ORCA 64

The voice, which had grown smaller than before, was swallowed by the stream of water hitting the ground. If it had been anyone other than Orca, the volume would have been too low to hear. He rinsed the soil away cleanly and turned the faucet to let the water trickle. Then, he rubbed Niah’s lips slightly. The lip that had been caught between his teeth slipped out and moved.

“Again.”

Orca grazed the skin, which had turned red where blood had pooled, a couple of times. Only then did Niah realize he had been gnawing on his lip; unable to say anything, he just fiddled with the handle of the watering can. The gaze he had been using to look up fell. A gloomy aura settled on his eyelashes. He had promised not to do it, but he had broken it yesterday and again today. It wasn’t that he had forgotten; it was a habitual action, so being scolded felt a little unfair.

“I’m not scolding you.”

Thinking he had voiced his inner thoughts, he flinched and hunched his shoulders. Fortunately, his mouth had been shut tight. While Niah was caught between surprise and relief, Orca rinsed his hands in the running water. Having washed away the bloody water, he wiped off the specks of dirt that remained roundly on the bridge of Niah’s nose.

“And I didn’t say you were ugly.”

Niah acted as if he were opening his eyes for the first time in his life at the softly added, half-explanation. His clenched hand let go of the watering can and moved up to his knees. He had no memory of ever hearing such words. At least, not within the limits of what he could recall. Niah stole glances at him as secretly as possible.

Orca brushed back Niah’s curly hair, which was full of curiosity. The frizzy hair calmed down, revealing his forehead. Orca’s hand, which had been stroking his eyebrows, came down to cup his cheek, forcing him to look straight ahead. His damp palm stuck firmly to Niah’s skin.

“Are you still sad?”

Niah clenched his balled-up fists even tighter. His mind, which had been drifting away at the gentle touch, snapped back to reality. The tension vanished, and his mouth fell open. It felt like a spell had been cast, making it feel soft and fluffy, as if meringue had been spread beneath his feet. His tongue felt sweet, as if he had poured a whole bottle of honey into his mouth. His entire body, pounding with a fast heartbeat, grew hot as if sunshine had been poured over him. He wondered if this was what it felt like to become a tomato. It felt as if someone had poured plenty of water onto him, a person who had taken root in parched soil. He didn’t know what to call this overflowing feeling.

“No, sir…. I’m not sad. I’m not sad, sir.”

The corners of Orca’s mouth twitched subtly. He liked the definitive, punctuated answer. He naturally caressed the back of Niah’s neck and fiddled with his earlobes. He even scratched under the chin of Niah, who was preoccupied with staring at him.

Finally, he tapped Niah’s cheek, stood up, and picked up the watering can. He turned around and walked straight toward the vegetable garden. Niah, left behind, stared at his back in confusion before suddenly straightening his waist. Then, he hurriedly lifted himself up.

“Then come here.”

Niah followed him closely, standing by his side. He didn’t look ahead; he only looked at Orca. His chest began to tickle with an irrepressible, overwhelming emotion. He was still shy, but he wasn’t afraid. No, perhaps he was afraid. Either way, something was strange. Suddenly, his body felt light. His footsteps were bouncy.

Does the master know what this is?

He thought of himself inside a narrow, dark nightmare. He used a tiny candle to light the way an inch ahead. The flame drove away the darkness for a moment, then quickly died out. He became the shadow of the scattered, fragmenting light. He closed his eyes to fall asleep, pretending to be a part of the pitch-black, burnt nightmare. When he woke up again, he lit a candle in his mind, hoping that a square patch of morning light would enter through the crack in the door. In the most secluded corner of the mansion, the closet under the stairs just below the top floor, the room was a place where deep darkness and short-lived light coexisted.

Niah pursued him fervently.

Orca’s bed could fit about ten Niahs lying sideways. Because it was used by Orca, who was an orca, it was far larger than an ordinary bed. If he were to shift into his beast form, the pillars would break and collapse, but when he was human, it was wide and long enough to roll around in to his heart’s content. A Goldfish, and specifically a Pearlscale Goldfish like Niah, could fit at least five hundred of them with ease.

Thus, changing the sheets or tidying the bedding was no different from arduous labor. Every morning, two people had to stick together to make it even manageable. Tasks like cleaning the bathroom and the room were also assigned to three or four people on rotation each time. The Wair family mansion was big, wide, and tall in every way, so the work was equally grueling. While managing the cleanliness of the mansion was a repetitive year-round task, and the work itself was simple, it took twice the effort compared to other noble households.

Nevertheless, the person who was Orca’s direct servant right now was only Niah. After some servants and Bailey were cut from their duties after only a few days, Niah took on all the work alone. Even though he had been treated like a handyman, taking on chores like dishwashing, laundry, and cleaning dirty, narrow places as if they were his own duties, serving Orca was not a familiar task for Niah, who was originally a garden servant.

Since Orca returned, he had been spared from being treated as a mere handyman, but the busyness remained the same. He had to work as a garden servant and also serve his master, so he bustled about everywhere all day long. Perhaps because of this, his working hours were inconsistent every day. It had long since become a common occurrence to do in the evening what should have been done in the morning.

The fortunate thing was that Orca didn’t seem very interested. He left him alone regardless of what he was doing or when. In fact, he sometimes forbade him from doing things altogether. If his name was called right after he had finished washing a rag, or just as he had gripped a cleaning brush, Niah would often be unable to do anything.

Work that was supposed to be done daily was pushed back to every two or three days. On days when Niah insisted that it had to be done, Orca would watch him and just tell him to do it roughly and be done with it. Except for when Niah was tending to plants, Orca tried to control him as he pleased. Sometimes, he didn’t even hesitate to offer a helping hand.

Niah didn’t hate that. There was no way he could hate it. He liked being with his master, and he was grateful that he helped a servant like him. At the same time that he was happy, he was scared. He grew terrified that he would become so accustomed to these happy moments that he would never be able to return to his original life. He didn’t know what he would do if things that were once fine became painful, or if he could no longer bear the things he used to be able to endure. Only wishes that should never be voiced aloud began to pile up.

Anyway, the current problem was this enormous bed. Niah, who had barely managed to push in one side of the sheet, exhaled the breath he had been holding. The clean, new sheet felt like a white monster he had to fight and defeat. No matter how much he struggled, it was impossible to lift the bed mattress; it was like a soft, heavy boulder. It couldn’t even be compared to the weight of a flowerpot. It was even already night.

“Move aside.”

Orca, who had been watching the back of the person struggling in the tea table chair, stood right beside him. In reality, changing the bed sheets was always his job. This chore, which he had never done in his life and never thought he would have to do in the future, had recently become a hobby. There was also the nominal excuse that doing something was better in every way than letting his physical strength go to waste.

Only Niah, who had been pushed aside, felt awkward and upset. He wanted to make up for yesterday’s mistake, but it wasn’t going as well as he wanted.

Orca circled the bed and tucked in the sheets. The master of the mansion worked more skillfully than the servant he employed. He was more agile and capable than the servants. It was an absurd situation, but he didn’t particularly care. In the meantime, Niah brought over several large pillows and a quilt as big as himself. He was unfolding them carefully and laying them out with devotion because he felt sorry, but then the mattress rippled and was yanked sharply.

In front of Niah, who had been pulled between Orca’s thighs, an awkward scene unfolded. Standing while his master sat was by no means an unfamiliar situation. However, he had never looked down from such a close distance before. To think his master was looking up at him—he didn’t know where to place his gaze, so he shifted it up toward the ceiling.

“Look at your waist.”

“Yes?”

The eyelids he had raised fell instantly.

“Your waist.”

Orca released the wrist he had been holding. Niah fidgeted with his top, hesitating. Even in that moment, he was savoring his master’s face and thinking embarrassing thoughts. His master had cool eyebrows, a handsome nose, and a wonderfully defined lip line. When put all together, he looked even more magnificent. It felt as though he could turn off the dim light of the room and it wouldn’t matter. Niah, who couldn’t bring himself to look him in the eye, swallowed hard.