He craned his neck, offering a greeting he could not voice aloud, but of course, there was no response. He had thought the man might at least turn around once, and his eyes widened expectantly, but Ian simply strode away with long, hurried steps, as though he had urgent business elsewhere.
The boy blinked after Ian’s rapidly disappearing figure, then craned his neck once more. Disappointed, he peered around to make sure Ian had truly gone, but Ian had already returned to his room and did not come back.
The next day, Fred’s pointless antics continued without fail. This time, a blanket had been mixed into the pile of laundry he dumped down, huffing and puffing as though he were glaring at his parents’ murderer.
After having clothes washed every other day, they were beginning to run short of things to wash. That much was obvious from the fact that he had even dragged out a blanket that had been lying forgotten in a corner.
But so what!
Acting almost entirely out of stubbornness now, Fred lifted his chin defiantly. Yet the atmosphere promptly turned frigid again when Ian simply gathered up the pile without so much as acknowledging him.
By this point, one would have expected Ian to be sufficiently intimidated, but instead, Fred was beginning to feel as though he were the one being worn down.
Oblivious to the pitying looks being cast his way, Fred spat out a curse. Ian ignored him and walked out the door.
He had no desire whatsoever to exchange words with that man.
Not that he could speak in the first place.
As Ian stepped into the now-familiar corridor, eyes naturally followed him.
It was almost as though the days when he had been locked up and kept under watch had never happened. No one stopped Ian from wandering wherever he pleased.
There was no way to escape this place to begin with, and even if someone miraculously managed it, the Grand Duke could find them whenever he wished. Most of the pointless surveillance had therefore been withdrawn.
Knowing there was nothing they could do about the situation, the servants from the North merely hardened their expressions whenever they encountered Ian, greeting him with icy faces.
All of this was the Grand Duke’s fault for suddenly acting on some absurd, incomprehensible whim.
No one could understand what sort of sane person would place an enemy prince among the knights of his own country. But since the Grand Duke was also the sort of man who would tell them to try cutting off his head if they had a problem with it, no one dared voice an objection.
Ian, who knew nothing about any of this, simply headed toward the fountain without bothering to look around.
“……”
He had been staring at the fresh snow that had piled up again overnight when, after taking a few steps, he noticed someone fidgeting not far away.
Ian paused.
As though sensing his presence, the person suddenly whipped his head around.
The boy, seemingly unaware of the snow accumulating on his fluffy hair, widened his eyes. Then he began waving both hands enthusiastically.
One cheek was swollen like a cream puff, clearly from having been hit somewhere, yet he was grinning brightly.
Ian stared at him blankly.
Up close, the boy looked even worse.
The backs of his hands were scraped raw, and various other wounds across his body still looked fresh.
The situation hardly needed explaining.
Ian set the clothes he was carrying down in a suitable spot, and the boy immediately trotted over to him.
His expression was the same as yesterday.
Despite the obvious traces of a beating—and despite apparently not having received any proper treatment—he smiled without the slightest sign of dejection and moved his lips as though trying to say something.
Ian could not understand him, so he turned his head away.
The boy’s eyes darted about as he watched Ian secure the washboard and begin working just as he had the day before, plunging his hands into the ice-cold water.
Is he in a bad mood? Why is he in a bad mood?
The boy began pondering the question, having already forgotten all about his own laundry.
Ian, who seemed utterly uninterested in whether he did it or not, never once looked back.
“Hey. Do this too.”
As lunchtime approached, Fred appeared after finishing his morning training, carrying yet another bundle.
Chuckling, he dropped the clothes—stained with something impossible to identify—in a heap in front of Ian.
Then he noticed the boy standing nearby.
“What the. Why are you here.”
Do they know each other?
Ian glanced over.
Fred took one look at the boy’s bruised, swollen face and clicked his tongue knowingly.
“Did Terk beat you up again?”
He had seen Terk come in the previous night with a foul expression, so the situation was immediately obvious.
Fred had wondered who had turned those clothes into rags, but this kid was the only one stupid enough to do something like that.
Terk must have ordered him to do the laundry just to torment him, only to lose his temper himself.
Exactly like Fred was doing now.
Fred’s lips twitched as he glanced at Ian again.
Ian still refused to acknowledge him.
So you’re just going to ignore me?
He obeyed every order without a word of complaint, but Fred could tell.
Deep down, the bastard was looking down on him.
“How nice. Look at you two getting along, you things that can’t even talk.”
Having guessed the situation only half correctly, Fred sneered as he looked between Ian and Shu standing side by side.
Unlike Ian, Shu had been born with his disability.
The knights had found him when he was very young.
Every year, children who could not contribute to labor—or who were simply considered burdens—were abandoned in the Black Forest. Life in the North was harsh, and surviving without working was difficult.
The fact that Shu had survived at all was nothing short of a miracle.
So the knights brought him back to the mansion.
But that was as far as their goodwill went.
They had joked at first about raising him properly and eventually putting him in the knight order, but the boy was slow at everything.
He was small, slow to learn, and awkward even when merely holding a sword.
By the time they belatedly realized that he also had some degree of intellectual disability, Shu was already being used as a personal attendant by several ill-tempered knights.
There was no longer anyone to protect him.
Commander Schwartz checked on the boy from time to time, so nothing truly vile ever happened to him, but even Schwartz could not prevent everything.
The elite unit that took orders directly from the Grand Duke was always busy.
Far too busy to keep a close watch on every detail of Shu’s daily life.
Besides, the person involved was Terk.
He was the sort of man most people preferred not to get tangled up with.
So even the knights who felt some sympathy or affection for little Shu could do nothing to help him.
As with all acts of bystanderism, small cruelties and injustices accumulated day after day.
Fred, who knew this better than anyone, averted his gaze with a strange expression.
When Shu had first arrived at the mansion, he had been completely expressionless.
The shock of being abandoned by his parents must have been immense. He refused to eat, refused to sleep, and refused to speak.
The reason he had eventually changed was largely thanks to Victorian, who had been vice-commander at the time.
Victorian made sure the boy ate.
He taught him how to hold a spoon.
He personally cut Shu’s shaggy hair and cared for him affectionately, almost like a younger brother.
Thanks to Victorian’s devotion, expressions gradually began to appear on the boy’s once-blank face.
Fred had only recently joined the knights back then, and he had seen it often.
He had watched Shu trail after Victorian like a puppy.
Whenever Victorian left on one of his frequent assignments, Shu would wait for him at the entrance without moving from the spot.
Even if he has a screw loose, he still knows who treats him well.
Fred could not decide whether that was admirable or merely cunning.
Since he had never had any interest in looking after other people, he simply found the excessive affection between the two of them irritating.
But it did not last long.
By the time the season in which Shu had first been found came around again, Victorian never returned from the forest.
The only thing they found was the pendant he had always carried.
Left alone again, Shu shut himself away in his room for a while and stopped eating.
It was around that time that he caught Terk’s attention.
Fred, who more or less knew why, remained a bystander as always.
But what’s this?
It was almost like watching himself when he had first joined the knights.
Fred looked at Shu.
The boy’s face plainly showed that he wanted to talk to someone.
Then Fred turned toward Ian.
Ian was ignoring him completely, occupied only with his own work.
There was no chance that bastard had treated Shu kindly the way Victorian had.
So why was the kid acting like some friendly neighborhood mutt again?
The inexplicable sight made Fred narrow his eyes even further.
In truth, even Ian himself had no idea why.
He had not helped the boy.
He had not even been particularly friendly to him.
They had merely happened to run into each other yesterday.
Ian understood even less than Fred did.
Though they were wondering the same thing, the two men shared no common ground whatsoever.
Silence settled between them.
Fred’s urge to pick a fight somewhat diminished, and he opened his mouth.
“You’d better be careful.”
That bastard’s bad luck.
Leaving behind only that remark, Fred walked away without bothering Ian any further.
Once again, only Shu and Ian remained at the fountain.
Clatter!
The loud noise, repeated again today, had already become familiar.
Ian could tell that the boy, who still could not properly set up the wooden board, was not normal.
He understood it even without wanting to.
Especially when, the instant their eyes met, the boy grinned—
hehe—
despite his face looking even worse than yesterday.
Compared with his current condition, the cream-puff-like swelling of his cheek from before had almost seemed cute.
Judging from the limp, it was his ankle this time.
Yesterday, Terk had damaged the ligaments in his wrist.
The man really was a pervert, deliberately ruining one part of the boy’s body at a time.
It was obviously the work of the man Fred had called Terk.
But it was not Ian’s problem.
Ian looked down at the pile of clothes.
It was smaller than the one from the first day.
Then a sharp stinging sensation made him stop working.
Slowly, he raised his hands.
After being soaked in freezing water day after day without rest, his fingertips had turned bluish, almost as though frostbitten.
Ian stared at his red, swollen knuckles.
And suddenly, a brutally simple question struck him.
What exactly was he doing?
It had already been a week.
He had not joined the knights—or whatever this was—with any great ambition.
He knew it had somehow turned into a battle of wills.
He simply did not know what he was supposed to do about it.
Ian had never been sociable to begin with.
And he had no desire to act friendly toward people who had openly disliked him from the moment they met.
There was a simple reason he had never once talked back.
If he reacted first, they would look down on him.
If he snapped back like a cornered dog, what would follow was obvious.
He could already imagine every word they would throw at him.
Roxney.
Prince.
Noble.
This and that.
He was not hoping for anything grand.
Ian blinked slowly as he looked down at his frozen fingertips once more.
He had only wondered whether, if he kept coming here, he might see that man again.
Aily had clearly said it was the Grand Duke’s order.
So perhaps, somewhere in the back of his mind, Ian had vaguely expected they would meet again.