One night had passed since the oath sworn in the rose garden. Emilia was remembering last night. The words she'd squeezed out beneath that moonlight——I want to be honest——were still there in her chest. They hadn't faded. It wasn't a dream. But there was a problem. A new butler was arriving today. Having finished breakfast early in the great hall Saal Lumière, Emilia stood before the front entrance. On this February morning, the sky above the imperial capital of Solvaredo was still white and hazy, so pale it was indistinguishable from the smoke pouring from distant steam engines. The stone pavement was damp with night dew. Servants lined both sides in single file——forty-eight in total——standing at rigid attention. The sight of them arranged in a line before the duke's mansion was less impressive than oppressive. Everyone's spine was straight, not a muscle twitching. If someone sneezed, you'd think they'd all collapse from the sheer tension in the air. Emilia took a deep breath in her heart. (Stay calm. I'm a perfect lady. If I just hold myself with confidence——) A carriage arrived. Not bearing the Solvaredo ducal crest——a plain black two-wheeled carriage. She'd heard beforehand it was from Dienst Academy, the prestigious butler and maid training institution located in the southern district of the capital. The carriage stopped on the stone pavement. The door opened. The moment Emilia saw the man who stepped out, her breath caught. Black overcoat. Only a single leather bag for luggage. About one hundred seventy-eight centimeters tall, slender with no wasted movement. Black hair with——upon closer inspection——red streaks mixed in. In the morning light, it shimmered faintly, giving an unusual impression. But most of all, his eyes——cold gray eyes that seemed to miss nothing——swept across the forty-eight servants lined at the entrance, then moved quietly as if appraising them. His face was too perfect. So perfect that his expressionless face stood out strikingly. (……It's not like his face being good-looking means anything. That's not the issue! I was just surprised! Purely because he was taller than expected!) Emilia defended herself at lightning speed. The man climbed the stone steps to the entrance. His footsteps struck the pavement in perfect rhythm. Emilia could sense all forty-eight servants tensing uniformly. It was the kind of pressure that came from colleagues——a new butler was someone who could potentially stand above them. The man stopped. Exactly two steps away from Emilia. He bowed deeply and quietly. "[serious]I am Fernbach Alto, a graduate of Dienst Academy this year. According to academy dispatch regulations, I will be subject to evaluation from the academy for five years following my appointment. Should my evaluation fall below standard, my credentials may be revoked, but that is merely the formal framework of the system. Personally, I believe it is more fruitful for both parties if I receive evaluation based on honestly fulfilling my duties" All forty-eight servants made subtle faces. In other words, this man had casually slipped a declaration of "I will speak my true thoughts" into his self-introduction. Emilia gave a small cough and wrapped herself in her most refined lady's tone. She'd been practicing since last night. Chest out, gaze level, voice slightly low. Perfect. A perfect opening statement befitting a lady of the Solvaredo ducal house. "[cold]I am Emilia Solvaredo, heiress of the Solvaredo ducal house. You're the new butler, then. Have Friedrich explain the mansion's rules to you. ……Well, I'm counting on you" It was perfect. Yes, perfect. Her voice didn't waver and her eyes didn't falter. Alto looked up and regarded Emilia. From the crown of her head to her toes. His gaze moved quietly for a second or two. Then he spoke. "[sarcastic]If I may be frank, with that expression, no one will open their heart to you. As your butler, I must say so directly" Silence. All forty-eight servants turned to stone. The wrinkles between Emilia's brows deepened slowly, steadily, to three times their depth. Alto didn't flinch. His gray eyes watched her quietly. Not a hint of an apology. (This guy, on his first day——!!) ──── "[angry]How dare you say something like that on your first day!?" In the butler's office after the servants had withdrawn, Emilia leaned forward with both hands on the polished wooden desk. Alto remained seated, spine straight, and replied quietly. "[serious]If you wish to change, my duty as a butler is to speak the truth. If you merely want to feel good, please ask someone else" Emilia's words caught. ——If you wish to change. How did he know? It wasn't possible. This man couldn't have heard the words she'd sworn alone in the rose garden last night. He'd simply seen through her. From her expression. From the face she'd been checking in the mirror every day since yesterday. A direct hit brings confusion before anger. (I know. I know, but——I don't want to hear it!!) Emilia thrashed internally while keeping her outward composure perfectly still, lifting her chin smoothly. "[cold]……Fine. Then I'll show you what an honest lady looks like in front of you. I'll prove you wrong" She said it and turned sharply, leaving the room. The moment she stepped into the hallway, she noticed. Her face was hot. W-why!? It must be anger! It has to be, but why is even my ears hot!? "[whispers]……It's part of the strategy. This is all part of the strategy" She whispered it to herself in the empty hallway. ──── It was the next morning. At the breakfast table, Emilia had quietly made her resolve. Honesty Strategy, Phase One. Objective: Praise the cooking. Target: Head Chef Grimm Otto. Fifty-two years old, sturdy build, thirty years of service to the ducal house. His cooking was among the finest in the capital, and he'd impressed even the most discerning nobles at banquets hosting the Solvaredo family's guests. Emilia had always liked his cooking——in her heart——but had never once said it aloud. Today, she would. Buttered toast was brought out. The aroma of fresh-baked bread drifted across the table. Emilia took a bite. The butter melted smoothly, and the subtle sweetness of wheat spread across her tongue. Delicious. As always, certainly delicious. She opened her lips. "……It's d-delicious!" She said it. She managed it. Just five words, but five words nonetheless. For Emilia, it was the greatest achievement of the century. Alto poured tea beside her with no expression. His reaction was minimal. (Perfect. This is what the honesty strategy is all about) Emilia gave herself an internal thumbs-up. ——But. In the kitchen, a quiet catastrophe was unfolding. Listening through the door, Otto's eyes widened the moment he heard those five words. The young lady——said it was delicious——. Thirty years. Thirty years. No matter what he cooked, not a single word came from Miss Emilia. The plates came back empty. But there were no words. Otto had spent thirty years not knowing if she was satisfied or dissatisfied, simply wielding his skills. Those thirty years were now connected by a single thin thread. "[crying]……The young lady……!" His voice leaked from the kitchen. The eight cooks turned as one. "[surprised]Huh……Chef!?" "[surprised]Is he crying!? The head chef!?" "[excited]A legend has moved……!! The thirty-year seal has been broken!!" The kitchen began to quietly boil over. Emilia, unaware of any of this, finished breakfast and went to report to Alto. "[serious]How was that? I praised it properly" Alto glanced toward the kitchen direction from the office window for just a moment. "[serious]……The head chef's expression seemed somewhat unusual" "[surprised]Huh?" "[serious]Never mind. Let's wait until lunch" ──── Lunchtime arrived. Dishes were brought to the great hall Saal Lumière as usual. Except for one detail——the soup bowl had a lid. A heavy silver lid. Alto lifted it silently. "[surprised]……" She had no words. The soup——shimmered in seven colors. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. Seven layers of color remained perfectly separated in the bowl. Visually, it was a work of art. Light reflected off the surface, sparkling beautifully. Except for one thing——it was completely unclear what dish this was supposed to be. Just as Emilia opened her mouth, the dining hall door opened. Otto himself came out. Bearing the dignity cultivated over fifty-two years of life and the pride of a chef, still in his white chef's coat, chest out, Otto entered the dining hall. His eyes were still slightly red. "[excited]Moved by the young lady's praise, I have resolved to create food from the soul! This is the Seven-Hued Soup of Solvaredo, condensing ingredients gathered from all seven imperial provinces——the northern Grao Plains, the eastern Hafenburg Port, the southern mountain regions, and the central farmlands——into a single dish!" Silence. Alto's expressionless face narrowed his eyes slightly. Emilia took a spoon and had a sip. There was taste. It wasn't bad. It wasn't——bad. But. (What flavor is this……?) Sweet, perhaps? Salty? Sour, maybe. Everything mixed together into one massive "something." The concept of "soup" existed there. But the ingredients were at war with each other, each claiming too much, resulting in everyone losing. Emilia's face twisted slightly. "[serious]……Thank you. It's quite elaborate" Otto left in tears. His departing figure seemed almost divine. Alto spoke quietly. "[sarcastic]……This is lunch" "[serious]I know that!!" ──── Dinner was even worse. The moment dishes were brought to the great hall, white smoke billowed up. There was no BOOM——but visually it was close to that impact. The smoke spread rapidly, engulfing the great hall with its six-meter ceiling in mist. The chandelier's outline blurred. "[scared]F-fire!?" "[scared]Someone get water——!" A maid reaching for a wine glass had her wrist quietly stopped by Alto's expressionless hand. "[serious]Wait" The smoke——slowly cleared. A plate emerged from the smoke. A beautifully plated meat dish. The surface, adorned with herbs, gleamed with a smoked color. The aroma spread gradually, reaching Emilia's nostrils. It wasn't a bad smell. She had to admit that much. Otto announced from the dining hall entrance with obvious pride. "[excited]A smoking presentation! To further heighten the young lady's emotion, I've added a visual experience!" "[angry]Why is it like this just because I praised it once!?" Emilia held her head in both hands. She really did hold it firmly. Alto, perfectly calm beside her, said: "[sarcastic]You're fundamentally misunderstanding how to be honest. Praising and releasing emotion are entirely different things" "[angry]I know that already!!" "[serious]Then perhaps next time, choose your target before praising. You've confirmed today what happens when you give praise to the head chef" "[angry]That's——" She stopped mid-sentence. ——Choose your target. This man wasn't angry. Even before the smoke-filled dining hall, his expression didn't change. He simply analyzed the situation calmly and showed her the next move. He didn't offer empty flattery to everyone. He didn't fawn. She'd always wanted someone to be like that for her——the moment that thought crossed her mind, Emilia was surprised at herself. Something in the middle of her chest moved in an odd rhythm. (……What?) What was that? Anger? No, this is——different——. "[cold]……I understand. I'll think about it tomorrow" With just that, Emilia turned to her plate. She ate the smoke-presentation smoked meat in silence. ——It was delicious. Not that she'd ever admit it. ──── The commotion from dinner had settled by the time gas lamps began painting the hallway walls yellow. Servants scattered to clean up, and the great hall grew quiet. Emilia was walking through the hallway on her way to her room. When she passed the butler's office, t