Chaika was always present during meals as well. A servant would never dare to sit and eat together, so his role was simply to stand by and watch the skilled servants attend to the meal. Those servants, well practiced in table service, carved whole roasted chickens, wild boar, and venison into bite-sized pieces and poured the wine.
Dinner was always lavish. Whole chickens, wild boar, venison, goat, and lamb were roasted intact and served several kinds at a time as a matter of course. Of course, while Mihail’s appetite as an alpha was formidable, serving far more food than could possibly be eaten was itself a display of wealth befitting a noble’s dinner table. The leftovers were shared among the servants, and whatever still remained was passed down to the menial workers.
Mihail dismissed all the servants with a flick of his hand. Then, with a crook of his finger, he called over Chaika, the only one left behind. Having experienced this several times already, Chaika quietly stepped up and stood right beside Mihail.
Mihail took portions of the sliced meat and various dishes the servants had prepared and placed them evenly onto a plate, setting it in front of Chaika.
“Hand.”
At the short command, Chaika reflexively held out his hand. Mihail placed a fork into it and jerked his chin as if telling him to hurry up and eat. After glancing once at Mihail’s face, Chaika cautiously speared the food on his plate and brought it to his mouth.
The first thing he ate was a tender piece of chicken leg, simmered heavily in spices. Even though the piece was small, his mouth was so tiny that it took him a long time just to chew that single bite. His lips moved slowly, working at it, and they shone slick with oil that had seeped from the chicken. After chewing that one small piece nearly thirty times, he finally managed to swallow, letting out a long sigh as if exhausted. It was obvious he’d never properly eaten meat in his life.
“Nile gave me some once, so I’ve eaten it before.”
As if he’d correctly interpreted Mihail’s gaze, Chaika suddenly spoke in a small, shrinking voice mid-meal. Mihail’s mood soured instantly, and he clicked his tongue, focusing back on his own food.
By the time Mihail finished off an entire chicken, a large slab of wild boar flank, and a deer’s hind leg, Chaika had barely managed to clear half his plate. Perhaps from a lifetime habit of hunger, no matter how delicious the food was, he couldn’t eat much. Even that amount was only possible because they’d been steadily feeding him for days to increase his intake.
His belly seemed uncomfortably full; he rubbed it with one hand as his breathing came out in short, strained bursts. His lips gleamed with grease. All of a sudden, Mihail had the urge to swipe that sheen away with his thumb and lick it off. Fortunately—or unfortunately—the servants returned before he could act on it and began clearing the table.
Chaika’s sleeping place was at the very edge of Mihail’s bedroom. Normally, a simple set of bedding would be put away and then spread out at night for the servant on duty. Of course, Mihail loathed sharing his space, so there was no such thing as a servant on night duty in his room—only servants waiting outside the door.
The first night Chaika slept on the simple bedding, he kept wriggling under the covers as if cold, shivering again and again. Even with the fireplace lit, the spot directly beneath the window seemed to let the chill seep in unabated.
In the end, Mihail had thick, midwinter bedding brought in for him, but even then, it didn’t change much. The next day, he went further and ordered that fur—originally prepared to make a winter coat—be used to fashion bedding instead. Once it was done, it was less a makeshift bed than a cozy fur nest. In any case, after adding the fur, the sounds of Chaika tossing about or shivering from the cold at night all but disappeared.
When it was time to sleep, the small-bodied Chaika fussed and strained as he tidied up Mihail’s bed. Then he approached, bowed deeply, and greeted him.
“Good night, Your Grace.”
“Mm.”
Mihail, who didn’t even acknowledge greetings from other servants, found himself unconsciously replying with things like mm every time to that overly polite bow.
Chaika went to his spot by the window and slipped neatly into the makeshift bed made of expensive fur. Like a squirrel crawling into its little burrow, he rustled around for a bit, shifting and fidgeting to find a comfortable position. Soon, the movement stopped, and the sound of his soft, even breathing filled the room.
Lying in bed, Mihail stared for a long time at the lump of fur where Chaika had nested. Only as dawn began to break did he finally drift into a shallow sleep.
***
“Mihail!”
The door burst open as Ilya barged in. In Castiya Castle, there was exactly one person who could treat Mihail this roughly—Count Ilya Vasari. He’d been holed up for days at his lover’s house in the village outside the castle, staying quiet, and it seemed he’d finally returned.
“I heard things were going well with Nile, and then you suddenly cut him off?”
Ilya strode up to the desk as he spoke. The moment a name Mihail had completely erased from his mind for days popped up, his face twisted.
“Just having an omega in my castle makes me sick. And his behavior didn’t help.”
Mihail’s words dripped with dense, visceral disgust. Beside him, Chaika, who had been wiping down the table, flinched at the mention of Nile, clearly at a loss. He kept glancing at Mihail, his expression practically screaming that he wanted to explain on Nile’s behalf. Even after living with that kind of treatment, he was desperate to defend Nile.
“Oh, you’re—.”
Only then did Ilya notice Chaika standing off to one side. Recognizing his face, he lifted an eyebrow slightly.
“You… right. You said you were Nile’s younger brother, didn’t you? What was your name again….”
Ilya narrowed his eyes as if rummaging through his memory.
“…Chaika, sir.”
“Ah, right. Chaika.”
At the reply, Ilya’s eyes widened as if he’d finally remembered—but it was obvious he hadn’t known the name at all.
“Go clean the library.”
Before Ilya could latch onto Chaika, Mihail sent him out. At the word library, Chaika’s face immediately brightened.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The way he bowed and headed off to clean the library was so light and buoyant it was like watching a butterfly flutter away.
Once Chaika left the study and the door closed, Ilya leaned over the desk, planting his hands on it, unable to hide his shock as he brought his face close.
“You let that kid clean the library? Your library? The one no one but you—or the librarian—can even step into? You don’t even let me in there!”
The complaint about not even me was thick with wounded pride. Mihail ignored him completely. Knowing how sensitive Mihail was about letting others into spaces he’d marked as his own, Ilya stopped there and didn’t push further.
“Anyway, what are you going to do about Nile? You told His Majesty you were taking your time getting to know him, but you’ve already let one heat cycle pass.”
Ilya helped himself to the liquor on the side table, pouring a glass without asking. He handed one to Mihail, then sat across from him, took a sip, and continued.
“Next heat cycle, just shut your eyes and do it once. Wouldn’t it be better to end it cleanly than keep tormenting him?”
“If one is born, they’ll demand I keep producing more. And if what’s born is an omega?”
Mihail said it with a cold smile. His face, his eyes, his tone—everything radiated extreme revulsion and rejection.
Ilya took a few more gulps of liquor before speaking again.
“Marquis Lucius contacted me. Says he’d like to stop by.”
“Why that bastard?”
“Who knows. He might be planning to suggest swapping Nile out for a different omega.”
“A different omega?”
“Saying Nile doesn’t seem to suit your castle, he could bring several decent omegas and let you choose one that at least pleases your eye….”
“Disgusting.”
Mihail spat the word out.
“Either way, Nile is the finest product the Lucius marquisate has. Young, beautiful, and in his prime—letting him waste away in a place like this might be worse than sending him to an alpha who actually wants him. It’d benefit the Marquis in more ways than one.”
“Tell him to do whatever he wants. Take him away or sell him off somewhere else again.”
Mihail replied with clear disinterest.
“Hm….”
Ilya let out a long sigh and sipped his drink. After a brief pause, he asked casually,
“You’ll be fine with that?”
Mihail snorted, flipping through the documents on his desk. Ilya narrowed his eyes slightly and added,
“If Nile leaves, that little one will go with him.”
Only then did Mihail look up. Ilya smiled faintly, slowly swirling the wine in his glass as he continued.
“That kid isn’t a slave we bought. He’s just an attendant Nile brought along. If you want to talk ownership, it technically belongs to Nile. So if Nile goes, that kid goes too. If Nile stays, the kid stays.”
A deep crease formed between Mihail’s brows.
Well, would you look at that?
Ilya muttered inwardly as he drained the remaining wine in his glass in one go.
Chaika didn’t return from cleaning the library until nearly midnight. Told to clean it, he must have truly cleaned that vast space top to bottom—his legs wobbled slightly as he walked back in, slow and unsteady.
“I’m back.”
As he bowed his head in greeting, a strong, bitter scent of medicinal herbs clung to him. He must have stopped by the hidden cultivation grounds as well.
“Good night, Your Grace.”
Normally, he would’ve hovered nearby, asking if Mihail needed anything, if his sleeping arrangements were comfortable, desperately looking for even one more thing he could do. But tonight, he must have been utterly exhausted. After greeting him, he crawled straight into his corner. There was some rustling as he settled in, then silence—just when it seemed he’d fallen asleep, a faint sound of trembling came from within the pile of fur.
It was much colder tonight than it had been in days. Being directly beneath the window, cold air would seep straight through the gaps. Still, even wrapped in all that thick fur, he was shivering like that… just how was that body even managing to stay alive and move?
There was no way not to hear it. No way not to pay attention.
Tch.
In the end, clicking his tongue, Mihail got out of bed, lifted the entire makeshift sleeping arrangement—Chaika bundled up inside it—and hoisted it into the air. Ignoring the startled flailing from within, he strode over and set it down directly in front of the fireplace.
Chaika poked his head out from the fur blanket, realized he was now right in front of the warm hearth, and looked up at Mihail.
“…Thank you.”
That one small word of gratitude dropped into Mihail’s chest with a soft plop, sending ripples through him. Once again, Mihail thought that he truly had no idea what he was supposed to do.
