ORCA 42

Each time I took a step forward, I heard the sound of crawling following closely behind me under the Linaria flowers. The grass rustled as it brushed against some part of their body. Whenever I deliberately stopped and pretended to look at a flower or a shrub, they would follow suit and stay in place. I could feel them peeking at me from hiding.

“Young master.”

Moreover, because they kept repeating that aimless call since earlier, it was impossible not to know. I had the feeling that even though they weren’t in my line of sight, they were clearly visible.

Orca began to wander around the corner of the large garden with a satisfied expression. It was a distance that was ambiguous to call a walk. Nevertheless, the head servant followed him without a word of complaint. Thinking it was better to leave him be than to have a troublesome argument, Orca decided to ignore him, whether he followed or not. He only had one concern. The orange hallucination continued even with the goldfish nearby.

Niah burrowed tightly between the stems of the Linaria. The gaze peeking at Orca, who was standing at a distance that was neither far nor close, was pitiful. It was similar to the expression one makes when they have delicious food in front of them but cannot eat it.

If Orca tried to move away from them, Niah would quickly chase after him, and if he came close, they would hurry to run away, watching him without ever getting tired of it. It was because he had told them not to come, and they were afraid they would be scolded if they ran into him.

Harriet told them every time that it would be fine, but when they actually saw the young master, they couldn’t muster the courage at all. So, they had no choice but to sit in a place where they thought he wouldn’t find them and observe him carefully. Fearing he might notice, they kept their mouths tightly shut and breathed only in small, quiet breaths. However, it was equally difficult because they couldn’t suppress the voice that kept popping out.

The young master, whom I hadn’t seen in a long time, was still cool. Even when he was standing still, elegance overflowed from him. Even his gait as he walked through the garden looked graceful. He was far more excellent than the expensive paintings or statues in the gallery. Before I knew it, I was mesmerized and watching him. I felt like I could spend all day doing nothing but watching the young master.

I became curious about what the young master would be thinking as he looked at the flowers and trees that I had carefully tended to every day. It would be a great joy if he complimented them by saying they were pretty, but for me, who was busy hiding, it was too big of a wish.

Following their wandering consciousness, Niah chewed on their lips. The lips they had bitten every chance they got over the past few days—or more accurately, every time they thought of Orca—were shredded like rags. Because they had only tormented them without giving them time to heal, blood seeped out from between the torn and cracked wrinkles.

The more it happened, the more Niah dug their teeth in. As if punishing themselves, they ground their teeth into the soft flesh. A sharp, stinging pain surged through them. They suppressed the desire to put everything else aside and just run to the young master with that pain.

When I thought of the young master, my heart became bumpy. It just wouldn’t flatten out. It was frustrating that my heart, which wouldn’t get smaller no matter how hard I tried, only grew larger. He wasn’t someone I could see just because I missed him, and he was someone I didn’t know when he would leave.

On top of that, he is the young master, but I am just a servant, and a stupid goldfish. The most I could do was lie in bed, hold his shirt tightly, or be satisfied that at least this much remained in my hands.

Niah stopped peeking at Orca and buried their face in their knees.

After actually crossing the intangible line I had drawn myself, it was nothing special after all. The lock I had clicked shut after a great resolution felt like crude childishness. The solar plexus that had been tightly blocked was relieved after one short walk.

As I put a deadline of “before I go back” on all my actions, my heart felt much lighter. It was as light as a goldfish that could be lifted with just one arm. It was a simple knot.

Once I cleared my thoughts as I pleased and attached a plausible rationalization to them, the next process was very easy and simple. Now, the only thing left was to decide when it would be good to call the goldfish back.

In any case, the last moment would inevitably come. Even if I used some tricks to delay the day of my return, an order to return to the base would come down from the unit before long. The army guarding the border region was always short of personnel no matter how much they were replenished. It was natural, as they died in battle every day.

Although I had left the command to the unit leader, a change in the battalion’s strength would occur if I did not participate in the battle myself. Therefore, even if I received an extended vacation in consideration of the fact that I had been performing missions without days off for a long period, I would have to return once summer was over.

“You really are doing everything.”

When I left the battlefield, I was sure that three or four days would be enough, but now that I am writing a letter to extend my vacation, I felt needlessly embarrassed on my own.

However, there were other people who would be astonished if I said I would stay for two full seasons. No one at the mansion wanted me to stay for long. The servants wanted me to leave as soon as possible, and my parents poured all their attention only into the party that would soon be held. They were in the middle of setting up and proceeding with a hasty schedule, intending to finish it before I could disappear on my own. There was no way they would miss the opportunity to satisfy their vanity with elegance. My birthday or homecoming was treated as a nominal excuse to throw a party. It was always like that.

If there was such an excuse, it was more appropriate for putting on a show than an ordinary social party. It was also good for gaining an advantage in high society by making connections with other powerful families and solidifying the Wair family’s influence even more firmly.

That was why all the stories I’d heard over the past few days were about the party. They were busy jabbering about who to invite, which room to give to whom, what food to prepare, when the best date would be, how to decorate the table with flowers, and so on. I thought, So that’s why you’ve been pestering me for three years—you wanted to do something like this.

The fortunate thing was that, thanks to that, there would be no one to interfere no matter what I did. Amidst the busyness of party preparations, there was no one who would bother to stop my private life, nor any reason to hinder me.

Although the servants were taking too much interest in my words and actions, it was enough to keep them in check so they wouldn’t cross the line. In any case, this vacation was just an impulse. I myself couldn’t even guarantee when I would set foot here again after this. It meant that staying for a while wouldn’t change anything. It was in the same vein as everyone treating me like someone who would leave soon.

Their strange gazes felt like a thick wall blocking my path. It didn’t particularly bother me, but it wasn’t a very pleasant feeling. I felt like an unwelcome guest who had arrived long before the date of the party.

My parents were no different. I was well aware that they were watching me secretly with eyes mixed with hospitality and anxiety. Of course, it wasn’t something for me—who was thinking of not returning for a lifetime if the opportunity arose—to feel hurt by. If I had to name this feeling, it was nothing more and nothing less than “unpleasantness.” I only felt sneering, as if watching the tactics of an enemy who was running around hard, unaware that they had been found out early on.

This is why Rosselia was just an uncomfortable place for me. It was a place full of oppression swung by arbitrary standards and lumps of greed that smelled offensive. Even if I had to live the rest of my life estranged from my family, who were only left with shells, or the family that continued its lineage through unjust reputation, it was fine. I didn’t feel any sense of regret.

The status I achieved in the border guard was not an achievement gained through the identity of being the young master of the Wair family. This one thing I could assert. Separately, the family would not disown me. It didn’t matter whether I wanted it or not.

Essentially, orcas are not the type to easily let go of prey they have bitten once. Annoyingly enough, it was the same for me; that was how I was born. Once I bit down, I didn’t want to spit it out.

Orca, who had put down his pen, tapped the table with his fingertips. The dull sound created a rhythmic melody. With his eyes fixed on the letter on the table, he stood up from his chair after gazing at the paper on which the brief reason for requesting a vacation extension and his signature were written. He leaned against the window frame, from which the garden could be clearly seen, and examined the area below.

He searched every corner without missing a spot, but the goldfish was nowhere to be seen. Even when he had just returned to his room, he could see it rolling around here and there, but it seemed to have gone somewhere in the meantime. Instead, he looked at the Linaria flowers that densely surrounded the edge of the garden. His gaze was drawn to the flowers he had previously had no interest in.