One month after The Incident (now permanently capitalized in Hebe Familia records), Regulus stood at the compound gates holding a palanquin-like carriage as its pack mule. Inside, Nyx snoozed atop a pile of silk cushions, her hair strewn with biscuit crumbs from her month-long capital escapade.
Mistress Elaina's voice carried across the courtyard like a winter gale:
"Let this be a lesson. We do not tolerate corruption of our maids' discipline."
Regulus opened his mouth—
"Especially not through laundry-based sedition."
He shut it.
Behind Elaina, the entire maid cohort stood at attention. Some glared. Others—like Lilia—waved handkerchiefs damp with suspiciously tear-like stains. Sitri smirked from the rear, clearly savoring his downfall.
Viola stepped forward, tossing him a folded note. "Your training regimen for Vespera." She paused. "Burn this if captured."
As the gates creaked shut, Regulus finally peeked at Viola's note:
"Capital maids' infractions since your arrival:
- 47 unauthorized status checks on your file
- 23 'lost' hair ribbons 'found' in your quarters
- 1 attempted poisoning of Sitri (she approved)"
The last line was in different ink:
"P.S. Sonia's undergarments were a trap. -S."
Nyx snorted awake in her palanquin. "Oh, do keep scowling. It makes your cheekbones look tragic."
Regulus crumpled the note. "I didn't even do anything!"
"You existed interestingly." Nyx yawned. "Mortal hearts are pathetically easy to stir."
A distant chorus of maidly sobs echoed from the compound.
Regulus paled. "…Are those actual tears?"
Nyx's grin was wicked. "Not all your lessons were on purpose, little moth."
As they trudged toward Vespera, Regulus realized two things: He'd somehow become a romantic icon against his will. Nyx had absolutely orchestrated this.
Somewhere behind them, a lone crossbow bolt thudded into a tree—a final farewell from Viola.
"This is your fault," Regulus muttered under his breath, glancing back at the compound.
"Mm. And what a glorious fault it was." Nyx's voice drifted lazily from inside the palanquin, followed by the sound of her stretching. "Honestly, I expected worse. A month of scandal, and all you got was a sternly worded exile? Boring."
Regulus resisted the urge to dump her onto the road.
Inside the compound, the moment the gates closed, the maids' rigid discipline dissolved into hushed whispers.
"Did you see the way he carried that palanquin?" one junior sighed, fanning herself. "Even in disgrace, his posture is flawless."
Sitri rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful. "You do realize he was exiled for corrupting morals, yes?"
"But how?" another groaned. "He barely even touched us!"
Viola, leaning against a pillar, flicked a dagger between her fingers. "That's the problem. He didn't have to."
A beat of silence.
"...Oh."
Lilia, ever the optimist, piped up: "At least Mistress Elaina didn't make him burn the training manual before leaving."
Sonia, who had been quietly observing from the shadows, finally spoke. "No. But she did send him back to Vespera."
The maids exchanged glances.
Viola smirked. "Ah. So she isn't punishing him."
---
News traveled fast in Babelonia—especially when it involved a disgraced trainee, a goddess's tantrum, and an entire Familia's collective lapse in professionalism. By midday, the Founder had received no less than three reports on the matter, each more embellished than the last.
Duke Vespera, standing at his side, scowled at the latest scroll. "This is absurd. Are we to believe a single Level 1 caused this much disruption?"
Cornelius chuckled, swirling his wine. "Oh, I don't know. There's something poetic about it."
The duke blinked. "Poetic?"
"A man so unremarkable, he became remarkable by sheer accident." The Founder's smile was razor-thin. "Tell me, my friend—have you ever heard of a laundry-based scandal before?"
The duke opened his mouth. Closed it.
Cornelius sighed, wistful. "I do hope Vespera survives him."
The duke responds bitingly. "Why don't you help me then?! He's going to be my problem very soon!"
Cornelius laughed boisterously
---
Regulus trudged onward, the weight of the palanquin and Nyx's smug commentary making the journey feel twice as long.
"Cheer up," Nyx drawled, peeking out from the curtains. "Vespera's lovely this time of year. All those rolling hills, quaint villages, terrifyingly underqualified training matrons—"
Regulus groaned. "Please don't tell me you've already sabotaged them too. And stop acting like I've never been there before."
"Oh, little moth." She patted his head. "I didn't have to."
Behind, the last rooftops of the Capital diappeared from the horizon. Somewhere in the distance, a church bell tolled—ominously, Regulus decided.
Nyx draped herself over the palanquin's edge, her grin sharp enough to cut glass. "Congratulations, little moth~" she sing-songed. "You've somehow gained the hearts of countless innocent maidens, secured royal funding for your training, and avoided owing anyone favors. Quite the upgrade from being the fool who accepted chump change out of intimidation."
Regulus' eye twitched. "I was cautious, not intimidated." The memory of his early negotiations with that vendor in Silver Hollow still stung—back when he'd been too wary to demand proper pay. Now? Now he had a small fortune, a small army of admirers, and a very large headache.
He adjusted his grip on the palanquin poles, scowling. "And I didn't want to win their hearts like some… some stupid romcom harem protagonist." The words tasted vile. "Every time I tried to be charming, I got poisoned. Or stabbed. Or forced to reorganize a decade's worth of tax records. But the moment I tripped over my own feet? Oh, how endearing! The second I got food poisoning from their 'training tea'? How brave!" His voice cracked. "It's bullshit."
Nyx's laughter echoed down the road. "Oh, but that's the best part! You didn't even try." She twirled a lock of his hair around her finger. "The maids didn't fall for your nonexistent charm. They fell for your pathetic suffering."
Regulus went very still.
"...What."
"Think about it," Nyx purred. "You, the man who faced down a dragon, brought low by paperwork? The 'Flawless Butler' fumbling through poison drills like a concussed puppy? Delicious." She sighed dreamily. "Nothing stirs a woman's heart more than watching a man fail spectacularly—and keep trying anyway."
A long silence followed. Somewhere in the distance, a bird sang. Regulus stared blankly at the horizon.
"So you're telling me," he said slowly, "that my incompetence was the key to success."
"Precisely!" Nyx clapped. "If you'd succeeded at seduction, they'd have skewered you. But your miserable flailing? Irresistible."
Regulus considered this. Considered the month of humiliation. Considered the tearful handkerchiefs waved at his exile.
Then, with the gravitas of a man realizing the universe had played him for a fool:
"...I hate everything."
Nyx patted his head. "And yet, you've never been more popular."
Nyx sighed, stretching like a satisfied cat. "Ah, sweet dreams my little King."
Regulus stared into the sky.
And shed a tear.