"Ha? Weak? Wipe your own ass, huh? I'll smash your butt right now and tell you how to wipe it properly!"
Jeno couldn't hold back anymore—he was furious!
Damn, he'd lived long enough to intimidate anyone just by showing up.
Now, even his own grandson could take a scolding, but the grandfather himself wasn't about to stand for it!
"Hey! I didn't stop you!" Jeno snapped.
"You don't just talk the talk—you better walk the walk!"
Wutong sighed quietly, watching the old man lose face and searching for a way out.
He hurriedly stepped between them, surprised inwardly.
Master Roy and Master Jeno actually argue like this?
It was rare—at least among other young masters, Wutong had never seen anyone stand up to Jeno like this.
In other words… how dare he?
Wutong glanced at the cabin before them, eyes flickering as a memory struck him.
He was arguably the second oldest servant in the Zoldyck family after Zi Po, and had known Roy for a long time.
All he really knew was that Roy was born blind, and Kikyo—his wife—had never shown him much affection.
She even publicly called him disabled, refusing to take him along for anything.
So Roy grew up isolated, alone in the shadows.
Then came a turning point. After Alluka's birth, Silva—the family head—seemed to soften.
He tried to use Nanika's wish power to cure Roy's blindness.
But young Roy refused.
His reason was simple but profound:
"Every gift of fate comes with a price hidden in the dark."
"If my younger brother risks himself to save my sight, I'd rather stay blind for life."
Wutong had been there. Those words shook him deeply—and the impression never faded.
Yet ten years had flown by, and that quiet, withdrawn, mediocre young master had grown.
Now, by chance, he was ordered by Jeno to serve Roy.
Fate was strange that way.
Only… not much else had changed. Except—Master Roy was even more withdrawn.
With a sigh, Wutong pushed those thoughts aside and helped Jeno calm down.
After a moment, he said quietly, "Master, please calm down."
"Maybe I should try."
Jeno huffed through his beard but said nothing—his silence meant consent.
Wutong nodded and adjusted his tuxedo before shouting into the room:
"Master Roy…"
"I told you—there's no Master Roy here. Just Roy," came the impatient reply.
"Alright, Roy," Wutong said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "By order of the Patriarch, this is the mission of our housekeeper. We can't tolerate refusal."
"So, Roy, I'd like to ask for a trial period."
"Anytime, anywhere. If you're dissatisfied during the probation, you can fire me on the spot."
Smart move, Jeno's eyes gleamed.
A probation period softened the approach—a buffer to avoid triggering Roy's rebellious streak or disgust.
Before Jeno could fully process it, reality hit him like a rocket blast.
Roy pushed open the window and glared at Wutong.
"That dogskin plaster—does it never run out?!"
"Are you confident? Or do you think you're stronger than old man Jeno?"
Jeno's rage reignited instantly—he nearly lost it again.
Wutong's eyelids twitched as he stepped forward, chest puffed out:
"I don't think I'm weak!"
"Master Roy, if you don't believe me, test me."
He wasn't just a figurehead—his Nen strength was second only to Zi Po among the housekeepers.
In the original record, he even lasted two moves against a certain fruit farmer—before being beheaded in a sneak attack.
Pity.
Roy nodded, approvingly.
"Flies keep buzzing until you slap them dead."
His blind eyes locked onto Wutong's.
"One move."
"I'll only use one. If you can take it, from now on, my courtyard is open to you."
"If you can't, don't blame me for not giving you the chance to be a cow or a horse."
Alas.
People are either on their way to being cheap—or already there.
Be a loyal dog or a beast of burden worthy of the Zoldyck name…
But—was there a trick?