Chapter 9: The Faithful Misinterpreter

After a series of purges and reforms, the Arkwright Duke’s estate had finally regained a deceptive calm — the silence after a storm.

Of course, that tranquility was only on the surface. Beneath it swirled a mixture of expectation and anxiety about the new personnel system, and above all, a growing sense of awe and fear toward their new ruler, Xenon.

Zenon himself, however, paid no attention to the unrest around him. In his private chamber, he was already at work on his next plan.

Spread across his desk were no longer financial ledgers, but instead old maps of the Arkwright territory and records of past harvests. The financial “first aid” was complete. The next step was to increase the domain’s overall value — in other words, to boost productivity.

“…The soil is too depleted. No wonder yields have stagnated,” Xenon murmured, jotting down notes on a sheet of parchment.

At that moment, a soft knock sounded, and Gray entered the room. In his hands was a tray bearing a steaming cup of tea.

“Zenon-sama, would you care for some tea as a break?”

“Ah. Leave it there.”

Zenon answered without looking up from his documents.

Gray did as instructed but didn’t leave right away. Instead, he stood quietly behind his master, his thoughts a storm of reflection over the events of the past few days.

He had seen Zenon mercilessly tighten his grip on his family, cast aside long-serving retainers without hesitation.

Viewed in isolation, it was the very picture of cruelty — the work of a cold, heartless devil.

But the results spoke differently.

The family’s financial collapse had been averted, the root of corruption cut out, and those who had long been overlooked despite their talents were finally recognized.

Was it possible that all of this — the ruthlessness, the upheaval — had been a form of tough love, a necessary cure to steer House Arkwright and its lands toward a better future?

Gray stole a glance at Zenon’s face.

Illuminated by the lamplight, his expression remained unreadable. Only his ice-blue eyes moved steadily, scanning line after line of text with unwavering focus.

And as Gray watched, the scattered pieces of his understanding began to fit together into a single, coherent picture.

Yes. Zenon-sama knew everything.

He had foreseen the ruin that awaited if nothing was done — the suffering of the people, the collapse of the house. And so, he had willingly taken upon himself the role of the villain.

Misunderstood, isolated, utterly alone — he bore the burden of saving this sinking ship by himself.

His harshness toward his family was a whip meant to drive them away from ruin.
His purging of his retainers was a necessary amputation — to prevent rot from spreading through the whole body.
And his promotion of the talented, regardless of birth, was an act of hope — to rekindle faith among all who lived in the domain.

“…Zenon-sama.”

Gray spoke before he realized it.

Zenon looked up with mild annoyance, silently prompting him to continue.

“Why… do you go to such lengths?”

It was a question born straight from Gray’s heart.

Despite his great deeds, Zenon had never once uttered words like “for the people” or “for the domain.” What truly drove him?

Gray waited, his eyes filled with anticipation.

Zenon sighed softly, clearly finding the question tiresome.

This attendant of his had a habit of asking such unproductive things from time to time. Still, it wasn’t wise to demotivate a loyal subordinate by brushing him off too coldly. Zenon decided to give the briefest, most accurate answer possible.

“I’ve told you already. I simply hate inefficiency.”

“…Eh?”

“Corruption, incompetence, waste — all of it is inefficient. And inefficiency, in turn, threatens my comfortable and rational way of life. So I eliminate it. Nothing more, nothing less.”

The answer was completely different from what Gray had expected.

Yet he did not feel disappointment.

If anything, it struck him like a bolt of lightning, filling him with overwhelming conviction.

(Ah… so that’s who he truly is!)

Tears welled in Gray’s eyes.

How humble, how noble, how unbearably lonely this man was!

Even as he labored for the sake of the land and its people, he refused to take credit, claiming instead that it was all “for himself.”

He hid his noble heart behind a mask of cold logic — all to spare those around him from needless worry.

That, surely, was the ultimate form of kindness.

And to be the one person who truly understood that kindness — that truth — set Gray’s heart ablaze with devotion.

Without a sound, he knelt down before Zenon.

This time, his movement was neither impulsive nor uncertain.
It was calm, steady — the gesture of a man who had found unshakable purpose.

“Zenon-sama.”

Gray called his master’s name in a trembling voice.

“I never truly understood the depth of your heart — not even one ten-thousandth of it. But now… at last, I see it. The true weight of what you bear.”

Zenon stared at Gray, who had suddenly begun this theatrical display, with a puzzled expression.

(Here we go again. I really can’t make sense of how his brain works. Still, his loyalty parameter seems to have broken past its limit, so I’ll just leave him be.)

“Even if, from this day forward, the whole world should call you a demon, I alone will understand your true self — your noble heart!”

A single tear traced down Gray’s cheek, overcome with emotion.

“This sword, this life — all of it belongs to you! Please, allow me to follow you wherever you go!”

Absolute loyalty.

It was a fortress — grandly built upon a foundation of magnificent misunderstanding, yet unshakable in its strength.

Before such fervent devotion, Zenon merely spoke a few quiet words.

“Do as you like. More importantly, by tomorrow morning, make arrangements to collect soil samples from the major villages in the territory. Our next reform will be agriculture.”

His gaze had already moved past his sentimental retainer — fixed instead on the barren lands ahead, and the starving people (otherwise known as inefficient labor resources).

Gray stifled his tears, then responded with firm, radiant conviction.

“At once, my lord!”

The master’s next command — proof of trust.

With a new sense of purpose blazing in his chest, Gray rose to his feet with burning resolve.

To support his lord’s lonely struggle — that, he believed with all his heart, was the very meaning of his existence.