“This child is….”
Nile bent his knees and glanced briefly back at the creature crouched behind him before opening his mouth again.
“This child is my younger brother. I don’t know what wrongdoing he may have committed, but he’s a quiet, well-behaved child. I’ll make sure he never catches Your Grace’s eye again.”
The expression on Nile’s face as he pleaded was nothing short of desperate.
“So you dote on him that much, do you? Looks like you cherish your younger brother dearly. A scrawny beta who’s utterly useless.”
“…He’s a child my birth mother bore….”
Nile let his words trail off.
A beta younger brother born of one’s birth mother meant many things.
That his mother had secretly consorted with a beta. That she had borne a child by a beta. That the beta partner had almost certainly met a miserable death. And that his mother had either been subjected to severe punishment or sold off somewhere for a pittance.
Mihail examined the creature crouched behind Nile, barely breathing, once more. Despite the chill of the season, he wore clothes that were old, thin, and so worn they were practically rags. It looked as though he hadn’t received new clothes in ages—his sleeves and trouser hems rode far up his arms and calves, exposing bare skin.
The neckline, stretched beyond saving from long wear, sagged so badly that the fabric slid aside, nearly exposing his entire shoulder. The shoes—if they could even be called that—were nothing more than battered old leather, worn through here and there to the point where his toes were visible. It was a pitiful sight one would never see within Castiya Castle, more fitting for a starving war refugee wandering the battlefield.
“So that’s how you treat such a precious younger brother? You let him walk around dressed like that? You’re wrapped in warm, splendid clothes, while that thing is wearing nothing but what looks like rags stripped off a frozen beggar’s corpse—in this season, no less.”
Mihail mocked the creature’s appearance, so starkly at odds with Nile’s desperate, protective posture. Nile’s face flushed red with embarrassment.
“Th-that is….”
Nile stammered, scrambling to come up with an excuse on the spot.
“No matter how insignificant they are, I don’t allow anyone in my castle to wander around looking that shabby. You’re damaging my dignity.”
“I apologize, Your Grace. I was short-sighted and failed to consider that far. I’ll change my brother’s clothes immediately—”
Nile replied hastily. While he spoke in a frenzy, Mihail’s gaze lingered on the pale ankles exposed beneath the too-short trouser hems. The creature crouched behind Nile had long since ceased to be anything interesting.
And yet, staring at those ankles made Mihail’s palms itch like madness.
“No. Leave him as he is.”
Mihail cut Nile off mid-sentence.
“…Pardon?”
Nile looked utterly bewildered. Mihail spoke while slowly raking his gaze over the white ankles and calves beneath the shortened hems, the thin shoulder and collarbone exposed by the slipping fabric.
“Leave him as he is. It suits him.”
“…….”
Nile stared at him as if completely at a loss, then finally nodded.
Mihail strode over and dropped into the chair by the window where he always sat, as though he hadn’t barged in unannounced while they slept. Hearing the late-night commotion, maids hurried in, lighting the room brightly with candles and setting out tea. Nile straightened his rumpled clothes and stood awkwardly near the bed, unsure what to do.
Normally, Mihail would sweep his gaze through the room, down a cup of tea in one go, and leave. But tonight was different. He crossed his legs, leaned back in the chair, lifted the teacup, and leisurely inhaled its aroma, savoring both the scent and the taste with slow sips.
“So. What does that rag usually do all day?”
Mihail asked after taking a sip. At the word used to refer to him, the creature crouched where he was stiffened in place.
“…Various chores….”
Nile let his voice trail off.
“Various chores?”
When Mihail pressed, Nile glanced at his younger brother once before answering again.
“Cleaning and odd jobs….”
Nile closed his mouth there. Mihail twisted one corner of his lips upward, as though things had worked out perfectly.
“Then tell him to finish the job he was doing. Right now.”
“…Now, you mean?”
Nile asked, glancing once at the darkened window. Everyone should’ve been deep asleep at this hour.
“Yes. Now.”
“…….”
Nile looked completely unable to comprehend, but he didn’t argue further. He only cast an anxious look at his younger brother. Hearing Mihail’s command, the creature slowly rose from his crouched position, fetched a broom from a corner, and began sweeping the floor from the spot farthest away from Mihail.
It was a bizarre sight.
Nile’s quarters, brightly lit in the dead of night while everyone else slept. Nile himself, standing awkwardly by the bed in his nightclothes. The servants, roused from sleep, lined up stiffly near the door. One small figure sweeping the floor alone under all their gazes. And Mihail, seated by the window with legs crossed, staring unblinkingly at the creature as he cleaned. Nothing about it was normal.
Even under so many eyes, in such a strange situation, the creature carried out his task with meticulous diligence. He swept the wide floor without leaving a single spot untouched, put the broom away, then returned with a dry cloth and began wiping down the furniture. The quiet room echoed only with the soft, steady shhk, shhk of careful cleaning.
Reaching up to wipe the tall bedpost, the creature rose onto his tiptoes and stretched his arms upward with all his strength. The strain of supporting his weight on his toes made his ankles and calf bones stand out sharply beneath the skin. Worthless scraps of muscle clung to the bone, and his skin was so pale it was nearly colorless. Mihail’s palms itched unbearably at the sight.
When Mihail’s gaze lifted higher, he saw that raising his arms had dragged the hem of the creature’s top up as well, exposing him up to just beneath the chest. A waist slim enough to be encircled with both hands bent gracefully, and along his back, the line of his spine stood out starkly. Had the shirt been any shorter, his chest would’ve been fully exposed.
Because one arm was stretched upward, the fabric slipped down on the opposite side, leaving that shoulder completely bare. If it were a cooked dish, that shoulder blade looked slender enough to bite into whole and strip clean of flesh.
No—given how sharply the bones protruded, was there even any flesh to strip?
Gulp.
In the deathly quiet room, where only the sound of wiping furniture had existed, the sound of swallowing rang out like a thunderclap. Mihail turned his head to find the culprit who had broken the silence—then abruptly realized it had been himself.
“What are you idiots staring at? Go do your jobs!”
Mihail snapped coldly at the servants lined up like they were being punished near the door. They bowed hastily and scrambled out of the room. When Mihail turned his eyes back, the creature had already corrected his posture, his top falling back down.
But there were still three bedposts left.
When wiping the lower parts of the posts, the creature crouched down. He cleaned the beautifully carved columns—adorned with alternating raised and recessed patterns—with utmost seriousness. “Meticulous” wasn’t just a word; he missed nothing, scrubbing every nook and cranny, so even a single post took a fair amount of time.
As he crouched, his short top was once again dragged high up his back. His hunched spine was fully visible. Watching the pronounced vertebrae running down the center of his back made Mihail’s teeth itch.
The opposite happened with his trousers—crouching dragged them downward, exposing not only his hips but nearly a third of his buttocks. Where the spine ended, a pale, pitifully thin patch of flesh remained, swaying faintly with each movement. This time, Mihail’s neck prickled instead.
At some point, the creature seemed to become aware of Mihail’s gaze. Whenever he raised his arms or crouched down, he tried desperately to tug his shirt down with one hand or pull his trousers up with the other while continuing to wipe with the remaining hand. But his body was only covered in those fleeting moments. Eventually, he gave up trying to fix his clothes.
When crouching. When standing upright again. When stretching onto his tiptoes with all his strength.
Throughout the cleaning of all four bedposts, Mihail didn’t move an inch, watching the entire time. Nile, who had initially stood there unsure of what to do, was now sitting on the bed, lost in deep thought. Only the creature moved tirelessly back and forth between them.
The sky began to lighten faintly with dawn. Over that long stretch of time, the creature cleaned every single piece of furniture in the quarters with sincere devotion. His small body looked utterly exhausted, his steps wavering as he walked.
Clutching the cloth tightly in both hands, the creature cautiously approached Mihail and bowed his head deeply. It seemed to mean he was finished, but Mihail said nothing, silently waiting for him to speak aloud.
Given how freely he let out little gasps and whimpers—hiek, hup, and the like—he clearly wasn’t mute. Mihail was intensely curious about what kind of voice would come out of that tiny mouth.
“…D—….”
When Mihail continued to stare at him as if he’d wait forever, the creature finally parted his lips. But the words wouldn’t come; he managed only a single syllable before clamping his mouth shut again. Beneath hair as dry and coarse as straw or weeds, his reddish, chapped lips squirmed.
After the hands, the teeth, the nape of the neck—now it felt like his entire body was itching. Mihail, uncharacteristically patient, waited for the creature to speak on his own.
“……I’m… finished.”
The wait bore fruit. Mumbling through his cracked lips, the creature forced out a voice no louder than a mouse’s squeak. His hands clutching the cloth trembled slightly, a rather pleasing sight.
“You’re finished, you say?”
Mihail asked in a deliberately solemn voice.
“…Yes.”
The creature answered obediently.
At this point, it was about time to step back. No—truthfully, the goal of the hunt had already been achieved.
……
No. That wasn’t right. The hunt had begun with such anticipation and delight, yet it had yielded nothing at all.
…No. That wasn’t entirely true. He had gained something.
A strange, inexplicable itch.
He’d felt irritation before, of course—but this was different from anything he’d ever known. It was anxious and aggravating, yet he didn’t want it to stop. An unsettled, unsatisfying sensation that left him uneasy, yet somehow wishing it would never end.
