The creature whose status had risen from a menial errand runner to a servant directly under the Duke was several times more motivated than before. Overly motivated, the creature always woke up at the crack of dawn, prepared the washbasin, and waited for Mihail to rise. It clearly wanted to assist with dressing as well, but attending to the clothing of a high-ranking noble required considerable skill. On top of that, the creature was far too small to manage such a task.
In the end, what the creature did was, once again, cleaning. It was his daily routine to ensure that not a single speck of dust or stain remained in any place where Mihail stayed.
“Since there are eyes watching, wouldn’t it be better to tidy up his clothing a bit?”
The butler was not someone who normally objected once Mihail had made up his mind. Still, he seemed utterly unable to tolerate the rags worn by the creature stationed permanently in Mihail’s quarters, and so he pleaded in an earnest voice.
It wasn’t that Mihail actually wanted to keep the creature dressed in such beggar-like clothes forever. It was just that if he put him in new clothes, the visual treat would disappear, so he’d left things as they were.
Mihail focused on watching the creature wipe down the table, staring intently at the white shoulder exposed where the clothes had slipped to one side. Then his gaze drifted downward, leisurely appreciating the pale calves and ankles revealed beneath the trousers that rode up too high. If all of that were covered, what on earth was he supposed to look at all day?
Well, in any case, the butler wasn’t wrong. Leaving him like that indefinitely was starting to irritate the eye.
“Call the tailor.”
At Mihail’s words, the butler finally seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and hurried out. He must have been in quite a rush, because it didn’t feel like much time had passed before the tailor was practically dragged into the study.
“Your Grace.”
The tailor, who stayed in the castle for about half of each month, was in charge of Mihail’s wardrobe, as well as the clothing of Count Ilya Vasari and the knights.
“Come here.”
Mihail beckoned with his finger, calling over the creature who had retreated to the corner of the room after stopping his cleaning at the thought that a guest had arrived. The creature approached cautiously.
“Make a few outfits for this one.”
At the sight of the creature standing beside Mihail, the tailor’s facial muscles twitched strangely.
“This person is…?”
The tailor asked carefully.
“Do you need a name to make clothes? Just make them.”
When Mihail replied irritably, the tailor bowed with a practiced, artificial smile.
“Then I’ll need to take his measurements first. Shall we go to my workshop together?”
The tailor addressed the creature, who immediately glanced at Mihail. He clearly didn’t like the idea of going somewhere unfamiliar with a stranger.
“No need to go back and forth. Just measure him here.”
At Mihail’s words, the tailor wordlessly took a measuring tape out from his sleeve.
“Now, please stand with your feet about shoulder-width apart like this.”
Accustomed to Mihail’s foul temper, the tailor was quick on the uptake. He began taking measurements as usual, unfazed by the creature’s war-refugee-like appearance. The creature, clearly unfamiliar with being measured, stood stiffly, unsure of what to do, while the tailor lifted and lowered his arms as needed, meticulously taking notes.
Once finished, the tailor smiled, rolled up the paper with the measurements, and approached Mihail.
“If you could give me even a rough idea of how many outfits you want, what kind of fabric, and the general color palette, I’ll do my best to tailor them to your wishes, Your Grace.”
Mihail’s gaze shifted to the creature standing awkwardly nearby. Feeling that gaze, the creature ducked his head deeply.
“Make something decent that’s easy to keep around. He’s skin and bones, trembling at the slightest breeze, so make it warm.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“And an overcoat as well—.”
Mihail cut himself off mid-sentence.
“No, never mind. I already gave him one, so that won’t be necessary.”
Winter overcoats were a lucrative job. The tailor’s eyes drooped in visible disappointment.
“And you see those clothes he’s wearing now?”
Mihail gestured toward the creature with his chin. The tailor swept his gaze over the outfit, its sleeves and hems too short as if it had been worn unchanged through several years of growth, all while maintaining a polite smile.
“Yes.”
“Make several sets of work clothes for cleaning, exactly to those measurements, and send them over.”
“Exactly… those measurements?”
“That’s right.”
Mihail answered briskly, baring one tooth slightly in a smile. It was a smile that looked extremely malicious and mean-spirited. The tailor, wearing an expression of utterly innocent ignorance, bowed deeply and disappeared outside.
Once outside the study, the tailor lingered by the door for a moment. Soon, the butler followed him out. The tailor stepped close and asked in a grave tone.
“No matter how much of a veteran I am, this time I can’t quite read Your Grace’s intentions. Please, share a bit of your wisdom with me. About that… person’s clothes—how much of a budget should I use? What grade of fabric? What about the buttons?”
He peppered the butler with questions, looking completely at a loss.
Judging by his appearance, it seemed like making a few ordinary servant outfits would suffice, but from the Duke’s words, it was clearly not that simple. Yet if he went too far and made overly fine garments, that could cause trouble as well.
“Hmm….”
The seasoned old butler, who usually knew everything that happened in the castle and everything concerning the Duke, hesitated uncharacteristically, letting out a thoughtful hum. Even he couldn’t grasp what the Duke intended to do with that child called Chaika. Was it just a passing amusement, keeping him around like a pet? Or had he developed a sense of compassion he’d never had before and intended to care for him properly? Or perhaps….
After considering various possibilities, the butler finally spoke without reaching a clear conclusion.
“Use fabric one grade below what His Grace wears, from what’s in the castle workshop. But refrain from overly flashy decorations. As for shoes, use good leather, but make sure they don’t look ostentatious.”
“Even fabric one grade below His Grace’s is still high-quality cloth used by high-ranking nobles. Is that really all right? If he scolds us for going overboard—.”
The tailor looked as though he wanted the butler to tell him, I’ll take responsibility, just do as I say. Instead, the butler added,
“It’s far worse to be reprimanded for using poor fabric than for using good fabric.”
Even if they failed to perfectly match the Duke’s intentions, it would be much less painful to present clothes made from good fabric. The tailor nodded, understanding.
“And those work clothes….”
The tailor trailed off. Making several new outfits in the exact same measurements as those small, tattered clothes that looked to have been worn for years—he couldn’t imagine what purpose that served.
“What kind of fabric should those be made from?”
“They’re for working, so good-quality linen should do.”
“Yes. Then I’ll proceed accordingly.”
“Make haste. As you know, His Grace is not a patient man.”
“Yes.”
Still wearing a troubled expression, the tailor finally headed off toward his workshop in a corner of the castle.
After the butler and tailor left, Mihail watched the creature closely, waiting to see how he would react. The creature carefully walked up to Mihail, bowed deeply, and said,
“Thank you… for the new clothes.”
“…….”
When Mihail didn’t respond, the creature twisted the cleaning cloth in his hands and continued.
“You even gave me such good work to do, and now you’re having clothes made for me. You gave me an overcoat too….”
“…….”
When Mihail still remained silent, the creature hesitated, biting his lip, before forcing the words out.
“You’re too good to me, Your Grace.”
“…….”
“You’re so, so good to me, and I….”
Trailing off, the creature stood there with his head bowed, unmoving. Mihail found himself wondering what expression the creature was making right now. Truly, he was curious. And he was also curious why he was being so good to this creature in the first place.
“Because you’re so good to me, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
The creature said it as if vomiting the words out.
Mihail stared at him, thinking he wanted to lift the creature’s hair and see his expression. And he wanted to say it. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do either.
Mihail was extremely exclusionary by nature and hated sharing a space with others unless absolutely necessary. He had to monopolize his own space to feel at ease, so aside from the library, he rarely allowed anyone into his study or bedroom. Even then, the only ones who came and went were the butler and a few seasoned servants, and they never lingered unless needed.
Ruling over a vast territory involved far more work than one might expect. Mihail personally handled matters of great importance, but for everything else, he gathered capable administrators, locked them away in the castle, and worked them to death. Thanks to that, the territory ran exceptionally well. In other words, Mihail spent his days doing only what he pleased, living a life of leisure. It was behavior befitting a noble.
And yet, even for Mihail, an exception had appeared—Chaika.
After changing into the clothes the tailor had made, the creature no longer looked like a war refugee. Dressed in fine fabric, stylish garments that weren’t out of fashion, and proper shoes, he looked presentable enough. Mihail had him try on each piece, but in the end, he made him live in those specially ordered work clothes. The outfits the tailor had poured his heart into, crafting in such a short time, were ultimately buried deep in the wardrobe, never seeing the light of day.
Though he ended up wearing clothes similar to before instead of the fine ones, Chaika seemed more than satisfied with that alone. The work clothes made of thick, high-quality linen were far cleaner, softer, and warmer than the old ones. Even while working, he would absentmindedly stroke the fabric or savor its texture with his hands, unable to hide his delight. Mihail watched the sight with quiet snickers. Seeing him so happy over something so trivial was so pathetic it made him laugh.
Even though the fabric was better and thicker than before, the length and width were the same. As Chaika moved his body while cleaning, his bare skin was exposed without mercy, and it wasn’t enough to ward off the chill of late autumn nights.
Because of that, whenever the sun began to set, Mihail ordered the fireplace to be lit without exception. To spread heat to every corner of the room, they piled in logs like a mountain, until the interior grew so hot it practically simmered. Dressing Chaika properly would have solved everything, but Mihail didn’t spare a thought for the labor of those who had to split and carry endless firewood just to keep the room boiling hot.
