The Valet’s New Path and a Mage’s Reconstruction

“Rhine, your training is complete. As of today, I personally certify your etiquette, and I congratulate you on becoming a proper valet, worthy of the Cavendish name.”

“Thank you for your meticulous guidance. It is all thanks to you…”

“Spare me the pleasantries. I merely set you on this path. With standardized etiquette training, and given your innate talent, I imagine you would have excelled no matter who your instructor was. This is a testament to your own ability; there is no profound bond between us, and feigned intimacy would only make us both uncomfortable.”

“…”

“Young man, the road ahead is long. A mastery of high-society etiquette is merely a pass to gain entry. More often than not, competent servants are a dime a dozen. You must seriously consider why you became the young mistress’s valet, and not someone else. I hope you do not underestimate yourself.”

“Thank you, I will remember that.”

“Good.”

The Etiquette Instructor elegantly twirled, settled his hat, and, picking up his suitcase, departed through the ducal manor’s grand gates without a backward glance.

Rhine watched as his final instructor departed. Having mastered etiquette, tea ceremony, and swordsmanship, he was now more than capable of becoming an exceptional servant within the Norman Empire.

Only when the instructor’s tall figure vanished at the street corner below the slope did Rhine suddenly recall a question he had failed to ask:

‘What was the instructor’s name?’

From their very first meeting, their interactions had been strictly between instructor and student. Perhaps due to his excessive dedication, the bald man had not even bothered to share his name.

During his weeks residing in the manor, his few interests, beyond instructing Rhine, included leisurely strolls in the garden and feeding pigeons. His personal rapport was quite good; he frequently mingled with the other servants, exchanging pleasantries and warm greetings.

Perhaps Rhine truly ought to have paid more attention to that detail.

In an unseen corner, the Etiquette Instructor discreetly drew a small, gray notebook from his breast pocket. Within it lay, starkly visible, a meticulous list of every servant employed by the ducal manor.

Beside each name, every minute detail was annotated: the individual’s daily habits, personal relationships, speaking accent, family circumstances…

He scanned the names, already etched into his memory, repeatedly. With an impassive expression, he took a small pen and meticulously marked each one with a check or an ‘X’.

Finally, his pen tip paused beside Rhine’s name, marking it with a check.

Tucking the notebook away, he swiftly turned into several alleys, then scaled a second-story hotel window. A few minutes later, having changed his attire, he emerged from the hotel, the gray notebook now concealed within a hidden compartment of his suitcase.

Even with his training complete, Rhine would typically have to endure a month-long probationary period before officially becoming a valet. This “probation,” however, was merely bureaucratic red tape, a drawn-out process designed to collect fees and issue certifications.

Fortunately, the Cavendish family was an exception; Rhine could officially assume his duties whenever he wished.

Of course, “officially assuming duties” was merely a theoretical concept, as the subsequent steps proved far more troublesome:

These involved signing various intricate contracts, undergoing an interview with his liege, and being inducted into the vast “aristocratic civil service” system.

Undeniably, the most aggravating part would be the interview. Rhine knew with absolute certainty that Audrey would give him no favorable treatment; she could easily throw a tantrum and dismiss him back to his probationary period with any fabricated excuse.

‘And given her character…’ Rhine thought, his face darkening, ‘…some sort of inappropriate workplace proposition wouldn’t feel out of place at all!’

Consequently, he decided to simply “lie flat” for now. Whether he idled for a month or a single day made no difference to him; since the young mistress herself wasn’t in a hurry, he saw this as an unexpected holiday, his aspirations lying elsewhere. This newfound free time would be ample for him to make numerous arrangements.

His immediate priority, however, had to be the restoration of his strength.

“My current strength isn’t negligible, but I retain barely one-tenth of my former power.”

The immense trauma from the forceful fusion of his soul and body had reduced Rhine, once a Seven-Ring Sorcerer, to possessing only the three lowest magic circuits.

While a Three-Ring Sorcerer could somewhat assert themselves in the current world, exploiting the weak and fearing the strong, they still had to lie low when necessary. However, this did not mean Rhine’s true power was entirely equivalent to that of a mere Three-Ring Sorcerer.

Rhine’s situation was, quite simply, an anomaly among anomalies:

On the advantageous side, his total mana reserves were double the average adult wizard’s, and they continued to grow. His mastery of spellcasting techniques was nearly unparalleled; in a clash between Three-Ring Sorcerers, Rhine would be truly unmatched. Most importantly, his soul bore the imprint of numerous higher-tier spells, exceeding his current rank.

On the disadvantageous side, he carried deep-seated injuries. Continuous spellcasting would exponentially increase the burden on his soul, essentially rendering him weak in terms of sustained output.

In essence, at Rhine’s current level, even a Five-Ring Sorcerer would have to think twice before facing him. Should an argument arise, he could unleash a spatial spell to cleave them in two, leaving them bewildered about their demise, perhaps even prompting a final lament:

‘Forgive me for not forcing Lord Rhine to unleash his full power.’

Yet, why use an ox-cleaver to slaughter a chicken? While Rhine could employ some higher-tier spells, merely using them couldn’t simply be termed “consumption”; more accurately, it was a “cost.”

Unless absolutely necessary, higher-tier spells were to be used sparingly. When that dire moment truly arrived, in Rhine’s own words:

‘To die by this move is your honor.’

Returning to the matter at hand, Rhine’s most swift and practical method for recovering his strength was, naturally, to reconstruct the Four-Ring magic circuit.

Now, the prodigious Rhine gazed thoughtfully at the device Anjemuel had given him. He had decided it was time to iterate upon the traditional, outdated circuits, to put new ideas into practice, and to deliver a resounding “scientific shock” to the antiquated world of magic.

“Sorcerers’ magic circuits are invariably circular, not for any particular reason other than tradition. A perfect circle is inherently stable and the most accommodating shape, allowing various spell formulas to be easily applied to it.”

“Its sole flaw, however, is its lack of precision. When a Water Generation spell and a Fire Ignition spell simultaneously reside on the same circuit, their naturally opposing properties only hinder each other. The only recourse is to needlessly increase mana output, expending more effort just to sustain the magic…”

“In my novice days, I never considered such minute details; it was all about ‘if it works, it works.’ Even upon realizing this, I was helpless, as it was impossible to simply dismantle and reconstruct a circuit. Nor did I possess the experience then to execute such precise modifications at the soul level.”

In any endeavor, the initial direction holds paramount importance; the path taken lies entirely in a single thought. For a reincarnated individual, the greatest boon is the right to make the correct choices anew.

This time, he decided to construct an “equilateral triangle” within the Four-Ring circuit—a shape unprecedented in magical history, renowned for its stability and aesthetic perfection.

While an equilateral triangle could not engrave as many spell formulas as a circle, it offered greater precision and, crucially, could accelerate casting in urgent moments. By judiciously placing conflicting spell types onto its three distinct segments, the efficiency of mana expenditure would increase exponentially, leading to a higher overall yield than a circular circuit.

With this resolve firm in his mind, Rhine immediately closed his eyes in his room, beginning the reconstruction of the circuit within his shattered spiritual sea.

Several hours swiftly passed. Rhine had barely managed to construct one side of the equilateral triangle, and even that was a crude prototype, requiring careful refinement in the future.

“Ugh, I thought a mere Four-Ring magic circuit would be done in no time, but constructing circuits is troublesome at any stage.”

If any other Three-Ring Sorcerer had overheard Rhine’s comment, they would undoubtedly have cried out in exasperation at his sheer arrogance.

Did he think breaking through realms was like stacking blocks? It usually took weeks, if not half a year. If he could finish it in just a few attempts, what would be the point for everyone else?

————

“Green is dead?”

Within a pure white tower, an elegant woman with a waterfall of rose-colored hair looked skeptically at the Norman words formed by magic on a whiteboard.

“You could tell me those old geezers are all dead, and I’d believe it. But that guy? I won’t believe he’s dead until I see his corpse with my own eyes. No… even if his body were shattered to dust, I still wouldn’t be convinced. After all, he disappears without a word whenever he pleases, but hasn’t he always reappeared perfectly intact, only to mock us viciously?”

The female wizard habitually adjusted the broad brim of her wizard’s hat, then sighed deeply, gazing out the window at the boundless Cinder-Cracked Plains to the west.

“Green, oh Green, when will you finally return?”