It had been only a few days since he’d last seen him. It would be a lie to say he hadn’t half-expected the creature to come scurrying over the moment he returned, greeting him eagerly. But instead of welcoming him, the creature brought over from Nile’s quarters stood exactly where he was set down, head bowed low, not saying a word. He looked as though he’d been forcibly abducted against his will.
“Running straight back to the bastard who treated you so roughly just because I stepped away for a moment—how stupid can you be?”
When Duke Mihail Castiya flicked the top of his head with a fingertip, the creature—silent until then—finally opened his mouth.
“I only went because… while Your Grace was away, I wanted to stay by Lord Nile’s side.”
“You went because you wanted to stay by his side?”
Snorting derisively, Mihail yanked up Chaika’s shirt, exposing the lash marks beneath.
“And you still wanted to stay with him even though he treated you like this?”
“…Lord Nile protects me. It’s true.”
The creature muttered the words. He sounded as if he’d been brainwashed. The frustration made Mihail want to grab something—anything—and run it through with his sword. He felt like charging straight back to the hunting grounds, wild and violent.
“…Your Grace wouldn’t know. If it hadn’t been Lord Nile, I would’ve—”
Seeing Mihail’s ferocious expression, Chaika muttered in a small voice and bit down hard on his lower lip. Then he spoke again.
“The only one who can protect me is Lord Nile. Your Grace just… doesn’t know.”
“I can protect you too. Far better than someone like Nile ever could.”
At Mihail’s words, spoken as if he were chewing them apart, Chaika suddenly smiled faintly. The fragile curve at the corner of his lips looked as though it might disappear at any moment.
“Your Grace can do anything… but isn’t it true that everyone has at least one thing they can’t do?”
The words, spoken with that fading smile, left Mihail unsure how to react. He wanted to grab those narrow shoulders and shake him, or split open that small head to see just how thoroughly it had been brainwashed. The fact that he couldn’t swing that small thing around however he pleased—no, the fact that he wasn’t—turned Mihail’s insides upside down.
When he thought of the creature being whipped, starving, reduced to rags and forced to work, he wanted to storm out immediately and lash Nile with a whip. He wanted to take his soldiers, trample Marquis Lucius’s territory, and set the castle ablaze. Since leaving behind his immature, instinct-driven youth, he had rarely found himself in a situation that demanded this much patience.
Fortunately, Mihail was no longer a reckless, impulsive young alpha. Instead of giving in to the violent urges boiling in his head, he ordered the servants to prepare bathwater.
As he stripped off the filthy clothes he’d worn during several days at the hunting grounds, the creature lit up as if delighted to finally have something to do, quickly gathering the discarded garments. He laid out a fresh shirt, new clothes, and shoes, prepared towels, and busied himself scrubbing the mud-stained leather boots.
Soon, a tub filled with steaming water was ready. Mihail tossed aside the last of his clothing and lowered himself into the bath, leaning back. A servant approached with a cloth to wash him. Mihail waved them all away and instead called to Chaika, who was still polishing the boots.
“Come here.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Even without hearing his name, the creature knew at once that he was being called and hurried over. The fact that Mihail found even such a trivial action endearing was pitiful in itself. He tossed the cloth the servant had left onto Chaika’s chest.
“Wipe me down.”
After speaking curtly, Mihail leaned back comfortably. The creature swallowed hard, rolled up his sleeves, and began wiping Mihail’s body with the cloth, just as he’d observed others do before.
He started with the hands—carefully cleaning each finger, then the backs of the hands and the palms. It took a long time, and he worked with intense concentration, as if even the smallest detail couldn’t be overlooked, like polishing furniture. He took an especially long time working his way up the arms, but Mihail wasn’t bored; instead, he watched the creature with interest.
After finishing both arms, Chaika straightened a bit and began rubbing Mihail’s neck, chest, and shoulders. The bedroom was silent. All that could be heard was the soft splash of water whenever the cloth was dipped and wrung out, and the creature’s slightly ragged breathing as he worked diligently.
Wiping his chest required broader movements. Mihail’s tall frame and broad shoulders meant that to reach the far side of his chest, the creature had to lean far over the tub. The servants who usually did this were tall, with long arms, so it hadn’t been an issue. But the small, compact creature’s arms were proportionately short, and he couldn’t reach everything at once.
Each time he leaned over the tub, the white linen shirt he wore for work sagged and dipped into the water, soaking and lifting out again. Focused on his task, breathing softly through parted lips, the creature seemed oblivious to the way his clothes were steadily becoming drenched. Or perhaps he noticed and simply didn’t care. By the time he finished wiping Mihail’s chest and shoulders and pulled back, the white shirt was completely soaked, clinging tightly to his body.
“…Ah.”
Only then did the creature seem to notice the damp weight of the fabric plastered against his skin, glancing down and letting out an uncertain sound. It was hard to tell whether he’d just realized or hadn’t known it was this bad.
With the white linen soaked through and stuck to him, the pale skin beneath and the contours of his body were fully revealed. Amid all that white, the only hint of color was the pair of red nipples, standing out conspicuously, as if begging to be touched.
“Now the legs—”
As if his own drenched appearance didn’t matter at all, the creature moved to work his way lower. Mihail abruptly grabbed him and hauled him into the bath.
Splash!
Snatched almost midair and dropped straight in, the creature sank completely into the tub. A moment later, his brown head burst back up as he screamed, “Uwah!”—a thoroughly graceless cry. His arms flailed wildly, as if he’d fallen into the open sea rather than a bath.
“How pathetic.”
Clicking his tongue, Mihail grabbed the creature by the waist and sat him on his thigh. With his backside supported and his upper body out of the water, the creature finally sucked in air desperately, panting as if he’d been saved from drowning.
“Y-Your Grace….”
Only now grasping what had happened, the creature called out in a tiny voice—one that, surprisingly, carried a hint of reproach, as if Mihail had nearly killed him.
“I’ve lived a long life, but I’ve never seen someone as trivial and pitiful as you.”
When Mihail clicked his tongue in disbelief, the creature puckered his red lips, looking genuinely wronged.
Drenched from head to toe, he should’ve looked miserable. Yet he didn’t. The white fabric clinging to his body revealed every curve of his slender frame while still managing to conceal it in a precarious way. Whether from fright or the hot water, the lips beneath his brown hair were flushed a deep, vivid red. His nipples were the same.
Water dripped steadily from his soaked brown hair. Usually fluffy and unruly, it now clung flat against his face, looking even more bothersome than usual.
Very slowly, Mihail raised his hand and cupped Chaika’s cheek. His face was so small it fit easily into one hand—with room to spare.
“…Your Grace….”
The creature whispered with red, trembling lips. Plop. It felt as if a stone had dropped into still water, sending ripples through Mihail’s chest.
“Instead of producing an heir, I’m going to end up keeping a lover.”
“A lover, huh….”
Mihail murmured soundlessly, still holding Chaika’s cheek. He hadn’t even properly seen this creature’s face until now. And yet, he hadn’t argued with Ilya Vasari’s words. No—he hadn’t wanted to.
He’d had plenty of relationships purely for release. Even after outgrowing his immature years, whenever his rut cycle came, he’d indulged in frenzied nights with beta women. But he’d never maintained a lasting relationship, nor felt the need for one, nor desired it.
And yet, this—this pitiful thing with a scrawny, starved body, dull brown hair, and ugly scars etched into his skin… no matter how he looked at him, there wasn’t a single redeeming feature to be found—this utterly worthless creature….
Perhaps overwhelmed by Mihail’s gaze, the creature shifted slightly, trying to leave the bath. Mihail tightened his grip on the creature’s waist, keeping him pinned on his thigh, and removed the hand cupping his cheek. Then he reached up and gently lifted the dripping brown hair from his face.
“Your Grace!”
The creature suddenly cried out, almost a scream, grabbing Mihail’s wrist with both hands.
“D-Don’t. Please don’t!”
Clutching his wrist, he began to tremble violently, as if he’d been thrown into a snowy field in midwinter.
“Please don’t. Don’t look. Please don’t look.”
The plea, voiced with his entire body shaking, was desperate—bordering on tragic. Water dripped steadily into the bath. But it wasn’t from his hair. It was from his eyes. Tears of fear.
Mihail could’ve easily shaken off the hands gripping his wrist. Instead, he spoke quietly.
“I’ve seen eyes knocked loose and dangling after a sword struck someone’s head in battle. I’ve seen faces burned until the eyes, nose, and mouth shriveled, leaving only a pinky-sized hole to breathe through. I’ve seen soldiers run with spears even after half their faces were blown away. I’ve seen bodies ravaged by plague, blistered and bursting, pus streaming down their faces. Noses cut off. Ears cut off. Tongues cut out. Jawbones shattered. In war, you see such things until you’re sick of them.”
After saying that, Mihail gently pried away the hands clutching his wrist.
“So it’s fine. I don’t care how ugly you are. What kind of face you have. Even if your nose is gone, even if you have no eyes, even if hideous scars remain… it’s fine. I won’t be shocked.”
One of the creature’s hands slid slowly down from Mihail’s wrist, then the other followed. Still, his body continued to tremble, as if revealing his face terrified him beyond words. Hic. Sniff. His soft sobs didn’t stop. Terrified as he was, he had still decided to show his face to Mihail.
So as not to startle him, Mihail moved very slowly, carefully sweeping aside the hair that covered half his face. He gathered one handful and tucked it behind the right ear, then another and tucked it behind the left. For the first time, the creature’s face was fully revealed before him.
“…….”
Mihail stopped breathing. No—he completely forgot how to breathe.
The small, pale face was breathtakingly beautiful. Golden lashes, darkened by moisture, fluttered as they lifted. The tears pooled at the corners of his eyes, deepening the violet of his irises before spilling over and falling. Those violet eyes, reflecting the flicker of candlelight, gazed at Mihail with a depth and mystery like polished amethyst.
“…….”
Mihail couldn’t speak. He couldn’t form words. It felt as though he’d forgotten how to breathe, how to talk—everything.
Ugly would’ve been fine. Deep scars would’ve been fine. Plain, ordinary—any of it would’ve been fine. The creature was the creature; that alone would’ve been enough. But this—this was…
When Mihail continued to stare without a word or expression, the creature’s eyes crumpled, and amethyst tears began to fall in earnest.
“S-See… that’s why I said you shouldn’t… shouldn’t look….”
Mihail pulled the sobbing creature into his arms and hugged him tightly. The small body fit perfectly against his chest, shoulders trembling softly with each sob, yet resting obediently in his embrace. His heart pounded violently, the sound booming in his ears like war drums on a battlefield. It felt as if his ribs would shatter under the force. He wasn’t sitting in warm bathwater anymore—it felt as though he’d plunged into molten lava, his blood boiling throughout his body.
“…I almost wish….”
Mihail forced the words out.
“I almost wish you were ugly.”
“…Your Grace?”
“I almost wish you were….”
Murmuring to himself, Mihail tightened his hold slightly. This small, fragile body felt like it might break if he held it the way he wanted to.
“Because of you, I—”
“Your Grace?”
The creature called out, sounding breathless from being held so tightly. But Mihail couldn’t say anything more. He couldn’t even breathe properly. All he could do was hold him—just tightly enough that he wouldn’t break.
