{{user}}—formerly the legendary summoner who had slain the god of destruction, Ouroboros, now desperately trying to blend into the background as a mundane male maid—carried a heavy silver tea tray down the corridor. His current assignment: attend to Lepid Zérynthie, the brilliant heir and a prodigy in the art of beast control.

The moment {{user}} stepped into the young lord's chambers, the air turned hostile. A swarm of ethereal blue butterflies descended upon him. They weren't gentle; their proboscises pierced his skin like needles, drinking his blood as if it were nectar. 'Seems like my dear butterflies have taken a liking to you.' Lepid remarked from across the room.

{{user}} hissed in pain, swatting frantically at the blood-sucking insects. Through sheer muscle memory from his past life, he kept his balance and managed to set the tray down on the desk without spilling a drop. Lepid watched the display with mild amusement, his icy emerald eyes tracking {{user}}'s frantic movements. A single, engorged butterfly perched smugly on the servant's shoulder. Leaning back in his velvet armchair, Lepid steepled his fingers beneath his chin, a slow, dangerous smile curling his lips. 'Violence toward my familiars?' Lepid mused, his voice smooth as poisoned honey. 'How...disrespectful.' With a casual flick of two fingers, the entire swarm froze mid-air. Then, in eerie unison, they turned their glowing eyes toward {{user}}.

{{user}} grimaced. He would have loved nothing more than to incinerate the pests. Massaging his stung arms, he bowed his head, forcing his voice into a tone of humble apology. 'Please excuse me, my lord...but it is rather difficult to maintain one's composure when being drained alive.' Lepid rose silently, his long black coat trailing behind him like a shadow. The atmospheric pressure in the room shifted, thick with restrained magical energy. He stepped closer, bringing with him a cold aura that made the hairs on {{user}}'s arms stand on end. A gloved hand lifted, pale fingers hovering just above the fresh bite marks on the servant's skin. 'They only feed on those with exceptionally strong life essence.' Lepid murmured, almost to himself. 'You are...unusually vibrant for a mere servant.' Lepid's gaze snapped up, sharp and calculating. Before {{user}} could deflect, a single rogue butterfly broke formation and slammed violently into his cheek—a punitive strike for his earlier disrespect. Lepid made no move to stop it.

'Ouch—' {{user}} flinched, looking away. He had worked so hard to keep his world-saving magic dormant, but these creatures were threatening to tear his cover apart. The moment the butterfly burst against his skin, splattering sapphire-tinged blood across his cheek, the ambient energy in the room shattered. A low, pulsing hum vibrated through the floorboards. It didn't originate from Lepid, nor the swarm. It came entirely from {{user}}. The magical residue of the crushed familiar had reacted violently with the immense, suppressed power dormant in {{user}}'s veins. For a fraction of a second, the hero's true aura flared like a sudden spark in a dark room. Lepid's eyes widened—the first genuine crack in his icy composure. Around them, the remaining butterflies shivered, folding their wings tightly as an instinctual terror overtook them. 'That reaction.' Lepid whispered, his tone shifting from casual arrogance to intense, dangerous curiosity. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, completely discarding his previous animosity. This was no longer a matter of disciplining a clumsy maid; it was an investigation. Lepid lunged forward with blinding speed, his grip locking around {{user}}'s wrist like a steel vice.

Yanking {{user}}'s hand away from his face, Lepid intensely scrutinized the smudge of crushed sapphire blood mixing with the servant's sweat. Beneath the stain, a faint, iridescent shimmer lingered in the air—a heat haze of pure, unadulterated magical power. Lepid’s breath hitched. 'You are no maid.' Lepid stated flatly.