The soup tray balanced easily in Chengyu's hands as he nudged the door open with his elbow.
The moment he stepped into Arsene's room, he paused.
His gaze swept across the scene—clothes draped haphazardly over chairs, books stacked with no system whatsoever, and a fine layer of dust catching the light on the window sills.
He blinked. Slowly.
Then, without a word, he set the tray down on the nearest clean surface.
Silently, he pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and held it over his mouth and nose. A moment later, he was crouching by the shelves, wiping dust with methodical precision.
"…What are you doing?" Arsene asked from where he sat on the edge of the bed, still looking mildly dazed from the soup delivery.
"Don't worry, Your Highness," Chengyu replied without looking up. "I'll clean only in the corners. It won't affect your meal."
He paused, then added in his usual even tone, "Dust buildup often leads to poor air quality, especially in the mornings. That could contribute to your headaches. Possibly even a dust allergy."
Arsene stared. "...You just diagnosed me with a household-based medical condition in five seconds."
"I'm being conservative," Chengyu replied. "...Your Highness, hasn't anyone told you that you should take care of yourself?"
Arsene opened his mouth, then closed it again.
A silence settled before he said, "You know, you're technically a guest here. You don't have to wear a servant's uniform, let alone deep-clean my quarters."
"I'm a full-ass adult," Chengyu said matter-of-factly, not even glancing back at him. "I'm not going to rely on someone else's money without working for it. If I did that, I'd be no different from my parents."
That made Arsene pause.
The way he said it—completely flat, devoid of emotion, but deliberate—was almost more jarring than if he'd said it with anger.
Arsene looked down at the tray. Steam still curled off the surface of the soup bowl. For a moment, he considered asking.
'Parents?'
But something in him hesitated. Maybe it was the subtle shift in Chengyu's shoulders. Maybe it was the way he never looked directly at him unless he had to.
So Arsene didn't ask.
Instead, he picked up the spoon and took a bite.
His eyes widened.
"…This is good."
Chengyu simply said, "Of course it is."
But internally, his thoughts were different.
'The standard for cuisine here is weirdly low. They're either oversalting everything or sticking raw bark in a pot and calling it healing stew.'
He glanced at the empty corner and nodded in approval. Then turned back toward Arsene.
"If you'd like," he said evenly, "I can start preparing your meals from now on."
Arsene blinked. "You're applying to be my cook now?"
"It wasn't part of my job? I thought it was." Chengyu replied.
Arsene let out a quiet breath—something that might've been a laugh, he tilted his head and squinted at it.
"Normally it would be another person's job to cook. However, we've been understaffed recently... you do not have to do it, its not part of your job"
"Well, fortunately, I wanted to do it, your highness."
Chengyu folded his cloth back into his pocket with mechanical grace. "I have four variations in mind already. I'll rotate them weekly."
"Is that so?"
Arsene just shook his head lightly, taking another bite of the soup.
This was… weird.
But it was also the best his morning had felt in years.
*****
A month had passed since Chengyu's unexpected employment in the Second Prince's estate.
And somehow, in a manner entirely on-brand for Chengyu—he had, without trying, become the central pillar of the entire household.
"Mr. Chengyu, can you please check this one?"
"Ah, Mr. Chengyu, do you think I'm doing this correctly?"
"I'm sorry Chewngywuu~ I messed up again…"
It had started small—just a question here and there. But as days rolled on, more and more of the staff began to gravitate toward him. The man who used to be completely ignored during breaks and mealtimes was now the unwilling center of attention.
Oddly enough, the palace—once rumored to be cursed, haunted, or at least bad luck—had started… working.
People actually moved with purpose. Rooms were brighter. Tasks were getting done on time. Gossip faded into quiet whispers that dissolved before they spread.
And Chengyu?
He didn't do anything.
He simply continued what he always did: working silently, bluntly correcting mistakes, and occasionally muttering sarcastic one-liners when no one was looking.
"I still see the dust in the edges. Clean it again—properly."
"Hm. Your handwriting is still atrocious, but at least you can read now. Good job."
"No. I won't clean up your mess. Go do it yourself. I'm not your mom."
From the outside, it looked like he was constantly nagging the staff. But strangely… none of them resented him.
In fact, more than a few started copying his style—folding sheets the way he did, organizing the pantry with his same strange logic, even mimicking the way he adjusted crooked paintings with that little head tilt.
Over time, a strange trust began to form.
Even the youngest maids, who used to scurry past him like ghosts, now tugged his sleeve and asked him about soap mixing ratios.
And then—
"Mr. Xiaoyu Chengyu!"
A voice called out, slicing through the late morning buzz of cleaning and clinking silverware.
Chengyu looked up from the vase arrangement he was fixing, blinking once as the red-haired man approached.
Ah. Right.
It was that guy.
The overly enthusiastic attendant from his very first day. The one who basically dragged him into employment by sheer desperation. If Chengyu remembered right… his name was Laios?
"Is there anything I can help?" Chengyu asked, casually wiping his hands on a cloth. "Don't worry, I've already served His Highness his meal."
"No, no, not that." Laios waved his hand, then rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean, thanks to you, things are way easier around here—but it's not about chores this time."
Chengyu tilted his head. "Then what is it?"
Laios smiled nervously.
"The Emperor requests your presence."
Clatter.
The porcelain plate in Chengyu's hands slipped and hit the ground, cracking sharply.
His expression didn't change.
But internally—
'Crap.'
'Today's the church day! I forgot!'
Of all days.
Of all appointments.
Of all things to be summoned for.
He completely forgot about it.
Chengyu stared at the broken plate for one long second, then looked back at Laios.