ORCA 18

Orca straightened the back that had been resting against the chair and adjusted his posture. The unexpected movement caused Niah’s hand to slip from his trouser hem. The face now turned toward him looked both frightened and startled. Orca had briefly considered just watching the goldfish, whose expression looked as if it were being choked by something, but decided against it; he figured the creature would just faint again. It was incredibly troublesome, a life form that required this much effort just to keep breathing.

“Come here.”

Orca tugged at Niah’s forearm. Niah, moving on his knees, allowed himself to be led and sat down between Orca’s thighs. Having pulled the goldfish into a position he found satisfactory, Orca released his arm and turned his eyes to the table. He picked out a sandwich that looked the most suitable among the appetizing tea treats.

However, before he could even take a bite, his gaze drifted back downward. The goldfish, who had pressed his body even tighter into the seat where Orca had placed him, had tentatively spoken up.

“Um… Young Master.”

Orca withdrew his hand from the table and responded to the call. Niah opened his mouth cautiously, hesitating. For some reason, he felt he had to say this before being scolded. It felt like he wouldn’t be able to say it after being reprimanded, so this was his only chance.

“I, you see… Young Master… Thank you for yesterday. Thank you for… saving me yesterday… I slept a lot and rested a lot, so I’m all better now. I’m not sick anymore. Thank you so, so much…”

Orca almost let out a dry laugh. It was laughable that all the goldfish could manage to stammer out after such an earnest effort was this. He lowered his upper body and gently stroked Niah’s chin. The skin under his fingers was soft. It felt as though, if he were to run his nail across it, it would easily tear and blood would drip out.

“It was two days ago, not yesterday.”

“Pardon?”

“You slept like the dead for two days, so I suppose it’s natural you wouldn’t know.”

“Pardon…?”

Niah’s lips parted at Orca’s remark. Only now did he realize that he hadn’t slept for just one day, but for two full days. Even today, he had woken up in the afternoon and hadn’t done any of the work he was supposed to do. He wondered why no one had come to wake him. It was strange; they never would have let him sleep if they knew he was slacking off.

Niah searched his memory, wondering if he had forgotten something. He scrambled through his mind again and again. Yet, no matter how much he thought about it, no one had come to scold him. Neither Adrian nor Pepe had chased after him to vent their anger, and the other servants were the same. It was truly strange. It was so strange that he began to have dark thoughts.

Could it be that I’m being kicked out of the mansion?

His heart pounded with anxiety, wondering if they simply hadn’t cared whether he slept all day because he was being discarded. It felt foolish to have been proud of serving the Young Master tea well. He was indeed a stupid goldfish. He had completely forgotten that there was no way he could have happy or good memories.

The distillery servant smiling as she spoke to him, the Young Master protecting him, the gentle stroking—all the kindness he had received turned into bitter sorrow and welled up inside him. If he was being kicked out, none of it mattered.

Convinced that he had been called in to be expelled, his vision blurred. He regretted not holding back even if he was sick; he should have just endured it.

Niah scrubbed his eyes until the skin turned red, struggling to swallow his sobs. Then, he wiggled his legs to get even closer to Orca. The fingers that had been stroking his chin were pushed back by the movement, but they soon traced his jawline and climbed slowly upward.

This time, Orca cradled his cheek and brushed the area around his earlobe. The skin, smooth like the surface of a pudding, wound around the tip of his thumb. Moving slightly higher, he rubbed Niah’s reddish eye area as if to soothe him. The goldfish trembled, his eyelashes fluttering, but he did not run away. He only parted his lips with a watery expression. It was obvious what he was afraid of.

Niah was so frantic, worried that he would be kicked out of the mansion at any moment. He had to do something before that. As Pepe had said, he was stupid, and there was only one thing he knew how to do. He knew no other way than to lean into the hands that were touching him all over and beg.

“I didn’t, I didn’t know. I, that… I was wrong… I really didn’t know. It’s the truth, Young Master… I’ll work hard. And from now on, I won’t forget things, I won’t get sick, and… I won’t cry anymore. Now, now I will… truly listen to you. So please don’t kick me out, please don’t kick me out, Young Master… Okay? I’ll do better…”

“Better?”

“Yes, yes. I’ll do better. I’ll do better…”

Orca’s mood turned slightly sharp. He was the one who had ordered that no one touch the goldfish, but to think they hadn’t provided a single meal in two days—it was a vicious streak. He recalled the few servants who had told him that the boy was still sleeping whenever he asked if he had woken up. Even if they hadn’t lied to him, their insolence was the same.

He clearly felt the treatment the goldfish usually received. Then again, the boy had been unable to endure hunger and had jumped into the lake in the dead of night, so there was no need to guess any further.

However, Orca did not explain a single thing to Niah: not that it wasn’t Niah’s fault for sleeping for two days, not why he had been able to sleep so long that he mistook it for one night, nor why no servant had tried to wake him. He had no intention of correcting him.

He had no intention of telling him in the first place, and seeing the goldfish beg without regard for the circumstances made him feel even less inclined to do so. His already absent compassion dried up completely. He merely nodded while stroking the boy’s flushed eyes. The goldfish, now with glistening eyes, pressed his cheek against Orca’s palm. He bit his lips hard and sniffled, perhaps in an effort not to cry. He was a pathetic sight, the kind that made one feel they ought to praise him for being pitiful. His entire body was shaking.

Orca’s thumb, which had crossed over the cheek, pressed down on Niah’s lips. The plump lower lip, which had been bitten hard, poked out. It was bright red from how hard he had been biting it. Orca rubbed it slowly, as if teasing him.

“You didn’t forget who I was today.”

“I, was, wrong…”

Every time he pronounced a syllable, his lips stuck to and pulled away from Orca’s fingertip. The sensation was raw.

“I thought you had a hobby of walking around naked, but you seem to have dressed yourself well.”

“No, no… it’s really not like that…”

Niah lowered his eyes, his face turning red. He felt a bit wronged, as if Orca didn’t believe him when he said it wasn’t true.

“Is that so?”

To the meaningless question, Niah nodded weakly. He felt a pang of regret that he couldn’t nod more vigorously because his chin and lips were being held.

“It’s the truth. Please believe me…”

He added in a faint voice, but Orca did not give Niah the answer he wanted. The finger rubbing his lips only became more persistent. However, Niah’s expression became much more peaceful. Thanks to the conversation veering off track, his trembling gradually subsided.

Orca recalled what he had originally intended to do. He straightened his upper body and reached an arm toward the table. Even so, the hand holding Niah’s chin did not stop tracing his lips. For someone so gaunt, this part was plump, making it strangely satisfying to touch. It was so supple it felt as if it would burst with sticky juice if he bit down hard.

He became curious about how it would taste, but he decided against it, fearing the goldfish would start sobbing again. He had slept like the dead for two days just from a bit of cold wind; if Orca bit him to see how he tasted, the boy might faint for three or four days, or worse, die. To be so fragile—it was truly a miracle he was still alive.

Orca plunged his index and middle fingers into the honey in the glass jar on the table. It was an impulsive act. It was a complete departure from his original plan of letting the boy eat a few sandwiches and then sending him away. It was all because of that thought of “sticky juice.”

“This much should be fine.”

At his low, muttered words, Niah lifted his eyelids again. His pupils followed the contours of Orca’s face, reflected in the yellow sunlight. Even while he was secretly watching, the Young Master continued to press on his lips. The warmth against his cheek felt good. The Young Master was scary, but he was a kind person. He felt that as long as he listened well, the Young Master would keep his promise to protect him.