SIWALL 11

Looking like a cartoon character or a sucker forced into buying a scam filial piety product, Elliot struggled to suppress the laughter trying to burst out of him. He bowed his head low and meticulously cleared away the remaining tea leaves.

“Ahem… Grand Duke, I’ve cleared everything away, so I’ll be taking my leave now~”

Elliot tried his absolute best not to make eye contact with Arzen as he gave a stiff, polite bow.

“Elliot Brown.”

Arzen’s low, chilling voice stopped Elliot in his tracks. The call was so terrifying that Elliot instinctively wiped the smile off his face and put on a Puss in Boots expression. It was the exact look he used to make in front of terrible customers—the one that basically said, ‘I’m just a clueless part-time worker here, should I call the manager for you?’

“Didn’t ‘Mr. Henderson’ brief you properly?”

Even though he had been masquerading as Henderson until just a short while ago, Arzen remarked without missing a beat or changing his expression.

“Y-Yes, yes…?”

“The final duty a bedtime attendant is supposed to perform.”

Elliot’s face turned pale.

No way… ‘That’ thing, was he actually supposed to do it?

Arzen took off his black robe and tossed it carelessly onto a chair.

“It’s the first night, so let’s see your skills.”

With those words, he placed the book he had brought onto the bedside table. Arzen crawled under the blankets, lay down, and closed his eyes—the picture of pure serenity. It was a stark contrast to Elliot, who was kneeling on one knee on the floor next to Arzen’s bed looking like death itself.

“A-Are you, um, really… h-have to?”

“Stop dilly-dallying and start right now.”

Wearing a thick, soft-looking sleeping mask, Arzen looked fully prepared. Elliot gazed in despair at the bridge of his nose—which rose with artistic perfection beneath the mask—his full, reddish lips, and his flawless white cheeks.

I can’t believe this. Seriously, this makes no sense.

“This is my final warning. Start.”

The owner of this mythical beauty seemed to be running out of patience. Dragging his feet like he was walking to the gallows, Elliot cleared his throat. Ah, eh, ee, oh, oo.

Why on earth does a bedtime attendant even have to do something like this….

Elliot took a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and opened his mouth.

“Now, now….”

“….”

“Now… hush-a-bye~ hush-a-bye~ our, Gran, Grand Duke~ hush, hush, sleep so soundly….”

Is this… right?

No, seriously. Is this actually right?

∞ ∞ ∞

After that, Elliot sang the exact same lullaby three more times. Arzen just lay there quietly like a beautiful statue.

With the mask covering half his face, it was impossible to tell what expression he was making or if he had even fallen asleep. Not even the sound of breathing could be heard; if it weren’t for the firm chest rising and falling in a regular rhythm—though he wasn’t trying to look, the thin sleepwear fabric made the outline of his pectoral muscles very prominent—he would have thought the man was dead.

“Um… are you perhaps asleep right now?”

Elliot stopped singing and whispered quietly.

“Grand Duke Arzen Teron?”

“….”

“Grand Duke.”

“….”

“My man, Grand Duke.”

At that, the perfect lips pressed tightly beneath the mask finally moved.

“I’m still awake.”

Elliot swiftly straightened his posture again and pretended to continue speaking.

“…sir, I will sing the lullaby for you once more~”

“Forget it. I had my doubts, but as expected. Your singing is atrocious. Do you know how to play an instrument?”

“My apologies, Grand Duke. Instruments aren’t really my department….”

When Elliot drooped his eyebrows and spoke in an apologetic tone, Arzen let out a deep sigh.

According to the Spartan training lessons left behind by Henderson, Elliot’s predecessor had known how to play the violin. He used to play lullabies directly on the violin, but one day his hand slipped and he hit a wrong note. That was the end of that poor attendant. Arzen had claimed that single wrong note ruined his sleep entirely, so he cut off the predecessor’s hand and chased him out.

That’s right—they said he cut his hand off.

Elliot’s body shuddered. Wearing cute pajamas to catch people off guard, but his actions were straight out of a brutal dark romance novel. He truly was a relentless bastard.

Elliot mustered every ounce of his strength to fake a sweet, obedient voice.

“W-Well, then, how about this, Grand Duke? Repeatedly listening to sounds that promote psychological stability helps you fall asleep, you see.”

“…Go ahead.”

Arzen answered reluctantly, as if granting one final chance. His voice sounded extremely low and rough. He had mentioned not sleeping for over a week, so his exhaustion seemed severe.

Elliot looked around and picked up the book resting on the bedside table. Being naturally hyper-sensitive and a Sword Master to boot, Arzen noticed just by the sound that Elliot had picked up the book.

“If you’re going to read to me, don’t bother. I’ve tried that method already, and it has never worked once.”

“No, I’m not going to read to you….”

With a determined look, Elliot curled his five fingers like claws and tapped them in rapid succession across the thick book cover.

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.

The sound of fingernails striking the book cover echoed hollowly through the quiet room.

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap… tap-tap… tap.

Arzen pushed his sleep mask up.

“…Are you joking with me?”

“I apologize. That didn’t work.”

Apologies are always best when they are quick and precise. Elliot hurriedly put the book back in its place. Arzen stared at Elliot with an absurd expression before realizing that Elliot was still squatting on the floor.

“Why are you kneeling?”

If you ask why… well, it was simply because Elliot used to work at a family restaurant every day before possessing this body. However, explaining that it was the ingrained reflex of a service worker was a bit of a stretch, so Elliot pulled off some quick improvisation.

“Out of respect for Arzen Teron, the hero of the empire—”

“Just sit in the chair. And if you’re going to do something useless, you might as well read the book. That would be better.”

“Yes, yes, understood, Grand Duke~”

At Elliot’s rhythmic response, Arzen looked like he wanted to snap at him again, but with a heavy sigh, he held it back. The sound of Elliot scrambling up to sit in the chair, the sound of the book opening, pages turning, and a quiet throat-clearing could be heard from the darkness beneath the mask.

“I will begin reading then.”

Elliot cleared his throat and opened his mouth.

“Some terror is close to a duty.”

The voice with which Elliot read the sentences was far calmer and more composed than when he spoke normally. It was neither sweet nor sappy—just a calm, thoughtful voice.

“Terror, once engraved upon the soul, digs deep into human nature and solidly fills the crevices one never even knew were there.”

Much better indeed, Arzen thought to himself.

Surprisingly, his voice isn’t bad at all.

And that was his last thought. Arzen drifted off to sleep shortly after.

“…Such a war is present everywhere in life.”

Elliot stopped reading for a moment and sneaked a glance at Arzen lying on the bed.

He really looks like he’s asleep this time.

Elliot tried calling out to Arzen in a small voice and even waved his hand back and forth over his nose. When he timidly called out, “Hey,” Arzen didn’t budge at all. Only then did Elliot feel safe enough to put the book down.

Reading aloud for about forty minutes made his throat ache severely. His head felt a little dizzy, too. Desperate not to wake Arzen, Elliot crept up stealthily, closed the door like a cat, and stepped out.

He had just narrowly escaped death.

It wasn’t as terrifying as he had imagined—in fact, it was a bit comical—but having kept his guard up the entire time, both of his legs felt like jelly. He had spent over an hour in the exact same room as the culprit who murdered him in the original story!

Elliot braced himself against the wall and walked slowly toward his room. Given the late hour, only a few small candles cast a glow down the corridor. Eager to reach his own bright, comfortable room, Elliot quickened his pace. The physical labor hadn’t been intense, but his mind was utterly exhausted.

If he had lived with this level of exhaustion for over a week, he could at least understand why the Grand Duke was so prickly, Elliot figured.

Right at that moment.

“Elliot.”

“Waaah, you scared me!”

“Shh.”

As soon as he turned the corner of the corridor, a small figure popped out. It was Helen, one of the few maids in the Teron Grand Duke’s residence. Draped in a thick shawl over her sleepwear, she looked for all the world like someone who had snuck stealthily out of her bedroom.

“Helen? What on…”

“Shh. Take this.”

She pulled a small note from beneath her shawl and handed it over.

“Read it and burn it.”

With that, she vanished as stealthily as a secret agent. Left feeling bewildered, Elliot unfolded the note beneath a wall sconce.

[Tomorrow at 2 PM. Cafe Siren. Keep your promise, author.]

There was no name signed, but the contents made it obvious who it was from. Elliot crumpled the note and stuffed it into his pocket. A sigh escaped him naturally. Still, even if he had been swayed by a momentary flash of pity, a promise was a promise.

Writing Generwin’s letters for him probably wouldn’t drastically alter the ending of the original story anyway. He tried his best to convince himself of that.