Deon returned to his room, dimly lit by a soft yellow glow emanating from the four corners.

Despite his blank expression, his thoughts were still stuck on his first interaction with mana.

From the perspective of someone from a modern, capitalist, neoliberal world, the concept of magic—an inexplicable power beyond physical understanding—was strange and terrifying in its general sense.

But if that was what Deon needed to regain his life, he didn’t mind delving into its complexities.

He thought again about his skill, mana sense. Although it initially seemed useless and, at best, a hindrance, something about it made him feel otherwise.

Deon felt the skill had helped him connect with the cube. It would have taken much longer without it. Still, he wasn’t entirely sure.

‘Could I benefit from it alongside using the cube?’

With a tired sigh, Deon headed toward the dressing area in his room. He felt drained of all his energy. And how could he not be, given that it hadn’t even been a full day since his arrival in the world of his novel?

‘This is the longest day I’ve ever lived, and I don’t think any other day will break this record!’

In one day, Deon had done what an ordinary person might do in an entire lifetime, if not more.

He died, came back to life, experienced depression, overcame his depression, adopted a new persona, lived his first day as that person, learned magic—at least as a beginner—and finally returned to his room to rest.

And that’s not counting the smaller details which, when pieced together, could summarize the lives of some people.

Although, most people don’t come back to life after death. Still, it should count for something.

If he included the day he spent in his previous world as Walid, the failed writer, Deon hadn’t slept in over 36 hours.

‘I need rest.’

That was undeniable.

‘Mana Sense. The cube. Anything else can wait.’

He was truly exhausted, and it became evident when Deon admitted it to himself.

Like a drunkard on a snowy night, Deon stripped off the clothes Vierenna had chosen for him and threw them onto the carpeted floor. His eyes opened and closed like a malfunctioning garage door.

Only through sheer willpower was Deon able to put on the pajamas he had woken up in earlier, he made sure to place them somewhere he could remember to avoid mixing them up.

With his eyes almost completely shut, Deon returned to the open space of his room, focusing solely on the bed.

The moment he reached it, he collapsed forward onto it. His exhausted mind finally found the rest it desperately needed.

…

Deon did not experience any dreams. His sleep was as heavy as the darkness of the night in an abandoned cave. He didn’t even wake up when the small-built girl with green eyes and maid attire entered before sunrise.

The girl, named Yven, was stunned by the way her master Deon slept on the massive bed.

Deon was lying on his stomach, his head not even on the pillow, with one leg dangling off the edge of the bed.

‘He must be really tired.’

It took her a moment to steady herself before stepping quietly toward the changing room. As soon as she entered, dim yellow lights lit up the room.

She wasn’t surprised by the clothes scattered on the floor; it had been like this for the past three months. Even though her master rarely left his room, it didn’t reflect in the number of clothes he changed into from time to time.

Not that Yven cared… well, she did. It was her job, after all.

She knelt on the carpeted floor, picking up the clothes and folding them with practiced precision. She glanced around the room and nodded to herself.

She left with yesterday’s worn clothes and placed them in the wooden basket beside the door. Then grabbed the basket and reached for the door handle, but her movement stopped.

She thought again about her master.

He didn’t have any covers on, only his thin sleepwear.

‘I should put something on him…’

Her movements froze dead. She gasped and stumbled backward, the back of her head hitting the thick wooden door.

Hurt, Yven staggered forward again, dropping the basket she was holding and, in turn, collapsing onto the basket herself.

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Deon watched the entire scene unfold with indifferent eyes.

He had woken up when the dim lights of the changing room lit up, but before he could fully rise from his bed, the maid—who was supposed to be his personal servant—emerged from there and walked straight past him toward the exit.

‘The rest was known.’

The girl lay sprawled on the ground with a terrified expression, like a criminal on an ancient execution platform. Her eyes began to well up with tears, but she held them back.

She was waiting for Deon to say something, to yell at her, or anything, really.

‘What… what should I do?’

Meanwhile, Deon was waiting for her to get up so he could speak with her like a civilized person.

‘Why doesn’t she get up? Is she injured?’

And so, the awkward silence remained.

Deon rose from his spot on the bed, his eyes never leaving the maid who hadn’t made any effort to move, as if she had given up before even trying.

Yven in turn was too scared to function properly.

‘I’m finished! This is the end for me!’

“Are you okay?”

Deon asked as he approached the maid, feeling slightly concerned and slightly suspicious about the whole thing.

Yven didn’t answer. Her mind seemed incapable of processing anything. But when she noticed Deon’s footsteps approaching her, she forced herself to get up.

‘So, she’s fine after all.’

That’s what Deon thought until he saw the girl stumble again over the basket beneath her.

Yven tripped once more, this time falling awkwardly to the side.

huff-huff—

Deon chuckled lightly at the clumsy sight. He never thought he’d start his day like this, and the sun hadn’t even risen yet.

Yven, embarrassed, gathered herself off the floor, her eyes betraying her as she began silently crying, her head lowered. She wasn’t crying from pain; in truth, she didn’t know why she was crying—it just happened.

Deon stepped closer to stand above her.

“Are you okay?”

he repeated, placing a hand on her trembling shoulder and extending the other to help her up.

Yven hesitated for a moment before taking the offered hand—what other choice did she have? She couldn’t refuse it.

She took his hand, and Deon indeed helped her stand, steadily this time.

When he was sure she wouldn’t fall again, he let go of her.

But he noticed her tears, which she tried to hide by keeping her head down.

“Are you… hurt?”

he asked, sounding more concerned than angry, with a hint of guilt for laughing at her earlier.

‘I’m finished!’

Despite her thoughts, Yven knew she had to say something. Deon had already asked her three times if she was okay.

“I… I’m fine, sir… my lord… ahh! I, uh… I will be!”

Deon looked at the nervous girl with pity. To his eyes, she was clearly distressed. Still, what right did he have to push her if she insisted she was fine?

‘Time will tell, anyway.’

So, he simply stepped back, giving her a chance to breathe.

Yven tensed with every movement Deon made. She was waiting for punishment, but her master seemed as calm as ever.

She nervously watched him sit on the edge of the bed, looking at her.

And she stared back, expecting something that wouldn’t come.

“Aren’t you going to punish me… sir?”

Her heart couldn’t handle the tension and pressure anymore, so she just asked. There wasn’t anything she could’ve done by now to avoid punishment.

‘And I thought I’d do a good job!’

Deon tilted his head slightly, clearly confused.

“Why would I punish you? Are you used to being punished? Have I punished you often?”

The last question was asked meaningfully, as the girl seemed safe enough for him to ask an unusual question.

Yven was stunned by the questions. But she still had to answer; after all, it was her master asking.

“I… I made a mistake and deserve punishment. And the lord hasn’t punished me before, thanks to his kindness.”

Deon nodded, more to himself than to the maid.

“How many times have we met before, not counting yesterday or now?”

He decided to ask something more serious. The girl seemed too scared to think about why he was asking.

“I—I tried to introduce myself to the lord before. But the lord always ignored me…”

Deon got his answer. While the previous Deon had been aware of the girl’s presence, he hadn’t known she was his personal made. Or perhaps he did but didn’t care.

“Were you surprised I knew you were my new personal servant?”

Yven shivered slightly at Deon’s interruption, but perhaps that was for the best.

She had been too honest anyway.

‘Why is he asking me all these questions? Won’t he punish me?’

“Yes, sir.”

Still, Yven had no choice but to answer.

“How long have you been my personal servant?”

‘Is he testing me?’

“I started on the master’s coming-of-age day.”

Deon looked at the girl as if he expected a different answer, so in her fear, she began blurting out information.

“Every noble like the lord receives a personal servant after their awakening ritual, which occurs on their coming-of-age day. It’s a sign of responsibility and independence, and at this age, lords have the freedom to make their own investments—”

The girl stopped rambling when she realized she was just spouting nonsense.

Deon said nothing. He lowered his head in deep thought. He was slightly disappointed by the girl’s sudden silence, but he had gathered most of the information he needed.

‘Coming of age, in essence, was merely a form of relative freedom.’

Feeling pity for the girl, Deon decided to finally release her from his questions, which she probably saw as the punishment she’d been asking for.

“You’re not punished,”

he announced without much thought.

Yven’s eyes widened in disbelief. She just stood there, her trembling eyes threatening to cry again for some reason.

‘How did this girl get such a position? She’s clearly inexperienced!’

Deon couldn’t find the words to describe what he was witnessing.

Isn’t a personal servant supposed to be experienced? How am I the one comforting her!

“Don’t cry again. You said you weren’t injured… I’m not punishing you because you didn’t make a major mistake that warrants punishment. Is that clear?”

Yven was still clearly skeptical, but once again, all she could do was…

‘Wait! What am I supposed to do?’

Understanding her thoughts clearly, Deon began giving her instructions for what she should already know.

“Why don’t you clean up the mess you made and move on to your other tasks?”

Signs of embarrassment appeared on Yven’s face, but what hadn’t shown on her expressions by now?

Embarrassed, she started carrying out her master’s orders without much thought. That somehow helped her avoid making any mistakes, like a professional—at last.

She picked up the basket and walked quickly toward the door. Before leaving, Deon’s voice called her again.

“How many hours of sleep do you need to feel rested?”

He asked, an odd question. But before the girl could think of an answer, Deon spoke again.

“Never mind… Anyway, if you can make me a coffee with milk at the breakfast table, that would be great.”

Yven felt like someone pulled her out of deep water only to throw her back in, and then out again.

So, with a head heavier than an abandoned marble slab, she simply bowed respectfully, saying the bare minimum.

“You can count on me.”

With that, the maid left, closing the door behind her, leaving Deon to the silence of his room.

“Can I?”

He whispered to the thin air.

‘I forgot to ask her name!’