ORCA 65

It would be nice to try touching you once. That wouldn’t do, would it?

“Go on.”

The eyes that had been rolling about frantically came to a sudden halt. Orca extended the hand he had been resting on the bed behind Niah and pulled his thighs toward him. Two thin legs were each caught in one of his hands. He gripped them not to cause pain, but as if to urge him on. The sense of distance had completely vanished.

Paying attention to a servant’s feelings or state of mind was never something he was accustomed to. Even if he considered someone other than a servant, it was the same. Such behavior was not something one needed to learn. He had always lived amidst a crowd that prostrated themselves so as not to offend his sensibilities. He had only ever reigned; he had never surrendered. He had stood alongside others, but never beneath anyone. This was separate from the education he had received regarding the refinement and dignity expected of a noble family scion, or the prestige of the Wair family that he was duty-bound to uphold. It was fundamental to be courteous without being looked down upon, and to be dominant without being arrogant.

It was ironic that while he considered the shackles of the surname “Wair” to be a nuisance, he was upholding the family’s status—a fact he could not deny. Within that noble boundary, he had never once looked up to anyone. This was a different dimension from the authority he possessed to live as the captain of the Orcus Battalion even if he were to leave his family.

For someone like him, to whom this position was a daily routine, doing things he never used to do while bearing the Wair name felt awkward and embarrassing. But ever since he had heard the inner thoughts of the Goldfish, who had been driven to the edge by his own unintentional words and actions, his heart had been uneasy. How could he be so weak? His sickly heart was soft, mushy, and rotting. Only the shell was sleek and soft. Because of that, he had to suppress the desire to treat him recklessly until he was a mess. His chaotic and disorderly imagination stopped at being just an imagination.

Orca did not force Niah to open up; he waited for him. He only gently massaged the thighs he held in his hands. There was more flesh on them than before, but they were still thin legs. He wondered how much and what he had to feed him for them to become plump. It seemed the fact that he rolled around in every field imaginable was a much bigger problem than what he ate. If he told him not to do it, he likely wouldn’t, but he couldn’t bring himself to forbid it, as the pouting face he would surely make was already before his eyes. He would only end up feeling aggrieved again for no reason.

Niah fiddled with the hem of his clothing, lifting it and putting it back down. It was a place that had been shown several times before, but he felt embarrassed all over again, and his arms wouldn’t rise readily. He was also distracted by the faint pressure he felt on his thighs. He would have preferred to be gripped painfully; then he could have lifted his shirt without hesitation, but the touch was only gentle. As he gripped and released, his fingers occasionally slipped down, brushing against the backs of his knees. He felt a tingling sensation from his toes to the top of his head.

Thinking that a lightning bolt might strike at any moment, he couldn’t hold back any longer and bared his skin. Being embarrassed was a luxury he couldn’t afford; this was more urgent. A nail’s width of his flat belly was revealed above the pants that hung on his pelvis. Orca pushed one hand into the gap of the lifted hem without warning. Niah’s startled skin tightened.

Orca’s thick, long fingers and broad palms alternated between his belly and his lower back. He swept beneath his ribs, traced up along his spine, rubbed his shoulder blades, and came back down. He even caressed the fat near his navel with his whole hand. The rough sensation felt vivid. Niah, who had let go of his clothes, placed his hands on Orca’s shoulders. He wanted to grip something tightly, but since he couldn’t, he only flinched.

The reach of his master’s touch expanded bit by bit. A few days ago, it had only lingered on the bruises, but at some point, it had traveled as far as his back and belly. Because Orca’s palms were coarse, Niah felt as if the parts being touched were shrinking inward. It was ticklish, and his lower abdomen felt achy. He had to brace his toes tightly to endure it. Otherwise, he might have run away ten times, no, a hundred times over. Waiting until his master stopped made the inside of his body feel sweltering, and his heart pounded fast. He was out of breath just from standing still.

“You’re not saying it hurts anymore.”

Orca, having released the Goldfish who was fidgeting on his shoulders, went back to massaging his thighs. Niah corrected his breathing, careful not to bite his lips. He dragged out the end of his sentences between his inhalations and exhalations, saying something absurd. The result of him agonizing over what answer his master wanted was truly disastrous. He blurted out whatever came to mind because he wanted to look good.

“Then, um… should I keep saying it hurts…?”

Orca, caught off guard, furrowed his brows for a moment and curved his lips. A sigh-like laugh escaped him. He pulled the Goldfish, who was saying such nonsensical things so seriously, toward him. The gap, which couldn’t possibly be any narrower, made Niah stagger. Niah, whose knees buckled and tilted, urgently clung to Orca. His firmly gathered fingers relied on him. His eyes widened into circles, blinking repeatedly. He had nearly tumbled into his embrace, but fortunately, only their faces were a little closer.

“What kind of answer is that, anyway?”

“Uh… just….”

Orca straightened his spine and tapped his forehead against Niah’s. Niah was no longer able to distinguish whether or not he was being scolded. Up until now, everyone had only piled on scoldings, but since his master sometimes gave him praise, it felt like he was being scolded and yet also like he wasn’t. He couldn’t be sure of either. Harriet had never scolded him, but she was different from his master. She always smiled at him, so it hadn’t been difficult to guess her intentions. She hadn’t posed riddles like his master did.

Niah, lips trembling as he hesitated, tried to blindly apologize. He intended to ask him to forgive him for yesterday’s events as well while he was at it. Since he had said earlier today that he wasn’t scolding him, perhaps he would forgive him readily. If he were forgiven, he thought he might try asking just once for them to go to the garden together tomorrow. Orca stopped Niah, who was trying to carry out his grand, solitary plan.

“I was just checking if you were all healed.”

The whispered words shattered his resolve. It was as if a flour bag had burst; his mind went white, and his cheeks were stained like cherry preserves. If one were to put ears into a pot of sugar and boil them, they would probably taste like this. The foreheads they had pressed together heated up belatedly.

“…It doesn’t hurt. I’m all healed.”

Orca watched the Goldfish’s expression ripen and turn soft. When he only watched and said nothing, Niah hurriedly added, “It’s the truth.” Even then, because no answer returned, his gaze wavered here and there. His lips, brimming with anxiety, moved hesitantly before finally opening again. His eyelids drooped.

“It’s really the truth….”

His heart felt like congealed jam. He kept becoming impatient and nervous, unable to control himself. He worried he might be angry, felt restless that he might hate him, and whenever silence followed, he ended up making excuses. He couldn’t answer easily to any of it, so his thoughts became tangled in confusion. Whenever he looked at his master, he felt the same as if he were eating rye bread without a drop of water. His solar plexus felt stifled. He would be elated to no end, only for something to well up inside him. If this continued, his whole heart might burn black.

“Yeah. I know.”

Niah gripped the shoulder he was leaning against with force, as if to urge him. To Orca, it was no different from a Goldfish’s fins fluttering. He wiped away the pout on those stubbornly shut lips. It was almost a habit of his to engage in futile teasing, as Niah would pant like a fish out of water just because his answer was delayed. Knowing full well that he would be on the receiving end, it required considerable patience not to tease him. Since he knew he would be teased but still clung to him and whimpered regardless, it was impossible not to feel the urge to torment him.

“I know it’s the truth. Don’t cry.”

Niah, who had suddenly jerked his tilted upper body upright, shook his head. Even so, he had only moved back a span, not really distancing himself at all.

“I’m not crying. I’m not crying right now, but…,”

“I know that, too.”

Niah, who had felt his own cheeks just in case, found his eyes filled with questions instead of tears. Orca took that hand and returned it to his shoulder. Niah followed submissively but tilted his head. Orca’s fingertips, which had traveled up his arm, rubbed the thin skin around his eyes in a circle. Thinking to himself that it would be okay as long as he didn’t make him cry, he rationalized and rubbed gently. It was certain that he was losing his ability to learn, just like the Goldfish.