ORCA 61

The notion that this one likes a breeze and that one likes sunshine was, in truth, a bit preposterous. He could not care less about the preferences of plants, but he could be certain of one fact: the Goldfish loved being cared for like that. While he usually stammered and spoke as if he were a starfish, he became a swift chatterbox only at times like these.

In the scattered, hole-ridden gaps of memory, the plants he grew were always the exception. Listening to his explanations about the cuteness of the lilacs that bloomed last spring, it seemed as though there were standards even for loss. He wasn’t sure if the Goldfish himself was truly aware of his own nature, but he had reached a single conclusion over the past few days. It was just yesterday that this realization became completely useless.

Even if he were to brush off his minor forgetfulness or the way he crudely pruned away old memories as the Goldfish’s inherent nature, the rest did not fit. The Goldfish forgot too much, and too quickly. Rather than “forgetting,” the expression “erasing” suited him better. The subjects he chatted about with such excitement were also extremely limited and narrow. They were mostly minor incidents that occurred in the greenhouse, the garden, and occasionally the lake forest. Not even half of his questions had ever been answered properly.

When asked about his past before coming to the Wair family, the reason for the small scars, why he was starving when they first met at the lake, or why he had been scolded, he would press his lips shut and say nothing. He would merely stall, ending with a claim that he didn’t know much. The Goldfish would soon become sullen and look like he was about to cry. There was no choice but to throw out questions that would make him happily chatter before he actually cried.

“Are you not watering this one?”

“I only give the snake plant water sometimes. If I give it too much because it’s pretty, it dies. And when it’s cold, I don’t give it any at all. Instead, I have to make sure it gets plenty of sunlight and breeze. This seems to be the best spot in your room, sir. If you grow it well, it even blooms pretty flowers, but this one is still young, so later, um… a long, long time later, you might be able to see them. It is difficult to get it to bloom, though. But I can grow it well. Oh, the ones in the greenhouse might bloom this year—no, maybe next year. They bloom when summer comes. They’re white and pretty. So, sir… I would be happy if you came to see them too….”

When Niah spoke of “later,” he always trailed off at the end. He would simply look up at his master with eyes brimming with anticipation, never pestering him to say the words he wanted to hear. Then, Orca would feign ignorance and ask something else.

“But why a snake plant?”

“Yes? Um… just because, it’s cute….”

“You brought it secretly just because it’s cute? Without even sleeping?”

Teasingly, he repeated the question, lightly grazing Niah’s earlobe. Niah felt a bit aggrieved. It had required a great deal of thought on his part, and Harriet had told him every single day that it would be okay, which was how he could find the courage. Of course, the original plan wasn’t to see his master, but just to leave the pot behind, but it still required great courage. Feeling that his circumstances were completely misunderstood, he only felt sad.

“Because you said I couldn’t come, sir…. But I wanted to meet you, and so…. Harriet said it was okay to go, ah.”

Niah abruptly clamped his mouth shut. His two hands naturally clung to Orca. Afraid that Harriet might be scolded because of him, he started by denying it right away.

“No, it’s not that,”

“Harriet told you to come?”

“Yes? Oh… no, …yes…. A-are you going to scold her? You can’t, please don’t do that…. You can’t. I beg you, sir….”

Swallowing the lie that had been about to spill out, Niah shook his head. Orca was displeased to hear the name “Harriet” again. The sight of him pleading for a servant he didn’t even know was also disagreeable. After looking down at Niah in silence for a while, he replied as if he had no other choice.

“I won’t.”

The Goldfish immediately felt at ease and wore a smiling face. He was so easily swayed. That was why he deemed him simple. He concluded that he only remembered what he liked and would easily forget the bad things.

If it hadn’t been for the words he had poured out last night after holding them in for so long, he probably would have continued to think that way.

‘I know, too. I know I’m stupid. But, still, I worked hard…. Why do you always say you hate me, talk so meanly, and everything, it hurts me, and then I’m sad too, and I don’t… I don’t forget everything…. I remember the things I dislike too, why, why…. Ugh, I’m going to hate you too. I don’t like you at all. Really, not at all… I hate you. I dislike you. …You’re a liar.’

He could no longer clearly judge what was a “good thing” or a “bad thing” for the Goldfish. The more he tried to figure it out, the more trapped he felt in a labyrinth.

If he wasn’t forgetting all the bad things, could the good things also vanish from his memory forever? Had there been no good things in the past at all? What, exactly, did he remember, and what was he unable to remember? Was it because it was a good thing that he still remembered everything about his time with him, or was it a bad thing, or was it both? How long did he remember, and when did he forget? Was he constantly forgetting because he was a Goldfish, or because he wanted to erase it himself? If he left, could the Goldfish forget the entire season they spent together?

There were no answers, only growing questions.

The Goldfish was enigmatic precisely because he was simple. He was full of unknowns because he was honest. It seemed that even after summer passed, this riddle would remain unsolved. He felt that he might become the giant prey of a small, weak predator and be swallowed whole. He had a premonition that he might be crushed to death by the light, smooth orange. Even so, time would flow on in vain. He had ended up opening the door himself to the “error” that rendered him incompetent.

“Niah.”

The Goldfish, who had turned tomato-colored, looked up at him stealthily. As he tidied up the disheveled hair, Niah’s lips curled inward. Even then, he couldn’t take his eyes off him. Sunlight permeated their locked gazes. His light-colored irises shimmered with a golden hue. They shone like scales reflecting the moon.

“Master….”

He could not shake off the helplessness that was slowly pouring over him.

As soon as Orca showed interest in the seedlings, Niah’s vitality returned.

“The ones here are cherry tomatoes. Those ones over there are the big tomatoes.”

“They look the same.”

“No, they don’t. If you look closely, they’re a little different. Here, like this.”

“Where?”

“Here, like this….”

While diligently trying to distinguish and explain the appearance of the two seedlings, Niah suddenly stiffened and stopped talking. It was because his master was looking closely at him, not the seedlings. Orca folded his body awkwardly and tilted his head. A gaze with mischievous intent clung firmly to Niah.

“The… here, like this, the leaves….”

He tried to continue the explanation somehow, then gave up. His cooled face heated up again. Niah felt frustrated, not knowing why he was acting like this today. Usually, while he did feel a little nervous when his master was by his side, the feeling of joy was much greater. But today was not the case. He wanted to be with his master, and at the same time, he didn’t want to be.

However, when he imagined his master leaving him behind, he felt sad. His heart felt like it would burst, then constrict and vanish, then race, then stop abruptly, over and over again. He felt strange, like he was eating delicious clam chowder given by his master while sitting in front of a very angry Pepe.

“You’ve ripened again. You’re ready to be eaten.”

Orca poked his reddened cheek. Feeling embarrassed, Niah squeezed his eyes shut and said, “No, I’m not.”

Standing far away, Pepe watched them with a dazed expression. The other servants also worked half-heartedly, sneaking glances at them. They held back, with great difficulty, the urge to chatter about it right then and there. They couldn’t hear the conversation between their master and Niah, but their master would certainly be able to hear them.

The servants only exchanged glances. Other than Niah, no one cared about things like spring vegetables. Everyone was busy just trying to survive. Amidst all that, Orca’s circumstances were not much different from theirs.

Tomatoes were one of the most cumbersome crops to grow. Unlike crops like peas or corn that grow tall and strong as long as you plant their roots well in the field, they required a lot of individual care from the moment the seedlings were planted until the fruit was harvested.