ORCA 37

Niah blankly stroked his stomach and chest, then swallowed hard. Curiosity arose at the lumps of muscle, each one distinct. They looked hard, but he thought they might also be soft, which made him want to touch them. He couldn’t help but feel such a desire when they were right in front of his nose. He didn’t even have to go to the trouble of extending his arm. He was close enough that all he had to do was lift it slightly. Before he could stop himself with a thought of, ‘you can’t do that,’ his body moved on its own.

“It’s hard…”

Niah muttered as if possessed, poking Orca’s chest with vacant eyes. His forefinger, tracing over the scar, also poked at his abdomen. Firm muscle masses were felt beneath the taut skin. He satisfied his curiosity by pressing them to his heart’s content. Fascinated by the defined, bulging parts, he even spread his five fingers wide to feel them.

“Pervert.”

The voice that landed on the top of his focused head was sly. Brought to his senses by Orca’s comment, Niah jumped in surprise and stepped back. He couldn’t go far because of the vanity.

“No, no, that’s not it. It’s not…”

His neck flushed and turned bright red, as if he knew his own denial lacked credibility. His heart suddenly began to pound, and his breathing grew rough. Fidgeting with his hands hidden behind his back, he glanced up at him.

“Why. Keep going. You seem to like it.”

Niah shook his head furiously, refusing. Orca didn’t tease him any further and picked up the shirt hanging on the chair. It seemed like if he said one more word, Niah would burst into tears, saying he was being mean. He forced back the laugh that was about to erupt. He’d known Niah hadn’t just barged in for no reason, since he had come and stood right in front of him, but he was dumbfounded that Niah would actually grope his body. It was even more dumbfounding that his expression was similar to when Orca had put new tea foods or dishes in his mouth.

“Here.”

Standing before the huffing Niah again, Orca held out the shirt. Niah took it gallantly to hide his embarrassment. Contrary to his bold gesture, his lost eyes darted everywhere, a clear sign of his fluster.

“If you’re not going to help me put it on, I’ll just walk around without it.”

“Ah, no. You can’t.”

His gaze shot up instantly. Shaking his head back and forth, Niah held up the shirt in his two hands. His mind was in a rush, but his body wouldn’t follow his thoughts. Just as he was about to get depressed, wondering why on earth he had even come in if he was going to be this clumsy, his wet hair caught his eye. Niah looked back and forth between the raised shirt and Orca’s damp hair, then turned around. He folded the shirt neatly, placed it respectfully on the vanity, and brought back a towel.

“Young master…”

Even though the request was cut short, Orca willingly complied. Niah awkwardly dried his hair. It was the first time he had ever dried someone else’s hair. It wasn’t going as he intended, so he rose up and down on his heels and stretched his arms out straight. In doing so, he ended up pressing down on Orca and pulling him toward himself. Orca, who had bent down as much as Niah wanted, straightened his back, thinking he might end up kneeling at this rate. Then, he slipped his hands under Niah’s armpits and plucked him up like a carrot, placing him on the vanity.

“Ah, wait, wh-what?”

Their eye levels were roughly matched. Still not high enough, he placed his hands wide apart and leaned his upper body forward.

“This should work.”

Niah, trapped between his arms, hurriedly placed the towel on his head. He was so startled by the face that loomed in that he thought his heart had stopped. The heart that had momentarily stopped grew hot as if scalded, then suddenly began to pound. He intentionally covered his own view by rubbing the towel over his hair, belatedly saying, yes, yes. Lately, he’d been getting fevers at the drop of a hat, to the point he wondered if he was sick somewhere. He secretly took a deep breath. As the pounding gradually subsided, he noticed a pleasant scent. It was a scent that was delightful no matter how many times he smelled it. He sidled a little closer and sniffed without trying to get caught. Orca said nothing and left himself in Niah’s care.

“It’s all dry, young master.”

Even after Niah lowered the towel, Orca just kept looking at him, so Niah ran his fingers through Orca’s hair, gently combing it back. His hesitant hand soon began to style it boldly. He tidied up the back meticulously as well. The now-fluffy hair felt soft against his fingers. He didn’t have much dexterity, but he felt like he could do this every day. With an expression budding with pride, Niah removed his hand and smiled brightly. Orca stroked the back of the satisfied goldfish’s head, then straightened up and picked up the shirt lying nearby.

At the young master’s attitude of trying to dress without his help, Niah scrambled to get down. He peeked this way and that to avoid the huge obstacle blocking his way. While he was doing that, Orca, having put on the shirt, turned toward the display cabinet. He didn’t forget to deal with the flailing goldfish.

“Just stay there.”

“Pardon? Ah, ye-es…”

Niah craned his neck to follow his movements. Orca returned quickly, so he didn’t have to wait long. Placing a pair of silver cuff links with a simple design down, he pulled Niah closer to him. As Niah sat on the edge of the vanity, his knees parted and brushed against Orca’s hips. Startled by his suddenly spread legs, Niah just stared blankly.

“You said you’d help. Do it.”

Orca took Niah’s two hands, which were lying about aimlessly, and brought them to his shirt collar.

“Ah…”

Letting out a dazed sound that could have been an answer or something else, Niah remained stunned even after hearing the long-awaited command. The fingers that slowly buttoned their way down trembled minutely. The tips of his ears turned red. Orca casually rubbed his flushed ear. He had been about to tease him but stopped.

“I’m done.”

He flicked his earlobe gently and let go. Niah fiddled with his ear, where his warmth lingered. His heart melted like a sugar cube dropped in black tea. Orca handed him the cuff links and held out his wrist.

Having never touched such a thing in his life, Niah’s gaze once again lost its focus and fluttered. He couldn’t muster the courage to honestly say he didn’t know how, for fear of being told he was useless. He was quickly disheartened by one tiny object. His mood swung wildly from elation to dejection. His melted heart became brittle. Orca, who easily noticed this, tapped the silver button lying between his fidgeting fingers.

“Here. Pull this to open it.”

Following the warm sensation that touched him intermittently, Niah busily moved his hands. He was grateful for the command that instantly consumed his worries. He liked the gentle kindness that came before the words “I don’t know” that were on the tip of his own tongue.

“Oh, okay, yes. L-Like this?”

“Yes. And put it in here, no, the other way. Right. Now insert this again and close it. Right, like that. This side too.”

After carefully fastening the buttons on both sleeves, Niah tried hard to suppress a grin that was about to break out. As he did, he looked up at Orca. His mood, which went up and down several times a day, followed a simple course. Orca pondered what to do with this clumsy goldfish, who was naive in so many ways, and simply stroked his forehead.

It seemed the only place a goldfish who was utterly clueless when not rolling around in a flower patch could live was the Werega mansion. It was commendable that he had survived in here all this time, but if let outside, he would surely die on the streets. It seemed it would be better to buy a fishbowl after all, but the goldfish’s irrepressible “hehe” sound cut in as if to stop him.

“…Good job.”

The embarrassing praise came out awkwardly. The goldfish held his hand tightly and dangled his legs.

It was much later that Niah realized he had forgotten the pre-meal teatime.

He remembered only after all of the following had passed: after going down to the dining room escorted by Orca, who had applied medicine to his lips again today, after puffing out his cheeks to his heart’s content and finishing a filling meal, after chattering away in response to Harriet’s playful question about whether something good had happened, after settling in a corner of the garden in anticipation of when he would arrive, after Orca, who appeared soon after, brushed the scattered leaves from his hair and clothes, after finishing his daily tasks and trotting after him to his room, after being forbidden from cleaning the bathroom, after eagerly explaining the cute spot on the sansevieria, after bringing the three-tiered tray and teapot prepared for the afternoon teatime on a trolley, and after all of that.

He had been quiet for the past few days, but the stupid goldfish was causing trouble again. Niah felt like smacking himself for constantly forgetting things. He felt like he wanted to open up his head, which was completely filled with the young master, and scrub it clean with soap. If he became useless to the young master, it wouldn’t matter how long he remembered him.

This wasn’t a blessing, it was a definite curse. He didn’t want to forget anything anymore, even if it meant remembering all the painful and sad things too. He became terrified, worrying, what if I really forget everything if this continues? He grew anxious about whether he had forgotten something else important.

He was pathetic for not even knowing whether he had forgotten or not. To others, it might have been a trivial matter dismissed as mild forgetfulness, but to him, it was terrifying. Until recently, it didn’t matter if he couldn’t remember, but not anymore. He didn’t want to miss a single thing.

“Did I… did I forget something else… something else again…?”

“No. I told you it’s fine.”

“Please, t-tell me. Please. Young master, I… I, again…”

The process of Niah, who had been so excited, suddenly falling into extreme fear was instantaneous. His unfocused eyes submerged him in himself, making him seem distant. Orca felt a sense of déjà vu in this situation. The realization that he had not only tried to use that fear but had also unknowingly neglected it made his stomach churn. It was agonizing to watch the goldfish, who was suffocating from a fear he himself had never experienced for a single day.

Looking back, he had lived a comfortable life. Enduring the oppression of his family or the annoyance of having to suppress his instincts were trivial matters. He had been lucky to be born a nobleman, enjoying the honor and wealth his ancestors had built as if it were his own. He couldn’t say there was no price for enjoying it, but his life was affluent in proportion to the price he paid. Thus, he had been arrogant. He acted as if the whole world was his, despite being unable to handle a single tiny goldfish.

The goldfish paid a price every day for which there was no reward. It was a life he could not have chosen. Just as he had not chosen to be born into his life, the same was true for the goldfish. If it had been him, he might have been so resentful that he would have massacred every human in the mansion and set it on fire.

But the goldfish, at most, only clung to the hem of his clothes. The faint touch was so pitiful it made his anger surge. He would rather kill him. He wanted to chew up and swallow every last drop of blood and make him his own. Knowing he couldn’t actually do it made him even more agonized.

“Niah. Look at me.”

Orca, having placed Niah on the tea table, stroked his back. Even while trembling, Niah tried his best to obey his command. Cupping his cheek with one hand, Orca rubbed Niah’s dry eyes. He was so fragile it seemed he would crumble the moment he let go. His upturned face was directed at him, but he didn’t feel their gazes meet.

“Niah… Just cry. It’s okay to cry.”

“I’m not crying. I’m not crying. I’m not crying, young master.”

His voice, cracking and submerged the more he denied it, was firm. Niah moved the hands he had on Orca’s waist and wrapped them around his back in an embrace. His fingers, clinging to the shirt, trembled pathetically.

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again… Young master, sob, young masteeer…”

Orca silently patted his back and gently stroked the nape of his neck, which was tense from holding back tears. His hand trembled minutely, just enough that Niah wouldn’t feel it. It was both anger at himself for his boiling insides, and frustration at his own incompetence, unable to solve a problem he knew the cause of. The small, weak predator made him feel utterly powerless. For the first time in his life, he felt like a useless human being.

The goldfish’s fear spread like a contagious disease to the unidentifiable emotion he had yet to define.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Niah, who had been seated in a chair, frantically grabbed Orca as he tried to move away. Orca reassured him in a calm voice. His face was placid, as if nothing had happened. He held both hands clinging to his sleeve at once and massaged them. His gaze, unable to believe the words “I’m not going anywhere” or “it’s okay,” drifted through the air. His skin, cold with fear, stubbornly refused to warm up.

The lazy afternoon spreading through the window was peaceful. The warm sunlight was cold only to the goldfish. He couldn’t acknowledge the faintly trembling body. He could do nothing but breathe his own warmth into the cold fingertips. No matter how much he searched his mind, no suitable words came to him. He had thought he’d become quite used to soothing the goldfish, but it was a delusion. He was, without fail, lost in a labyrinth.

The goldfish bent his fingers, conveying a faint grip. He was not versed in any kind of behavioral guidelines for situations like this. It was information not needed at a military academy with its transparent educational purpose or in a unit in a conflict zone. He had never associated with anyone there, so the current situation felt more complicated the more he thought about it.

It seemed his private tutor who had come to the mansion when he was young might have taught him something, but he must have let it drift in one ear and out the other because he couldn’t remember it well. He found himself having the ridiculous reflection that if he had known this would happen, he would have listened a little better. Reflection—what a word that truly didn’t suit him at all.

How did it come to this?

He had hoped for an afternoon filled with the chatter of the goldfish, who talked enthusiastically even when alone. He wanted to hear stories that he could live his whole life without knowing, like how cleanly he could dig potatoes, how plump the okra he grew was, why the yellow ripe pumpkins were lovely, when the summer lake that shimmered like fish scales was prettiest, and the beauty of the white and red cyclamen blooming in the snow. He wished that the boring peace would be colored by his excited, whispering voice. He knew it was a selfish and shameless wish.

In his limited memory that could not cross the mansion gates, there were no people. Only the changes of the seasons gathered delicately, lonely and yet charming. He wished he could drink up all of the poignant loneliness, and felt a sense of regret. If he couldn’t drink it, he wanted him to fill that empty memory by relying solely on him. The desire that pooled under his tongue was rotten and decayed, a shameless face. Even if the leave of absence confirmation form came out of the drawer and spewed curses, he would have no power to argue.

When did it get like this?

Orca, who had steeped the tea leaves himself to make milk tea, placed the tea food tray on the table. Warm milk would have been better, but this was the best he could do for now. Niah, who took the milk tea first, blinked his eyes and fiddled with the teacup. His own feelings of hurt were already out of his mind. He was busy trying to read Orca’s mood.

“Young master, I…”

“Drink. It’s not hot.”

He cut him off. He could guess the words that would follow without having to hear them. So, rather than listen, he chose to pull up a chair and sit across from him. Only then did Niah put the teacup to his lips. The milk tea that trickled down his throat tasted sweeter and cleaner than usual. As his stomach warmed, his tense body seemed to relax. His back and shoulders also settled comfortably. He lowered his eyelids, feeling as if the tears he had held back so well were about to burst forth now. His neck tensed.

“Here.”

A bite-sized piece of bread tickled his lips. As he bit into what was offered, a savory and refreshing aroma filled his mouth. As soon as he swallowed, a soft texture touched his lips as if it had been waiting, and he lifted his head. The young master twisted his brow and asked, why. His expressionless face wasn’t scary. It was okay even if he didn’t smile. For some reason, it felt like it would be okay. His tongue was sweet. Thanks to the warm teacup, his whole body felt cozy. It felt like his chest was full, not his stomach. He was only scared of one thing: that the wish to never forget this might be greedy.

“Does it taste bad?”

Niah shook his head. It’s delicious, the small voice that flowed out colored a sliver of Orca’s boring peace.

The madeleines with finely chopped cherries were popular with the goldfish. To stop the hearty goldfish, who was staring intently at the tray even after eating them all himself, he tapped the bridge of his nose. After clearing the empty tray and teacup onto the trolley, he sat back down and propped his chin on his hand. The goldfish looked much more at ease. His pale skin had regained its vitality. His cheeks, resembling cherry madeleines, were round.