Olga, once composed and unshakable, grew more hysterical as time passed and her illness deepened. Every time she coughed up blood, she turned the entire house upside down.
His father shrank from her as much as he could. More than that, he avoided even passing near her room so that he would not catch her eye. Nox watched him and found him contemptible, then remained at his mother’s side instead. At times things flew through the air, but it was never so unbearable that he could not endure it. What pained him was only the sight of his mother growing thinner and thinner by the day.
And as signs appeared that even his iron-willed mother was beginning to crumble, he started to feel the gaze of his father—like a rat forever sniffing after an opening.
If his mother truly became bedridden, there would be no one left to stop him. Nox, the heir, was still not of age, and until then all authority and power would pass into his father’s hands.
If Mother collapses completely, then Khalid…
Khalid—the child who would be in the greatest danger if his father were allowed to roam this house unchecked.
For now, his mother was somehow still enduring it, still appearing in public and maintaining her outward role. But if she lost even that much strength, then the child would be in danger. His father would satisfy his appetites without caring about anyone’s eyes on him.
One night, when the cold wind had grown deep and sharp, Nox sat in the rocking chair in his room reading. Beside him, Khalid was reviewing the letters Nox had taught him. Without looking up from his book, Nox spoke as lightly as if it were nothing at all.
“Khalid.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
Over the passing seasons, the child had grown quite a bit taller. He now came up almost to the tip of Nox’s nose. But the softly downy gray-blond hair and those round blue eyes had not changed.
“What would you think of going to another house?”
“…What?”
Khalid, who had been reviewing his letters at Nox’s side, froze and looked up. Nox kept his eyes on the page and turned it as if nothing were wrong. Then he continued in an even tone.
“You could go to another house and receive better treatment there. You’re pretty enough that there would be no shortage of people willing to hire you…”
“Young Master…!”
Abruptly, Khalid came in front of Nox and dropped to his knees on the floor.
Nox, startled in the middle of reading, looked up with wide eyes. But Khalid’s eyes were wide as well. His brows had drawn down, his pupils were shaking, and he spoke from his knees with all his agitation laid bare.
“W-what have I done wrong?”
“Khalid, get up.”
“Young Master, if I’ve done something wrong, I’ll fix it. So please, don’t tell me to go somewhere else…”
“You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Then why…? Young Master…”
Khalid carefully seized Nox’s ankle and lowered his forehead onto his knee. Nox sat there, too taken aback even to think of putting his book down, staring at that small rounded crown of his head.
Nox drew in a light breath, then let it out. Perhaps it sounded like a sigh, because the child’s narrow shoulders flinched.
Nox reached out, gently pushed him back by the shoulder, and looked at his face.
In those large blue eyes, tears were trembling, on the verge of falling.
“You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Th-then why…”
“…I’m only telling you to think about it once.”
“No.”
Khalid answered firmly. So firmly that, unlike usual, his voice fell low and rang with weight.
“I will stay by your side, Young Master.”
“…Khalid.”
“Yes, my Young Master.”
Khalid lowered his head once again and pressed a kiss to Nox’s knee.
At that utterly unexpected act, Nox’s knee jerked. Seeing it, Khalid looked up at him with tear-filled eyes and smiled brightly.
Inside, Nox felt only turmoil.
What am I supposed to do with you? What am I to do…?
Nox wished his mother would hold on just a little longer. Until he himself grew a little older. At the very least, until the child had grown more.
But in the year Nox turned sixteen, his mother finally took to her bed.
And his father began little by little to widen his territory.
Even when Nox tried to block that filth by himself, there was only so much he could stop.
“Where has that child gone?”
“…I sent him out on an errand.”
“I see.”
After his mother became bedridden, his father made no effort to conceal his good mood. And he kept asking Nox after Khalid, again and again.
As if to pressure him.
As if ordering him, without words, to hand the boy over on his own.
Nox ground his teeth. He could not keep the child in this estate any longer.
But even if he forced him out, the boy would surely come back searching for him.
And it did not seem likely that Father would let Khalid go so easily.
Even if Nox drove him away, if the child refused to leave and lingered outside the estate, his father might simply have him brought back inside.
Nox began thinking about how he could separate the child from this estate safely.
Before long, he reached a conclusion.
A conclusion he would later regret more than anything else.
“…It’s time that childish first love came to an end.”
Nox wanted Khalid to cast off the feelings he held for him. He himself was not someone grand or noble, not in the way the child imagined. He was nothing more than an aristocrat carrying his father’s filthy blood. Someone different from that child from the very beginning—a child still capable of loving another person and looking at them with warm affection.
If Khalid is to live safely, then he needs to stay far away from both this estate and me.
Though his mother had taken to bed, she was not wholly confined to her room. From time to time she still invited friends over for tea. In Nox’s eyes, it looked less like leisure and more like stubbornly clinging to her place in society by sheer force of will, but he could not deny that it helped him.
“…If Mother is the one who casts Khalid out, then Father will not be able to summon him back.”
That was how Nox devised a single method.
A thought only someone still young and foolish could have.
A stupid choice made entirely alone, without understanding even a fraction of the child’s heart.
His father had often cursed him, saying he took after his mother.
But now Nox thought differently.
His father’s blood ran in him too.
That stupid, foolish, vile blood of the aristocracy.
*****
It was an ordinary day.
After finishing his morning routine, Nox had shut himself in his room with Khalid and was sorting through documents. Khalid, now grown nearly to the tip of Nox’s nose, stood with his back straight as he prepared tea for him.
The clink of porcelain brushed against Nox’s ears.
The same sound as always. The same you as always.
But Nox knew very well that now it had to change.
He drew in a breath.
Naturally.
As if it were nothing at all.
In as ordinary a tone as he could manage.
“Bring me the blue brooch from Mother’s room.”
“Her Grace’s brooch?”
“Yes.”
Khalid tilted his head, apparently thinking it a little strange. But he would never dare to doubt the word of his precious young master. After a moment, he nodded and broke into a bright smile.
At that smile, one that Nox knew would likely be the last, something in his chest pulled tight and heavy.
Nox silently clenched his teeth, then let them part, and beckoned the child closer.
“Mother has been irritable lately, so be careful not to disturb her.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be right back!”
Khalid strode out of Nox’s room. Nox could not take his eyes off that gray-blond hair visible through the narrowing gap of the closing door.
Because he was certain this would be the last day he ever saw the child.
Nox slowly closed his eyes.
He did not want to think of anything.
He only hoped the choice he had made was the right one.
But there was no one who could give him certainty.
No one except his younger self.
Nox sat alone in his room and stared into empty space.
One. Two. Three.
He counted the numbers in his head one by one. It felt as though something deep inside his stomach were rotting away. His mother’s maids and attendants were stricter than any other servants in the house. There was no possibility they would miss Khalid taking the brooch.
Nox thought he could hardly breathe. No matter how deeply he inhaled, it was not enough. Slowly, he breathed in and out. In and out again.
And soon—
Knock knock knock—
A hurried knocking sound came from the door.
Nox turned to look at it.
How long had it been since Khalid left?
His eyes moved to the clock.
Only about twenty minutes now.
Enough time for the child to be caught by one of the maids.
“…What is it?”
Nox hoped his voice sounded untroubled, and the agitated Maeta seemed not to notice anything strange.
“Young Master, I believe you should come out. It’s about Khalid—”
“I’m coming.”
Nox did not ask what had happened.
There was no need. He already knew exactly how this would unfold.
When he rose and opened the door, Maeta bowed deeply and tried to explain the situation, but Nox stopped her with a single motion of his hand and began walking with deliberate calm.
Ordinarily, if a servant laid hands on a master’s property, they were dragged to the entrance hall on the first floor.
So every servant in the house could see.
A long time ago, there had been a servant who touched Father’s belongings and was thrown out without even a letter of recommendation.
That was all Nox had wanted as well.
A letter of recommendation was something he could settle himself afterward.
Nox reached the staircase leading down to the first floor. Maeta pressed close behind him and whispered,
“It seems Khalid touched something belonging to Her Grace.”