Awakening Domination System: But I'm a Slave?
Chapter 23: Iris

Chapter 23: Iris

"Here."

A soft, feminine voice broke through his thoughts.

He stopped and turned to the sound.

At the far end of the dining hall, seated at a worn-out table where no one else approached, was a lone girl with midnight-blue hair, her violet eyes looked directly at him with calm intensity.

She waved at him casually, a slight smile tugging at her lips.

Iris.

She had fair skin and a slender frame, delicate but not frail.

Her black and white maid outfit hugged her modest curves in just the right way—graceful, not overly seductive. The ribbon at her collar was slightly crooked, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail, strands of midnight-blue falling over her cheek as she chewed quietly.

Alaric approached and took a seat beside her, the bench creaking faintly beneath him.

"You’re late again," Iris murmured, glancing sideways while tearing a small piece of bread.

"Had something to finish," Alaric replied, scooping a spoonful of lukewarm porridge into his mouth.

She smiled sheepishly, brushing a crumb from her chin and said, "Wanna hear something funny?"

Alaric raised a brow, now mildly interested. "What?"

Leaning closer, she brought her lips near his ear and whispered with dramatic flair, "There’s a rumor going around. One of the maids said she saw Lady Selene... smiling and talking to herself."

Alaric blinked. "And?"

Iris giggled softly, her voice light. "She thought it was a hallucination. And then, bam—she fainted. Oh, poor thing."

She pulled back, giggling behind her hand, clearly amused.

Alaric sighed, shaking his head.

’Idiot.’

Still, the corners of his lips twitched faintly. He had to admit, her presence was... comforting.

They’d been eating together for a while now.

Iris had been assigned to the same wing as him.

Ever since that awkward confrontation two weeks ago and the few random work encounters that followed, Iris had gradually grown more familiar, joining him openly—sometimes quietly sliding into the seat across, sometimes waving him over with a smile.

At first, she was reserved—probably from the fear instilled by Ferick’s disgusting behavior—but slowly, she began to open up.

Maybe it was because Alaric wasn’t that much older, only two years or so, and that made him more approachable than the older, harsher servants.

And honestly, Alaric didn’t care about the details.

She was the first person he could call a companion in this new world.

At first, he’d intended to remain alone. And sworn not to get attached after his transmigration, thinking companions were a weakness. But that thought didn’t last.

No matter how powerful someone becomes... they can’t change the world alone.

Even the strongest king needs a loyal sword. Even the fiercest beast needs a pack.

Though Iris wasn’t a warrior. Not a genius. She wasn’t going to save his life or help gain some powerful artifacts and treasure.

But she was someone. And that was enough.

He wasn’t in a position to be picky.

Not yet.

He continued eating his portion, her earlier laughter still echoing faintly in his ears.

"Can’t you even eat properly?" he muttered, glancing sideways as he scooped another spoonful into his mouth.

"Hmm?" Iris blinked mid-bite, confused.

Alaric sighed.

Then he reached for a napkin, leaned slightly, and dabbed the corner of her mouth where a bit of porridge had smudged.

She flinched, startled. Then blinked once.

Her cheeks flushed slightly, caught off guard.

"Oh!" she whispered.

Then, without missing a beat, she picked up her own small handkerchief, leaned in, and dabbed near his lips in return.

"Heh. Now we’re even." she said softly, and with a playful smile.

Alaric raised a brow, a faint glint of amusement flickering in his eyes.

"I’m pretty sure my face was clean."

"Doesn’t matter," she said with a smug little snort and returned to eat her meal like nothing happened.

Alaric let out a faint breath, part sigh, part chuckle, and returned to his own food.

He didn’t press further.

After finishing their breakfast, the two of them quietly left the dining hall and began walking through the winding corridors of the manor, heading toward their assigned wings.

Sunlight streamed in through the tall windows, casting slanted beams across the floor.

The house was alive with movement, maids carrying linens, footmen adjusting wall sconces, the usual hum of early-day duties.

As they passed the hallway outside the guest chambers, Alaric came to a brief stop in front of a large, polished mirror.

He stared at his reflection.

Hazel-brown eyes stared back, sharp and clear. His jaw had grown more defined. His ash-brown hair—slightly damp from the morning wash—was still messy, but it suited him.

His shoulders had broadened. His arms had gained tone. Even his height had grown up a little.

He looked nothing like the ragged, underfed boy who had arrived in this house a month ago.

Now... he looked like someone else entirely.

Too sharp. Too composed.

Far too handsome for a servant.

"Oh no," a teasing voice came from behind. "You again, admiring yourself in the mirror?"

Alaric turned slightly as Iris caught up, wearing her usual mischievous grin.

"None of your business," he muttered, tearing his gaze away from the mirror and resuming his walk.

Iris matched his pace effortlessly, placing a teasing hand over her mouth.

"Don’t tell me..." she began with dramatic suspicion. "You’re secretly seeing someone... or planning to?"

He blinked, and was about to reply, but she didn’t let him.

"Tell me, tell me, who is she? Mary? Minni? Lyna? I heard you boys have a thing for older women, huh?" She jabbed her elbow into his side lightly, grinning.

Alaric shot her a flat look. "Seriously?"

She tilted her head innocently. "So, none of them? Then who? Naira? Katy? Or—wait!"

She halted, hands flying to her mouth.

Alaric slowed his pace, expression already deadpan.

"Don’t tell me... is it me?" she gasped theatrically.

He stopped walking, his brow twitching in mild irritation.

Iris clasped both hands over her mouth. "Aww... how cute!" she cooed.

"But I’m sorry, I only see you as a friend," she said with mock sympathy, patting his shoulder as if comforting a broken heart.

Alaric sighed, staring at her with utter disbelief.

But she wasn’t done.

"Please move on," she added dramatically. "I don’t want to see you struggle. I’ll even help you find someone better!"

Then her tone softened. She closed her eyes and cupped her cheeks.

"You see, it’s always been my dream to marry a handsome noble prince. Like those in novels who fall in love with humble maids, sweep them off their feet then propose under moonlight and then... Kyaa~!"

She squealed at herself, shaking her head, clearly enjoying her little fantasy far too much.

Alaric stared at her, then rolled his eyes and started walking again.

"I’m not seeing anyone. And I’m not planning to," he said flatly.

Then he paused, throwing her a sly side glance.

"But if I were to..." he smirked, letting his voice trail just enough to build tension.

Iris blinked, curious.

"You’d be at the top of my no-no list."

"Rude!" She huffed and turned her nose up in exaggerated offense, ignoring him entirely now, earning a light chuckle from him.