“Problem this. Problem that… Can’t even take a bloody bath these days,” Atlas grumbled while putting on his clothes. “One day of peace. A single day without any problems. Is that too much to ask? Don’t I deserve it?”

“Your highness.” A prompt came from outside the bath.

“I’m GETTING DRESSED!!” Atlas shouted in response, his irritation growing.

“Do hurry up, your highness. Or perhaps, do you need my help?” Butler Rohm asked.

‘Hell no.’ Letting that expressionless creep near his naked self was the last thing that Atlas would do. Actually, scratch that. Even if Hell itself boils over, he would never let that expressionless creep near his naked self.

Straightening out his vest, Atlas patted his ruffled hair and walked out of the bath. ‘Oh wait, I still haven’t looked at myself.’ Almost half a month had passed since his arrival in this world, and he had yet to take a look at his face.

“Do you have a handheld mirror?” The prince asked his unreliable ‘guardian’.

“A mirror? What for?” asked Butler Rohm, forgetting once again to add proper honorifics in his reply.

“You know what? Just forget I ever asked for it.” Atlas dropped the matter. He did not want to engage this expressionless creep in a verbal spat first thing in the morning. Besides, there was something important awaiting him.

“Understood,” Butler Rohm professionally replied. He then sneaked a peek at the short prince. The boy’s golden, naturally-wavy hair perfectly framed his exquisite-looking face. His pearl-like, white skin, still a little pink from having just taken a hot bath, glowed like the first break of dawn. His ice-blue eyes were akin to finely but gems. The boy was simply ethereal.

Butler Rohm had to admit, in all his years alive and living on this earth, this wordy little brat was the most gorgeous-looking person that he had ever seen. Even those noble ladies and their prized daughters from the capital were simply incomparable to the little prince.

‘A shame such fine looks are wasted on someone with charcoal for a soul.’ If the prince’s looks were said to be the Gods’ finest creation, then his personality was unquestionably their worst.

Butler Rohm shook his head with unspeakable pity.

“So, what’s the problem?” Atlas asked. It might’ve just been inside his head, but he could swear that he felt the expressionless creep’s intense gaze on his back. Again, it could just be his paranoia acting up.

“Pardon, your highness?” Butler Rohm lost himself for a moment. He then hurriedly recovered and immediately began his exposition. “Ah, yes. I recall the peasant came reporting about a flood, your highness.”

[Wait, what?] Atlas stopped and intuitively replied in English. He then quickly caught himself and repeated. “Wait, what?”

“A flood. A peasant came reporting a flood, your highness.” Butler Rohm stopped a step behind the prince and repeated his answer with a straight face.

“Where?” Atlas asked, replaying the previous lines inside his head, fearing that he had misunderstood or misinterpreted the butler’s words.

“Here. In the town,” Butler Rohm drolled.

Blinking his doll-like eyes, Atlas faced the man with a straight face and said, “Just to be clear. You’re telling me that our town is afflicted by a flood?”

“Not at all, your highness,” Butler Rohm replied, eliciting a sigh of relief from Atlas. Unfortunately, that very same sigh was caught halfway out of his throat. “I’m telling you that a peasant came reporting of a flood afflicting our town. You can hear him yourself. He and a couple of other townspeople are waiting for you outside the manor.” Butler Rohm coolly finished.

Atlas stared speechlessly at the man. A couple of seconds of silence later, he asked. “How can you be so casual about this?”

“Well, it’s not my problem, is it? It’s the peasants, and I suppose, yours now.” Butler Rohm replied.

It was at that moment that Atlas learned something. Unlike his kind-hearted master, Butler Rohm was one cold-hearted son of a b*tch who considered the peasants to be lesser than him.

‘Maybe we do have something in common after all.’ The day just kept on giving him surprises.

–--

“Milrod! You have to save us!”

“The anger of the Gods has still not been sated! O’ heavens, what’ve we done to deserve such a fate?”

“My home! My items! Everythin’s been flooded!”

A wave of cries assaulted Atlas the moment he opened the door to his manor’s entrance. ‘This is getting old.’ He wordlessly sighed to himself and took a step outside, stopping just under the manor’s parapet. The damned rain had still not let go, and Atlas had no intention of getting wet once again.

“Alright now! Alright now! Everybody just calm down and cease your tears.” Atlas then scanned the crowd and pointed toward a random peasant. He then asked, “You there, you’re… Paul, correct?”

“Correct, milord,” The man whom Atlas had pointed to, Paul Higgns, stepped forth and replied.

“Could you explain to me what the problem is, Mr. Higgns?” A few seconds of delay is all that Atlas needed to recall the information on Paul that was written on the citizen’s dossier. ‘I need to find a sketch artist to draw their faces next to their names. Identifying people based solely on their description features is exhausting.’ Though, Paul’s auburn hair was a dead giveaway.

“Ce-certainly, milord.” Caught unprepared by the little prince’s request, Paul hurriedly gathered himself before explaining the situation.

Hearing the situation being slowly detailed, the languidness on Atlas’ face slowly disappeared, replaced by disquietness. His jaw tightened and his brows furrowed. ‘The situation is way more complicated than I thought.’ He then imperceptibly shot a glance at the expressionless butler standing next to him and thought, ‘This bastard! He intentionally underplayed the situation to me. This confirms it! I’m having this bastard assassinated at the first available moment!’

Pushing his unnecessary thoughts aside, Atlas took a deep breath and asked the peasant, “Where did you say your residence is located, Mr. Higgns?”

“At the eastern end of the town, milord,” Paul replied.

“Eastern end… let’s see,” Atlas quietly mumbled, recalling the map in his head and locating the spot. ‘Hmm, ah! Found it! What could’ve caused the issu—!!” Atlas immediately figured it out.

“The river,” he spoke out loud. “The damned river overflowed because of the continuous rains and flooded the town.”

Immediately turning around, he spoke to the butler. “Fetch me Douglas Wootz immediately.”

“Will do, your highness.” Butler Rohm lightly bowed and immediately rushed off to fetch the man.

Atlas then faced Paul once again and said, “You work in the Construction Team, right?”

Paul furiously nodded his head.

“Gather the members of your team and bring them here. Fetch the members of the Woodcutting Team who’ve stayed behind too!” Atlas ordered, prompting the man to rush off. He then spent a few minutes placating the crowd before sending them away.

Left alone, Atlas thought to himself, ‘We have to solve this problem ASAP. ‘Cause if not, the remainder of the town will be flooded.’

The flood had only affected the un-renovated parts of the town and had yet to fully spread to the reconstructed portions. If the situation were not to be immediately contained and corrected, the damages that it would bring to the town and the morale of the townspeople would be inestimable.

‘Only eight days in and I’m already facing an ‘annihilation-level’ event, huh? Well, bring it on! Let’s see if it's me or the unstoppable force of nature that comes out on top!’ Atlas’ competitive spirit burned at the new challenge.

AN: ‘Annihilation Event’: It’s a sort of do-or-die event that a game forces on you after a fixed interval of time. Succeeding would mean the continuation of the game whilst failure usually meant a game-over.