ORCA 23

In the greenhouse, pond maintenance was in full swing. The pond in the very center of the greenhouse was large, had many plants growing in it, and was even home to koi fish, making it one of the more high-maintenance areas. On top of that, news had arrived that a grand party would be held soon. In a situation like this, they could not afford to be careless with the upkeep.

In fact, the party’s scale grew larger and larger for various reasons. The servants, whose workload increased accordingly, had to move busily day and night with pointless impatience. Of course, the commotion was not limited to just the garden servants. Everyone was running around, too busy to even catch their breath.

Pepe’s hands, which were tending to the pond, were more meticulous than ever. This was because he had heard that Ware, who was staying at the town house away from Roselphia, would be attending the party not only with his family but with other families as well. The hope that he might be able to move his residence to the Ware family’s town house if he made a good impression on them sprang forth.

If need be, it didn’t matter if he was hired by a family other than the Ware family. In his current state of mind, it seemed like anywhere would be fine as long as he could escape this place. He was a skilled gardener, and nobles tended to put a lot of effort into cultivating splendid gardens. Therefore, it was not an entirely futile wish. Besides, he thought, what could be worse than death?

As Pepe snickered with a sly face, those around him exchanged glances with each other. A suspicion arose that he had finally gone mad, having been in a slump ever since the young master returned. Seeing his smiling face with eyes like sliced fish sent a chill down their spines. Feeling somewhat scared, a succession of people even began to quietly leave the area.

Pepe, indifferent to them, moved his hands swiftly to tidy up the pond. The thought that he must escape Roselphia by any means necessary took precedence, and nothing else entered his sight. A premature sense of optimism dominated him.

The linaria, sown before the cold had subsided, quickly burst into bloom as the weather warmed. It was a flower that Niah particularly liked because by sowing the seeds at different times, one could see the cute blossoms all the way from spring to autumn. It was also pretty when its curved petals fluttered in the breeze, looking like the fluttering wings of a butterfly.

This was also the reason why the flowers encircling the edge of the wide garden in front of the mansion were linaria. They looked simple at a casual glance, but when viewed up close, every single one was adorable.

Niah was hiding beneath a patch of yellow linaria flowers in a corner of the garden. He curled his body up as much as possible, occasionally peeking his face out. The way he cautiously stuck his head out and scanned his surroundings was extremely careful. He had hidden himself after sensing a commotion at the mansion’s entrance while in the middle of raking up and clearing away the old lawn from the winter.

To avoid being caught by Andrian, who appeared at all hours looking for him, or by Pepe, who would grab him by the collar and painfully poke him in the side at the slightest provocation, there was no other way but to hide himself. It was difficult to avoid Pepe, the gardener, but there were times when he managed to get by without being caught by Andrian, so he would quickly bend his knees and crouch down even while working.

Ever since the day he had turned away from the locked door, Niah would flinch at the slightest sound. He would get frightened, raising his guard like a startled hedgehog. He was slowly coming to realize that the young master’s promise to protect him had been a lie. He was also in the process of accepting that it might not have been a lie, but all his own misunderstanding.

The one silver lining was that the linaria hedge, planted so densely that it looked sturdy, was perfect for hiding himself.

Was it my imagination?

After cautiously observing for a moment, Niah stealthily stood back up and let out a deep sigh. He fidgeted with the rake handle he had been gripping tightly and glanced around. Andrian was nowhere in sight. There were only a few servants darting about here and there, working busily.

He pressed down on his thumping heart to calm it. It didn’t work well, but if he didn’t at least do this, he felt like he would burst into tears. Niah pointlessly rubbed his dry eyes. His gaze habitually fell downwards.

He could feel the forest in the breeze that gusted in from afar. A scent that made him want to run and embrace it brushed past the tip of his nose.

Layers of accumulated fatigue made his eyelids heavy. It was because he had spent the last few days in a state of constant tension. He couldn’t fall asleep easily even at dawn, so his body felt limp and drained. Separate from the sleepiness, his mind was wide awake, and thoughts he didn’t want to think and memories he didn’t want to recall flooded him indiscriminately.

From the day after he cried for a whole day, he wasn’t even given the time to cry freely. Only after being left alone in the small, dark room did he become honest with the emotions he had forcibly suppressed during the day. Feelings that could not be defined by any word trickled down his cheeks in droplets.

Every night, Niah hugged the shirt Orca had given him. When he buried his cheek in the soft fabric, tears would fall without him even realizing it. Now, he couldn’t even tell why he was crying.

As the days he couldn’t see the young master piled up one by one, he found himself facing an unfamiliar and awkward version of himself more often. It felt like he had been thrown into a lake with his hands and feet tied and his mouth full of sand. He was sinking beneath the water with no way to escape. Then, when morning came, he would be forcibly hauled up by a net of sorrow.

He resented the foolish goldfish that wasn’t functioning properly. It would be better if he could just forget, but even this did not go as he wished. In reality, he couldn’t even be sure himself if he truly wanted to erase his memories or not. He simply fell asleep as if fainting and woke up as if having a seizure, day after day. Days of conforming to the flow of time, which rolled on helplessly like a dropped ball of yarn, continued.

It had been a week since he could no longer see the young master, no, ten days, or maybe four. Time, which he just let pass, was not easily counted. It felt like he had met him just yesterday, and also like he had met him a very long time ago. The deeply engraved memories were tangled up at will. In any case, he was a foolish goldfish. He was just floundering about, unable to do this or that.

The young master was nowhere to be seen, not even for a fleeting moment, as if he weren’t in the mansion. The stories Harriet heard from somewhere and relayed to him were all he could know. She said that the young master rarely came out of his room except for mealtimes. Harriet whispered softly that sometimes he even skipped his meals and still said he didn’t require any attendance. She brought similar news every day and, in the same voice every day, told him without fail. Listening to her made him shrink back.

Does his injured hand not hurt anymore? He must be incredibly hungry if he doesn’t eat, will he be okay? Would he perhaps not come out for a walk in the garden? Would it be possible to see him for just a moment, even from afar?

Harriet would pat the back of Niah’s hand as if she knew all of his unspoken worries and wishes. At first, she had cautiously broached the subject, but now, it was because of this attitude of his that she had started to push him whenever she saw him.

“Niah. Are you really going to be like this? Are you just going to do nothing and stay still?”

She urged him, saying that if he was so worried, if he wanted to see him so much, he shouldn’t just stand there blankly but should go see him first. Once, she had even dragged him all the way to the passage that connected the west wing to the central fourth floor.

But he didn’t have the courage to defy the young master’s words. If he were to be hated even more than now, he wouldn’t know how to ask for forgiveness then. Just as he had suddenly told him not to come, he might suddenly tell him to come again. It was better to wait like this, holding onto such a hope.

Niah, who had been gently raking the lawn, suddenly turned his head. The mansion’s entrance was in a commotion, just like before. For some reason, even the head butler had shown his face outside. It had been a long time since he had seen the head butler, who wouldn’t leave his office unless it was a matter of considerable importance. It had been so long that Niah had to think for a good while before he remembered that it was the head butler.

Niah, who was looking at the entrance with his knees half-bent in case Andrian was also there, was suddenly startled and sank to the ground. Thump, thump. The chest pressed against his thighs pounded loudly. He swallowed hard. Gulp. Forcing himself to compose his pounding heart, he cautiously peeked just his eyes over the linaria hedge.

“Young master…”

A sorrowful call escaped before he could stop it. Startled even more by his own voice, Niah covered his mouth with both hands and curled his back. His small body was quickly hidden.

Orca, who was standing at the entrance receiving the head butler’s annoying concerns, shifted his gaze sharply. The goldfish was not visible. Instead, only small, colorful goldfish were fluttering as if dancing. When he listened closely, he could hear shallow breathing from under the yellow linaria patch. Each time a fragile breath escaped through parted lips, a call for him followed.

“Young master…”

The muscles beneath his ribs grew tense, and his breath caught in his throat. This was not the auditory hallucination he had been hearing from within the line he had drawn. Even so, the small, colorful goldfish fluttered as if to hide the orange goldfish.

The first desire he learned since birth was appetite. Appetite for any purpose other than survival was cut off the moment it was expressed. Afterwards, the very first teaching and imposition he received was ‘patience’.

To be patient. To endure and control. To suppress without showing it on the outside.

The education was repeated daily until the answer ‘I understand’ was given. It was always packaged in fine words, but what they wanted from him was one thing.

Do not tarnish the honor of the Ware family.

This was a sort of rule established between myself and the Ware family. The way they tried to control only my actions, when their own reputation was built on bloodshed in the first place, was contemptible. On the other hand, they tried to freely use the status I had earned for myself and the achievements I had made to elevate the family’s prestige. That greed was utterly ridiculous.

Of course, he had no plans to break a rule he had kept reasonably well until now. He knew that the things that would follow if he acted as he pleased would be more troublesome.

Letting live beasts loose in the hunting grounds was now a story from long ago. Perhaps the reason he hadn’t swallowed the goldfish in one go might have been subconsciously derived from the rules he had kept until now. The possibility that he might have hesitated for that reason could not be entirely ruled out.

But as time went on, other excuses and pretexts were added to the fundamental reason. If he were to nitpick his own mistakes, the problem was coming to the mansion in the first place. Whatever it was, for a situation that had escalated this far, it was a rather useless regret to have. It only made him fruitlessly distraught and was of no help.

The error named ‘Niah’ had cornered him little by little, and in the end, had confined him to his room. The orange goldfish that had left the lake and leisurely invaded him was abruptly trying to reign over him. It was a small and fragile predator, the likes of which he had never dealt with before.

The line retreated further and further. The line he had drawn to prevent encroachment retreated on its own accord and, at some point, transformed into a rope that choked him. He was quickly defeated by the hallucinations he saw everywhere he went and the auditory hallucinations he heard no matter what he did. Therefore, there was no other way but to do nothing and hear nothing if possible.

However, his appetite would not quiet down. On the contrary, it amplified with each passing day. The desire, which he thought would disappear if he just removed it from his sight, swelled in size as if to mock him. He couldn’t find even the slightest sign of it diminishing. It was obvious that anyone who heard of his plight would laugh at him.

Although he said he had little interest in honor, it was not a concern that a nobleman currently bearing the Ware family name should have over a mansion servant. From any angle, it did not make sense.

It was only four days. He had endured for a mere four days. During those four days, he was freshly reminded of what an impatient sort he was. It was as if someone had poured oil on the instincts he had suppressed all this time. It burned away every last bit of reason, leaving none behind.

Originally, orcas were not a species from which one could expect patience. So, for someone away from the war zones where life-and-death struggles occurred daily, this was holding out for a long time. His stamina and strength were not just ample but overflowing, and his tongue, which only slurped bland soup, and his teeth, which only chewed roasted meat, felt empty. He did not welcome his own laziness, pickled in comfort.

He still wasn’t confident he could decisively choose whether he was a human or a footless beast. To call himself a human, he was only roughly imitating one, and to call himself a beast, he was far too accustomed to acting like a human.

In front of the goldfish, he could be neither. The boundary between reason and instinct crumbled. Every time their eyes met, every time their breaths touched, every time their skin connected, that distinction would blur. It was a line drawn because he could not handle this kind of trouble. The fact that he was the one who crossed it first could not have been anything but an impulsive choice. The goldfish itself was docile, yet he, the very person who had pushed the goldfish outside the line, was making a bigger fuss.

It had been a while since he had stepped out of the entrance. After the times he had chased the sound of someone running to the lake late at night and the time he had gone to the vegetable garden to check on the goldfish, he hadn’t felt much motivation. He twisted the corner of his mouth, suppressing the hollow laugh that threatened to escape. The goldfish was clearly within the cause-and-effect relationship. The goldfish existed in the reason for all his actions.

The wind that had swept through the forest gusted over from afar. He was the fool.

The thin, delicate clumps of linaria flowers swayed greatly even in the gentle breeze. The flowers and leaves intertwined and brushed against each other, making the sound of waves. The stream of water from the fountain, shattered by the spring sunlight, fell ceaselessly downwards. From behind the mansion, the noise of wood being split and stacked could be heard. The head butler’s concerns, busy muttering something next to him, were persistent, and the whispers of the servants who had spotted him were annoyingly loud.

“Young master…”

The call that drove away all this unpleasantness was nothing but fragile. It was careful and secretive. It was not a voice that hoped to be heard. It seemed to have slipped out reflexively; he did not look for him or show his face. And yet, he kept calling for him in a mumble. He had wondered if he might have forgotten by now, but it was commendable that he remembered so well. The fact that his words were not laced with tears was also extremely praiseworthy.

What an adorable memory. He had forgotten everything else, erased all the difficult and painful things, yet the fact that he continued to remember things about him was pleasing. On the other hand, it was foolish. He had never had a day where he didn’t cry in front of him, so what was so good that he couldn’t even forget and stubbornly held onto it; it was just plain stupid.

He couldn’t fathom what lingering attachment remained that made him hide beneath flowers that resembled him and call out, ‘Young master, young master.’ An unpleasant feeling slowly crept up from deep within his chest.

The goldfish, not giving up, pleaded in a small voice. It called for him as if praying, while keeping its distance and remaining hidden.

“Young master… Young master. …Young master.”

If he had run up, sobbing and clinging to him, he would have pretended to give in and taken him somewhere, but he couldn’t even do that now. There were too many watchful eyes. His situation of having to leave the mansion eventually wouldn’t change anyway, so it seemed better not to show an unnecessarily close appearance.

He was not unaware that everything he did became rampant rumors that circulated to every corner of the mansion. The thought that it was already too late to be having such worries did cross his mind, but a line was essential, just that where it was drawn would be different. It was better for the goldfish if it were to continue living in the mansion.

Moderation. Moderation was important in everything. He must not instill unnecessary defiance in the servants with whom the goldfish had to live. It would become an act of pouring poison into the goldfish’s mouth with his own hands. On top of that, he didn’t want to encourage the goldfish to wait for him so sorrowfully. This was a different matter from the selfish desire to see his face clinging to his chest and whining right now.

The ominous greed conflicted with the wholesome wish and produced a half-hearted answer. Without any intention of letting him live comfortably, he alone decided that this far, up to this line, would be fine, and arbitrarily reassured himself. In the end, he was just doing whatever he wanted.

Rather, as he calculated each and every little thing like this, a certain thought would abruptly rear its head.

Should I just swallow him after all? Chew him up, bones and all, and make him me?

Jumbled fantasies that he couldn’t actually act on tangled up inside his mouth.

The head butler looked up at Orca with a gaze full of concern. It was because of his whim to suddenly go for a walk after having skipped his meals and holed up in his room the whole time.

“Young master. How about having a meal first?”

Orca ignored the worried gaze. He immediately walked past the fussing head butler. His attitude was heartless, as if he were avoiding an annoyingly buzzing insect.

He descended the entrance stairs and slowly walked on the stone pavement of the garden. After stepping down one level from the wide, closely-set flagstones, his feet met the soft lawn. He acted as if he were really just taking a walk. He walked slowly without stopping.

The head butler immediately followed behind him. Orca turned around, not hiding his annoyance. Only then did the head butler shut the mouth he had been ceaselessly flapping. Finally, his ears became quiet. Only the sound of a stealthy movement, diligently playing a game of hide-and-seek, could be heard loudly. He didn’t usually prefer warm weather, but today it was not as unpleasant as usual.