"So, what—are you saying that you want to go outside of here? And not only that, but you want to go west?"
The man scoffed, arms folded across his chest. His voice carried just loud enough for anyone to tremble. "Are you sure you’re not just running away toward your home? You know the rules."
He was Hans Taylor—the head butler of the Duke’s household.
In the game, he showed up more than a few times, always lingering around the key Chapters involving Alice Draken. A sharp man, with sharper instincts. Definitely not someone easy to fool.
And right now, he was standing directly in front of me.
I tried to keep a straight face, even as his presence made the back of my neck tense. He wasn’t someone you could lie to easily. Worse, he had a voice that naturally made people shut up and listen.
’I know the upcoming evaluation, I won’t pass it.’
That wasn’t self-deprecation. It was a plain fact.
Why? Because of this:
[Occupation: Unemployed]
Aside from agility, which was slightly above average, every other stat was absolute garbage. No skills. No combat aptitude. Barely any mana.
To put it simply: I was a walking, talking game-over screen waiting to happen.
In this world? I wouldn’t last a week.
But thankfully... not all hope was lost.
The West—was my only shot at surviving.
"Besides," I muttered under my breath, more to convince myself than him, "the West isn’t even part of the main story."
And that was true. In the game, the Western region was barely mentioned until the very end, when the protagonist and their party were already overpowered. By then, most of the side quests and hidden artifacts there were more like collectibles than meaningful upgrades.
I could sneak in early and snag a few things without breaking the plot.
A sly grin tugged at the corner of my lips. Just one or two artifacts. No one would even notice. And if I played it right, I’d walk out with a fighting chance—and maybe even the means to avoid total disaster.
Of course, that meant I had to convince Hans Taylor.
And that was the hard part.
I had gone to his office with what I thought was a reasonably crafted lie. I told him that one of our family knights had been dispatched on urgent orders from my father—the head of the Evans family. A sudden monster appearance near our territory. A routine subjugation mission that needed someone to oversee it.
Totally fabricated, of course.
But he didn’t know that. Or so I hoped.
The problem was... Hans wasn’t buying it.
His arms were folded. His stare sharp. His tone, even sharper.
Hans Taylor didn’t blink.
He simply stared at me like I was an ant trying to explain quantum physics—calm, patient, and unimpressed.
"...Your father sent you?" he said finally, each word dragged through gravel. "To assist in a monster subjugation mission... in the West."
I nodded with the steadiness of a man hanging by a thread. "Yes, Sir Hans. It’s an emergency directive. I was instructed to report it directly to the estate before I left. That’s why I came to you."
Then he reached down, pulled open a drawer from the nearby cabinet, and dropped a thick, bound ledger onto his desk with a thud.
"Let me be absolutely clear, Evans." His voice didn’t rise, but it didn’t have to. "I know of every active knight in your family’s service. I know where they are stationed, what missions they’ve taken, and which of them are too dead to take anything at all."
He flipped open the ledger and ran a finger down one of the pages, scanning.
"There has been no such request from the Evans family in the past month. There is no known monster activity near your territory, and the last urgent dispatch I received from your house was to restock older brother’s allergy potion." His eyes flicked up to mine.
"Which, I remind you, was last week."
A bead of cold sweat formed at my temple.
’Okay. So bluffing didn’t work. Plan B.’
"...Then maybe it wasn’t from my father directly," I amended, forcing a nervous smile. "Maybe it came from one of his aides. They might’ve acted without authorization."
Hans closed the ledger slowly, like he was trying not to snap it in half.
"You expect me to believe that an unsanctioned aide forged an imperial subjugation order," he said, tone dry as kindling, "then handed it to a fifteen-year-old who can’t lift a sword?"
I bristled at the insult, even though it was true.
"No," I said quickly. "I mean... I don’t expect you to believe it. But if you could just let me travel for a few days—"
The refusal came like a slap. Clean. Final.
"Not only will I not approve such a ridiculous request," Hans said coldly, "but I will also be reporting this conversation to Lady Draken. If you are looking to abandon your position before the evaluation, do it properly. Cowards don’t need stories."
My throat tightened. "I’m not trying to run away."
"You’re not trying to stay, either," Hans snapped.
The silence that followed was heavy. The kind of silence that killed dreams and carved tombstones.
Then—just when I thought he might order the guards to drag me out—his gaze narrowed slightly. Calculating.
"...However," he said slowly, "if you truly believe this so-called ’mission’ holds value..."
"...then you’ll need approval from Lady Draken herself."
My stomach sank again.
He might as well have said "then jump into a volcano."
"I... I don’t think that’s necessary," I said, attempting a polite backtrack. "She’s busy. I wouldn’t want to trouble her with something . Also I wasn’t supposed to meet her until I passed the evolution right?"
He didn’t say anything, just kept his eyes on me.
Meaning, I have to talk.
"Also, Evolution periods is last one month, I will come before the end of one month. I promise."
I waited for him to say something, anything.