“Your Grace. You sent for me?”
The shabbily dressed herbalist followed the butler into the audience chamber and bowed deeply in greeting. Mihail held out the leaf he had been idly twirling between his fingers and handed it to the butler. The butler took it and passed it on to the herbalist.
“Do you know what that is?”
At Mihail’s question, the herbalist examined the leaf closely from several angles. He frowned deeply as he studied it for a long while, then slowly shook his head.
“This is the first time I’ve seen such a thing. However, judging by its strong scent and the deep red line running down the center of the leaf, there’s a very high chance it’s poisonous.”
“What about the possibility that it’s used for dyeing hair?”
“For dyeing… would you permit me to tear off a small piece?”
When Mihail nodded, the herbalist tore off the tip of the leaf, placed it on his palm, and crushed it with his fingernail. He checked the smell and color of the crushed pulp, then shook his head again.
“This is completely useless for dyeing hair or fabric.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes. I’m certain.”
The herbalist’s tone was unwavering. He was the oldest and most experienced herbalist in the area. For someone like him to speak so definitively before the Duke of Castiya meant he was staking his life on that certainty.
“Can you find out what this is, and what it’s used for?”
At Mihail’s question, the herbalist hesitated briefly. Once he nodded, he would have to uncover the truth even at the cost of his life.
“If you bring me answers about this, I’ll grant you a generous reward.”
“I’ll do my utmost.”
“Find out as quickly as possible.”
As Mihail finished speaking, the butler held out a small pouch. When the herbalist took it, the sound of gold coins clinking rang out from inside.
“No matter how much it costs to investigate this, it doesn’t matter. If you need more, go to my butler.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The herbalist withdrew from the audience chamber with the pouch of gold and the leaf in hand. Mihail remained seated alone on the imposing chair placed in the vast chamber, resting his chin on his hand as he clicked his tongue. He would have preferred to know the plant’s identity immediately, so it was frustrating that things hadn’t gone as he wished.
“What about Chaika?”
“He still hasn’t come out of the study.”
The butler answered at once.
The times Chaika was happiest were when he was ordered to clean the study or allowed to visit Nile’s quarters. On days he cleaned the study, he worked himself to complete exhaustion, yet he still seemed to sneak in enough time to read at least one book he’d been wanting to see. He was probably engrossed in a book even now after finishing the cleaning.
He was an extremely sensitive creature. Even for something as simple as plucking a single leaf from the cluster of plants the creature was secretly cultivating, Mihail exercised great caution. He went himself to ensure there would be no trace of anyone having been there, and that the missing leaf wouldn’t be noticeable. That was also why he met the herbalist not in his office, but in the rarely used audience chamber—to avoid leaving any trace that a strongly scented herb had been brought into his workspace.
“Send someone to press him for results every two or three days.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Only after the butler bowed did Mihail rise from the chair.
On days Chaika visited Nile’s quarters or cleaned the study, he always made time to stop by his secret cultivation site. On those days, the scent clinging to him grew stronger—impossible to miss.
Chaika claimed it was something used for dyeing hair, but Mihail didn’t believe him. Even so, he didn’t want to force out a secret Chaika was so determined to hide. He’d already ordered the herbalist to investigate it, so he’d learn the truth naturally before long.
After carefully washing away the scent of the plant from his hands, Mihail headed for the study. He intended to feed the creature a snack while he was hard at work cleaning. Three meals a day and three snack times were nowhere near enough to put any weight on him, so Mihail simply put food into his mouth whenever the thought crossed his mind. Even if Chaika shook his head and claimed he was full after just a few bites, it wouldn’t be wasted effort if feeding him ten or so times a day made him gain weight.
The scale of Mihail’s private study was truly impressive. Even with all four walls completely filled with books, there still wasn’t enough space, so massive, heavy bookshelves stood in long rows throughout the vast room. Naturally, they were packed with rare volumes gathered from across the continent. Among them were books valuable enough to buy an entire castle with change to spare—a treasure vault no less dazzling than one filled with gold and jewels.
To possess something everyone coveted entirely for oneself was deeply pleasurable and satisfying. Though Mihail wasn’t particularly fond of reading, he cherished this study overflowing with rare books. It was one of the few things that fully satisfied his possessiveness. Considering how even the appointed caretaker’s comings and goings irritated him, allowing Chaika to enter freely was a significant exception.
In truth, Chaika’s free access to the study didn’t irritate him at all—it gave him a sense of satisfaction instead. Watching something that belonged to him nestled into his personal space, enjoying itself, was inherently pleasing.
When he pushed the door, the heavy slab opened smoothly without a sound. Mihail walked slowly and silently, as though on a hunt, wondering which corner the small creature would be hiding in today. With footsteps as soundless as a hunter’s, Chaika wouldn’t even notice someone had entered the study.
How long had he wandered through the forest of shelves, tracing the faint signs of where the creature might be hiding? After passing about half the study, Chaika’s distinctive bitter scent teased his nose. Mihail lifted the corner of his mouth into a secretive smile and followed it. He planned to suddenly grab him, startle him, and once Chaika barely regained his senses, drag him to the coziest sofa in the study and shower him with kisses.
The scent grew stronger. There was no sound, no visible movement, but Mihail instinctively knew the creature was right nearby. After passing one more bookshelf, he finally spotted Chaika, crouched small and tight. Chaika was squatting with his back turned, reading a book—exactly the same posture as when Mihail had first found him.
Just as Mihail took a quiet step toward him, Chaika’s crouched body suddenly curled in even tighter. He raised his arm to cover his mouth and coughed. When Mihail paused and then took another step, Chaika abruptly began coughing violently.
Cough. Cough. Cough.
As he hacked, Chaika crawled away from the book as if worried saliva might splatter onto it, curling up and covering his mouth with his sleeve. His entire body convulsed as though he were about to retch up his organs, coughing fiercely. Cough. Cough. After forcing out several fits in a row and barely managing to draw in breath, he resumed coughing again. His fragile body looked as though it might shatter at any moment.
The deathlike coughing suddenly stopped. Chaika lowered the sleeve from his mouth and panted roughly. Mihail was just about to call out when Chaika abruptly clasped both hands over his mouth and heaved.
Urgh. Hrk. Urgh.
Like a drunk vomiting up his guts, his body lurched violently as rough, gasping breaths escaped between retches. From between Chaika’s fingers seeped a dark, blood-red liquid, which eventually streamed down over his pale knuckles. Even in that state, Chaika crawled sideways, trying to keep the fallen blood from touching the books.
Mihail couldn’t speak or move at the sight unfolding before him. The instant he saw the dark blood pouring from Chaika’s mouth, all the blood in his body—and his muscles—froze solid. How many seconds passed? Tens of seconds? Minutes?
At last, Chaika stopped retching and let out a long breath. With a drained expression, he straightened his hunched upper body. Still struggling to steady his breathing, he used the cloth he carried for cleaning to wipe the blood from the floor. It was a sight that looked far too familiar.
“Chaika.”
Mihail’s voice, calling his name, was low and even. Chaika flinched, lifted his head—and froze, stunned.
“…You.”
Mihail spoke as he stepped closer. Then, grabbing Chaika—who was flusteredly wiping his mouth with his sleeve, not knowing what to do—he lifted him up in one swift motion.
“Y-Your Grace! Your clothes—there’s blood!”
Chaika cried out in horror when he saw his own blood staining Mihail’s clothes. Mihail ignored whatever Chaika said or did and strode out of the study, shouting for a physician to be summoned as he headed for the bedroom. A passing servant heard and ran off at full speed.
By the time they reached the bedroom, Chaika had gone quiet. When Mihail set him down on the bed, Chaika curled and shifted, desperately trying to keep his blood from staining the bedding. Normally, that pitiful, fussy behavior would have made Mihail snort in amusement—but not now. Mihail stood beside the bed, silently watching Chaika as he waited for the physician to arrive.
The physician, well aware of Mihail’s temperament, arrived at a dead run. Led through the open door, he panted heavily, wiped the sweat from his brow, and finally managed a bow. Without a word, Mihail gestured with his chin toward Chaika, curled up on the bed. The physician approached with cautious movements.
“Could you… lie down properly, please?”
The physician asked Chaika while carefully gauging Mihail’s reaction. Still curled up, Chaika glanced nervously at Mihail. If he moved wrong, blood might stain the bedding—but if he didn’t obey, Mihail would become angry.
“Do as you’re told.”
Mihail spoke quietly. In the end, Chaika moved as carefully as he could and lay flat on the bed.
The physician examined Chaika’s eyes, nose, and mouth, dabbed at the vomited blood and tasted it, then mixed it with several powders and liquids he’d brought in his bag to observe the reaction. He removed Chaika’s top to listen to his heart, then pressed fingers to his neck to check his pulse.
After a long examination, the physician stepped back. Chaika covered himself with the shirt he’d taken off and watched Mihail warily, like a guilty man awaiting judgment.
“What’s wrong with him?”
When Mihail finally spoke after standing guard beside the bed throughout the examination, the physician swallowed once and answered.
“If I were to list everything, it would never end. To put it simply… his body is excessively weakened.”
