He left with nothing but his usual attire.
"It's the first time I've ever seen the young master look so… carefree," said one of the guards stationed at the estate's front gate, his thick brows furrowed like he was wrestling with some profound mystery. There was a faint admiration in his voice, but mostly, confusion.
"Carefree?" I echoed, narrowing my eyes. "You're sure we're talking about Yen? The Yen who plans his day like he's waging a war on time itself?"
The guard shrugged helplessly, clearly as baffled as I was. "Don't ask me, lad. He strolled out like he had no obligations in the world. Calm as a breeze. No ledgers, no books—just that sharp coat of his."
I pinched the bridge of my nose, already feeling a headache brewing. Yen Von Sumidra, the man who treated even lunch breaks like a battlefield, abandoning everything to… wander off? It wasn't just strange—it was terrifying.
Still, this was Yen. He didn't do anything without a reason. Whatever he was planning, it was deliberate. And that made it even worse.
-----
With no other leads, I headed to the stables. The stable boy was lounging against the fence, chewing on a stalk of wheat like he had all the time in the world. His air of supreme laziness felt like a personal insult to my dwindling patience.
"You saw the young master leave, didn't you?" I asked, folding my arms. "Did he say where he was going?"
The boy squinted at me, moving the stalk of wheat from one side of his mouth to the other at a pace so slow it could've been a form of meditation.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, he said somethin'."
I straightened, hope flickering to life. "Finally, some sense. What did he say?"
He scratched his head, staring into the distance like the words were hiding in the clouds. "Told me to watch the horses' feed. Said they were gettin' fat."
I stared at him, waiting for the punchline.
"That's it? That's all he said?"
He nodded solemnly, as though delivering the wisdom of the ages.
"Fat horses," I muttered, shaking my head as I turned to leave. "Just perfect. Exactly the kind of breadcrumbs I needed."
-----
My next stop was the kitchen. Desperation was setting in, but the head chef was my only option.
The man was in his usual state: half-drunk, half-enthusiastic, and fully insufferable. At the mere mention of Yen, his face lit up like a festival lantern.
"Ah! The young master!" he boomed, lifting a wine glass in a theatrical toast.
"Yes, yes," I interrupted, already regretting my decision. "Did he tell you anything about where he was going?"
The chef's face turned somber, his voice dropping to a whisper. "He came to me yesterday… and refused my roasted duck."
I blinked. "Your… roasted duck?"
"The finest roasted duck in the region!" he thundered, slamming a fist against the counter.
"And?"
"And," he declared, leaning in like he was about to reveal a state secret, "he handed me… paprika."
I stared at him, utterly lost. "Paprika," I repeated flatly.
"Paprika!" he cried again, slamming the jar onto the counter with the fervor of a prophet unveiling a sacred relic.
Then, as if exhausted by his own story, he slumped forward and began snoring, the wine glass still clutched in his hand.
I stared at him. Then at the jar of paprika. Then at the ceiling. "Paprika," I muttered again, because apparently, that's all my brain could handle anymore.
-----
The maids were my last hope—or so I thought. They were huddled in a hallway, whispering and giggling like a flock of mischievous birds.
"Excuse me," I said, trying not to sound as exhausted as I felt. "Do any of you know where the young master went?"
They turned to me in unison, their eyes lighting up with unrestrained excitement.
"Oh! Aren't you the young master's personal servant?" one of them asked, tilting her head.
I nodded warily, immediately regretting it.
"Is he always that handsome?"
"Does he ever smile?"
"Was he banished?!"
Their questions came at me in a whirlwind of enthusiasm. I held up my hands. "Please," I said, exasperation bleeding into my voice. "Just tell me if you overheard anything useful."
They exchanged glances, still brimming with excitement. Finally, one of them leaned in conspiratorially. "Sevura, the madame's lady-in-waiting, might know something. She's always lingering when the young master speaks to her."
Sevura. Great. She wasn't exactly the talkative type.
"Oh, and one of the guards said he left with a map!" another maid chimed in.
"South," one offered confidently.
"Or east," another countered.
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Thanks. That clears everything up."
-----
My final stop was Lilos, the oldest and most enigmatic guard in the estate. He sat by the training grounds, gazing at the horizon like a man who'd seen too much and cared too little.
"Sir Lilos," I greeted, bowing slightly. "I was told you might know where the young master went."
He glanced at me lazily, his weathered face unreadable. "Why're you looking for him?"
"It's important," I said firmly.
He studied me for a moment, then reached into his vest and pulled out a folded map. "To the Holy Lands of Luminos, in the east," he said simply, handing it over.
I stared at him, stunned. "You're just… giving me this?"
He shrugged. "Venture out while you're still young."
Tucking the map into my pocket, I nodded. "Thank you, Sir Lilos."
"Good luck, kid," he called after me as I walked away. "You'll need it."
-----
With only three days left on my contract to the estate to finish the month, time was not on my side. That night, I packed my meager belongings, unfolded the map, and traced Yen's supposed route with a growing sense of determination.
Whatever he was planning, wherever he was going, I was going to find him.
"Yen," I muttered under my breath, tightening the straps of my bag. "You're not escaping me that easily."
And whether he liked it or not, he was going to have the most irritating servant in the world by his side.