ORCA 81

It felt ridiculous that he felt like a god. Niah had made him arrogant. Because Niah acted as if a single touch from him could fix everything, he was becoming spoiled. Despite knowing nothing and being able to do nothing, he was swept up in the delusion that he could do anything for him.

The cunning goldfish had lured the naive him and worshipped him as a god. He, trusting only that blind faith, had willingly become a god. Since his only devotee was a goldfish, the only one he had to watch over was that goldfish. There was no god in the world more comfortable than he was. Who would turn down this position when you only had to take care of one person? Since what the goldfish wanted was merely something trivial, becoming omnipotent had been instantaneous.

“Niah.”

“Yes?”

Orca gently pulled away Niah, who was leaning his full weight against him as if sleepy. Niah blinked at him. For a moment, he let himself go, surrendering to the palms that held his cheeks. He even let out a small yawn. If he were to be afraid, he should have been afraid of Orca, who was far larger and more imposing than a common human tailor, but Niah waited for his words with a face more relaxed than ever. If left like this, he looked like he would fall asleep. He believed without a doubt that his young master would never harm him.

“From now on, if you think someone is going to harass you. If you end up in pain because of it.”

Niah’s half-closed eyes fluttered in surprise and opened wide.

“Just run away. Don’t endure it, just run away and come to me.”

“Oh…”

“I’ll hide you.”

Orca thought that killing someone to make an example of them would be the surest way to handle it, but he taught him a normal method instead. It was an omnipotent, yet irresponsible, solution.

“…Yes. I’ll come. I’ll come to you, young master.”

Niah, who had been hesitating, reached out and grabbed him. He didn’t ask what he should do after the young master left. He probably knew that better than anyone. There was no method. There was nothing to do but endure, and endure, and hope to forget everything. But because it was good to hear that he could come to him, all those things didn’t matter anymore.

He felt like he would have nightmares tonight. Lately, the happier and more joyful he was, the more he felt trapped in pitch-black darkness. Whenever he woke up after hearing the loud, thunderous sounds while watching legs running somewhere, his young master would instantly come to mind. The fear would subside, only for another fear to rush in. His chest grew heavy.

He had kept it all bottled up inside, fearing that if he went down like last time, the young master would find him annoying. He couldn’t help it because he was worried that the young master couldn’t sleep because of him that day. He buried himself in the shirt and blanket the young master had given him and squeezed his eyes shut. He prayed for the morning to come quickly.

Orca also didn’t dwell on the assumption of “what if I leave.” It was because he hadn’t yet decided what would be best to say. Since he told him he couldn’t kill anyone, he couldn’t fundamentally solve the problem, and he didn’t want to tell him to go to Harriet. He detested seeing them flirt. The problems he had to solve before summer were piling up. He hated cumbersome tasks, but this didn’t feel particularly annoying. It was certain that his mind had definitely gone twisted.

He took one of the hands that was clutching his waist and bit it. This time, he only pretended.

“If you don’t, I’m going to chew from here and eat you all up.”

“I like that.”

“What’s there to like about that?”

Niah giggled and flapped his fingers. He playfully touched the hard lips that occasionally brushed against him, then blushed a light pink. It was because the talk about peaches earlier came to mind again. Orca, dumbfounded at the changes in the goldfish that he couldn’t keep up with, leaned his body.

“Come here. Go to sleep.”

Niah, who quickly wrapped his arms around his neck, said, “Yes.” Perhaps because his tension had eased, sleep poured over him. He knew he shouldn’t get used to this kind of care, but he kept finding himself relying on it. If the head butler or anyone else found out, he would surely be scolded, but he wanted to enjoy this moment because it was good. He thought it would be a joy to gratefully enjoy it, treasure the memory, and keep it for a very long time.

Orca took slow steps. He headed toward the bed, slowing down to estimate if the weight of the person in his arms had become heavier than before. While leaving the dressing room and crossing the room, the arms that were hugging him slowly slid down. He bounced him up to adjust his hold as he was about to fall asleep quickly.

Then, he felt him tighten his grip again. Orca bowed his head and leaned close to Niah, who was resting against his shoulder. His steps became even more relaxed. His nose brushed against soft skin. He took a deep breath.

Niah, who let out a soft laugh at the ticklish sensation, clung to him even more. Following Orca’s lead, he buried his face in his neck. The smell of his skin coming from close by was good.

“Smells good…”

Even after being laid on the soft bed, he didn’t let go of him. Orca pulled out the blanket tucked under Niah in an awkward posture. The light, thick blanket rustled. Niah, buried in the blanket like a hermit crab, mumbled the same words. Sometimes he would rub his forehead against him and call out, “Young master, young master.” He was already half-asleep.

Orca stopped pulling his hand away and just sat down next to him, leaning over deeply. Listening to the sound of breathing through his teeth, he pressed his ear against the chest that was rising and falling rhythmically. The heartbeat thumping with stability was small and gentle, much like a goldfish.

Not liking the distance that had grown slightly, a whining hand pulled him close. As he obediently leaned in, the grip, now weaker than usual due to the intoxication of sleep, trapped him in his arms. Still, it was only enough to go from his chest to near his shoulder. He stayed still, thinking of himself as a giant stuffed toy.

“Niah.”

“…Mm…. Yes….”

Niah mumbled a response to the faint call that sounded from afar. He wasn’t sure if his voice came out properly. His tongue, stuck to the roof of his mouth, felt stiff and wouldn’t move. Every syllable pooled behind his tongue and was swallowed. He tried to open his eyes, but even that didn’t work well. Only his eyeballs rolled around beneath his eyelids. His mind seemed awake, but his body felt asleep. Still, he tried moving his fingers to let him know he was listening.

“Just sleep. Don’t try to wake up.”

Orca stroked his hair. The orange hair scattered across the white pillowcase rustled softly. The hand that had been fidgeting at the nape of his neck soon became still. Orca stayed in his embrace until Niah was completely asleep. It was ridiculous that he, of all people, was held by a body that felt like it would crumble if held too tightly, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. It was closer to just touching than actually holding him, out of fear that Niah might suffocate and die.

Carefully pulling back, he tucked Niah’s arms, which were outside, under the blanket. He watched him toss and turn quietly, then patted his back. The breath that flowed softly from his slightly parted lips lingered around his ear before scattering away.

What would have been the right thing to say?

Orca could never find a clear answer until the end. A stifling sigh accumulated beneath his ribs. His chest felt constricted. He exhaled the burning agony in his heart and the layered troubles into the silence.

He was worried that if the goldfish blamed himself, dug up the cause from within himself, and resigned himself to it, what would he do? He was afraid that he would conclude that it was justifiable, that he was hated because of this, and thus become numb to the pain. He feared that he would end up hollow, and wouldn’t answer even if he called for him. He was scared that the already small body would empty itself out, become even lighter, and disappear before long. If it came to that, it would be better to put him inside his own belly and make him his own.

“Niah.”

He made a voice that was like an apparition. It was a low and affectionate call, intended so that Niah, who had fallen into sleep, could never hear it. The unidentified emotion that he couldn’t define until now was named with the pronunciation of “Niah.”