ORCA 78

Power and subservience born from class differences were bound to reveal themselves subtly. However, that boundary was blurred between the young master and Niah. Even Niah, who was polite and gentle in all things, treated the young master differently than other servants did. Although it was true that I had wished for and encouraged this, I felt as if I had suddenly become a matchmaker.

When I saw the young master untying Niah’s messily pushed-up sleeves to fold them neatly, I felt like trying to persuade him not to return to the battlefield. Knowing there was no way he would listen to me, I made a plan to slip a word to Niah, but then I gave up. I knew by then that this wasn’t a matter simple enough to be solved by a mere request.

The problem now was not the young master, who would soon leave, but how much longer Niah’s peace could realistically be maintained. The one who would be left behind would be Niah, and the one departing the mansion would eventually be the young master. If I truly were a matchmaker, I had laid down the worst bridge possible. The path ahead looked bleak.

By the time Harriet became so absorbed in her own thoughts that the flowers were forgotten, Niah was tapping his toes against the floor. As the pile of completed sugar-preserved flowers grew, a small, humming tune interspersed the silence from time to time. His hands, moving back and forth over the basket of flowers, fluttered in rhythm. Watching this, Orca suddenly reached out an arm.

“Do this one. It’s cute.”

Niah looked down at the orange linaria that had been placed on the plate in front of him. After a moment, he shifted his gaze to Orca. It was the first time the young master had ever called something cute first. Every time I asked him, he would only say “yeah” or “I suppose so,” so the fact that he had picked this out as cute made my heart flutter. Niah, nodding as if chewing on his words, dipped his brush into the egg white. He carefully applied it to every corner of the plump, tiny linaria.

“Linaria is cute, isn’t it? That’s right, it’s cute. It’s even cuter when they’re gathered together. They look like goldfish. This one is orange, so it’s even more… uh… um….”

Answering Orca’s one remark with thirty sentences of chatter was nothing out of the ordinary. But the chatter, not even half-finished, was cut short. He had started to explain at length what made the linaria cute and pretty, then suddenly clamped his mouth shut. His eyes, having lost their focus, darted back and forth between the orange linaria and Orca. After doing that a few times, a red heat spread over Niah’s cheeks as he reached some conclusion of his own. He lowered his head to try and hide it, but his ears turned bright red too, making it useless.

Orca, who had intended to play dumb, couldn’t help but toy with the boy’s earlobe. Even when he didn’t want to tease him, he couldn’t help himself.

“What are you thinking about?”

Niah, turning even redder at that touch, huddled his body as tightly as possible against the table. Trying not to show his embarrassment, he jabbed his brush firmly into the egg whites.

“N-nothing, sir…? I really wasn’t thinking about anything….”

“You’re red.”

“No, I’m not. I’m not red. It’s just hot. I’m not red at all.”

The disjointed excuses continued. Orca bit his tongue to restrain himself, as he kept wanting to add something. Fortunately, the grumbling explanation showed no sign of ending even while I remained silent. The goldfish’s shoulder lines rose and fell. His breath, coming in ragged gasps, was heated. The sounds filling my ears were pleasant to listen to.

Harriet seriously contemplated whether she should leave the room to fulfill her duties as a matchmaker, even if she had realized it far too late. She didn’t know why it looked like a sturdily built bridge when it was actually a bridge laid in the wrong place.

☀️🌊

When you bit into the sugar-preserved flowers, they shattered with a crunch. The crispy petals were sweet and fragrant. Thanks to Harriet, who had given him a handful of the ones she’d made in advance, Niah looked for the plate of preserves every time he finished a task. Every time he went to get some, thinking he’d only have one, he’d end up eating two and regretting it. Even after returning from playing in the library or by the lake, he would rationalize it as part of his “daily routine” and pop them into his mouth.

Because of that, they were decreasing by a dozen or so a day. The once-full plate hit the bottom in just three days. Although Orca frequently put tasty and expensive snacks into his mouth, this was what Niah treasured most these days. Seeing them made of flowers he had tended to made him feel happy just by looking at them. He also loved the way the sweet floral scent burst when he bit into them.

Still, he never failed to offer them to Orca without a hint of reluctance. Orca would pick up anything that looked like a lump of sugar and feed it to Niah instead of himself. The first few times, it was literally a suggestion, but after that, it was no different from pestering him to be fed. The evidence was the sound of a crunch followed by giggles. He had spent his time covered in grass and floral scents, but now even his tongue was a flower garden.

Before putting the plate down, the goldfish would always pick up one more, eat it, and then inevitably regret it, saying he shouldn’t have. He would smack his lips for a long time, as if trying to savor the final taste. His lips would part briefly before closing, and he would sometimes suck on the remaining sugar crumbs left on his fingertips. After seeing that and shoving his fingers in, then making him cough for a long time, he never did it again. He had thoughts like, If I pulled his tongue out, I wouldn’t be able to feed him anymore. Imagining those rounded, parted lips, he shook his head. Thinking I was ridiculous, I just stared blankly as the goldfish sucked on his fingers alone.

I’m going insane, really.

There was no other way to express it. I had definitely gone off the deep end somewhere. Orca needlessly ruffled the back of Niah’s head, who was standing in front of him. The curly hair puffed up, instantly tangled. Niah, who had been deep in serious thought while holding the plate, was blindsided and jerked his head up. A small yelp escaped his lips.

“Why?”

Niah, who grinned even despite Orca’s brazen attitude, shook his head. The plate went up onto the vanity in the dressing room. It was the spot he had chosen, following Harriet’s advice to keep them somewhere away from the sunlight. The nearly empty plate rattled lightly. It was a weight that made his previous deliberations about where to move it seem meaningless. If he was going to eat them all in just four days, he could have left them anywhere.

“Sir.”

His call was affectionate. Niah held jasmine in one hand and acacia in the other. Then, he held out the jasmine, which he liked a little more, to Orca. His fingers, exerting just enough pressure so as not to crush it, stopped in front of Orca’s lips.

“Eat this, sir. There are only two left now. Since it’s the last, let’s have one each.”

He had expected it, but the nature of his deliberation had been so trivial. The fact that he had decided to share them nicely was just like the goldfish. If he wanted more, he could have just gone and gotten more, but I wondered if that option hadn’t existed, or if it had but he couldn’t choose it. I didn’t bother to ask, though. I liked the decision the goldfish had made. He had treasured them like they were precious jewels, only to suggest we have one each when there were only two left—it felt like a child’s confession.

Orca caught the hand extended toward him and bared his teeth. He was more interested in something other than the lump of sugar. He bit down hard on the slender fingers. A sweet taste dripped down.

“Ah! W-what… why…. I didn’t mean for you to eat my finger…?”

Niah, bitten so abruptly, shed a few tears. It was the first time in a while it had hurt this much. It wouldn’t have been strange if it had bled. The spot where his teeth had touched throbbed. Even so, he surrendered his finger obediently. He only looked up with a tearful expression, as if he were in agonizing pain.

“I gave you the flower….”

“I know.”

“Then why… it hurts…. It’s bleeding.”

Orca chewed and crunched down while holding Niah’s hand firmly. The expression on his face was as if he were tearing off every joint of his finger, not eating a jasmine flower. In his mind, he was chewing Niah up bit by bit. After examining the fingertip marked by his teeth, he stuck out his tongue and licked it. The remaining sugar crumbs melted and vanished.

“It’s not bleeding.”

Niah blinked in confusion at the unfamiliar sensation. It was warm, wet, and slippery.

“Does it still hurt? I didn’t bite that hard. Tell me if it bruises.”

“…Yes.”

He nodded and answered out of habit. Feeling the sensation of the tongue against his finger, he felt like he finally understood why the young master kept trying to torment the inside of his mouth. He thought it must feel like crushing a ripe peach. He’d never done it before, but the thought occurred to him immediately. It was soft and mushy, and he wanted to touch it all day. He felt a sense of loss at the departed sensation. For some reason, his stomach felt hot.

“Niah.”