piled up, the unpleasant expression on Manellano’s face gradually brightened.

Yes. Lobel, who is so upright and rigid, wouldn’t give something like this to someone he disliked.

There must be a deeper meaning behind it.

Perhaps his engagement was just a way to provoke me…

…No, that can’t be it.

Realizing he was getting ahead of himself, Marnellano covered his face with one hand.

At this rate, he was no different from the fools spreading ridiculous rumors in the imperial city.

If he thought about it rationally, Lobel might not have meant anything by it at all.

After all, he was still foolishly engaging in that childish game with the Denkart heir without a second thought.

That would mean the handkerchief, now Manellano’s most prized possession, had no special meaning whatsoever.

Damn it…

His face burned with humiliation.

Across from him, the noble youths sitting at the table had reddened faces as well—but for entirely different reasons.

Today’s gathering was one of the more casual meetings among his academy peers, and everyone had been drinking since midday.

Their voices grew louder, their faces flushed with intoxication. Manellano found them pathetic as he opened his mouth.

“Hey, you lot.”

“….?”

“What do you think I should do to capture someone’s attention?”

“…..”

“No, tell me—compared to other guys, what am I lacking?”

The group fell silent for a moment before bursting into laughter.

With his striking lineage and flawless looks, Manellano naturally commanded attention wherever he went.

Even in the imperial city, where the crown prince and the Denkart heir resided, people’s gazes remained fixated on him.

So, his friends assumed he was joking and responded with nonsense.

Suggestions like wearing bright red clothes to stand out—utterly useless remarks.

Yeah… It was my mistake expecting a decent answer from these idiots.

Shaking his head, Manellano refocused.

The real issue was how to get into Denkart.

Or perhaps how to lure Lobel out…

“Manellano.”

At that moment, one of the men called his name.

It was the same fool who had always mistaken Manellano for someone of his own kind, trying to share disgusting stories about his personal affairs.

But despite his outward appearance, Manellano was surprisingly conservative.

Unlike those wretched bastards who casually toyed with mansion maids once they turned fifteen, Manellano was different.

That only made them more curious about him—about this noble who acted so clean while always having someone by his side.

“That guy—how was he?”

“Ah, you mean in the imperial city? I was curious about that too.”

Manellano immediately knew who they were referring to.

There was no need to think—of course, they were talking about Lobel.

After all, it was the first time Manellano had openly defended someone, or shown interest in anyone.

It was no surprise they were curious.

In fact, he wanted them to spread rumors about him and Lobel.

And if the Denkart heir heard those rumors and drove Lobel away, that would be even better.

It was childish, but at this moment, he had never been more sincere.

“What do you mean, how was he? Lobel is always competent and incredible.”

But as soon as he spoke, the atmosphere around him turned strange.

His so-called friends, in their usual crude manner, started making comments about how Lobel’s looks were as delicate as a woman’s and how they were curious about him—asking if they could borrow him.

“Rumor has it that the Denkart heir also did some strange things with a silver-haired man. I guess silver-haired men really are different, huh?”

“Ah, I heard about that too. Such a shame I couldn’t see it in person. Manellano, you had to leave for that northern mine business at the time, didn’t you? Did you at least have some fun up there?”

Manellano’s mood soured in an instant.

The undertones in their words were unmistakably suggestive.

Even as his expression grew darker and more dangerous, the drunken nobles remained oblivious.

In fact, they were even more excited because, for the first time, Manellano was at the center of such a conversation.

Ah, these bastards…

His face went completely blank.

Slipping the handkerchief deep into his pocket, he reached across the table.

Then, he grabbed an entire bottle of northern liquor—one that was traditionally boiled before drinking.

The heat against his palm was enough to cause burns.

In fact, when serving this drink, thick cloth was typically used to handle the bottle, so the attendants behind him looked on in alarm.

But Manellano’s expression didn’t change.

As if he had braced himself for something much worse.

The moment he stood up, he violently uncorked the bottle.

And then, starting with the men seated closest to him, he began pouring it over their heads.

A chorus of shocked screams erupted.

“W-What the hell, Manellano Stel?! You insane bastard! What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Aaargh! It’s hot! S-Spare me!!!”

As soon as one bottle emptied, he uncorked another and continued pouring.

The men writhed in pain from the scalding liquid, their faces twisted in agony.

And yet, Manellano’s own face remained eerily calm.

“Since your mouths are as good as useless, you might as well drink this way, don’t you think?”

Even in the most informal settings, Manellano had never acted like this before.

But in that moment, he abandoned every lesson of etiquette and refinement he had ever learned.

“Though, really, it’s a waste of good liquor on bastards like you.”

With that, he took the most expensive bottle on the table—the one they had all pooled their money to buy—and smashed it.

Crash!

Leaving behind the shocked and enraged nobles, Manellano strode out of the building.

He ignored the furious shouts threatening that they wouldn’t let this go.

And so what? What’s that supposed to mean to me? I was already above them to begin with.

At worst, they’d challenge him to a duel.

His reputation and honor might take a hit.

But they wouldn’t dare take it to trial—because then their drug use would be exposed.

Manellano bared his teeth in a vicious grin.

As he took another irritated step forward, his gaze fell upon a noble family nearby.

A young man and woman, accompanied by a nanny holding an infant.

Bringing a baby out like this… What if it catches a cold? They should’ve left it at home and come out as a couple instead…

Even as his attendant fussed about his burnt hand, Manellano lowered his gaze, lost in thought.

For a fleeting moment, he wondered—if he had never met Lobel, would he have lived a life like that?

I probably would’ve been engaged to a well-matched noble lady, married around adulthood, and had a child by now.

But that wasn’t what he wanted.

He wanted to have more conversations with Lobel.

To do other things—things he had never done before.

He had a clear plan in his mind.

The only missing piece was Lobel.

And yet, didn’t that make it all the more special?

The harder something is to obtain, the rarer and more meaningful it becomes.

It was surprising to realize that he had this side of himself.

If phrased nicely, it was romantic.

But if spoken plainly, it was utterly pathetic.

There was nothing more pitiful and foolish than clinging to someone who didn’t want you.

And yet, when it came to Lobel, he didn’t mind.

That, too, was something Lobel had taught him.

“You really are one hopelessly romantic idiot.”

Manellano let out a hollow laugh and turned away.

The bustling streets of the capital were dazzling, but too chaotic for his tastes.

Yet, instead of heading toward his carriage, he suddenly stopped.

His eyebrows shot up.

“…What the hell is that?”

At first, he thought he was seeing things.

But standing in front of a market stall was someone who looked exactly like Lobel.

The man, dressed in what appeared to be the uniform of a merchant’s guild, was meticulously inspecting the items on display.

Manellano stood frozen, watching him closely.

Then, another voice called out to the man.

“Hey, Rober!”

“What? You’re here too?”

…Even the name is similar?

He looked similar, yes—but my Lobel was far more handsome, prettier, and more charming.

Come to think of it, I really want to see Lobel today…

As usual, Manellano let the thought pass through his mind before blinking once.

And in that brief moment, his thoughts clicked into place.

A man who resembled Lobel.

A name that was eerily close to Lobel’s.

A similar presence and tone.

Could all of this really be just a coincidence?

…Well. What are the odds?

As the realization settled in, a slow grin spread across Manellano’s face.

Turning to the panicked servant beside him—who was still fussing about fetching an ice pack—he issued a different order entirely.

“Go over there and politely bring him to me.”