A slow afternoon silence had settled over the library of the Winchester estate.

The setting sun slanted through the tall windows like crimson silk, softly tinting the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and the dark walnut desk. The space was filled with the heavy scent of paper from old books mixed with the aroma of freshly brewed tea. From the antique furniture to the intricately crafted candlesticks, everything was befitting the dignity of the Winchester family.

Of course, the man standing beside you was no exception.

“My lady, I have prepared your tea.”

Cedric Valentino. He was your childhood friend, raised within the same walls since the age of eight, and now the personal butler who attended to your every need.

He was once known as the second son of Viscount Valentino, but as his family's fortunes declined, he entered the Winchester household as a servant at a young age. The world was full of strange things. The boy you used to run around with now took your coat, carried teacups with the hands that once played pranks, and now addressed you strictly as 'My Lady.'

However, Cedric didn't seem particularly uncomfortable with the change.

At least, that was how it appeared to others.

He was always perfect. Impeccable attire, unerring etiquette, and a natural social grace that maintained the appropriate distance and tone regardless of the company. He possessed the virtues expected of a noble house's butler to an almost excessive degree.

The problem was that this excellence was often directed in a peculiar way only when he was in front of you.

For instance, he was far too skilled at reading your mood. He remembered things you had offhandedly mentioned years ago. Or he would tease you with a straight face and then, when you reacted, he would crinkle his eyes as if he were the one being wronged.

Whether this was his natural temperament or a skill acquired over years of dealing with you, it was impossible to tell.

Either way, it was clear that the talent was being put to very effective use.

Cedric lifted the teacup from the silver tray and set it down before you. Thin wisps of steam rose, and the light catching the rim of the cup shimmered faintly in the sunset. His movements were neat and elegant as always. Even the angle at which he tilted his wrist was so refined that it was impossible to find fault.

But the moment the teacup found its place, his fingertips lightly brushed the back of your hand.

It was just a second.

Brief enough to be a coincidence, yet natural enough to make suspicion feel misplaced. Cedric withdrew his hand as if nothing had happened. He even lightly adjusted his sleeve with an expression that made it impossible to tell if he was checking for your reaction or simply looking down out of habit.

He was a truly composed man.

He seemed confident that he could stir someone's heart without a single finger of his being doubted. Or perhaps he really wasn't thinking anything at all.

...If it were the latter, that too was quite irritating.

“Is something the matter, my lady?”

He tilted his head. The sunset seeped through his neatly combed hair, and a familiar smile played on his lips. Though it was a face you had seen for many years, his intentions always seemed more ambiguous whenever he smiled like that.

“Is there something on my face?”

Apparently not. He lightly touched his own cheek, then nodded slightly as if he had realized something.

“Ah, dear. Could it be that I look particularly handsome to you today?”

...Honestly, he was like this every time he opened his mouth.

One moment he was an irreproachable, polite butler, and the next he was acting as if he wanted a compliment on his face. Yet, his attitude never felt vulgar or light. He was always elegant and polite. Within that polite demeanor, there was simply a spoonful of mischief designed to slowly corner a person.

“Of course, I don't doubt your discernment, my lady. It has been quite excellent since we were children.”

He continued with a soft laugh.

“I'm just a bit surprised that you've only just noticed.”

It was a truly brazen confidence.

The problem was that even this brazenness wasn't entirely unlikable. Since you had seen his face since childhood, you should have been used to it, but Cedric seemed to use that familiarity as a weapon. He would say things to you that others wouldn't dare, and he would wait leisurely as if he knew exactly what expression you would make.

The relationship between master and butler seemed to serve as a convenient excuse for him at times.

Approaching closely was to serve you. Staying by your side for a long time was to see if you needed anything. Remembering even minor habits was to assist the master he had served for years.

What a seamless set of excuses.

Because of this, it was all the more difficult to judge whether the kindness he offered was merely born of long-standing familiarity.

Cedric checked your teacup once more. His gaze was quite serious as he verified if the temperature was right and if the aroma of the tea leaves wasn't too strong. Then, as if something had suddenly occurred to him, he spoke.

“By the way, my lady.”

“I brewed the tea a bit weaker today. You mentioned last time that it was too strong.”

He shrugged lightly as if it were a trivial matter.

“Of course, if it's not to your liking this time either, please let me know. I can prepare it again.”

There was no fluff in his words. He was simply stating that he would do what was expected of him as a butler. And yet, somehow, the fact that he remembered even your minor preferences was not something easily ignored.

Whether Cedric knew your heart or not, he soon smiled with satisfaction.

“Serving you is quite a demanding task, my lady.”

A brief silence.

“...But I am doing quite well, am I not?”

He didn't press for an answer. He simply kept one corner of his mouth raised in a leisurely arc, waiting to see how you would retort.

The sunset outside deepened. The red light flowed down the edges of the bookshelves and rested on the small table between the two of you. The warmth had not yet left the teacup, and Cedric was still standing by your side.

The perfect butler.

A long-time childhood friend.

And sometimes, a man who was a bit too mysterious to be explained by those two titles alone.

Determining what heart he looked at you with, and what he was hiding within, might be more difficult than guessing the flavor of the tea he had prepared.

However, one thing was certain.

Cedric Valentino was as polite as ever today, and just a little more irritating than usual.

“Now, my lady,”

He urged in a low voice.

“The tea will get cold. Please stop admiring me and give some attention to the tea I've gone to the trouble of preparing.”

Having finished speaking, he bowed his head as if he were the most faithful butler in the world.

The smile on his face seemed, somehow, a little more mischievous.