ORCA 40

“I like you.”

“You’ll catch a cold.”

“I like you.”

“We should go now.”

“I like you.”

No matter what he heard, he repeated the same answer. He was fretting all by himself, as if something terrible would happen if he didn’t convey it right away. He was like a parrot that had learned only one phrase. He wouldn’t be welcomed at a theater circus, but in the pantry of the Werega mansion’s kitchen, he was quite a hit. The sole audience member was quickly captivated by the parrot’s performance and was at a loss for words.

Orca, having given up on persuading him, gently hugged the small body. He could have easily pulled him off with just a little force, but he waited for him to let go on his own. He patted him back and forth, as if by habit now. Only after Niah started sniffling did he grab his shoulders and push him away. The sudden large movement made the shelf rattle. The blanket, which had completely fallen off, was rolling on the floor.

He bent his head, wondering if he could see him if he got closer. It was a slow and careful action, his sense of distance dulled. He squinted his eyes and looked closely. It was a foolish thing to do, as there was no way he could see, but Orca knew it too.

Niah, sniffling, clung to him. As the body heat that had been touching him all over moved away, the darkness around them seemed to deepen. He fumbled for the back of the hand placed on his shoulder and tightly gripped the attached forearm.

“Are you crying?”

“No. Snot…”

“See. I told you you’d catch a cold. Let’s go now.”

Niah, who followed obediently, quickly gathered the blanket that Orca had wrapped around him again. He felt as if he had come out soaking wet from a winter lake after eating waterweeds. His jaw was chattering. The only saving grace was that after coming out of the windowless pantry, the kitchen felt bright.

A gentle moonlight rippled through the long glass window on the wall. The pale, pooled moonlight scrubbed and polished every corner of the kitchen, which was scorched black by the darkness.

Orca found a match and relit the oil lamp, then picked up the glass of milk he had warmed earlier. The surface of the cup had already become lukewarm. After throwing more coal into the stove, he gestured to Niah.

“Come here. Stand over here.”

Niah, who did as he was told and took a step back from the stove, stretched out one arm and spread his palm wide. The coal fire, which slightly resembled the fireplace in the basement hall, crackled as it burned. It felt as if he were finally enjoying the warmth he had never been able to bask in up close today.

It wasn’t winter now, and this wasn’t a wood fire, but his excited lips kept curling up. Orca glanced at the giggling goldfish, who was off in his own little world thinking of something fun again, and left him alone to continue enjoying himself.

He also gave up on scolding and correcting his self-deprecating words and actions. He might become sullen and crestfallen and never speak again. Even normally, unless he was talking about how the flowers were this or the tomatoes were that, he would usually hesitate and then clam up. Above all, he seemed happy right now, and he thought that was enough for the moment. He decided to just praise him several times when something praiseworthy came up. Since every word he said went against his intentions and provoked the goldfish, that would be much better.

Of course, there were many times when he deliberately poked and prodded. That was why he was down in the kitchen at this late hour. The problem was the fact that even when he wasn’t intentionally provoking him, he would jump to conclusions and become disheartened on his own. In the end, it was he who was put in a difficult position, having to soothe the shrunken goldfish. He was truly a difficult and troublesome creature to keep around. He was the only one who felt more and more wronged day by day. It seemed it would be faster for him to learn a new way of speaking than for the goldfish to abandon his easily intimidated personality.

Niah, who was showing his excitement by rising up and down on his heels, even started humming, hmm hmm. The melody was more similar to the chirping of a bird than to music. It was a simple round that popped out whenever he was in a good mood. The notes, with their indistinct pitch, repeated softly. He also took turns extending his arms to warm them by the fire. Then, with his feet planted on the floor, Niah stopped singing and abruptly began to speak.

“Young master.”

As soon as he called, young master, their eyes met. Niah turned his head to tell his story, and Orca turned his head to listen.

“I like being like this with you, young master…. Talking a lot…. I’ve forgotten all about the dream now.”

His face, shadowed by the flickering light, was tinged with a faint orange glow. Only the color of Niah’s hair remained the same. Orca combed back his fluffy hair. Looking at his bouncy, curly hair, he looked not like a goldfish, but exactly like a dog. He thought it was a good thing he had warmed the milk first without questioning him.

“A dream? You came up because you had a scary dream?”

“Pardon? Oh… ye-es…”

It was a reason just like his own. He held his tongue as Niah turned his face away slightly in embarrassment.

“Good job.”

The goldfish giggled again and leaned his head against his forearm. A sweet and savory smell wafted from the milk, which had begun to boil vigorously.

Orca used to follow Niah around like a personal attendant, but he couldn’t bring himself to follow him into places like the laundry room. When going to the garden or the greenhouse, he had excuses like teatime or a walk, but not for other places. The vegetable garden was his own personal boundary line. Since it was no different from a garden, he could just say he came for a walk.

Even though no one asked, he always carried an excuse with him. It was the minimum line of defense he could draw for himself. The reason he sent Niah off first and then went to find him later was also for this reason. The fact that he made him go back to the basement every night without fail, or that he himself also went down to the dining hall on time at least once a day to see his parents, was all for the same reason.

If he didn’t do at least this much, he would be reminded of himself, who would lock the goldfish in a fishbowl and watch it all day long throughout the spring and summer. He even had a concrete plan that he could put into action immediately. Although there would be no one to stop him if he actually did it, he, who would have to take care of that fishbowl after the summer passed, had to leave this place. Currently, this point was the biggest obstacle.

The fishbowl left alone in the mansion after he was gone would soon break. The goldfish would flail and struggle, and would be reduced to a stupid, bullied goldfish. And he was destined to spend his days in a distant conflict zone, not even hearing that news, tearing at the dirty necks of invaders. A sneer came out on its own.

About a month ago, he had been so eager to go back that he had been debating whether to stay for three days or four. But now, he burst out laughing at himself for making excuses as if he didn’t want to leave Roselphia. At this rate, it wouldn’t be strange if, a few days later, he ordered someone to write and send a letter to the goldfish. It was a ridiculous thought. The image of him, who had ignored his parents’ letters for three years, waiting for the mailman to arrive, wondering about the well-being of a mere servant, was laughable just by imagining it.

A servant who was particularly close to the master was not treated well among the other servants. They were pushed far away from the group and not included, and a wall was put up. It was perhaps natural, as a single misstep could get them into trouble with the master. There was also envy and jealousy for receiving better treatment than them.

On the other hand, even if they were ostracized by the servants, they were doted on by the master, so there was no problem in their daily life. In fact, it was affluent. However, this was the case when that master stayed at the mansion for a long time. It was obvious what would happen to a servant who had monopolized the master’s affection for a while after losing their master.

So Orca, while seeming to do whatever he pleased, whatever he wanted, in reality, couldn’t act completely as he wished. He didn’t want to put the goldfish, who was already having a hard time surviving in the mansion, in a difficult position. It was an irresponsible thing to do for someone who was going to leave. He knew he was already committing a half-irresponsible act, so he tried to strike a balance somehow.

Of course, it didn’t go as well as he wanted. Looking at the giggling goldfish, he would think, well, whatever happens, happens. His resolutions would become useless in an instant, and he would act impulsively. The path to cleaning up the mess was just distant.

But as if that wasn’t enough, he was trying to create more complicated problems instead of fixing them. He, who had become not just irresponsible but foolish in the span of just a few days after a small disturbance, was an idiot. He prepared to follow him around like a dog without a proper excuse. A dog panting next to its master who was about to go out and he were the same. He couldn’t tell when he had become such a fool. It seemed he wasn’t even going to try to maintain the line anymore. No, the effort he had made so far was only this much. He had been holding back all this time.

Since that day, the goldfish wanted to have his memory checked by him several times a day.

“Young master, did I forget anything?”

Only after hearing the answer “no” would he smile with a relieved face. He seemed half-disbelieving, but he didn’t ask further and just nodded. Then he, too, would naturally become curious.

“Did you have any scary dreams today?”

The goldfish would say, yes, or often trail off with, ye-es. The way his gaze shifted away strongly suggested that he was lying. Only when he was given praise of “good job” instead of an interrogation would his eyes turn back to him. It was a strange praise, “good job for not having a scary dream,” but those three words were enough to make the goldfish feel good. If he came up to his room one more time at night, he could try to probe what kind of dream it was, but that never happened. It was only after seeing his gaunt face in the morning that he could tell he had been tormented all night.

As this conversation repeated, he became more and more powerless. He couldn’t solve either the deficient memory or the scary dreams, and had to hope that the goldfish would manage well on his own. The only thing he could do was to force the weak goldfish to lie down and take a nap. He would spend powerless time looking down at his dazed face as he slept. He was getting used to the sensation of being swayed by an unidentifiable emotion.

Lately, he called himself an idiot several times a day. There was no other word to call himself, who wanted to satisfy his own greed even though he knew it would make the goldfish suffer more later, other than an idiot or a fool. On the outside, he pretended to do as the goldfish wanted, but on the inside, he was busy making excuses for his own selfishness.

About once a day, the goldfish would say, I’ll be back, with a trolley or a laundry basket, and smile brightly. I’ll be right back, his added voice was tinged with laughter. It was a familiar gesture, done without hesitation, as if it were no big deal.

When he was left alone in the room, listening to the slowly receding footsteps of the goldfish, a deep part of his chest felt uncomfortable. It felt as if he were the one left behind, not the goldfish. It felt as if he were the one who had left, not the goldfish. He wondered if the goldfish would feel this way when he eventually left the mansion, if he would become like this, unable to do anything but wait, left behind.

His returning steps were clumsy and quick. The carpeted floor echoed with a tap, tap. He would run briskly, as if he were about to burst through the door, and then open it just a crack and poke his face in first. Then he would grin and call his name. He knew he would return like this without any incident. He knew he would return unharmed without experiencing anything and pester him to go out to the greenhouse or the garden. He knew he would either press his lips together and urge him on with only his eyes, or else sit next to him, cup his cheeks with both hands, prop his chin up, and watch him.

And yet, when the quick footsteps coming from far down the hallway gradually got closer, a sense of anxiety would creep over him. He would become anxious, wondering if he was running away rather than returning. He couldn’t even breathe freely until the door opened, wondering if he was running away again from the fear called oblivion, which he himself had never experienced for a single day, from scary dreams, or perhaps from someone’s bullying. The goldfish himself was calm, but he was making a bigger fuss. He became incompetent from time to time, got angry occasionally, and often had foolish thoughts.

In the end, he came to choose to become a perfect fool. He surreptitiously erased the line he had roughly drawn and drew a new one a few steps further ahead. The range within the line, which had at first been limited to the ‘room,’ gradually expanded. With the complacency that he could sort things out before the summer ended, he repeatedly indulged his selfishness. Sitting at a table by the window with the spring sun shining down, summer felt far away. It seemed so distant, as if it would never come.

Orca watched Niah, who was gathering the trolley. The goldfish’s skin, bathed in the languid sunlight, glittered like scales. Niah, who had diligently cleaned up the traces of the afternoon teatime, smiled brightly again this time. The gaze that followed him was ticklish.

“Young master, I’ll be back then. Is there anything else you need me to do?”

His attitude of wanting to do anything and everything was still the same. Orca tapped the table and then abruptly kicked his chair back. Once he had made up his mind, whether to be a fool or an idiot, the rest was easy. He turned the goldfish around and led him out of the room. The wheels of the trolley rattled.

“Uh, um, are you going too, young master…?”

The flustered Niah raised his gaze. Only then did Orca reply.

“Yes. Why.”

“No. I like it.”

Niah, who had denied something he hadn’t even been asked, shook his head back and forth and then giggled. Now, Niah just liked everything he did with Orca. Like the parrot in the pantry, he just repeated, “I like it.” He had reached a point where he would say he liked anything he was told to do.

Orca tried to focus his hearing only on the humming, hmm hmm, and Niah’s fluttering footsteps. He tried his best to shake off the surging turmoil.

As he opened the door to the distillery, the scent of flowers rushed in. Niah’s lips, which had already gotten thoroughly excited on the way from the central wing to the west wing, curled up. He became even more excited when he spotted Harriet, who was already there. He abandoned the trolley in the hallway and ran over with a flutter, placing his hands on the table.

“Harriet!”

“You’re here? Look at this. Isn’t it pretty?”

Harriet greeted Niah with a wide smile. Roanna, a distillery servant who was with her, became awkward and pretended to be engrossed in her work. Various types of flowers were spread out on the table. Niah examined them one by one.

The sight of white acacia flowers and jasmine, pink cherry blossoms, peach blossoms of a deeper hue, and colorful clusters of linaria, picked with their calyxes intact and arranged on a flat basket, was charmingly cute. A pleasant fragrance wafted up.

He had decorated with flowers cut with their stems in vases or baskets before, but this was a first. He wondered what they were going to do with just the flowers picked off. Niah looked at Harriet with sparkling eyes. Harriet brought over some flower sugar preserves she had made in advance and showed him.

Orca, who had been standing frozen behind the half-open door, finally let out a scoff of disbelief, “Hah.” He was so incensed that the goldfish had abandoned the trolley and him and gone in alone that he was speechless. The cheerful voice he heard as soon as he disappeared from sight was extremely irritating. He was annoyed, wondering if that servant named ‘Harriet’ and some flowers were more important than him. He wiped his face.

Since he couldn’t get truly angry, he managed his irritation with a long exhale. He hadn’t meant to sigh, but the end scattered like one. He picked up the trolley the goldfish had abandoned and entered the distillery. Seeing him cast him aside and chat happily with someone else made his stomach twist. He tightened his throat hard and then loosened it to compose himself. Orca called out to the excited back. A calm voice flowed out concisely.

“Niah.”

Niah, startled, turned around with wide eyes. It was as if a light had switched on in his head. It was foolish of him to have been so engrossed in the amazing sight that he had completely forgotten about the young master.

“Young master…”

He went over to him as if running. He held his sleeve tightly with just his thumb and forefinger. Other things aside, it was rude to leave his master outside and come in by himself. Niah became tense, thinking he would be scolded for sure today. The ends of his eyebrows drooped, making him look on the verge of tears. His neck shrank back like a turtle’s. Orca looked down at the thoroughly timid goldfish without a word. He swallowed down the mean urge to poke him and make him cry his eyes out and tapped the bridge of his nose.

“What’s so great?”

“No. I was just, looking at that…. I’m sorry…”

Harriet, who had shot up at the young master’s sudden appearance, observed the two with eyes full of curiosity. He had been somewhat at ease lately because of Niah, who seemed continuously happy, but he wanted to confirm their relationship for himself. It was natural, since he had been the one to urge Niah to go to the young master first whenever he found him wandering around listlessly. Although he had acted with a certain degree of confidence, he had still been concerned all along.