Reborn As Hades In Olympus

Chapter 110 The Black Butler

Ch. 110: The Black Butler

I stepped out of the bathroom, greeted by the eerie quiet of my room. Hermes, of course, was nowhere to be found. I couldn't have expected the messenger god to stay still for long. My hair, still damp, smelled of the delicate sweetness from the shampoo Aphrodite had insisted I use to maintain my hair. I had to admit, it felt better than usual— a small comfort in an otherwise unrelenting existence.

After dressing in fresh clothes, I moved to the window. I pulled the curtains aside, revealing the underworld's vast, shadowy expanse. A breath escaped my lips, the weight of the past weighing heavier on my chest with each passing day. What would have happened to this realm if I hadn't been reborn as Hades? If I had let him die, as fate had intended? What kind of world would exist in my absence?

BANG! CLANG!

The sharp crash of metal brought me back to the present. "What now?" I muttered, irritation prickling at the edges of my mind. It seemed Hermes was making his presence known in the most disruptive way possible. The thought of guests grated on me, especially ones who made a mess of my carefully maintained domain.

I stormed out of the room, drawn toward the kitchen where the noise continued. The moment I stepped into the kitchen, the scene before me only deepened my frown. Hermes, chips in hand, dashed around the kitchen in a panicked frenzy. My three hellhounds— Cerius, Berry, and Russle— chased him with single-minded determination, their eyes locked onto the snack like it was a precious relic.

"What in the world are you doing?" I barked, crossing my arms as I leaned against the doorframe. The dogs, proud of themselves for cornering their prey, barked with excitement. Hermes, on the other hand, was thoroughly enjoying the chaos, despite being on the run.

"Oh, just giving them a little exercise. They get bored, you know, cooped up in here all the time." Hermes grinned, still evading the snapping jaws of the hounds as if this was some elaborate game.

"And in the process, destroying my kitchen?" My tone was ice-cold, though I could not help but wonder why I let him anywhere near my home to begin with.

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Hermes chuckled, seemingly unfazed. "Come on, Hades. The dogs don't hate me— they just haven't gotten to know me yet!"

His confidence bordered on idiocy, but that was Hermes for you. "Take them outside, then. They're too dangerous indoors."

"You sure?" Hermes did not wait for an answer. He opened the door and darted outside, the dogs close behind him. Their joyful barks echoed through the halls as they rushed into the open, finally freed from the confines of my home. As I watched them go, I felt a strange twinge of guilt. Had I been too harsh?

"Finally, some peace." Or so I thought. But the unease in the air lingered. The atmosphere shifted, thickening, as if someone— no, something— was watching me.

I turned sharply, my senses on high alert. Hermes hadn't come with anyone, yet I felt the distinct presence of another. The black book in my hand pulsed suddenly. Flipping it open, I read the single word that appeared on its pages: "Don't."

The warning came too late. My eyes locked onto a figure standing in the doorway. A tall, imposing man with skin dark as night, his hair streaked with grey. He wore a perfectly tailored English suit, complete with a bowtie and monocle perched over one eye. What struck me most was the curved black horn protruding from his forehead, a sign of something ancient— something not to be trifled with.

My guard went up immediately. "Who are you?"

Before I could act, the black book responded with a calm but firm tone. "He's my butler, Walter."

The figure— Walter— bowed gracefully, his aged features betraying no hint of hostility. "Lord Hades, it's been quite some time since you let the dogs out. I must admit, it's a welcome relief. Less... messages to clean up." His voice carried the weight of years, yet it was gentle, respectful, with a subtle edge of something darker.

I narrowed my eyes, watching his every movement. His hands were deft, precise, as he began tidying the kitchen with an efficiency that spoke of long experience. "I didn't know I had a butler," I muttered under my breath, though I knew the book would hear.

"He's always been here, serving loyally."

"Loyal, perhaps. But where was he when you was poisoned? Where was this...Walter when my future here at that time?" My voice dripped with suspicion. I had no reason to trust anyone, let alone a man I had no knowledge of.

The black book hesitated, something it rarely did. "I trust him."

I wasn't convinced. "Do you?"

Walter finished cleaning in record time, standing before me once more. "My lord, you seem more troubled than usual. You left without so much as a word yesterday, and now you've returned... gloomier than ever. Might I ask what in fact the matter is?"

An odd sensation tugged at my chest as the words "Affection Level – 300" flashed before my eyes. It was unsettling to see the metric laid bare like that, almost mechanical, reducing trust and loyalty to numbers.

Still, despite the book's assurances and the eye's power displayed, a dark seed of doubt had taken root in my mind. Could I trust anyone in this forsaken place?

Walter stood there, waiting for a response, his eyes closed yet seemingly seeing everything. "Please, my lord, allow me to take care of you and your estate while you wait, if you need me give me a call."

I stared at him, my thoughts swirling. There was something off. Something I could not place.

"I'll keep that in mind," I said coolly, turning away. But even as I left the room, the doubt gnawed at me. If Walter had been there all this time, then why did the black book warn me against him a moment too late? Why did I feel like I was being watched even when his eyes were closed? And where was he in the future?

Did that mean he was absent by death...?