ORCA 68

Niah, who had never touched such a thing in his life, felt his gaze lose focus and flutter away again. He didn’t have the courage to say honestly that he didn’t know how, for fear of being told he was useless. He felt dejected over a single pea-sized object. His mood rose and fell on a whim. His melted heart turned brittle. Orca, who easily recognized this, tapped the silver button resting between Niah’s fidgeting fingers.

“Here. Pull it open.”

Niah busily set his hands to work, following the warm touch that brushed against him now and then. He welcomed the command that instantly encroached upon his worries. He liked the gentle kindness he heard before he could even utter the words “I don’t know” that were stuck on the tip of his tongue.

“Uh, yes, yes. L—like this?”

“Yeah. And put it in here, no, the other way. Right. Insert it again and close it. Yes, like that. Do the other side, too.”

Niah, having carefully fastened the buttons on both sleeves, tried hard to suppress the smile that kept tugging at his lips. He looked up at Orca. His mood, which went up and down several times a day, flowed simply. Orca pondered what he should do with this Goldfish who was clumsy in so many ways, and simply stroked his forehead.

It seemed that the only place a Goldfish, who was hopelessly naive unless he was rolling around in a flower garden, could live was the Wair family mansion. It was admirable that he had survived in here all this time, but if he were set out into the world, he would surely die a lonely death. He thought it might be better to just buy a fish tank, but the Goldfish’s giggling, which burst forth as if he couldn’t help himself, cut in like a distraction.

“…Good job.”

The embarrassing praise slipped out awkwardly. The Goldfish held onto his hand tightly and dangled his legs, swinging them back and forth.

It was much later that Niah realized he had forgotten about the pre-meal tea time.

He realized it only after all of the following had passed: after he had been seen off to the dining room by Orca, who had applied medicine to his lips again today; after he had finished his meal to his heart’s content, cheeks puffed out; after he had chattered away at Harriet’s playful questions about whether something good had happened; after he had taken his seat in a corner of the garden, expecting when Orca would arrive; after he had received the touch of Orca’s hands brushing leaves from his hair and clothes when he soon appeared; after he had finished his daily routine and followed him into his room; after he had been forbidden from cleaning the bathroom; after he had earnestly explained the cute points of the Stuckyi; and after he had brought the 3-tier tray and teapot for afternoon tea on a trolley.

He had thought things had been quiet for a few days, but the stupid Goldfish was causing trouble again. Niah wanted to smack himself for forgetting things at the drop of a hat. He felt like he wanted to open up his head, which was entirely filled with thoughts of his master, and scrub it clean with soap. If he became useless to his master, it wouldn’t matter how long he remembered him.

This wasn’t a blessing; it was a definite curse. He would have been happy to remember even painful and sad things, but now he didn’t want to forget anything at all. He grew afraid, worried about what would happen if he really forgot everything like this. He grew anxious, wondering if he had forgotten something else important.

He was pathetic, not even knowing whether he had forgotten or not. For other people, this would be a trivial matter dismissed as mild forgetfulness, but for him, it was terrifying. Until recently, it hadn’t mattered if he couldn’t remember, but not anymore. He didn’t want to miss a single thing.

“Did I… did I forget something else…?”

“No. I told you, it’s fine.”

“Please, tell me. I beg you. Master, I… I, again….”

The process by which the excited Niah suddenly fell into extreme terror was instantaneous. His unfocused eyes sank as he submerged himself. Orca felt a sense of déjà vu in this situation. Realizing that he hadn’t just tried to exploit that fear, but had also left him to it, knowingly or unknowingly, his insides began to churn. It was painful to watch the Goldfish choked by a fear he himself had never experienced for even a single day.

Looking back, he had lived an easy life. Enduring the oppression of his family or the nuisance of having to suppress his instincts were trivial matters. He had been lucky to be born a noble, and he had enjoyed the honor and wealth his ancestors had built as if it were his own. He couldn’t say there hadn’t been a price to pay for it, but his life was prosperous enough to make it worth the cost. That was why he had been arrogant. He had acted as if everything in the world belonged to him, even though he couldn’t even resolve the plight of this one tiny Goldfish.

The Goldfish paid a price every day for which there was no compensation. It was a life he could not have chosen. Just as he hadn’t chosen to be born into this life, neither had the Goldfish. If it were him, he might have been so resentful that he would have slaughtered everyone in the mansion and set it all on fire.

Yet, the Goldfish did nothing more than grab the hem of his clothes. The anger flared because that weak touch was pitiful. He wanted to kill him instead. He wanted to chew him up and swallow him whole, leaving not a drop of blood, to make him his own. He was even more miserable because he knew he couldn’t actually do it.

“Niah. Look at me.”

Orca, who had placed Niah on the tea table, ran a hand down his spine. Even while trembling, Niah tried hard to obey his command. Orca, cradling his cheek with one hand, rubbed Niah’s dry eyes. He was so precarious that he looked as if he would crumble the moment he let go. The face he held up was turned toward him, but he didn’t feel the sensation of their gazes meeting.

“Niah…. Just cry. It’s okay to cry.”

“I’m not crying. I’m not crying. I’m not crying, Master.”

The voice, locking up and cracking the more he denied it, was firm. Niah moved the hands he had on Orca’s waist to the back, pulling him into an embrace. The fingers tangled in his shirt trembled unseemly.

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again…. Master, h—hic, M—Master….”

Orca silently patted his back and stroked the back of his neck, which had stiffened from trying to hold back the sobs. His hand twitched with a tremor so slight that Niah couldn’t feel it—just enough. This was his rage at himself for having simmered, and his frustration at his own incompetence, knowing what the problem was yet being unable to resolve it. The small, weak predator made him feel infinitely powerless. For the first time in his life, he felt like a useless human being.

The Goldfish’s terror spread like a plague to his own nameless emotions, which had been undefined until now.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Niah, sitting on the chair, desperately grabbed Orca as he tried to pull away. Orca reassured him in a calm voice. He looked as composed as if nothing had happened. He took both of the hands clinging to his sleeves and massaged them. Niah’s gaze, which could believe neither the words that he wouldn’t leave nor the words that it was okay, floated in mid-air. His skin, turned cold from fear, showed no signs of warming up.

The lazy afternoon spreading through the windows was peaceful. The warm sunlight was cold to the Goldfish alone. He couldn’t pretend not to notice the thinly trembling body. He could do nothing but breathe his own body heat into his cooled fingertips. No matter how much he searched his mind, no appropriate words came to him. He had thought he had become quite accustomed to soothing the Goldfish, but that was a delusion. He had inevitably fallen into a labyrinth.

The Goldfish curled his fingers, conveying a faint pressure. He had not memorized any behavioral guidelines for times like these. It was information unnecessary in the military academy or the units in conflict zones where the purpose of education was transparent. Having never mingled with anyone there, the current situation felt even more complex the more he chewed on it.

He felt as though his tutor who came to the mansion when he was young had taught him something, but he must have let it go in one ear and out the other, as he couldn’t recall it well. He found himself ruminating on the ridiculous thought that he should have listened better if he had known this would happen. “Ruminating”—truly a word that didn’t suit him at all.

How did it come to this?

He wished it were an afternoon filled with the Goldfish’s chatter, as he chattered away busily even when alone. He wanted to hear about things that wouldn’t matter if he didn’t know them for his entire life: how cleanly he dug up potatoes, how plump the okra he grew was, why the ripened yellow pumpkin was adorable, which time the summer lake, sparkling like fish scales, was at its prettiest, and the beauty of the white and red cyclamen blooming in the snow. He wanted the boring peace to be colored by his excited voice in a whisper. He knew it was a selfish and shameless wish.