ORCA 2

The Madam called out an unfamiliar name in a loud voice she rarely used. With every step she took, her green dress swayed gently. Niah craned his neck out a little further. A man, neatly dressed in a dark blue uniform, was slowly getting down.

He had a much taller height, a much larger build than the Madam and the Master. Just standing in front of him seemed like it would make one sit down out of fear. His blue-black hair, resembling the color of the night sky, fluttered in the wind. The name the Madam had called, Orca. That man is Orca. The young master who was said to be arriving today. Orca. That was the young master’s name. Niah’s eyelashes trembled faintly. He quickly bowed his head.

“Orca. How long has it been?”

The Madam asked after his well-being as she passed by where he was. The Master did the same. In the blink of an eye, the young master had approached from far away to near the mansion’s entrance. The servants bowed their waists low as they greeted him.

Niah, who was bowing his waist just like the others, secretly raised his eyelids. His gaze, which had been on the tips of his shoes, followed up past the hem of the trousers to the edge of the uniform coat. As he raised his eyes further, a killer whale-shaped emblem pinned on the chest caught his eye.

Niah hastily bowed his head again. A goldfish and a killer whale were just too different. His heart pounded. It was ten times, no, a hundred times more frightening than standing in front of an angry Andrian.

Orca, who had buttoned his white shirt all the way to his neck and worn a tie, looked very much like a gentleman on the outside. He listened absentmindedly to his mother and father while only scanning his surroundings with his eyes. It was a clean, well-managed mansion, the same as three years ago. He did not like that it was unchanged.

The Weir family mansion was one of the most magnificent among the mansions of the various killer whale families. Behind the tall, long building made of pale reddish bricks, there was a lawn, and beyond that, mountains and a forest. In the forest, there was a large lake. In front, there was a spacious yard large enough to invite all the townspeople for a party, a diverse garden, a glass greenhouse, and a tree-lined path that was green all year round.

Orca looked at this luxurious scene with a bored expression before soon turning his eyes away. It was not interesting. The sight of over dozens of servants bowing their heads was enough to make him yawn. He pulled his tie loose and furrowed his brow without hiding it. He was not at all glad to be back home after a long time.

Three days, or maybe four would do.

Rather than soaking in sentiment, Orca was just gauging how long it would be good to stay. It was more interesting to get lost in such thoughts.

He had not even brought any luggage, as if he were a person who would go back right this instant. For Orca, the place to return to was not the Weir family mansion, but the battlefield at the border. The battlefield was more enjoyable than the placid mansion. So, Orca had not the slightest intention of staying in the mansion for a long time.

“Bailey. You go with Orca.”

The Madam, leading Orca into the mansion, pointed out Bailey as the servant to attend to him. The startled Bailey followed behind, intimidated for no reason.

The servants, who had been bowing their waists until now, straightened their bent backs one by one. They only exchanged glances with each other, and it was only long after the masters of the mansion had completely disappeared that they began to whisper about Orca in quiet voices. Everyone seemed not the least bit pleased. The very people who, until yesterday, had wished for his quick arrival, completely changed their attitude once he actually arrived.

Niah, listening to the servants’ conversation, carefully recalled Orca’s face, which he had seen for only a very brief moment. As someone who was in charge of garden work and odd jobs, it was unlikely he would see the young master up close, but he was preparing for a what-if situation. It was absurd for him, a servant of the mansion, not to even know his master’s face properly.

The next day, Orca greeted a leisurely morning while drinking the pre-meal tea prepared by Bailey. It had been a long time. Having finished his bath, he sat on the edge of the bed in comfortable casual clothes. Warmth still lingered on his skin.

When in beastman form, the low temperature of the seawater was suitable for activity, but when in human form, it was not bad to rest in warm water. He touched his lips to the rim of the teacup. The cleanly brewed black tea went down his throat smoothly.

Orca got up from the bed with an expressionless face. Sunlight flooded into the spacious room where the lights were not turned on. A cool breeze flowed in from the open window. His lukewarm skin cooled down. The thought that something like this might be nice once in a while crossed his mind. Of course, his plan to not stay long was the same today as it was yesterday. If he lived like this indefinitely, he might suffocate from boredom.

Comfort was a poison to him. His childhood spent in the mansion had been nothing but dull. Life became a little more interesting only after graduating from the military academy and becoming a member of the border guard. It had been two years since he was promoted to commander of the guard, so his childhood was a memory from more than ten years ago. Even that was now slowly having its enjoyment halved.

As he leaned against the bay window and looked down, the busily moving servants looked tiny. The view from the window, which clearly showed the garden, bore no resemblance to the chaotic scenes he had been seeing for the past few years. It was just green leaves that had survived the winter, basking in the sun and swaying in the breeze.

Orca savored the tea, with the peaceful scenery as his painting. No matter how long he had roughed it on the battlefield, the habits he had learned as a scion of the Weir family were ingrained in his body.

Meanwhile, his sensitive hearing caught the sounds of footsteps going in and out of the mansion and the chirping of birds from afar. Orca could hear distant noises and see very small objects even when he was human. Compared to the abilities of a killer whale with developed hearing and sight, it was trivial, but it was enough to tire his human self.

He focused on his human nature and closed his ears as much as possible. If he tried not to listen, he could hear less. His surroundings gradually became quiet. He did not want to be disturbed by unpermitted noise. Only the small friction sound of occasionally setting the teacup down on its saucer broke the silence of the room. At least for now, he wanted to enjoy this silence.

In war, the distinction between day and night was meaningless. Such leisure was not given either. Sometimes, he roamed the sea for days in his beastman form. As he patrolled the border with his nerves on edge, he would sometimes get confused whether he was a beastman or just a killer whale.

Only a single thread of reason remained amidst the predator’s instincts, and he tore apart everything that was deemed an enemy. He could not even count how many people, or how many beasts, he had ended the lives of in a day. When that happened, a thrill ran through his entire body. He could not hide his excitement. He was simply intoxicated by his raw instincts.

Beastmen were paradoxical beings, being both human and animal, but their instincts’ domain of action or their abilities tended to lean to one side. This was especially evident in aspects like appearance, habits, and personality. There were beastmen whose animalistic side was strongly expressed even when humanized, while on the other hand, there were beastmen whose human reason held stronger control than their animal instincts even when in beastman form.

In Orca’s case, when humanized, he had a perfectly human form. The problem was that everything other than his appearance was close to the nature of a killer whale. It was to the extent that if he were to cross the line, it would be irreversible. Anyone might temporarily experience such a phenomenon immediately after humanizing from their beastman form, but for Orca, it remained permanently.

Therefore, within the Weir family, where a friendly nature towards all creatures, regardless of species, was genetically passed down even among the killer whale families, he was like a mutation. Orca was close to a killer whale even when he was human. He always had the eyes of an apex predator.

He always had a frown and showed a sharp attitude as if something displeased him. He did not tolerate things that went against his standards. Perhaps because of this, those who worked in the same area or Orca’s subordinates tried their best to please him as much as possible. This was especially true when he was in his beastman form.

When he was human, the dignity and reason of his family held him back, but in the sea, it could not be guaranteed. Of course, this was just a comparison; one could not expect patience or mercy from him even when he was humanized.

Orca was strong not only below the sea surface but also in ground combat using a sword. His horsemanship was also unparalleled. On days when his reason was clouded, he would sharpen his teeth like a killer whale even in human form and indiscriminately bite his opponents.

Orca strode gruesomely through the battlefield in his blood-soaked uniform. Because of this, others feared him and at the same time showed him blind devotion. It was an undeniable fact that his power was desperately needed in the territorial wars that started anew as soon as one ended.

So, seeing Orca this relaxed was by no means a common sight. Even those who had spent years with him had never seen him smile. Let alone smiling, it was a relief if he was merely expressionless.

Orca took a sip of tea and looked out the window. A clean, astringent taste spread across the tip of his tongue. He appreciated the boring peace of the mansion. Thinking that he did not know when he would see such a view again, it seemed somewhat bearable.

Through the glass window, a servant diligently sweeping the stone path in the garden caught his eye. The way he waddled around, holding a broom longer than his own height, was foolish.

Moron.

Orca thought of the vulgar word without hesitation. Every time the moron waddled, his faint orange curly hair swayed as if dancing. It was a crude color, like a thick pigment heavily mixed with water. Orca moved his eyes, following the moron who was slowly moving forward.

Upon closer inspection, it was not just his hair that was dancing. The way he flailed his arms and legs while waddling was just like a simpleton at a ball for the first time. Orca watched the scene outside the window with a scathing gaze, as if looking at a cheap piece of art. He put down the lukewarm teacup and leaned his back against the bay window frame, relaxing his body. That stupid sight was quite decent as a spectacle for killing time.

“Niah! You idiot!”

Andrian, who popped out from the back of the mansion, quickly approached the garden. She, who had been angry since the morning, stomped her feet like an enraged buffalo. She was clearly a buffalo, not a sheep. Niah was startled by the shrill voice calling his name and stopped sweeping. When he hastily turned around, he could see Andrian right there with an expression as fierce as her voice.

Her furious face got closer and closer with every blink. She was coming straight at him, leading with her sharp-pointed horns. Terrified by the sight, Niah gripped the handle of the broom tightly. It seemed he was scolded yesterday too, and to be scolded today again was dreadful. He was scolded every day, but Andrian particularly disliked him. Whenever they met, he always had a hard time.

“How long are you going to keep sweeping the floor?”

Andrian, who had gotten right up in front of Niah, shouted loudly. At the sudden scolding, Niah felt so wronged he thought he might cry. It was upsetting to be scolded when he was just doing his job diligently. Besides, it would still take quite a while to finish sweeping the entire stone path in the garden.

As Niah hesitated without a word, Andrian finally snatched the broom away. Then she threw a fit, flinging it onto the floor with a flick. Niah could neither do this nor that, and only wrung his intertwined fingers. She was the type to get even angrier if he made any excuse.

Pepe, who was watching, sighed and came near the two. Pepe was the gardener who managed the garden servants, and was Niah’s superior. But for Niah, who was in charge of all the chores in the mansion, a superior was as good as non-existent. In the first place, he had no intention of protecting Niah and was not very interested either. Whatever happened, as long as the assigned work was done properly, that was all that mattered.

Besides, Pepe was also the type to get furiously angry when Niah forgot his tasks. Sometimes, he would get angrier than Andrian. At those times, Niah would shed big tears and hiccup. He felt even scarier because he was usually an indifferent person.

“Hey, Andrian. How can you only think of yourself? You have to think of us too.”

“We’re short-handed too! We have to make him do the dishes at least. What else can we do?”

“If you take him, who’s going to sweep the floor?”

“I’ll send him back as soon as the morning preparations are done. That should be fine, right?”

Unlike Pepe, who spoke calmly, Andrian’s voice shattered sharply again this time. Niah, who was suddenly caught between the two, stood quietly and hunched his shoulders. He felt sad about his situation where he had to be swayed by others’ words regardless of his own will. Of course, he did not say it out loud. He just thought it for a moment in his mind. It was something that always happened. Pepe sighed.

“Fine. Do as you please. Just make sure to send him back when the time comes.”

“I will.”

“We have a lot of work too.”

“I said I will, Pepe. I’ll send him back on my own, so don’t worry.”

He waved both his arms, gesturing for her to take him away quickly. Andrian put her hands on her hips with a triumphant expression. Then she stopped and glared at Niah. It was a signal to move quickly.

Niah, picking up the broom that was rolling on the floor, hurried to the storage shed for garden tools. By the time he came back after putting the broom away, Andrian had already become angry again, her lips twisted in a pout. She nagged at him, asking why he was so slow even though he had been back in a flash.

“What are you doing? Come on! You’re so slow!”

Niah also started walking, following Andrian who had turned away abruptly. Niah quietly resolved to himself that he must do the dishes diligently. Seeing how extremely bad Andrian’s mood was, he might not be able to have breakfast if he was not careful. Lunch and dinner were also in jeopardy. At times like this, there was no other solution but to diligently do what he was told. The shouting she had unleashed still remained in his ears, scolding him.

The moment he secretly let out a deep sigh, a teacup flew from somewhere, hit the floor, and shattered with a crash. All the servants who were nearby looked towards the commotion. The curious ones scurried over to take a look.