“My life is over!”
The golden-haired boy clutched his head like a tragic protagonist. Which, unfortunately, he was not. He was the reason tragic protagonists going to exist.
“I have the face of a final boss… the name of a final boss… and probably the personality settings of a future final boss too!”
He staggered toward the mirror. Golden hair perfectly soft, shimmering like it had its own budget. Green eyes sharp, cold, slightly condescending even when he tried to look normal. Lips naturally curved into what could only be described as a “you are beneath me” smile. Amos froze. Was he good looking? Yes.
“But why do I look like I’d say ‘kneel’ unironically?”
He tried smiling. It came out wrong. Definitely evil. He tried stoic look. Too… condescending.
“NO. NO NONONONONONOONONONONONONOONONONONOO.”
He slapped his cheeks.
“I will need to fix it. Tone it down. Be normal. Be a tree, be a theater tree number three, be a free without needing to plea.”
He tried again. This time, he aimed for a friendly smile. The result?
A calculated, manipulative smile curved across his face that make him looked like he was making a deal for your soul.
“…I’m cooked, so cooked.”
Amos slowly slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor.
“Okay. Calm down. Think. Think like a reader.”He raised a finger dramatically. Step one: Identify the genre.” He paused.
“Noble setting… empire… branch family girl… emotionally distant father…”
Another finger went up.
“…Adopted little sister.”
He froze.
Very slowly, he turned his head toward the door.
“…Oh no.”
His pupils trembled.
“No no no no no—this is that setup, isn’t it?!”
The kind where:
The “little sister” grows up into a heroine or even fml.
She either hates him, fears him, or—
Worse.
“…becomes obsessed with him after years of emotional damage and wanting his approval.”Amos grabbed his head again.
“I already traumatized her in the first meeting!”
He recalled her trembling behind his father.
Her wide eyes. Her fear.
“…I even stared at her like a dumbass planning how to torment her.”
He buried his face into his knees.
“Great. Amazing. First impression: future villain brother.”
A moment of silence passed.
Then—
“…Wait.”He slowly looked up.
“What if…”
His eyes sharpened.
EUREKA!
“What if I don’t become the villain?”Silence. Then he pointed at himself again.
“No demon collusion. No usurpation. No oppression.” He stood up.
“I will live a peaceful noble life!”
He took one step forward. The door opened. The same maid from earlier bowed slightly.
“Young Master, please stand still.”
A calm, emotionless voice cut through his breakdown like a blade. Two pale hands reached from behind him and gently—but firmly—fixed his collar. Amos froze.
Ah Right, Her.
Standing behind him was a young woman dressed in a perfectly neat maid uniform that just enter his room. With her black short under a mobcap, not a single strand out of place. Perfection.
Blank. Utterly, expressionless. Eyes half-lidded. Tone flat. Presence quiet. A statue. Kuudere type. A perfectly functioning machine disguised as a human. His personal maid. The one who had been with him since childhood. Elena Eleanora, two years older than me.
“…Elena.”
She adjusted his collar once more, then moved to his hair, brushing it with practiced precision.
“I am here, Young Master.”
Her voice didn’t rise. Didn’t fall.
Amos stared at her through the mirror, as if trying to confirm she was real.
“You’ve been near here the whole time?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Since you began declaring your life over.”
“So, everything.”
“Yes.”
A pause.
“Is it Including the tree part?”
“Yes.”
Amos closed his eyes.
“…I see. Then there is no dignity left for me in this world.”
“There was none to begin with, Young Master.”
He snapped his eyes open.
“Watch your mouth.”
“Refused.”
Of course, she refused. Elena continued her work, fingers deft and efficient as she smoothed out the wrinkles of his uniform. Not a single motion was wasted. Not a single expression changed. If Amos hadn’t known better, he’d assume she was some kind of advanced automaton built solely for noble maintenance.
“Elena.”
“Yes.”
“Hypothetically speaking.”
“There is a 100% chance this will not be hypothetical.”
“…If a person were to, say, accidentally give off a bad guy impression”
“You are a bad guy.”
“I will ignore what you just said. —and that same person wanted to live a quiet, peaceful, absolutely safe life…”
“You would not.”
“Could they fix it?”
She paused. Just for a fraction of a second. It was so subtle that most people wouldn’t notice. Amos did.
“Elena?”
“Yes.”
“You paused.”
“I was thinking.”
“And?”
“It is difficult.”
“…Just difficult?”
“Extremely difficult for you at least.”
“HEY! YOU....CHEEKY.... MAID.” He raised his hand and pinching the maid left cheek. Elena not reacting to his pinching at all, finished adjusting his collar and stepped back, inspecting him from head to toe.
“However,” she added. Amos perked up instantly.
“While it is difficult—it is not impossible.”
Light returned to his eyes.
“Really?!”
“Yes.”
He grabbed her shoulders.
“Elena, you’re my only hope—”
“You are wrinkling my uniform.”
He immediately let go.
“Sorry.”
“If you wish to avoid becoming a 'bad guy',” she said calmly, “you must first correct your habits.”
“My habits?”
“Yes.”
She raised a finger.
“You tend to speak in a.... unique manner.”
“I do not”
“You just did.”
“Your point being?”
“You also look at others as though sizing up their value.”
“That’s just my face.”
“It is also your intent to have bully said person.”
“Yikes, now that's kind of bad.”
“And” she added, brushing a stray lock of golden hair back into place, “you love provoking reactions.”
Amos flinched.
“…That’s… That is correct. …I was going to say, ‘defamation,’ but I can see your point.”
“Additionally,” Elena continued, utterly merciless, “your usual expression suggests you are planning something unpleasant.”
“I’m not.”
“You were earlier.”
“It's look like that, but I did not.”
Silence settled between them for a moment.
Then.
“So, what do I do?” Amos asked, unusually serious now.
Elena met his reflection in the mirror.
“Simple.”
A beat.
“Be kind.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“That’s your grand strategy?!”
“Yes.”
“…That sounds like something a background extra would say before getting destroyed in chapter three!”
“Yes.”
“You weren't paying any attention were you.”
“Yes.”
Of course she didn’t.
Amos groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
“You Cheeky Maid!”
“Yes.”
She stepped back again, posture straight, hands folded neatly in front of her.
“Though you have grown a little.”
He blinked.
“I have?”
“You did not insult the young lady earlier.”
“I was scared for my life.”
“You refrained from insulting her.”
“That’s a very low bar and sad even for someone like me.”
“It is your current bar.”
“Fair enough.”
Amos looked at himself in the mirror again. Same golden hair. Same sharp green eyes. Same cooked guy everything. Damn I look good.
“Be kind, huh…”
He exhaled.
“Alright.”
He straightened his posture.
“I, Amos E. Kyros, will become a kind, respectable noble”
“You are doing it again.”
“Right.”He coughed.
“I’ll… try to be nicer.”
“That is acceptable.”
A pause.
Then Amos’s expression shifted—just slightly.
“Elena.”
“Yes.”
“…If I fail.”
“You definitely will.”
“Can you at least cheer on me?”
She didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, she stepped forward once more, adjusting the final detail—his sleeve. Then, in the same calm, flat tone—
“I always did.”Amos froze.
“Huh?”
“You simply did not notice.”
She stepped back.
“Your breakfast is ready, Young Master.”
And just like that, she turned and walked toward the door, as if she hadn’t just dropped something absurdly important. Amos stared after her.
“Wait.”
She paused, hand on the door.
“Yes?”
“Have I really been that bad?”
A brief silence.
Then—
“You once attempted to peek on me changing.”
“I did not! HEY, DON'T YOU DARE RUN AWAY AFTER DEFAMING ME!”
She left, quickly like the wind and in fact not the wind.