The morning breeze flowed gently through the windows of the butler's study, causing the panes to creak faintly. Inside, the soft scritch–scritch of a quill gliding across paper filled the otherwise serene air. The butler sat with his back straight, expression composed, writing with practiced precision.
Before his desk stood a young man, posture rigid, spine straight like a soldier awaiting judgment. He did not shift. He did not blink. He simply stood, as he had been trained to.
Only after the final stroke of ink dried did the butler lift his head. He tapped the edge of the parchment once, before passing it across the desk.
"This is the amount you have to repay to the lord for all the investment that has been done on you for the past nine years."
The young man accepted the document with both hands, lowering his gaze to the ledger-like list written in neat columns. Every month of every year had been accounted for—food, lodging, training, instruction in mathematics and language, lessons in etiquette, combat coaching, proper grooming, even the cost of maintenance for his equipment.
The total amount stared back at him… 1 gold coin and 50 silver coins.
His fingers stiffened.
'…What is this bullshit?'
The thought flashed violently through his head, sharp enough to make his jaw tighten—but outwardly, his expression did not shift. His face remained calm, collected, the picture of disciplined acceptance.
He slowly raised his eyes back to the butler, the paper held carefully in his hand.
Even if he had stayed in this noble household for nine years, starting from the age of ten, the cost should have been at most sixty-seven silver coins—assuming one silver coin per month, which was already absurd for someone like him. That would make it one hundred eight silver coins in total.
But this… 1 gold coin and 50 silver coins—that was the equivalent of 150 silver coins. What is this absurd amount of repayment?
His thoughts raced, but before he could voice them, the butler spoke, cutting through the quiet:
"Looks like too much, right?"
The young man blinked, startled, then hesitated before replying, "Um… yeah. I mean… isn't this amount too absurd?"
The butler chuckled softly, the sound calm and measured. "Well… it is absurd. Let me tell you, in reality, the amount you actually owe is less than seventy silver coins."
The young man's brow furrowed as he leaned forward. "Then… why?" he asked, curiosity and disbelief clashing in his voice.
The butler raised a hand to hush him. "Don't forget your training."
The young man straightened instantly. "I… I'm sorry, sir."
The butler nodded once, approvingly, then continued. "The reason you have to repay more is… because that is how things work here. You were trained to become a knight of the Rose Thrown House, but since you weren't able to awaken a combat class, you, of course, owe us money. But it's not just the money spent on you—there's an extra charge for being given the chance to receive this opportunity in the first place."
The young man froze. He didn't know what to say. "This…" he thought. 'But… wasn't it the household that took us in?'
He opened his mouth to argue, but the butler's calm, stern gaze made him close it again.
The butler nodded slightly, as if reading the young man's thoughts. "True, we were the ones who took you in… but at that time, we didn't have the manpower. That's why we took every child of training age we could. But now, after ten years, the situation is different. We have enough manpower… but not enough resources to provide as before. Because of that, you must repay the money. And it must be done… in a year."
"A year? Are you kidding me?" the young man blurted, shock flashing across his face.
How could he possibly earn that much in a year? His mind raced, calculating with frantic precision. Even twenty years wouldn't suffice.
In this world, a common man earned only five iron coins a day, which amounted to just fifteen copper coins a month. If one silver coin equaled one hundred copper coins, then in an entire year, a common man earned… 1 silver coin and 80 copper coins.
And now… this man was telling him to repay 150 silver coins in a year?
'What kind of bullshit is this?'
His gaze locked onto the butler, bewilderment and disbelief written plainly on his face.
The butler's lips curled into a soft, almost amused chuckle. "Well… if you can't repay it," he said calmly, "then you can work as a serf until the debt is cleared."
But then suddenly, the butler's expression shifted, a soft sigh escaping him. He looked at him and said quietly,
"Kell, I know this sounds cruel and harsh… but it is not I who made these rules."
"I... ," Kell muttered under his breath, uncertain of what else to say. He knew the butler. He knew the man had always done his job better than anyone else. They never had a conflict, never any kind of friction. He knew the butler wouldn't make things harder than they had to be.
But still… how was he supposed to repay this debt in a year?
The butler cleared his throat and straightened his posture. "Okay, you can go now. I have other work to attend to."
Kell simply nodded, clutching the repayment document tightly in his hand, and turned to leave.
He packed his few belongings from his dorm, the weight of the paper a constant reminder of the impossible task ahead.
As he stepped out of the dormitory, the familiar sight of the training ground stretched before him. This was the place where he had spent eight years of his life—his teenage years marked by sweat, blood, and relentless discipline.
Walking along the familiar pathway, he noticed the faces of friends and comrades—those he had laughed, trained, and grown with—turning to look at him. For a fleeting moment, he wanted to say goodbye.
But seeing the way they turned their backs whenever he looked at them, he understood—and thought, 'Whatever.'
And with that, Kell walked out of the household, leaving behind the life he had known, the only proof of his years there clutched tightly in his hand.
***
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