Surviving As An Obsessive Servant Chapter 140

“They’re really going all out with this nonsense…”

Rimson, with his sleepy eyes, stared at the flood of physicians moving up and down the mansion’s grand staircase.

There were so many of them that he couldn’t even begin to count.

And apparently, this wasn’t even all of them.

He recalled his colleagues’ earlier murmurs—how physicians had been coming and going since dawn.

‘…They even brought in the current royal physician, didn’t they?’

Even half-asleep, that detail had burned itself into his brain.

No matter how much love clouded one’s judgment, this was beyond excessive.

This was insanity, even for Edric Denkart.

The sheer number of physicians, the hour at which he called for them—it was ridiculous enough.

But more than that, it was ridiculous because the patient in question was Lobel.

‘Seriously? There’s no one stronger against sickness than Lobel. The guy doesn’t even catch colds.’

Having been Lobel’s roommate for quite some time, Rimson prided himself on knowing the guy better than anyone—aside from the young master.

Hell, maybe even better in some ways.

Sure, Lobel was pale as hell, with fine bone structure that made him look fragile.

But in reality, the guy was sturdier than he looked.

Like dry wood that burned stronger than it seemed—beneath that slender frame was muscle, endurance, and raw strength.

And yet, just because he got a little dizzy, Edric had summoned an entire army of physicians…?

Rimson could only click his tongue in disbelief.

He didn’t know much about the sophisticated world of nobles, but he doubted people would have anything good to say about this.

More than anything, he felt bitter.

His thoughts drifted back to the time he had cut his hand—
And all his young master had done was toss him a jar of ointment and move on.

Letting out a quiet sigh, Rimson stared gloomily at the flowers blooming in the grand garden, rubbing at his eyes with his rough hands.

Then, from behind him, came a cheerful voice.

“Hey, big bro!”

Rimson didn’t even need to turn around.

He knew exactly who it was.

Cray.

His only younger brother.

His greatest headache.

As he turned his head, he saw a curly-haired brat with unmistakably mischievous eyes approaching.

And he wasn’t alone.

At his side, laughing as they strolled together, was a bright-eyed maid.

‘Of course he’s flirting again.’

“Oh… so you’re Rimson’s younger brother?”

“The one and only, Cray.”

Without being asked, Cray introduced himself and, with an exaggerated flourish, kissed the back of the maid’s hand.

Some things never changed.

He had always been a natural at charming naive girls.

Rimson scowled, unimpressed, but the two were still giggling like lovesick birds.

“Your brother is just as handsome as you, Sir Rimson!”

“Ah, but nowhere near as beautiful as a flower like you, my lady.”

“Oh my…!”

“Hahaha!”

Rimson watched his brother bid farewell to the maid with the same old, well-practiced ease.

Back when he hadn’t known Lobel well, he had unintentionally compared the guy to Cray.

And honestly, it made him feel a little guilty.

Unlike Cray—who flirted with everyone he met—Lobel was the kind of guy who had eyes for one person and one person only, for years.

Once the maid was out of sight, Cray’s demeanor immediately shifted.

Gone was the smooth-talking gentleman—now, he was just a brat again.

“Damn, bro. This place is insane. Must be nice working here. That last noble house I worked at? That wasn’t even a house—it was a shack. You didn’t set something up for me here, did you?”

“Wake up, idiot. You should be grateful I even let you look around.”

Rimson cut him off immediately, his sharp glare warning him not to get any ideas.

Fine, the drinking he could overlook.

But this brat’s obsession with women was the reason their mother was getting gray hairs.

If Cray didn’t clean up his act, Rimson was seriously going to start punching some sense into him.

Hell, when he had kids of his own someday, he’d have to make sure they never met this guy.

Still, despite everything, it was good to see his brother again.

And maybe—just maybe—he wanted to brag a little.

With a smirk, he squared his shoulders and said,

“Hey, Cray. Do you even know anything about Denkart’s history? Listen up—Denkart has been a great house since the legendary William I—”

“Oh. That guy over there. That’s the servant you told me about, huh?”

Cray, completely ignoring Rimson’s lecture, pointed with his pale, soft, pampered fingers toward someone on the terrace.

And sure enough, Rimson spotted a familiar face.

“Yeah. That’s Lobel.”

Lobel had stepped onto the terrace attached to the young master’s room, probably just to get some fresh air.

And, of course, Edric was right there beside him—sticking to him like a shadow.

What was strange, though—

Lobel’s expression.

He looked… bright.

For someone who had been hounded by physicians all night, he looked calm, relaxed—even happy.

‘Does he really like the young master that much?’

Rimson thought back to his own time spent with Tilly, recalling how her presence alone lifted his mood.

‘Well, I guess they’d be happy just holding hands.’

Unlike himself and Cray, who had gone through multiple relationships before settling down—these two idiots were each other’s first love.

It was no wonder everything between them felt so special.

‘They’re at that stage where they’d probably enjoy chewing on rocks for breakfast as long as they’re together.’

Smirking to himself, Rimson almost let it go.

But then—something caught his attention.

Something… off.

Lobel’s hair.

It was longer than usual.

He always kept it neat, trimmed, well-maintained—

But now, his hair was reaching his shoulders.

In the past, the moment his hair touched his neck, he’d immediately track down the gardener to get it cut.

Before heading to the imperial palace, he had trimmed it as always.

‘Did he forget? Because the young master came back?’

Maybe.

But even that explanation didn’t sit quite right.

Something about it nagged at him.

Something just felt… off.

Lobel, despite his delicate appearance, took great pride in his work as an attendant.

He was meticulous, always moving with precision no matter the circumstances.

So why was his hair a mess?

Why had he neglected something he had always been so particular about?

“What the hell? So your master is into that kind of thing?”

…Ah.

Rimson immediately recognized what Cray was implying.

He was talking about men.

But Rimson had no interest in gossiping about his master, so he simply scratched the back of his neck, feigning ignorance.

That was a mistake.

Cray, clearly thinking he had hit the mark, grinned, his eyes crinkling in amusement.

“Dressing a woman in a servant’s uniform, huh?”

Rimson let out a heavy sigh—internally, of course.

Apparently, his brother had gone blind at some point while they were apart.

Calling a perfectly healthy man a woman?

And yet, as if that wasn’t enough, Cray kept running his mouth.

“Gotta admit, that’s a pretty unique taste. But hey, I can see the fun in it. Think I could join in—”

WHACK!

Rimson couldn’t hold back his fist.

“Agh—why the hell did you hit me?!”

Clutching the back of his throbbing head, Cray let out an indignant yell.

 

 

****

 

 

 

“Are you feeling well?”

“Of course. There’s no need to worry.”

I gave a slightly awkward smile to the Duke’s two aides.

I had lost count of how many times I’d been asked this today.

I was perfectly fine now, but… the incident from that night had spread like wildfire throughout the mansion.

‘…Something about how the young master’s love is extraordinary, or whatever.’

At this point, the servants were implicitly supporting the idea of the young master and me being together.

Even the Duke hadn’t said anything against it, which only fueled the rumors further.

Denian, the more senior aide, gave me a look—somewhere between concern and resignation—before lightly patting my shoulder.

…He could only act like this today because the young master was away from the mansion.

Once the physicians had finished their examinations and declared (loud enough to burn the words into my ears) that I was completely fine, the young master had reluctantly returned his focus to his duties—managing both his responsibilities as the heir and the trading company.

Which I understood.

But still…

It had become far too difficult to see him lately.

Hesitant, I carefully asked,

“Lately, the young master seems busier than usual… Could it be that his work got delayed because of me?”

“Most of his meetings with the other trading companies are for maintaining friendly relations. They’re not urgent matters, so you don’t need to worry.”

“…Ah. I see.”

I gave another awkward smile.

At some point, Denian had started speaking to me in formal speech.

I had insisted several times that it wasn’t necessary, but he had firmly drawn the line, stating that this was how things should be.

‘…Honestly, it’s just uncomfortable.’

I was about to make my escape when he, sounding proud, suddenly added,

“You really don’t need to worry. On the first day, the young master personally visited the House of Rezendar first and—”

…Rezendar?

At the mention of that name, I immediately thought back to Heaz Rezendar—the first time I had met him.

With his sharp, almost haunting presence and that decadent, melancholic air, he had stood out immediately.

It was just like the original novel.

His deep, shadowed eyes. That subtle loneliness he seemed to carry.

They were details that caught my attention, but at the time, I had ignored them and simply moved on.

He was one of the only characters I had never encountered in the original story, and I had never felt any regret about that.

There was nothing good about getting involved with him.

But then—

I had hesitated.

Because I had remembered the young master, back when he was a boy, treasuring his old crutch so dearly.

That had made me stop.

And in the end, I had taken the wooden figurine Heaz had dropped, fixed it, and returned it to him.

But surely—

He hadn’t realized it was me.

We hadn’t spoken.

And the ship had been in absolute chaos that night.

‘…No, I shouldn’t overthink it. Maybe they just exchanged greetings at the trade assembly.’

After all, the Rezendar and Denkart houses were both great noble families representing Terua.

Even if they weren’t particularly close, they were bound to have some interaction.

More importantly, the young master had returned home that night completely unfazed.

Even if Heaz Rezendar had developed some sudden obsession with him… he wouldn’t have had the chance to act on it—not like in the original story.

Trying to ease my nerves, I asked,

“The knights are accompanying the young master for his entire schedule, right?”

“Of course. And today, he is scheduled to visit your family’s estate.”

…Huh?

Why was Denian telling me this?

I hadn’t even asked about it.

I frowned slightly, but before I could question it, he continued in his usual report-like manner.

“Ah, by now, he should have already visited three estates. On his way back, his final stop will be at the Cassidys.”

“…The Cassidys?”

“Yes. The Stell family had also extended an invitation, but the young master politely declined. He has been making great efforts to strengthen ties with various noble houses. The Duke himself considers it a wise decision.”

While Denian’s words were polished, I barely listened.

Instead, I pressed my fingers to my forehead.

Cassidy.

Cassidy.

Unlike Rezendar, which was outright dangerous, the Cassidys were simply a problem.

‘He must have seen their name on the noble house list I gave him… So why did he choose that place of all things?!’

I knew what happened in the original story.

The Cassidy household was home to a certain woman—a woman who had despised the young master simply because she worshiped Crown Prince Louis.

Though her attempts had failed, she had still tried to use drugs and other underhanded tactics to interfere any time the young master interacted with another man.

‘If they were all meeting at a trade assembly, fine. But he should have invited them to Denkart instead! Why did he have to go there?!’

The young master had no idea about any of this, which made my anxiety even worse.

“…If you worry too much, you’ll only exhaust yourself, Lobel.”

Denian’s gaze was filled with sympathy as he regarded me.

“There are some things even the young master cannot avoid.”

No.

I refused.

I wouldn’t just sit here waiting for something to happen.

I looked up at Denian, voice urgent.

“Prepare a carriage. Now.”