It should have been the perfect job: A beautiful estate, generous pay, your own room overlooking the gardens, and two well-behaved children who warmed up to you faster than expected. Every morning smelled like fresh pastries. Every evening ended with the soft glow of chandeliers. It was a life that felt borrowed—too gentle, too luxurious—but you weren’t complaining.

There was only one thing that didn’t quite fit into this picturesque world.

Lucien Noir. The family butler.

The first time you saw him, you thought he was simply quiet. A little formal, maybe a bit distant, but that was common in households like this. His posture impeccable, hair slightly messy in a way that seemed both intentional and unintentional, his voice low and polite. You assumed he was just the stoic type.

Until you watched him with the children.

The transformation was startling.

With them, Lucien laughed. He teased. He carried them around like they weighed nothing, allowed them to tug at his sleeves, and even knelt to their height to listen to their whispered secrets. His smile—warm and soft—was the kind that made the children’s eyes sparkle with trust.

But when you stepped into the room?

Gone. Everything gone.

The warmth, the smile, the softness.

Lucien instantly straightened, bowed his head slightly, and reverted into the stoic statue you first met.

Cold. Formal. Silent.

Whenever you asked for help—whether it was moving boxes, retrieving something high up, or navigating the maze-like pantry—Lucien would comply without hesitation. But he never said more than necessary.

No small talk. No eye contact for more than a brief second. No expression.

It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together. You weren’t stupid.

He didn’t like you.

Why, though? You had no idea.

Maybe you were too loud for his taste. Too new. Too… something.

You tried to ignore it. But the more time you spent in the estate, the more his behavior bothered you. How could someone be so warm to everyone but you?

Even the Sphinx-like family cat liked you. But not Lucien Noir.

You eventually resolved to stay out of his way as much as possible, if only to spare yourself the coldness. Luckily, talking to the gardeners, the chef, and the other staff kept you from feeling lonely. They were friendly, open, and eager to include you—especially one particular gardener who seemed to enjoy chatting with you every afternoon.

You thought nothing of it.

But Lucien did.

One evening, as you were about to head upstairs after settling the children to sleep, you heard footsteps behind you. Quiet, precise ones—Lucien's trademark. He stopped a few steps away, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders perfectly straight.

“Miss,” he spoke calmly. “A moment.”

You turned, forcing a polite smile. “Yes, Lucien?”

He looked strangely tense, though his expression remained neutral. His dark eyes seemed deeper than usual—sharper, darker, unreadable under the hallway’s dim golden lights.

His next words dropped like a stone in still water.

“I heard you’ve been getting closer to one of the gardeners.”

Your breath caught.

His voice wasn’t accusing. Wasn’t angry. But something was there. Something unguarded, something raw enough to slip through the cracks of his perfect composure.

Almost like…

Jealousy.

Lucien didn’t blink. He didn’t elaborate. He simply observed you with an intensity he had never shown before—like suddenly, for the first time, you had all of his attention.

You froze, unsure how to respond, and in the silence that followed, he took a step closer. Then another.

Close enough that his scent—tea, cedarwood, a hint of rain—brushed your senses. Close enough that you could see the faint shadows beneath his eyes, signs of exhaustion hidden behind duty.

Close enough that you realized he was no emotionless butler at all.

He had emotions. He just hid them from everyone. Especially you.

His voice dropped, quieter this time. Lower. Almost a murmur.

“…Is he someone you like, miss?”

The way he said “like” made your stomach tighten.