The Horror Game Boss' Only Exception Novel by Rely _ Novel




The Horror Game Boss' Only Exception Chapter 01

I was a chronically ill, high-maintenance heiress.
I'd just ordered my butler to help me fall asleep—a pretty normal routine for us—when lines of text suddenly started scrolling across my field of vision.
"That's Fearmonger, the final boss of this horror game! He's having fun hunting players out there. How could he possibly have time to tuck her in?"
"She actually thinks she's some important heiress? She's nothing more than a human he keeps locked up in this old castle for his own amusement."
"Once Fearmonger meets the smart female lead, he'll grow bored of this fragile, high-maintenance girl. Then he'll torture her in the cruelest ways and eventually devour her."
Terrified, I ducked under my covers, shaking.
A second later, a cool hand gently pulled the blanket away.
Charles Stanbery's soft, slightly chilly voice came from right above me.
"My lady, is something wrong?"
***
I shivered even harder.
His hand paused, then gently stroked the back of my head, just like he'd done on countless nights before.
His fingers combed through my hair with precise, careful pressure.
"My lady, are you feeling unwell tonight?"
Charles' voice remained as deep and gentle as ever, laced with genuine concern as he reached out to check my forehead for a fever.
Another line of text drifted across my vision.
"You can't blame her for not suspecting a thing. If I hadn't watched Fearmonger snap a player's neck with a smile, his gentle act would have fooled me, too."
Snap a neck?
I went totally rigid, then violently slapped his hand away.
His palm was so cold against my fingers that it sent a shiver straight down my spine.
"Get away from me. Your hands are freezing—are you trying to drop my body temperature and make me sick?"
I forced myself to sit up, maintaining my usual haughty demeanor.
Charles didn't look annoyed in the slightest.
He just pulled his hand back, an indulgent smile tugging at his lips.
"I apologize, my lady. I was just handling some frozen goods. That's why my hands are cold."
Handling frozen goods?
Then I noticed a dark red stain on the cuff of his crisp white shirt.
The text updated again.
"That's hilarious. By 'frozen goods,' does he mean the players he dismembered and stuffed in the cold room?"
"Good thing she's lazy and prefers to stay in her room. If she'd ever wandered around the rest of the castle, she would've realized something was off a long time ago."
"I remember how this ends. Fearmonger slices this demanding girl into pieces and eats her raw."
"He raised the meat himself, so he knows it's clean and safe to eat."
Sliced into pieces?
Me?
As the words kept scrolling, dread coiled tighter and tighter in my chest.
My frail body reacted to the sheer terror, and I broke out into a violent coughing fit.
Charles gently patted my back, helping me drink some warm water.
It tasted faintly sweet, like he'd mixed in a little honey.
Gradually, my coughing subsided, and the worst of the panic faded with it.
I looked up, truly studying the man in front of me for the very first time.
As the castle's most attentive butler, Charles always wore a black tailcoat.
His features were sharp and sculpted, his skin unnaturally pale.
Every movement he made was elegant, controlled, and refined.
Honestly, he looked more like the master of the castle than a servant.
Seeing me staring at him so intensely, Charles swallowed hard.
A brief flash of red glinted in his silver-gray eyes.
He reached up and loosened his tie.
Realizing what he was about to do, I quickly stopped him.
"Stop!"
He'd already taken off his jacket.
At my words, his hands froze right at his belt.
For a split second, confusion crossed his face—before it shifted into quiet understanding.
"My apologies, my lady. I'll go shower first, then change into the servant's uniform you prefer."
Before I could stop him again, he had already vanished from the room.

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