A gentle knock at the door stirred Kazuki from his restless sleep. Morning light filtered through the tall, arched windows of his chamber, casting golden patterns across the silk-draped canopy of his bed. For a brief moment, he had forgotten where he was. But the unfamiliar grandeur of the room—too pristine, too regal—reminded him.

  Then, the door creaked open.

  A man stepped inside with measured grace, his footsteps soundless against the polished marble floor. He was young, perhaps in his mid-to-late twenties, with an impeccable posture and a gaze that seemed both polite and observant. The long dark green hair was a surprise, it didn’t seem like it was dyed. His attire—an immaculately tailored black-and-white uniform adorned with silver embroidery—spoke of his status among the palace staff. He bowed deeply, gloved hand resting over his heart, a gesture both respectful and practiced.

  “Good morning, Master Kazuki.” His voice was smooth, refined, and even with that odd pronunciation of his Japanese name, it carried an undertone of quiet authority. “I am Silas, your appointed attendant. Her Majesty the Queen has entrusted me with your care.”

  Kazuki slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His mind was still sluggish, struggling to process the formal introduction. “Attendant…?” he repeated, his voice hoarse from sleep.

  Silas straightened, offering a small, reassuring smile. “Indeed. It will be my duty to assist you in all matters—be it attire, decorum, or navigating the complexities of court life. If you require guidance or counsel, you need only ask. I am here to serve.”

  There was an effortless elegance to his words, a well-rehearsed devotion that made it sound as though he had spent years perfecting this role. Kazuki’s mind insisted on comparing the man with those themed cafes back in Tokyo brimming with people dressed as maids and butlers. But something about his eyes—sharp, always assessing—was proof enough that Silas was a real servant. This wasn’t anything like those servers giving away pamphlets on the street.

  Kazuki exhaled, rubbing his temples. The weight of everything came rushing back: being transported to this world, meeting the Queen, the looming uncertainty of what was expected of him. “Right… I suppose I should be grateful.”

  Silas’s smile remained in place, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his expression. “There is no need for gratitude, Master Kazuki. This is my duty.”

  He moved effortlessly across the room, drawing open the curtains fully to let the morning light pour in. Then, he turned back, standing with his hands neatly clasped. “Shall I have the attendants draw the bath and bring your attire for the day? You have a royal summons for this morning, and it would be unwise to greet the Queen unprepared.”

  Kazuki forced his eyes to adjust to the bright light passing through the tall windows. Maybe it had been too hopeful of a dream to wish that those events from last night were nothing but his tired brain hallucinating. Giving him some sort of strange nightmare.

  Sighing, he accepted the ludicrous fact that he’s been yanked from Japan to this fantasy land. He’s too old to get overly excited. In fact, his head was filled to the brim with worries—most revolving around the fact that he might not be able to go back home.

  Before he could spiral into more perturbing thoughts, Kazuki focused back on his company.

  Everything about Silas—the way he spoke, the way he moved—was perfect. Too perfect. It was clear that he wasn’t just any servant working in this grand palace. The Queen herself had appointed him, and there might be something more than only ensuring his well being in that decision. Kazuki wasn’t na?ve enough to question it though. He is quite literally at the mercy of these people.

  Scratching his unkempt hair, he offered Silas a tired smirk. “I get the feeling I don’t really have a choice in any of this.”

  Silas dipped his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “One always has a choice, Master Kazuki. Some, however, come with greater consequences than others.”

  Kazuki chuckled under his breath. “Right. Well, in that case… let’s get this day started.”

  Silas bowed once more, his expression remaining composed. “As you wish.”

  As he moved to summon the attendants, Kazuki got out of the unreasonably soft bed. Cracking his back and neck while stretching, humming to himself the radio taiso while doing his morning exercise. It was the sort of drilled habit he felt desperate to do, now more than ever, to soothe his heart with something familiar.

  Silas remained by the door, his gaze unwavering as he observed Kazuki’s routine. It was a subtle scrutiny, the kind that didn’t intrude but took in everything—the way Kazuki moved, the rhythm of his breathing, even the slight hesitation in his posture. There was no overt judgment, no questioning—just quiet assessment, like a man taking careful note of every detail.

  Kazuki could feel it, that weight of observation. He’d been around enough people in life to know when someone was measuring him up, but Silas did it with such precision that it was almost unsettling. Almost.

  Letting out a slow exhale, Kazuki rolled his shoulders back. “You’re staring.”

  Silas blinked, as if caught in a moment of self-reflection, then offered a small, measured smile. “Merely ensuring that you are well, Master Kazuki. Your habits are… unexpected.”

  Kazuki straightened, rolling his wrists. “It’s pronounced Kazuki,” he corrected the man, feeling weird from being addressed as Master by someone younger than him. “And this is quite common where I’m from. I assume that morning exercise isn’t exactly a thing here then?”

  Silas solemnly bowed his head at the correction before continuing with their conversation.

  “It is—for knights, soldiers, and those who work the land.” Silas’s voice remained smooth, his tone betraying neither approval nor disdain. “But for a guest of Her Majesty? It is an unusual sight.”

  There’s a brief pause in his words. Dark purple eyes analyzing if his charge fits into any of the categories he mentioned. Still, Silas never showed a disrespectful stance in his quiet assessment of the outsider.

  “You keep yourself disciplined,” Silas remarked after a moment, his voice even. “That will serve you well here.”

  Kazuki snorted, lowering his arms as he finished a stretch. “You say that like I’m going into battle.”

  Silas tilted his head slightly. “One could argue that court life is its own battlefield. Just with different weapons.”

  Kazuki sighed. He had barely woken up, and already, he was being reminded that he wasn’t in Tokyo anymore. But Silas had a point. He had seen enough of last night’s formalities to understand that words, glances, and alliances held weight in this place.

  The door opened again, and a pair of attendants entered—two young women in pristine uniforms, carrying neatly folded garments draped over their arms. They moved with precision, their eyes respectfully lowered as they set his clothing on a nearby table.

  “Your bath is prepared, Master Kazuki,” one of them said softly before both bowed and exited just as swiftly as they came.

  Kazuki exhaled through his nose. Everything was happening so quickly. He wasn’t used to being waited on like this, and if he were honest, it unsettled him.

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  Silas, catching the hesitation in his expression, spoke smoothly. “If it puts you at ease, think of it not as indulgence, but necessity. Her Majesty is… meticulous. It would be unbecoming for you to appear before her unkempt.”

  Kazuki shot him a flat look. “You’re saying I look like a mess.”

  Silas allowed the faintest ghost of a smile to touch his lips. “I would never be so impolite.”

  Kazuki let out a self-depreciating chuckle. He wouldn’t be wrong if he did, he thought to himself. Mustering some inner strength, he made his way toward the door Silas indicated with an open palm—from the scent of herbs coming from its direction, this was the bathing chamber annexed to his room. He paused briefly at the doorway, glancing back. “You’ll be waiting until I’m done, won’t you?”

  Silas dipped his head. “Naturally.”

  That was both reassuring and slightly unnerving. Kazuki shook his head and stepped inside, letting the scent of herbal steam envelop him. He had the feeling that, whether he liked it or not, this was only the beginning of a very long day.

  Silas waited patiently outside the bathing chamber, standing with practiced poise as the other attendants moved efficiently through their tasks of tidying up the room back to its pristine state. He listened to the distant sounds of water shifting, the occasional splash, and Kazuki’s barely-audible mutterings—half complaints, half resignation.

  When the doors finally opened, Kazuki emerged, wrapped in a deep blue bathrobe embroidered with silver threading. His damp hair clung to his forehead, a few stray drops of water trailing down his neck. He rubbed at his face, blinking blearily.

  “Feels weird,” Kazuki admitted, pulling at the fabric as though it didn’t quite sit right on his skin. “I’m used to sweatpants and a T-shirt, not—” He gestured vaguely at himself. “This.”

  Silas seemed unbothered by his reaction to the extravagant towel. “It is merely temporary. This will be your outfit of the day,” he deftly guided Kazuki’s attention to something else instead, gesturing with his arms to the clothes neatly placed on a low armchair near a mirror at one of the corners of the room.

  Kazuki approached with slow steps, unsure of what he was looking at. Seeing his confusion so clearly, Silas did not hesitate to fulfill his job.

  “It is a sophisticated formal gown used mostly by the counselors of Her Majesty. It will keep most low-ranking retainers from approaching you recklessly.” With a swift motion of his hand, one of the servants approached. A young boy, who Kazuki momentarily recognized as the one who had left his meal at the table last night, tugged at his cotton robes.

  “W-Wait a second!” He stopped the teenager from undressing him. “I’m perfectly capable of dressing myself! I don’t need this, so…”

  Seeing the confusion in the servant's eyes was a bit too much for his conscience. It’s obvious that they are used to this—and there’s nothing wrong with doing one’s job. But no matter what, Kazuki was a grown adult with a healthy amount of shame. So, as long as his limbs work fine, he can take care of himself.

  “As you wish, Master Kazuki.” Silas bent to his will not a breath later, successfully holding his expression to not give away what were his personal thoughts on this matter. The other servants were dismissed, respectfully bowing to Kazuki before leaving.

  Kazuki sighed in relief. It was strange—having people tend to him like this. It wasn’t like he grew up in wealth back in Japan; he was just a normal guy, scrambling through life as best he could. Now, people dressed in crisp uniforms moved around him with quiet reverence, as if he were someone important. This was way beyond good customer service…

  “I can do this by myself,” he repeated to Silas, who gave a simple nod in acknowledgement of Kazuki’s words. It didn’t seem like he would be allowed a moment of privacy, at least not from this loyal servant of the Queen. With a long sigh, something he noticed to be doing nonstop since waking up, he resigned to put on those strange clothes like he was back in the military barracks. He tried to do it quickly, but maybe that was the wrong approach when dealing with something completely new.

  Kazuki scowled at the mirror, pulling at the stiff collar of the embroidered shirt. The fabric was finer than anything he’d ever owned back on Earth, but it felt more like a straitjacket than clothing. He had struggled for the past ten minutes to tie the sash properly, only to end up with a knot that looked more like a tangled shoelace.

  And then there was Silas who stood beside him, hands clasped behind his back, watching with the patience of a saint. But Kazuki could feel the judgment radiating off the man.

  “I can do it,” Kazuki muttered, yanking at the fabric again.

  “Hm,” Silas hummed, saying nothing yet managing to convey everything.

  Kazuki shot him a glare through the mirror. “I mean it.”

  Silas arched a single, unimpressed eyebrow. “And yet, you are moments away from strangling yourself with a sash, sir.”

  Kazuki sighed, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “It’s just a belt.”

  “It is part of a formal ensemble,” Silas corrected smoothly. “And a reflection of your status, however temporary it may be.”

  “Yeah, well, my status is inconvenienced outsider who didn’t ask for any of this.” Kazuki snapped back, nerves taut from frustration.

  Silas tilted his head ever so slightly, not giving any indication that he was affected by Kazuki’s growing temper.

  With exaggerated confidence, the salaryman gave the sash another pull—

  —and promptly cinched it so tight around his waist that he let out a strangled cough.

  Silas exhaled sharply through his nose. “That’s enough.” In one smooth motion, he stepped forward, took hold of the fabric, and undid all of Kazuki’s efforts in two seconds flat.

  Kazuki threw up his hands. “Oh, come on!”

  Silas ignored him, moving with practiced precision. “Stand still.”

  “I am standing still,” Kazuki grumbled, but he begrudgingly let Silas work. The attendant adjusted the layers of fabric with almost insulting ease, tying the sash into a perfectly symmetrical knot.

  “There,” Silas said, stepping back. “A vast improvement.”

  Kazuki looked at himself in the mirror and had to admit—begrudgingly—that he did look better. The sash sat comfortably now, and the layers actually felt like they belonged on his body instead of suffocating him.

  “…Thanks,” he muttered.

  Silas smirked. “You are most welcome, sir. Next time, allow me to handle it from the beginning.”

  Kazuki shook his head. “Not a chance.” He was determined to dress by himself instead of needing to rely on others like a child.

  Silas only smiled, unbothered by the refusal. Almost as if he knew already that it was futile to reject his assistance.

  Kazuki exhaled, running a hand through his damp hair, giving it some semblance of style before nodding. “Let’s get this over with.”

  As they stepped out into the hallway, the golden morning light streamed through the high arched windows, casting long, elegant shadows along the polished stone floor. The castle was already alive with movement—servants moving briskly through the halls, knights standing at attention, noble courtiers conversing in hushed voices.

  Silas led him through the corridors, keeping a step ahead but always attuned to Kazuki’s pace. Servants bowed in their presence, some discreetly stealing curious glances at the foreigner who now resided in the palace. Kazuki, for his part, didn’t seem entirely at ease, but he masked his discomfort well.

  The grandeur of the palace still felt overwhelming, like he’d stumbled onto the set of some high-budget fantasy drama.

  “Your presence has already stirred curiosity within the court,” Silas murmured. “It is only a matter of time before the nobles seek an audience.”

  Kazuki made a face. “Can’t say I’m looking forward to that.”

  “You will have to, eventually,” Silas said. “But for today, your only obligation is attending breakfast with the royal family.”

  Kazuki slowed his steps slightly. “Oh.”

  Silas glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “I presume you are prepared for the encounter?”

  Kazuki exhaled. “Define ‘prepared’.”

  Silas stopped and turned fully to face him. “To them, you are still an unknown element. The Queen’s patience is not infinite, and Princess Lydia, as the heir, will be particularly keen to determine your place here.”

  Kazuki blinked in surprise. The princess was the heir?

  “And what about the others?” He asked, trying to learn what he could before facing such high profile figures.

  Silas hesitated, then said, “Princess Leah is unpredictable. If she takes interest in you, it may be either a blessing or a curse.”

  “Comforting,” Kazuki muttered. “Anyone else I should be careful of?”

  A small pause. “Princess Margaret’s loyalty lies wholly with Princess Lydia. Expect wariness.”

  Kazuki sighed. “So basically, I’m walking into a pit of lions.”

  Silas tilted his head slightly, a glint of amusement in his cool eyes. “Perhaps. But even lionesses respect those who do not flinch.”

  Kazuki groaned. “Is that supposed to be encouragement?”

  Silas merely turned and continued walking. “Merely an observation.”

  Kazuki followed, his mind already working through how he’d handle the morning ahead. If nothing else, at least he had Silas in his corner—even if he was certain the man was maintaining a good distance between them out of professionalism.

  The sound of their footsteps was muffled by the rich carpets that lined the stone floors. The tension in his shoulders grew with each step closer to the royal dining hall.

  His thoughts churned. A formal breakfast with the Queen and her daughters? That sounded like a disaster waiting to happen.

  Silas, unlike him, moved with effortless grace, his posture perfectly straight, his pace unhurried. Kazuki envied that composure. He had half a mind to ask if Silas had ever been intimidated by anything in his life, but he doubted he’d get a real answer.

  Instead, he exhaled and muttered, “So, uh… any last-minute advice before I embarrass myself?”

  Silas didn’t stop walking but cast him a brief sidelong glance. “Stay observant. The Queen values efficiency and logic. Princess Lydia will gauge your intentions carefully. Princess Leah will test your patience. And Princess Margaret…” He hesitated for the briefest second. “She is likely already suspicious of you.”

  Kazuki frowned. “Suspicious? I haven’t even done anything yet.”

  “You exist,” Silas said simply.

  Kazuki felt like that answer told him more about the princess than how to handle her. But although little, it was information he might need to walk out of this encounter unscathed.