The mansion hummed softly with a symphony of muted activity as Minjun navigated its labyrinth of grand halls and opulent rooms, concentrating intently on his newly assigned duties. Each footfall was purposeful, each task executed with meticulous precision. Yet, beneath his composed exterior, his mind swirled with restless thoughts. Haruto's words resonated continuously in his consciousness—his calm, yet resolute instruction that Minjun was to join him for breakfast, lunch, and dinner henceforth.

In one of the smaller, elegantly appointed sitting rooms, Minjun dusted a magnificent mahogany table, his hands gliding rhythmically across its polished surface. As he worked, an unrelenting question nagged at him: Is this how butlers are usually treated? He had anticipated an environment of strict professionalism, where he would serve discreetly from the shadows, avoiding notice. Yet, Haruto's demeanor was unexpectedly warm, even protective, and this dissonance puzzled Minjun profoundly. With careful attention, he wiped down a pair of intricately designed vases, his mind a whirlwind of curiosity. Is this standard for someone in my position, or is Haruto just... different?

Moving on to the library, a sanctuary of knowledge with towering shelves lined with countless volumes, Minjun meticulously reorganized the books. His heart skipped a beat, recalling the comforting warmth of Haruto's proximity when he had leaned in to speak to him earlier. The memory sent a rush of heat to his cheeks, but he quickly shook his head to dispel the distraction. Focus, Minjun! You're overthinking things, he reminded himself sternly, determined to maintain his concentration.

Even as he tried to concentrate on his tasks, the relentless stream of questions wouldn't cease. Haruto's calm authority, the way he had effortlessly dispelled Minjun's hesitant refusals, and the magnetic intensity of his presence—it all felt so incongruous with what Minjun had envisioned his role would entail.

By the time Minjun reached the grand master staircase, he paused at the intricately carved, ornate banister. The polished wood gleamed under the soft light, and he took a moment to jot down a quick note in his leather-bound notebook—a reminder to polish the brass accents that adorned the staircase like delicate jewelry. The page seemed to blur as he stared absently at it. Why does he care if I eat or not? Why does he go out of his way to ensure I join him? Is this just him being a conscientious employer... or is it something more?

Minjun sighed deeply, the sound echoing softly in the spacious hallway, and snapped his notebook shut with a decisive motion, forcing himself to focus on the tasks ahead. Yet, no matter how diligently he tried to distract himself, Haruto’s words, his gestures, and even the subtle, enigmatic expression in his eyes clung to Minjun's thoughts like a persistent shadow.

Minjun moved through the corridor with purposeful, deliberate steps, his fingers wrapped tightly around his notebook as if it were a lifeline. His face was etched with a serious expression, revealing the whirlwind of thoughts swirling incessantly in his mind. Haruto's words echoed relentlessly in his head—the commanding tone with which he'd insisted Minjun join him for every meal resonated like a drumbeat. The memory of their closeness clung to him like a shadow, and Minjun found himself unconsciously pressing his lips together, a futile attempt to steady his frayed nerves.

As he wandered deeper into his thoughts, Minjun entered one of the mansion's sunlit hallways, its large windows casting warm, golden patches of light onto the polished wooden floors. The expansive corridor led to the main wing, its grandeur almost lost on him as his focus drifted inward. The tasks he had been diligently performing seemed to dissolve into the background, becoming nothing more than a distant murmur in his mind. He was so absorbed in his reverie that he failed to notice the gentle shuffle of footsteps approaching, nor did he hear the soft voice that finally pierced the silence.

"Minjun? Minjun!" came the repeated call, gentle yet persistent, like the soft rustling of leaves in a breeze. It wasn't until the voice grew more insistent, echoing through the quiet room, that Minjun blinked, turning his head slightly as if emerging from a deep reverie.

"Hm? Oh, I'm sorry, what did you say?" Minjun asked, startled, his eyes widening slightly as they focused on the figure before him. One of the maids stood nearby, her presence framed by the afternoon light filtering through the window, casting a warm glow over her and the basket of freshly laundered linens she held in her hands. Her expression was a blend of concern and amusement, eyes twinkling with a gentle kindness.

"You looked a million miles away," the maid said with a small, understanding smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. "I was asking if everything's alright. You seem... preoccupied."

Minjun cleared his throat, a flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks at being caught so thoroughly distracted. "No, I'm fine. Just going over my tasks in my head," he said quickly, his fingers gripping his notebook a little tighter as if it were an anchor. "Sorry about that."

The maid chuckled softly, the sound like a tinkling chime. "Must be some intense tasks if you're that serious about them," she teased lightly, her tone playful yet warm.

"Oh, before I forget," she said casually, her voice slicing through Minjun's spiraling thoughts like a sharp knife through silk. "Mr. Sato wishes to see you in his study."

Minjun blinked, startled, his eyes widening as if trying to comprehend a distant memory. "Haruto wants to see me?" he asked, his voice tinged with a blend of confusion and nervousness that clung to him like a shadow.

The maid nodded, her lips curling into a knowing smile that suggested secrets untold. "Yes, he asked for you specifically. You might want to head there soon. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting." Her words hung in the air, an unspoken command, as she turned gracefully and walked away, leaving Minjun standing alone in the long, echoing hallway.

Minjun clutched his notebook tightly, the worn cover pressing into his palm as his heart began to race like a wild drum. What could Haruto possibly want to discuss now? He had been meticulous with his tasks, ensuring every detail was executed with precision. Was there something he had overlooked? Or perhaps it was related to their cryptic conversation earlier?

The uncertainty gnawed at him like a persistent itch as he took a deep breath, the air filling his lungs in an attempt to quell the rising tide of anxiety. Straightening his posture, he squared his shoulders and began the journey toward Haruto's study. Each step echoed in the corridor, a rhythmic symphony of anticipation and apprehension that filled the space around him.