Chapter 164: Reject something, man!

At that moment, Neil attempted to process the shock as best he could. He was no longer tasked with merely watching over this overwhelming horde of children and ensuring they didn’t transform the garden into a ruined warzone—he was now simultaneously required to provide comprehensive care for a disabled old man who couldn’t even walk on his own.

He was cooked. Completely cooked.

If Daren were to ask him, for instance, to help him go to the bathroom, Neil would have to comply immediately. Yet if a dire emergency befell one of the children at that very same second, he couldn’t split himself into two people, no matter how immense his magical power was.

Thus, he resolved to handle the situation with strategy rather than await this inevitable collision of demands.

In the blink of an eye, Neil channeled the absolute limit of his magical energy into his speed, proceeding to prep the garden in a manner that would render his assignment slightly less insane than it already was. He brought out a full portable restroom, placing it at the back of the courtyard. Not stopping at one, he deployed several portable restrooms, distributing them across various corners of the vast garden so he wouldn’t be forced to abandon the children and sprint long distances whenever Daren required one.

Simultaneously, he conducted an intensive sweep for any sharp or perilous objects that could harm the children, instantly removing everything he uncovered—from small tools to items that had no business existing in a location holding fifteen kids.

The garden was sprawling, yet the entire undertaking took him roughly fifteen minutes, thanks to the terrifying speed Neil utilized to execute every task.

Naturally, however, matters were hardly that easy.

He couldn’t perform everything simultaneously, and he was interrupted numerous times while transporting objects or sweeping for potential hazards.

"Neil! He fell!"

One of the kids had tumbled straight into the mud.

Before Neil could reach him, another child cheered in delight, attempting to shove him deeper into the mire:

"Let me help him!"

"Nooo!"

Neil flashed forward with lightning speed, snatching the second child before he could escalate the disaster, then hauled the mud-covered kid off the ground, rapidly wiping his face clean.

At almost that precise second, another voice yelled out from the opposite side.

"Neeeeeil!"

Neil closed his eyes for a brief moment.

He didn’t even need to ask.

He knew a fresh catastrophe had broken out.

Yet the children were not his sole problem.

On the other side, Old Man Daren was calling out to him in a loud, grating voice, demanding things that might be deemed reasonable under normal circumstances, but had become a personal provocation to Neil at this specific time.

"You fool! I need a shoulder massage!"

Neil paused for a second, only to hear the voice yell out again:

"And I need food too! I’m starving!"

Neil gritted his teeth violently.

He took a deep breath.

He did not possess the luxury of throwing a tantrum.

He had to strike a balance between the two duties by any means necessary—attending to Daren whenever required while simultaneously monitoring the children, barking reprimands at those who decided, for reasons scientifically inexplicable, that the best way to spend their childhood was attempting to murder one another.

Strangely enough, the hours that sometimes felt as though they would never end were actually crawling by.

It was akin to a poisoned message sent by reality—a message that plants a light kiss on your cheek before mercilessly flaying your back, as if whispering:

Don’t worry, you will be tortured... but after this torture, you’ll discover that the seconds are indeed passing.

And so it raged on.

One hour.

Then two hours.

Then four hours.

Then seven full hours.

After seven hours of enduring this state, Old Man Daren arrived at one glaringly obvious conclusion:

This man possesses a terrifying mental fortitude.

Daren had attempted to provoke him repeatedly—not because he genuinely required all those demands, but because he wished to see how much pressure this butler could endure before his true colors showed.

Almost every single time, he called out to him at the worst possible moment.

He would wait until Neil was on the verge of soothing a child mid-tantrum, then summon him over the most trivial matter imaginable.

On one occasion, Neil was right on the brink of stopping a child from crying when Daren’s voice cut in:

"Neil!"

Neil turned toward him.

"What is it?"

Daren spoke with extreme coldness:

"I want you to tell me how handsome I am."

Neil stared at him for several seconds.

The child he had left behind had already resumed crying hysterically. He had been so close to comforting him, yet the bizarre question Daren posed forced him to turn around.

"Alright..."

Neil examined Daren from head to toe, as if conducting a gravely serious professional evaluation.

Then, with a face entirely devoid of emotion, he spoke:

"4 out of 10."

Silence reigned.

Daren stared at him.

Then Neil stared back at him.

Then the child resumed crying hysterically, far louder than before.

As for Daren, he felt as though his mind had temporarily shut down.

This...

This was professional.

Professional to the absolute extreme.

Neil hadn’t attempted to flatter his guest, nor had he tried to pad the score out of politeness; he had delivered a genuine, unvarnished rating like a judge at a beauty pageant.

The sun finally began its descent.

As nightfall arrived, the parents of the children entered the courtyard one by one to pick up their kids.

When Ethan and Vincent appeared, their gazes were initially fixed on the children, before noticing Daren sitting in the courtyard.

The two exchanged a swift look.

Daren’s presence here was by no means ordinary, and after everything that had transpired on Earth, his manifestation in this realm was enough to make them feel that another storm was brewing.

Yet setting all of that aside, Daren was locked in a far more critical personal crisis.

He was dealing with the most psychologically disciplined butler he had ever encountered in his entire life.

And he refused to accept this outcome.

He had tried every possible method to crack this discipline—to drive Neil to anger, exhaustion, or to force out even a sliver of his true persona.

Yet he had failed completely.

Even though Neil appeared to be roughly thirty years old, his face retained a cold, unyielding professional composure, as if everything that had unfolded over the past seven hours was merely a standard segment of his daily routine.

Eventually, the children of the Ayan family departed alongside their parents, leaving the courtyard completely deserted.

Night had fully fallen.

Neil stood in the center of the garden while the magical lamps scattered across the courtyard cast their radiance upon his frame, which remained standing firm despite fatigue reaching the very depths of his soul.

Daren sat before him in his wheelchair, gazing at him for a few moments.

The silence was profound.

Until Daren abruptly shattered it:

"Hey, you fool... I’m bored."

Neil raised his eyes toward him.

Daren continued in a dead-serious tone:

"Perform a dance for me right now."

Neil didn’t refuse.

He didn’t ask why.

He didn’t even pause to think.

Instead, he stepped into the center of the courtyard and began dancing before Daren with an entirely expressionless face, as though performing a dance for an old man in the middle of the night was an essential clause in his job description.

Daren sat watching him in silence.

He was beginning to feel that he was losing.

Not just the test.

But his dignity as well.

He had wanted to draw out the worst version of this man—the enraged persona that reveals the dark reality of humans under extreme pressure. Instead, he got a butler ready to pull off a dance routine before him without a single trace of emotion on his face.

Once the dance concluded, Neil halted and stood in place.

Daren stared at him for a few moments.

Then he spoke:

"Now perform the worm dance."

Neil didn’t refuse.

Without a shred of hesitation, he dropped to the ground and began executing the worm dance before Old Man Daren with absolute gravity.

Daren kept staring at him.

Then he realized the horrifying truth.

He was losing completely.

This man wasn’t hiding his true persona under pressure.

This man simply... didn’t possess a breaking point.