PH 6

‘I am a male prostitute, indeed.’

Nile walked along the wide corridor, thinking bitterly. While living in Galen, he had been tempted many times to sell his body—by women and by men alike. No matter how desperate for money, he had sworn he would never sell his body… Nile’s smile twisted bitterly.

“Rest here for now. I will send a servant later to bring you your meal.”

The castellan, having shown him to the room, bowed his head in greeting and closed the door. Nile slowly stepped inside.

“Hm.”

It was a room of modest size. There was a window in the wall, fitted with an inner shutter. A bed. A washstand. A roughly woven wooden wardrobe and a desk—that was all.

One slightly surprising thing was the fireplace. It was unexpected for a servant’s room to have a fireplace.

‘What’s this?’

However, there was one thing he didn’t understand. Inside the fireplace, instead of wood, a pile of black stones was heaped up. Beside it sat a bucket, also full of black stones. When he touched them, soot came off, and when he brought them to his nose, they gave off an unpleasant smell.

Nile held a black stone in his hand and pondered. Could this be the coal he had only heard about? He had heard that if you set fire to these black stones, just a few lumps would burn brightly all night long. But he also heard that a handful of these stones cost as much as a load of firewood, so no one used them.

After rolling a few black stones in his hand, Nile soon shrugged and put them down. He could ask about it later. He dusted off his hands and flopped down onto the bed.

The castle blocked the wind, but the winter cold was still fierce. Nile burrowed under the blanket and pulled his coat tightly around himself.

Twice a day, a bell rang in the castle—to announce meals in the morning and evening. Lunch was said to be provided at the workplace. The livestock pens, stables, and kennels had their workers separately. The indoor servants who worked in the castle had theirs separately. The wall repairmen separately. The guards separately, and so on. It was because the castle was so vast that it was difficult for everyone to eat together.

Nile’s meals were brought by the castellan in the evening, and in the morning and afternoon by a man assigned by the castellan—but whenever Nile tried to strike up a conversation, the man would slip away as if he hadn’t heard a thing.

After four days of this life, Nile reached his limit. He was a healthy twenty-eight-year-old man. Since he had learned to walk, he had never stopped working for a moment. But in the four days since arriving here, all Nile had done was fetch water once.

“Mr. Giles is a guest of both the Count and His Excellency the Duke. We cannot have such an honored person doing such menial work.”

“I am not at all honored—I just wanted to wash my hands, which got dirty from touching those stones.”

But he was scolded by the castellan. The castellan even took the washbasin from Nile’s hands.

Every time the castellan did this, Nile felt bewildered. Nile had even seen the Imperial Palace in the capital. Sirarund Castle was even larger than that. Surely there must be an enormous number of things to attend to—yet such a man was devoting so much time to the Duke’s male prostitute.

“And if I were truly such an honored guest, the Duke wouldn’t have left me waiting this long, would he?”

It wasn’t his place to complain, but after four days since his arrival, doubts arose. He had ridden without rest to get here because it was urgent—yet the Duke was nowhere to be seen.

“His Excellency went to consolidate the borderlands recently annexed to the Empire. Though the war is over, skirmishes continue.”

The castellan explained calmly. Nile folded his arms.

“When will he return?”

“That, no one knows.”

“Then give me something to do as well.”

“Work? That’s utterly unthinkable. Mr. Giles is an honored guest sent here by Count Nuveri—”

“Sir Castellan. I used to be an administrator at the harbor in Galen.”

Nile omitted the word “assistant.”

“I’m not some honored guest like the Count’s visitor. You know why I’m here, don’t you?”

The castellan fell into an evasive silence. Nile studied the castellan’s face carefully. Gerard had said this matter was top secret, known only to a very few close confidants.

It was easy to guess that the castellan was among those few close confidants. Otherwise, there was no reason for the castellan to pay this much attention to a mere guest.

“You know. Don’t you?”

The castellan sighed. Nile softened his attitude considerably.

“If you don’t know when His Excellency will return, then give me work to do.”

“I cannot do that.”

“I’m not really a guest of this castle. I’m closer to a laborer. It’s not in my nature to eat for free and do nothing. Please let me help, even with small tasks.”

An honored guest, my foot. Nile laughed inwardly. The castellan’s attitude was less that of hosting an honored guest and more like a pimp who didn’t want his dirty laundry exposed.

The castellan seemed to want to keep Nile shut in his room and only let him meet the Duke—but whether the Duke was here or not, Nile had no intention of living like that.

He was not a prisoner. There was nothing to hold him back.

“Mr. Giles’s task is to attend to His Excellency the Duke—”

“His Excellency isn’t here right now.”

Nile shrugged.

“I’m the type who gets sick from sitting still and doing nothing. If you truly think of me as a guest, then give me work instead.”

At the words “gets sick from sitting still,” the castellan’s eyes finally shifted. Nile put on the smile everyone liked and wore a gentle expression.

It was a method that had always worked in Galen, too.

Nile was the best administrative assistant in the harbor.

∞ ∞ ∞

Every imperial citizen had prejudices about northerners. Because unlike centralers or southerners, northerners could not offer excuses or explanations about themselves.

They were people they would never meet in their lifetimes anyway. The imperial citizens chewed on their prejudices about northerners like tough jerky, reinforcing them. Though they had never met a northerner, the rumors about them grew like rolling snowballs.

“They say their cocks are so cold and hard that all northern women have frostbite down there,” said southern sailors over betting cards. “Well, at least they’ll be hard—so they’ll make better men than you.” Nile had once shot back, earning a roar of laughter.

The prejudice—that northerners were fiercely cold and exclusive—was shattered within a single day of Nile working in the stables.

“Just call me Phil.”

The stablemaster was a middle-aged man with broad shoulders and a friendly, half-bald head. He was shorter than Nile but very solidly built. A sturdy physique seemed to be a trait of northerners. Not just the guards, who were soldiers, but even the castellan and the odd-job men all had broad shoulders and thick torsos.

“All the beasts in this stable belong to the Duke. This one here is especially cherished. His name is Cleris.”

Phil pointed to a handsome horse with gray spots like stars scattered over its white coat.

“His name’s Cleris, but he’s a male. Very proud, so don’t touch him carelessly. You might get kicked.”

Nile looked at the horses with wonder. He had never worked as a stablehand before, but he could tell these were exceptional horses. Every one of them was large and beautiful, with shaggy, mane-like hair growing down their legs.

“There used to be two of us, but my assistant broke his leg, so I thought I’d be stuck working alone. Glad you came.”

So saying, Phil smiled good-naturedly. He was a good worker. He nagged a bit, but it was all helpful advice.

Nile learned from Phil how to carry straw and rake hay. The horses were very intelligent and proud. They behaved as if they knew Phil and Nile were there to serve them.

Phil’s nagging gradually decreased. Because Nile was as good a worker as Phil. Within three days of working in the stables, Phil’s nagging had been cut in half.

“What kind of person is the Duke?”

Nile was also sociable. While the workers from the stables, kennels, and livestock pens gathered for lunch, Nile asked casually—and in an instant, the place grew noisy.

“A fearsome person.”

“Our ruler.”

“A fearsome and noble person.”

“A great man who protects the North for us.”

“He ought to find a mistress soon.”

The one who said that last was a kennel worker. At those words, the men all nodded at once.

“Right. Isn’t our Duke an alpha? He really should take a good wife soon.”

An alpha who cannot contact omegas grows ferocious. That was common knowledge even among commoners. Omegas could live without alphas. But alphas could not live without omegas.

What alphas feared most in the world was the disappearance of omegas. An alpha who could not consume a certain amount of omega pheromones would go mad.

“It’s all right. The Duke will be getting engaged soon.”

“What? Really?”

Phil said, slurping his soup. At that, the men burst into exclamations.

“While I was grooming the horses for the last campaign, I heard the castellan and the master talking with my own ears. They’re going to hold the engagement ceremony in this very castle before spring comes.”

“That’s great news!”

“This time, let’s hope it actually leads to marriage.”

The men got excited, pounding the tables with their fists or clinking their water cups, making a ruckus. Nile smiled faintly as he ladled his soup.

Servants usually dislike their masters. No matter how good the master, servants are bound to look down on them and talk behind their backs. But these men were showing unconditional loyalty to their master.

What kind of person was the Duke of Sirarund, really?

Nile tried to imagine the Duke of Sirarund, but only the impassive, blood-red face he had seen in the stained glass came to mind.