I Reincarnated As The Lazy Demon King's Butler

For the first time in years, the Demon King's castle was awake before noon.

Servants rushed through the halls. Ministers whispered among themselves. Generals barked orders as the castle's long-abandoned war chambers roared back to life.

The kingdom had been sleeping for too long.

Now, it was Elias Voss's kingdom to wake.

Morning Meetings and Minor Inconveniences (Like Treason)

Elias walked through the stone halls with the measured pace of a man with absolute control.

At his side, Seraphine kept stride, a knowing smirk on her lips.

"The Eastern Lords aren't happy," she murmured. "Word's spreading that you're cutting off their mercenaries."

"That's the point," Elias said. "An army should serve its king, not its paycheck."

Seraphine chuckled. "You keep saying 'king,' but let's be honest. You mean you."

Elias didn't confirm or deny it. He simply adjusted the immaculate cuff of his butler's uniform and continued walking.

The two entered the council chamber, where the highest-ranking demons in the kingdom were already waiting.

Vardok, the minotaur general, leaned against the table, arms crossed in clear irritation. "Explain something to me, Butler."

Elias sat at the head of the table—not the throne, but the chair closest to it. A deliberate choice.

"You've cut off funding to our mercenaries, dismissed entire battalions, and reduced our standing army by almost twenty percent," Vardok growled. "How exactly do you expect us to fight a war?"

Elias clasped his hands together. Calm. Unshaken.

"By using an army that isn't a disorganized pile of drunken idiots."

Vardok scowled. "We need numbers."

Elias shook his head. "We need competence. Half your soldiers can't follow basic formations, let alone battlefield strategy. So instead of quantity, we'll focus on quality."

He leaned forward, golden eyes sharp. "An elite force. Personally trained. Loyal only to the throne."

The table fell silent.

Azazel, who had been absentmindedly flipping a dagger between his fingers, finally spoke.

"An elite unit, huh?" He grinned lazily. "I like it. Makes me sound impressive."

Elias turned to him. "It makes you sound like a king with an army that doesn't embarrass him."

Azazel frowned. "Less fun when you say it like that."

The conversation shifted. Plans were set into motion—the restructuring of the army, the recruitment of handpicked officers, the slow but steady removal of those who had been bought by the rebellion.

It was all going too smoothly.

And that's why Elias expected the knife.

A Blade in the Dark

Later that night, Elias sat in his private quarters, reviewing the latest intelligence reports.

The rebellion had infiltrated the castle.

Small, subtle movements—missing records, servants found dead in alleyways, vague reports of "accidents" involving soldiers who supported the reforms.

A quiet war had already begun.

And now, the other side was making their move.

Elias heard the attack before he saw it. A sign that this new body of his had heightened senses and supernatural properties.

A whisper of movement in the candlelight. A blade slicing through the air.

He turned just in time to see a masked figure lunging from the shadows, dagger aimed straight for his throat.

Elias moved without thinking.

A sidestep. A quick twist of the wrist. And suddenly—

The dagger was in his hand. How did I do that?

The assassin staggered back, stunned for only a moment before going in for another strike.

Elias slammed his fist into the assassin's stomach, twisting the stolen dagger in his fingers before pressing it to their throat.

The fight was over in seconds.

The assassin froze. Too well-trained to panic, but too inexperienced to hide their surprise.

Elias exhaled. "If this is the best the rebellion has to offer, I'm disappointed."

The assassin tensed.

That's when Elias noticed something.

This wasn't some hardened killer or mercenary thug. Underneath the mask, the shape of their face was too young.

And then, in a quiet, shaky voice—

"You're ruining everything."

A girl.

Barely past her teenage years.

Elias's grip didn't loosen. But something in his expression did.

She didn't look afraid. She looked… desperate.

A Kingdom on the Edge

Elias sat across from the bound assassin, arms folded.

The girl's mask had been removed, revealing messy black hair, defiant crimson eyes, and a face too young to be fighting in a war she barely understood.

Seraphine leaned against the wall, watching with amusement. "What's the plan, Butler? Toss her in the dungeons?"

Elias ignored her. Instead, he spoke directly to the girl.

"You're working for Lord Ravion."

The girl glared at him, saying nothing.

Elias tilted his head. "No, not working. Loyal to him."

Her jaw clenched.

Good. He was right.

He exhaled, leaning forward slightly. "Let me guess. You weren't paid to do this. You believe in the rebellion."

Still, she refused to speak.

Elias sat back, observing her. "The Eastern Lords say we're the enemy. That we're the reason your people are suffering." He folded his hands. "Tell me. What was your life before you picked up that knife?"

The girl's defiance wavered.

Because she knew.

The rebellion was lying to its own people.

Elias sighed, rubbing his temple. "You are the first assassin they've sent, but you won't be the last." His golden eyes sharpened. "I need to know what Lord Ravion is planning."

The girl hesitated. For the first time, her expression was uncertain.

Seraphine smirked. "You're scaring her."

"No," Elias murmured. "I'm giving her something scarier than death."

She blinked. "And that is?"

Elias stood, adjusting his cuffs.

"Doubt."