Baltias Deron had shut himself up in his room, chewing at his nails.
If things had gone according to plan, he should have obeyed the Emperor’s summons and attended the banquet. But the moment Khalid said he was bringing his slave, Baltias had no choice but to give up on attending.
Nox Rainerio.
The true owner of the credit he had stolen.
“Marquis, are you truly certain you do not need to attend tonight’s banquet—”
Baltias snatched up the first book within reach and hurled it at the butler.
Thud!
Struck by the book, the butler staggered, then straightened his body at once.
And without another word, he bowed.
“S-Shut up. I’m thinking.”
“My apologies. You must have had something on your mind.”
Still gnawing at his nails, Baltias glanced down when a sharp sting ran through his hand. He had eaten halfway through his thumbnail, and blood was welling out. His face twisted, and he promptly shoved his index fingernail between his teeth.
He was anxious.
Afraid that Nox Rainerio might speak of the credit he had appropriated for himself.
No one would listen to the words of a man who had become a slave now, but Baltias was terrified that His Majesty might somehow notice the truth.
“I have to keep that mouth shut….”
Blood soon shone at the edge of his index fingernail as well.
But he did not stop biting.
He only kept thinking, obsessing over how to make sure Nox Rainerio’s mouth would never open.
Back when he had acted as a spy inside House Rainerio, Baltias had taken the information that came from Nox’s hand and delivered it to Peltion.
That calm gaze.
Those steady fingers, even while stealing away vital documents from his own house.
Nox had been nothing like him, nothing like the man who had stood there trembling as he received the papers.
Baltias Deron had felt a vicious jealousy toward Nox Rainerio.
A man who possessed things he himself had never had.
And that was precisely why he had stolen Nox’s credit.
He had everything anyway.
Why shouldn’t someone who had never crawled on the ground be made to crawl for once, while someone like himself, who had possessed nothing at all, might get to soar instead?
He rationalized it, and rationalized it again.
“H-How do I keep his mouth shut…?”
His eyes flashed in the dark room.
His head was full of Nox.
Nox, Nox Rainerio.
How could he keep that mouth closed?
Baltias Deron kept tormenting himself over a problem with no answer.
And at that very hour, the Emperor was clicking his tongue as he looked at Khalid, who had come to see him.
“So? Did you come all the way here to complain because I touched your slave with my fingertips?”
“…….”
“I was exactly right. For all that he belongs to you now, he was still handed down by me, wasn’t he? Why is it that every last one of you refuses to listen? Don’t you agree, Weiss?”
“That is exactly what I was thinking. Marquis Deron suddenly claimed to be ill and skipped the banquet tonight, and this one comes here daring to protest to His Majesty because someone laid a hand on his slave. A capital offense, truly.”
“Now that you put it that way, it hardly sounds like a capital offense at all. You do have a tendency to exaggerate.”
“Do I?”
Caught between the two men as they traded words like a game, Khalid pressed a hand to his head.
At the moment, he wanted only to pay his respects to the Emperor, take Nox with him, and return to the manor.
Once they got back, he would shut Nox away in a room and not go near him for a while.
And that thought he had entertained, however briefly—that Nox was lovely—he would throw it all away.
The moment the thought came to him again, Khalid let out a low, irritated breath.
Seeing that his knight’s insides were clearly in turmoil, Peltion swallowed a laugh and asked softly,
“What is it? Did your slave do something you disliked?”
“…No.”
“No?”
The Emperor lightly patted the shoulder of Khalid, who was like a brother to him.
Then he leaned in and whispered low,
“Shall I have him brought to my bedchamber?”
“…….”
“You do not know how to handle a slave. I do not know whether that is because your nature is too soft, or because I have been imperial since the day I was born.”
He spoke as though offering advice to his brother.
“I can teach you. How to handle such a thing. What sort of attitude to take.”
Khalid ground his teeth.
If he learned how to deal with a slave, would he be able to cast away that absurd feeling?
Would he be able to erase the disgusting version of himself who had thought Nox trembling in his arms looked lovely?
With his teeth clenched tight, Khalid asked the Emperor,
“If I learn it… will anything change?”
“Anything at all, in whatever direction you wish.”
The Emperor spread both arms.
He looked merciful.
But to someone, it would be no different from hell.
Yes.
To Nox Rainerio.
“If I were to learn how to handle a slave….”
Khalid’s voice was dry.
But Peltion did not miss the confusion buried deep inside that dry voice.
“Would I stop thinking he is lovely?”
“Ha. So that is what you were thinking?”
The Emperor laughed as though he found it genuinely amusing.
But not a trace of laughter touched his eyes.
Only his lips parted, shaping a false smile.
Peltion stepped closer to Khalid and set a hand on his shoulder.
“A slave is an object.”
“…….”
“Do you find a table lovely?”
Looking directly into Khalid’s eyes, Peltion spoke.
Khalid did not answer.
There was no need.
No one found a table lovely.
Peltion was telling him that Nox was no different from such a thing.
“You need to learn the proper attitude for dealing with slaves.”
“…….”
Khalid said nothing.
His thoughts began turning, slowly and steadily.
It was only right that Nox Rainerio should become miserable.
It was only right that he should writhe in pain as much as he himself had been made to writhe.
Khalid wanted to make him that way.
To find him lovely—it was absurd.
And so Khalid said through clenched teeth,
“Teach me. …How to handle a slave.”
Khalid did not hesitate to cast Nox into a pit of suffering.
Because he, Khalid Via, ought to hate Nox Rainerio with all his heart.
*****
Nox had been left there on the terrace.
He was someone who could be left there.
In the end, Nox sat down on the bench on the terrace with little particular thought, drawing together the shirt whose buttons had all been torn away with one hand.
From inside the banquet hall came the unbroken sound of music, the light laughter of someone, footsteps, the murmur of voices.
Nox felt as though he were sunk inside the water tank beside him.
Inside a blue tank.
As though he were submerged beneath water that had risen all the way to the crown of his head.
Like a mermaid from a fairy tale.
But one so ugly that no one would ever look at her.
And so time passed, and Nox was allowed to remain submerged to his heart’s content.
Had no one intruded into his tank, he might have remained sunken there forever.
Someone drew back the curtain, stepped onto the terrace, then stopped short.
“Ah. Someone was here already.”
“…Ah.”
Nox did not know how he ought to respond, and the words did not come easily.
What was here was not a person, but a slave.
In that case, he should have been the one to leave the terrace.
But Khalid had gone without giving him a single order, and now Nox had to stay quietly where he had been abandoned.
“…Then I will go elsewhere.”
The other man seemed to recognize him.
And he responded with a surprising gentleness.
Nox gave a small nod.
“…Thank you.”
“It is nothing. And….”
The man’s gaze moved over Nox for a moment.
It was not an unpleasant sensation.
Only the sense of someone examining him carefully.
Nox gripped the front of his shirt tighter.
If one looked closely enough, the state he was in would be obvious.
“I was planning to leave soon anyway.”
“Ah. I see.”
For a moment, Nox could not understand why the man was telling him that, and a faintly puzzled expression crossed his face.
Then the man removed his coat and held it out to him.
“So wear this in the meantime.”
“Ah, there is no need for you to—”
“It is not anything expensive.”
“…….”
Sure enough, just as he said, the coat in his hand was neither from a famous tailor nor adorned with anything lavish.
Nox understood that the man was offering him kindness.
In a banquet hall where only enemies remained, meeting the one man willing to show him kindness felt rather—
Yes.
Rather less terrible than he would have expected.
Nox bit down hard on his lower lip, then answered in a voice made deliberately casual.
“…I will return it to you someday. I swear it.”
“You may use it and throw it away, if you like.”
After saying that, the man stepped closer and pressed the coat into Nox’s hands.
Nox accepted it carefully.
Once he had passed it over, the man made to leave the terrace at once, without the slightest hesitation.
Nox stopped him.
“Could you at least tell me your name…?”
At that, the man looked thoughtful for a moment, then answered,
“Esterion Londer.”
Londer.
If it was House Londer, Nox knew it well.
A house that had fallen into decline around five years ago after the head of the family’s business had failed.
Just another ruined noble family.
But even that was nothing compared to his own situation.
Nox pressed his lips together and nodded.
“I will repay this. Somehow.”
“It is all right.”
The man answered curtly, then left the terrace just like that.
And so Nox was left alone on the terrace again, still clutching the coat.
But at the thoughtless kindness someone had shown him, Nox felt that breathing had become just a little easier.
As though someone had blown air into the tank for him.