Night, the bedroom, the study.
Alfred sat at his desk, writing a self-criticism.
If souls could take tangible form, Alfred's desk—no, the entire bedroom—would have been stuffed to the brim with vouchers of self-reflection.
In Alfred's eyes, tonight's dinner had been a failure.
The reason for its failure was... it had not been perfect.
During the dinner, the Young Master had frowned several times, and the direct cause of all of it was his own blunder at work.
He had indulged too much in seeking and enjoying the thrill of proselytizing, thereby blurring the boundaries. One could also say he had done his job "too well," causing an isolated event, when placed within the overarching plan, to fail to align, resulting in substandard execution.
The self-criticism grew longer and longer, the stack of paper thicker and thicker.
Suddenly, however, Alfred stopped and laid down his pen.
*Smack.*
Tapping his forehead lightly, Alfred realized he had committed yet another mistake: the Young Master didn't even bother looking at routine work documents as long as Alfred had handled them, so how could the Young Master possibly read this heavy, tedious self-criticism?
He could have simply gone before the Young Master to admit his fault in person, using a more concise and efficient approach to understand and resolve the issue. Yet here he was, writing so much—this was succumbing to the sickness of formalism, violating the team interaction principles the Young Master desired.
As for what those principles were...
*Smack.*
Alfred tapped his forehead lightly again. He had made another mistake—he hadn't formulated the code of conduct for the team of believers beforehand.
"Sigh. If not for the Young Master's trust and care, someone of my meager ability wouldn't be worthy of being his personal valet at all."
Alfred set aside the self-criticism and began drafting the *Code of Conduct for Believers*. He planned to announce it at the next collective study and exchange meeting.
As for the specific details, Alfred wouldn't bother the Young Master; instead, he would summarize and synthesize them based on how he and the Young Master had interacted over all this time.
At that moment, scenes of the Young Master discussing problems with him again and again surfaced in his mind—especially that time on Fire Island, when the Young Master, having been "chastised" by Lord Theisen, had leaned dejectedly against the bedside, conversing with him in a question-and-answer manner.
"Article One: All believers are equal."
This was a politically correct slogan within the Church of Order.
Alfred hesitated, the tip of his pen trembling slightly, but in the end he crossed it out and rewrote it:
*Between believers, and between believers and God, there is equality of thought and personal dignity. (The concept of God will be subject to subsequent detailed exposition and cognitive guidance).*
Alfred believed that the path the Young Master walked and the people who would gather around him, both now and in the future, would predominantly stem from the Church of Order. Thus, from the very beginning, while every regulation and system would inevitably carry the shadow of the Church of Order, it had to incorporate elements unique to them.
Otherwise, if the Young Master's future "New Church of Order" was no different from the Old Church of Order, where would the significance and driving force of replacing the old with the new lie?
On their part, in accordance with the Young Master's consistent demands, they had to pull down the concept of [God] from Order right from the start.
Even if this was somewhat logically inconsistent.
Because a large part of their group's founding and future confidence stemmed from the fact that they had a "God";
without a "God," what difference was there between their circle and the other ideological factions within the Church of Order? Wouldn't they just become another "Davins"?
Because there was a "God," they could develop and have a future; yet their future could not depend on "God."
Needing to rely on the power of "God" on one hand while striving to suppress the status of "God" on the other—it was simply too impractical, even if this concept had been proposed by the Young Master, the "God Himself."
Alfred felt it was like demanding that an army fight bravely and slaughter enemies on the battlefield during wartime, while also expecting it, in peacetime, to lower its rifle muzzles, shed all ferocity, and willingly perform volunteer community service.
How could such a bizarre army ever exist in this world?
"Phoo..."
Nor could anyone ever build such an army.
Alfred pressed his lips together. This question had troubled him for a long time; every time the Young Master reiterated the concept of "negating God," he would fall into such contemplation.
However, Alfred wasn't despondent. He believed the Young Master must have a plan, a strategy, and a "blueprint" in his heart.
"Article Two: Internal Communication Methods Among Believers..."
"Article Three: ..."
By the time Alfred finished writing the articles and looked up, dawn had broken. Checking the time, he was surprised to see it was already nine in the morning.
He stood up, took a shower, changed into a dark-blue slim-fitting suit, and checked his grooming in the mirror while carefully washing his hands.
Although he hadn't slept all night, Alfred was still full of vigor. He had always maintained an exceptionally high level of initiative when it came to tasks assigned by the Young Master.
Especially after receiving Compasini's legacy, he hadn't spent much time on combat training, nor had he deliberately developed in that direction; he mainly applied it to handling various administrative affairs.
For instance, when analyzing an event or resolving a problem, he could simulate dozens or even hundreds of possible scenarios in his mind simultaneously to run calculations. This was also a path of development Alfred had chosen to alter for himself.
He felt that the Young Master didn't lack "fighters," and in the future, the Twelve Knights would further supplement that strength. The Young Master himself was already a versatile, well-rounded powerhouse.
Therefore, it was enough for him to excel at managerial and administrative affairs. The Young Master would forever need a head butler whose character was trustworthy and whose abilities were up to the task.
And this was precisely why Alfred had been able to progress from an aberrant demon in Rojia to someone whose administrative capability could now outmatch a former student of the High Priest.
He had always worked hard, studying and delving deep without ever pausing.
Alfred arrived at the Young Master's bedroom and knocked. The doorbell chimed from within. Alfred pushed the door open and saw the Young Master sitting alone before the floor-to-ceiling window with a teacup in hand, gazing out at the verdant greenery ahead.
"Alfred, waking up to a vast estate where one can ride horses and play golf right outside the window really is comfortable."
"Yet that was also why you chose to move out of the manor back then, because you wanted to escape such comfort."
For the Karen of that time, becoming an "aristocrat," enjoying an "aristocratic" life, having a beautiful fiancée, and having no lack of gentle maids who served you while wishing to be made into mistresses...
Anyone would envy such a life.
And it was precisely when Karen realized he had begun to enjoy this feeling, even starting to accept Wien aristocratic cuisine, that he decisively resolved to leave this place and rent an apartment in Yorktown to live and strive on his own.
Alfred felt that part of the reason the Young Master still could not stomach Wien bean paste was that, to him, Wien bean paste carried another connotation: corruption and decadence.
"Young Master, I need to make a self-criticism regarding what happened last night."
Karen raised a hand, cutting off Alfred's self-criticism. "That's enough. It's fine as long as you recognize there was a slight discrepancy. I trust that you will reflect and improve, and you will certainly do better next time. Let's skip that step."
"Very well, Young Master."
Alfred wasn't surprised in the least by the Young Master's response. This was the Young Master's unconditional trust in him.
As for Karen, he had often found that there was little left for him to teach Alfred. Many of Alfred's current awareness and ideas were even ahead of his own, and far more thorough.
Especially after Karen took the document Alfred had drafted overnight and read through it.
"Young Master, please point out any areas that need revision or removal."
"I think it's very good. For now, I don't see anything that needs amending."
"Yes, Young Master, you are right. Certain problems cannot be seen right now; we can only wait for them to surface or be detected as things develop."
"Mm... exactly. That's what I meant."
"Understood, your subordinate comprehends." Alfred put away the document and asked, "Young Master, do you have any arrangements for today?"
"I do." Karen pulled two books from beneath his chair—one was a novel, *Bias's Cabin*, and the other was a spellbook. "My plan for today is to do my best to finish this novel, and then, if any time remains, finish this spellbook."
With the rise in Karen's rank, his corresponding privileges had also swiftly increased; applying for higher-level spellbooks had become much easier.
However, spell scrolls were rather cumbersome, and even internal personnel had to pay a considerable fee to borrow them. Thus, Karen preferred these plain-material "compilation" books that were clear and concise. The downside was that the learning efficiency differed—spell scrolls offered an immersive experience that accelerated comprehension and mastery. But efficiency had never been an issue for Karen.
In fact, he often fretted over learning things too quickly, resulting in picking the wrong combinations during practical use.
It was much like obtaining certificates too easily and ending up with too many at once; when standing before the service counter, one would inevitably scramble to rummage through them.
"Understood, Young Master. Today I will go give Vic and Leon an ideological education... no, an ideological exchange session."
"Mm."
After Alfred left, Karen set down his teacup and began turning the pages.
*Bias's Cabin* was a fantasy adventure novel. The author had packed it with imaginative elements, but to ordinary people, Karen's current life already overturned the imagination. Thus, reading the book actually gave him the sensation of reading "realistic literature."
This reading lasted the entire morning.
Midway through, a maid came to inquire about lunch. Karen asked only for three pastries, then resumed reading.
Finally, at three-thirty in the afternoon, Karen finished the book.
Closing it, he stretched comfortably. For someone fond of reading, the experience of having leisure to spend a long stretch of uninterrupted time reading was no less gratifying than a climber conquering a towering peak.
At the thought of Rasma's impending return, while he was here "wasting time," the pleasure of stealing moments of leisure from a busy schedule multiplied even further.
After all, mere anxiety past a certain point brought no benefit, which was where the value of balancing work and rest revealed itself.
Karen picked up the spellbook and began flipping through it—yes, just flipping through.
He had actually learned many spells during this recent period. After all, one had to eat every day; Karen didn't like reading newspapers while eating, so naturally he studied while dining.
However, it was enough to choose the single most cost-effective spell from each category. Given his own conditions, he didn't need to worry about wasting spiritual power, which left a very narrow scope of choices for practical application.
After finishing an entire book, there were usually only two spells worth putting to use. Normally, the screening work in this regard was handled by Purr and Kevin, because no one else was qualified to step into Karen's "perspective."
His absolute, exceptional talent, combined with the Immorales family belief system, plus two top-tier teachers rarely found anywhere in the world—it would be difficult for Karen's "strength" not to increase rapidly.
As if by telepathy, just as Karen put down the spellbook and prepared to take a sip of iced water, the door was pushed open.
The one who walked in was Eunice.
Karen leaned back, resting his neck against the chair. Eunice came up behind him and naturally began massaging his shoulders with both hands.
"Mmh..."
"Hard at work?" Eunice said.
"I spent the day reading a novel. What's hard about that?" Karen reached up and caught Eunice's hand.
"You didn't have lunch?"
"I wasn't hungry. I'll make up for it at dinner."
"I spent the whole day talking about fashion design with Ophelia. Many clothing elements from Dark Moon Island would fit wonderfully into my designs. Yes, they suit my design philosophy very well."
"Because of Dark Moon Island's geographical environment, its culture leans toward the vintage. No, the place itself has an ancient feel, so it fits the conservative style in your fashion designs."
"I find that you really understand everything." Eunice looked down at Karen in some astonishment.
"I seem to know a little bit about everything, but not much in depth."
"You're being too modest."
"It's the truth, not modesty."
"I originally thought you'd find my designs insufficiently fashionable and cutting-edge."
"Not at all. Fashion and avant-garde trends mostly just follow the tide, and trends are like the ebb and flow of the ocean. In truth, many core elements and essences never change.
"Not just fashion design, but interior decoration and architecture as well—the more tightly something follows current trends, the more easily it looks dated and outmoded after a few years. On the contrary, vintage and conservative things remain vintage and conservative; their quality changes very little.
"Of course..."
"Of course what?"
"Some things still need to break new ground and catch up with a bit of trend."
Eunice caught Karen's underlying meaning and replied, "I know."
"Saying you know verbally doesn't count. There has to be a test."
Eunice whispered into Karen's ear, "Can we wait until tonight?"
"Fine, but..."
"But what?"
"I get to write the questions."
"All right."
"It won't be multiple-choice with a single answer, but multiple-choice with multiple answers."
"All right."
"One question won't be enough. We'll need several question formats."
Eunice pressed her cheek against Karen's and murmured,
"You're the chief examiner. You call the shots."
...
Things meant for the night, of course, had to be left for the night.
When night fell, it not only buried the ugliness of the day, but also shielded the shameless abandon unsuitable for daylight.
At dusk, Karen had the manor staff bring out the white horse, and he rode across the estate with Eunice.
Karen loved this feeling—riding a horse across a manor that, at least in name, belonged to him, with his fiancée resting in his arms. The lifelong pursuit of most men amounted to nothing more than this scene.
Yet as they passed before the ancestral mausoleum of the Allen family, Karen couldn't help looking a few extra times at the tombstone of Progenitor Allen.
That progenitor currently resided inside his soul space. Of course, he was not a conscious "he," possessing no awareness.
"It seems all beautiful things carry an inherent fragility."
"Yes, because they are hard to come by," Eunice said. "That is why people cherish them."
"Mm."
If he hadn't "awakened" Count Rekar that night, Allen Manor, such a beautiful place, would have already become the Wien royal family's "pig pen."
...
"I'm going to report to the department head!"
Brimming with high working spirits, Leon got into the car holding the message he had just received, preparing to drive out to find Karen on horseback. The news was that Sus was confirmed to be promoted to the Dinge Region, and the candidate for the new Regional Chief had been decided... it was Presiding Judge Gaspol!
"Hey," Vic called out to Leon.
"What's wrong? You want to go?" Leon suddenly felt he had been overly eager, and quickly said, "You can go if you want; here are the car keys."
Vic shook his head and said, "Go on horseback."
"I'm not very good at horsemanship. Driving will be faster."
"It's intelligence that was expected all along; there's no rush. But driving a car will ruin the mood."
"Right, you make a lot of sense! Thank you, Vic!"
Leon immediately got out of the car and mounted a horse instead.
Vic and Alfred continued their stroll near the castle. Vic spoke up: "I've noticed that the department head shows great respect for this marriage."
Having arrived here, Vic had also come to see the true reality of this manor. Regardless of whether it had been glorious in the past, now... it was hardly much of an asset.
Alfred understood what Vic meant, but he didn't explain it from the perspective of views on marriage or love, nor did he intend to bring up the cat named Allen who bound the Young Master and this manor together.
Instead, he countered deliberately, "You feel this marriage doesn't hold much practical value, don't you?"
"Yes." Vic didn't hide it in the slightest. "Setting aside whether the starting point is high or low, I've noticed that everyone around the department head is extraordinarily talented and works extremely hard. I also know Miss Eunice slept for a full six months to awaken her bloodline, but now, I don't see any sense of crisis in Miss Eunice."
"Should she have a sense of crisis?"
"Shouldn't she? Even if she doesn't know the department head's true identity, with his current rank and standing, she should feel it. Yet she seems to merely be... living her life with great dedication."
"What else should she do?"
"What?"
"I'm asking you, what else?"
"Sir, I don't understand what you mean by 'what else'..."
"Otherwise, what is the Young Master working so hard and striving for?"
"This..."
"In truth, Miss Eunice is very clever. She knows what the Young Master wants."
"I still... find it a bit hard to understand."
"With the Young Master working so hard and dangerously, striving and climbing upward, when a person remains constantly tense and exhausted, they grow numb, weary, and even lost.
"Therefore, at such times, the Young Master needs to return home and see someone living happily and carefree.
"For a married man,
"just looking at her smile
"gives all the toil and effort out in the world a tangible meaning."
Chapter 694