First meet to head of family

The tall doors of the mansion groaned open once more, and this time Ark saw them clearly.

At the center walked the head of the Valkart family, Sam Valkart. His steps were strong and heavy, his presence commanding. His hair, streaked with gray, framed a stern face that showed no softness. Just behind him was his wife, but beside her stood a young woman—Lisa Valkart, her gown shimmering in the light of chandeliers, her hair tied neatly with a silver ribbon. Ark recognized her instantly; she was the one who loved flowers, the one who had chosen every blossom for the mansion’s gardens. Walking near Lisa was her brother, Leon Valkart, a boy perhaps a year older than Ark, dressed in crisp noble attire.

The line of workers bent forward in one motion, their heads low. Ark quickly copied them, bowing his head. His heart pounded in his chest as he whispered under his breath, “Please don’t notice me being late with the bow…”

“Welcome home, Lord Sam, Lady Valkart, Miss Lisa, and Young Master Leon,” the butler declared, his voice echoing down the marble hallway.

The chefs, the maids, even the stable hands all lowered themselves slightly. Ark followed stiffly, not used to such ceremony, but he tried his best not to look out of place.

Sam Valkart’s voice was deep and commanding. “Prepare food. We will eat after we have washed and changed.”

“Yes, my lord,” the butler replied, bowing once more.

At once the mansion erupted into quiet but hurried motion. Servants scurried in every direction—maids rushed to the kitchens, others ran toward the dining hall, carrying trays, glasses, and silverware polished until they shone like small suns.

Ark found himself swept into the current. The butler pointed at him. “You—assist in the dining hall. Lay the plates. Make sure no mark is left on them.”

“Y-yes!” Ark answered, carrying stacks of plates that felt heavier than he expected.

The dining hall was even larger than the bathroom Ark had cleaned earlier. A long wooden table stretched across the room, carved with patterns of vines and lions. Crystal lamps glittered above, and velvet curtains hung against tall windows. Ark placed each plate carefully, copying the older maids beside him. Fork on the left, knife on the right, spoon above the plate—everything had a place. If he hesitated, the maid next to him whispered sharply, “Faster, don’t fall behind.”

He bit back a sigh. This is harder than fighting monsters sometimes…

The chefs marched in with trays—steam rising from roasted meats, golden loaves of bread, and bowls of fragrant soups. Ark’s stomach growled, but he pressed it down.

Soon, everything was ready. The table sparkled with silver and glass. The butler gave a final nod of approval. “Perfect. Now positions, all of you.”

Ark lined up along the wall with the other workers, trying to keep his posture straight.

The doors opened again. The Valkart family entered, freshly dressed and composed. Sam Valkart sat at the head of the table, his gaze sharp. Lisa sat to his right, graceful in a light blue dress. Leon dropped into his seat with less care, glancing around the room as if bored already. Their mother, silent but dignified, sat beside Sam.

The butler stepped forward. “Lunch is served, my lord.”

“Begin,” Sam ordered.

At once the servants moved. Chefs carried the first dishes forward, servants poured water and wine into crystal glasses. Ark held a jug nervously, his hands shaking slightly. He moved to Lisa’s side, bowing as he carefully poured water into her glass.

Lisa’s eyes flickered toward him. Her gaze wasn’t cold, just curious. Ark lowered his head quickly, cheeks warming.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Ark almost stumbled. He hadn’t expected her to speak to him. “Y-you’re welcome, miss,” he whispered.

From the head of the table, Sam Valkart’s voice cut across the clatter of plates. “The soup is well made. Acceptable.”

The chefs exhaled quietly, relieved.

Leon leaned on his elbow, poking at his food. “It’s fine, but boring. Always the same dishes.”

“Mind your manners, Leon,” Lady Valkart said gently, though her tone held warning.

Ark kept his eyes forward, trying not to be noticed, but he could hear every word. The family’s voices carried across the large hall, mixing with the movements of servants stepping back to the wall.

Lisa ate quietly, sometimes glancing toward the flowers arranged at the center of the table. Ark noticed how her fingers brushed against the petals as though they comforted her.

As the family continued their meal, Ark felt the tension in the hall slowly fade. Servants moved only when needed, filling glasses, bringing the next course, clearing away dishes. Ark followed their lead, stepping forward when signaled, retreating when done. Every movement felt like part of a carefully written dance.

At last, Sam Valkart placed his knife down. “Enough. Clear the table.”

“Yes, my lord,” the butler said, signaling to the staff.

Ark hurried forward, lifting plates carefully. His hands ached from holding them steady, but he managed without dropping anything.

The family rose from the table, their chairs sliding back on the polished floor. Sam Valkart gave a final nod to the butler. “A satisfactory meal. See that it remains consistent.”

The butler bowed deeply. “Of course, my lord.”

The Valkarts left the hall, their footsteps fading down the corridor.

Only then did the servants breathe again. Some slumped against the walls, others wiped sweat from their brows. Ark leaned against a pillar, his body exhausted but his heart racing.

So this is the noble world, he thought. Rules, silence, perfection… It’s nothing like the village. But if I’m staying here, I have to keep up.

The butler’s sharp voice cut the moment. “Do not rest yet. The dishes must be washed, the floors checked, the linens changed. Move!”

The servants groaned quietly but obeyed. Ark sighed and picked up a tray. His new life had only just begun

Heavy with the aroma of roasted meats and seasoned vegetables. Ark stood stiff among the line of servants, his hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixed on the polished marble floor. Every small gesture, every breath, seemed to echo in the silence after the Valkart family’s meal.

Sam Valkart, the head of the family, leaned back in his chair, eyes sharp as he studied Ark. “So,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of authority, “you are the winner of the Legendary Archer Competition.” The words weren’t spoken with admiration. They were measured, testing.

Ark lifted his chin just enough to meet his gaze. “Yes, my lord.”

Before Sam could continue, Leon Valkart smirked from across the table. He tapped his fingers against the wood in lazy rhythm and let his words drip with arrogance. “You might be good with a bow, but you’re not better than me.” His smirk deepened. “Sometimes luck matters. Seems you had it—twice.”

The insult was casual, but pointed. Ark kept his face calm, but inside his thoughts burned. Twice, huh? Yeah, my luck must have worked twice… shame it doesn’t work with noble brats. He forced the corners of his lips up into a faint, fake smile, hiding his annoyance.

Sam’s voice cut in again, hard and final. “You are here to prove whether you are worthy of serving this house. If you cannot, then you will leave. I do not waste money on useless people.”

Ark bowed slightly deeper, his smile still plastered on his face though his jaw ached from holding it. “I will prove my worth, my lord.” His words came steady, though a part of him screamed at the unfairness.

Lisa Valkart, elegant and composed at her father’s side, tilted her head as she observed him. Her eyes, sharp yet strangely distant, lingered on Ark for a heartbeat before she said, “We will see.” The words were calm, but her tone carried an unspoken test—something Ark could feel more than hear.

The tension at the table grew thicker until Sam rose. “We’re finished,” he announced. He and Lisa left the dining room, their presence sweeping away the heavy weight of authority with them.

Leon, however, lingered. He rose from his chair, walked casually past Ark, and leaned close enough for only him to hear. “I’ll show you what you really deserve,” he whispered. The arrogance in his voice was laced with something sharper—a personal grudge.

Ark’s shoulders stiffened. Great. First day and I’ve already got the noble son gunning for me. Perfect.

“Ark,” the butler’s voice snapped him back, crisp and commanding. “Water the gardens. The western beds first.” He placed a brass watering can in Ark’s hand and gestured to the courtyard.

Ark nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”

The sun was still high when he stepped outside, the courtyard blooming in the afternoon light. The garden spread wide—fountains, carved statues, trimmed hedges, and flowerbeds bursting with color. It wasn’t just a garden. It was a statement: wealth, care, and control all stitched together in green and gold.

Ark crouched near the lilies and poured water carefully at the base of the stems. The scent of soil and petals filled his nose. For a moment, the work grounded him. Water, roots, flowers. Simple, honest things.

“Make sure you do it properly.”

The voice startled him. He turned to see Lisa Valkart standing near the roses, her hands folded neatly, her expression sharp but composed. She stepped closer, her gaze landing on the lilies.

“Those are delicate,” she continued. “Too much water and they die. Too little and they wither. Attention is everything.”

Ark set the watering can down and bowed lightly. “Yes, Miss Lisa. I’ll handle them carefully.”

Her eyes lingered on him for a moment, unreadable, before shifting past him. Ark followed her gaze. Two maids were kneeling nearby, dusting the stone lanterns by the walkway. Their uniforms were faded, hems frayed, and their feet were bare against the cold stone path. They worked quickly, avoiding every eye, their movements almost invisible.

Lisa’s lips tightened. “If one flower shows decline,” she said quietly, returning her attention to Ark, “you will be dismissed. This household does not keep incompetence.”

Her words cut sharp, but her gaze flicked again toward the maids. “And make sure they are given clean water and proper cloths. I will not have my staff working in rags.”

Ark blinked. He hadn’t expected that. A noble ordering him to care for flowers made sense. But the maids? That hint of concern didn’t match the coldness she projected moments before.

“Yes, Miss Lisa,” Ark replied quickly.

She gave no sign she heard him. With a smooth turn, she glided back toward the mansion, her dress rustling softly, her posture regal as though the garden itself bowed to her presence.

Only when she disappeared behind the door did Ark let out the breath he’d been holding. He glanced at the two maids. One of them, a thin woman with tired eyes, gave him a fleeting smile before lowering her gaze again. Gratitude—small, hidden, but real.

Ark picked up the watering can and returned to his work, his thoughts spinning. So, they test me at every corner. Leon wants me gone. The head demands proof. Lisa—she’s harder to read. Cold, but not heartless. And the workers… the workers are treated like shadows.

He pressed water into the soil carefully, watching it soak in. The flowers leaned toward the light, their petals trembling slightly in the breeze.

“This mansion,” he muttered under his breath, “needs a taste of revolution.”

The words were quiet, almost swallowed by the rustle of leaves. But they carried weight. Not the kind of revolution with fire and steel—at least, not yet. But something had to change. He could see it in the worn shoes of the maids, in the way Leon sneered, in the harsh tests of Sam Valkart.

The revolution could start small. A warm meal, a fair word, a steady hand where others showed cruelty. Small cracks in the foundation of arrogance.

Ark finished the lilies and moved to the roses, brushing soil around the roots with steady fingers. Above, the mansion’s tall windows glimmered in the light, reflecting back the image of a house that believed itself untouchable.

Ark smiled faintly, more real this time. We’ll see about that.

The butler’s voice called from the hall, summoning him to another task. Ark stood, wiped his hands, and carried the empty can back inside. The day wasn’t over—and neither was his work.