It’s obvious his pride was badly wounded. He doesn’t spell it out directly, but piecing together the words that slip out here and there, Calyx can more or less guess what happened.
Simon caught the mouse yesterday, and because of that, the maids treated Simon like some kind of hero. Even when he asked them to play with him, they pretended not to hear and kept sewing, but the moment Simon showed up, they jumped to their feet and welcomed him enthusiastically. Judging by how sulky he is over something so trivial, his pride must be extremely fragile.
Well, even if he’s small, he’s still a boy. No matter the reason, there’s no way he’d feel good about someone else accomplishing what he couldn’t and being celebrated as a hero for it.
“This won’t do.”
The boy stops thrashing around and suddenly sits up. He clenches his fists tightly, his expression resolute.
“I need to catch something too.”
Calyx suppresses the laughter threatening to escape and listens with a deliberately serious expression.
“Not something small and filthy like a mouse. If I’m going to do it, I should catch something big—something impressive. I need to show them that I don’t hunt because of hygiene concerns, not because I can’t.”
After declaring this like a vow, the boy looks at Calyx and asks,
“What do you think?”
Calyx nods while looking into the boy’s sparkling black eyes. Eyes shining with excitement, cheeks flushed red—he looks genuinely thrilled, something that doesn’t happen often. Watching him like this is deeply satisfying.
“What should I catch? Huh? What would make people say I really did something?”
The boy presses himself snugly against Calyx, chattering away. At the rare sight, Calyx gently strokes the boy’s back and side, then puts on a thoughtful expression.
“Rabbits… don’t really have any flair. If you’re hunting, it should be a wild boar… but those are fat and dirty, so that’s a pass. Then what—maybe a deer or a roe deer?”
Calyx looks at the boy’s glittering eyes and pauses to choose his words. In truth, whether it’s a rabbit or anything else, hunting itself would be impossible with the boy’s clumsy movements—but there’s no need to say that out loud. He’d only be hated for it.
Smiling gently, Calyx selects the safest response.
“Well…”
“Then what about picking a fight with something like a leopard or a lion? Even if they’re bigger, I think I could win if I play it right. Huh?”
The excited boy stares at him, clearly seeking agreement. Calyx simply smiles and nods. He has no intention of letting the boy do anything dangerous, but if he really wants to, there are plenty of ways around it—like capturing the animal beforehand, drugging it, and releasing it. There’s no need to disappoint someone who’s this fired up.
With Calyx’s agreement, the boy seems completely exhilarated. He wiggles as if he might dash off to hunt at any moment. Calyx watches the small, wiggling backside with narrowed eyes. It’s a rather pleasing sight. When he reaches out and grabs the wiggling rear, the boy flicks a glance his way, then immediately gets busy planning his hunt.
“That bastard Simon. All he did was catch a lousy mouse, and now Julia and—ah, damn it. Just you wait. I’ll catch something huge and throw it right at Julia. That muscle-brained idiot. How dare he covet my exclusive glutinous rice cakes. Ugh, seriously.”
The boy mutters on for a while, then suddenly snaps his head around. Calyx briefly stops kneading his rear and puts on an innocent expression. The boy stares him down, then whispers in a serious voice.
“But… leopards and lions and stuff like that—they’ve got tons of parasites too, right?”
***
There’s a saying that goes, there’s not a single soul in this world you can trust.
It’s something you hear pretty often as you go through life. I grew up hearing it more than enough myself.
My grandpa used to sit me on his knee and say it to me.
“Kiddo. There’s not a single person in this world you can trust, so be careful.”
And then he’d add, “Except this old man.”
Of course, Grandpa wasn’t the only one who said it. Sometimes Grandma would say the same thing.
“Kiddo. There’s not a single person in this world you can trust, so be careful—really careful.”
And then she’d add, “Except this grandma.”
That wasn’t all. Mom would say it too, from time to time.
“Son. There’s not a single person in this world you can trust, so you have to be careful, okay?”
And then she’d add, “Except Mom.”
If I’d been a truly obedient, well-behaved kid, that would’ve been a serious problem. Because that would mean I couldn’t trust Grandpa, Grandma, or Mom.
Naturally, I wasn’t stupid enough to take those words at face value. I also didn’t do something tactless like asking who I was supposed to trust, then. I simply understood the affection and concern behind their words, nodded obediently, and held out both hands.
“Yeah, got it—so give me my allowance.”
Grandpa and Grandma would laugh heartily and hand over the money. Mom, on the other hand, would smack my butt instead of giving me an allowance. But that was fine too. If I showed Grandpa my red, sore butt from getting hit, he’d feel sorry for me and give me even more allowance. So sometimes, I’d deliberately do things to get hit. After getting my butt smacked by Mom, I’d run straight to Grandpa, and he’d buy me whatever I wanted.
…That’s not the point.
Anyway, the important thing is this: there really isn’t a single soul in this world you can trust.
“Oh my. Sir Licht.”
The 97-point maid blushes as she looks at Simon.
Get facial flushing disorder or something. Hmph.
“Thank you so much for yesterday, Sir Licht.”
The 95-point maid casts Simon a coy glance.
Go cross-eyed. Hmph!
“We wanted to show our gratitude.”
The 98-point maid hands Simon a basket of snacks.
May there be cockroaches inside those snacks. Hmph—!
“It’s nothing special, but I made this as a token of thanks.”
99-point Julia hands Simon a handkerchief she embroidered herself.
When Simon sees the fluttering, pure white handkerchief, his face turns bright red. Julia shyly offers it again. I shoot a piercing glare at that bastard Simon.
Don’t take it. Don’t take it. Don’t take it. Don’t take it. Don’t take it. Don’t take it.
He notices my stare and looks at me. I reveal the terrifying claws I usually keep hidden. That doesn’t seem enough, so I scrape the floor aggressively. The carpet tears with a chilling ripping sound beneath my claws. I make my warning crystal clear.
If you take that, you’re picking a fight with me, muscle-brain.
I don’t stop there—I slam my tail against the floor threateningly, over and over.
Don’t take it. Don’t take it. Don’t take it. Don’t take it. Don’t take it. Don’t take it.
But after hesitating for a moment, the bastard actually reaches out and takes the offered handkerchief.
What the hell. Is he insane?
I stare at Simon in disbelief, but he’s too busy admiring the handkerchief to notice. This can’t be happening. Julia is my exclusive maid. Which means everything about Julia—including her pretty, bouncy glutinous rice cakes—belongs to me. Naturally, the handkerchief she made belongs to me too!
That bastard Simon—
Grinding my teeth, I’m consumed by a surge of rage and betrayal.
All he did was catch one lousy mouse, and the maids treat him like a hero. Now he’s even getting gifts from Julia for it. Wasn’t turning me into some useless cat who can’t even catch a mouse bad enough? Now he’s trying to steal my woman—well, not my woman, but my maid too? Do you have any idea how many gold coins I’ve handed that bastard as allowance, how many times I let him enjoy peeks at the maids’ soft flesh? I even overlooked the idiotic stunt where he got captured by bandits, all in the name of male friendship.
And now. Now. Now he betrays me—!
I surrender my entire body to the boiling rage.
I spring from my spot and launch myself at Simon—no, precisely at the handkerchief in his hand.
I’ll shred that handkerchief to pieces!
As it gets closer and closer, I form a triumphant grin inside my mind—
…Huh?
My body stops in midair.
I lift my head to see Simon holding me up with one hand.
Hey. You jerk. Put me down. Put me down already.
I thrash while staring at the handkerchief in his other hand, but he doesn’t let go.
“Nabi?”
Dangling limply from Simon’s grip, I look at Julia. She alternates her gaze between me and the handkerchief, her face twitching as she tries to hold back laughter.
“So you wanted a handkerchief too, Nabi?”
She laughs.
Our Nabi. You’re jealous, aren’t you? Oh my, how cute.
The maids burst into giggles, chanting how cute, how adorable.
Seeing that, the rage that had been burning through my body just moments ago drains away. In its place, a deep sense of emptiness settles in.
When I stop struggling, Simon lowers me back onto the floor.
