So he tried to make contact with the veterinarian? It was like suddenly discovering a painful hangnail he’d had for ages without realizing—Ries couldn’t stop thinking about it, a prickling unease gnawing at the corner of his mind.
Did he find something out?
If that really were the case, then knowing his greedy, twisted personality, there was no way he’d stay still.
Ries subtly glanced over at Justyn’s face. Sure enough, his expression had noticeably darkened since before the stand-in’s arrival—clearly he was thinking something similar.
But they weren’t the only two who had reacted to the news about Chesif. Quietly rising from below the desk, the floating fish doll slipped into view, claiming a spot on Justyn’s desk. It was Sefiut, pretending as usual to be just an ordinary doll.
His usually round and soft features now looked oddly angular. The moment Ries noticed, a sharp voice lashed out.
— Those creepy, disgusting bastards never change, do they.
A single line, dripping with venom. In the past, Sefiut had voiced his annoyance toward the royals with a kind of weary disdain—but now, there was no mistaking the raw disgust in his voice.
“You know Marquess Marilon?”
— Of course I do. Well, more accurately, I knew one of his ancestors… But judging by the letter and your reactions, I’d say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Flap flap. His tail swished sharply.
Ries felt an instant surge of camaraderie. Back when he’d still been a cat, he couldn’t speak to share his grievances. After gaining the ability to talk, he’d been too distracted with everything else to bring them up. But now, with someone to complain with—it all finally came pouring out.
“So it runs in the family, huh? When that bastard was crashing at the house for a while, he acted like a complete psycho! Always bitching about fur being gross and shedding too much, locking me up in some dusty storage room! And since he treated me like trash, even the servants beat me up a few times!”
Unlike the passing comment he’d made to Justyn before, this time the anger came from deep in his chest. The more he remembered, the more infuriating it became.
“And then whenever Diana—that priestess—came around, he’d start acting all sweet and fake! He even tried to force me to act cutesy in front of her, and if I didn’t play along, he’d withhold food… And when he did feed me, it was slop that looked like a mix of leftovers and garbage, and he still acted like he was doing me a favor!”
— Taking his frustrations out on animals? What garbage.
“Right?! And now that I think about it, they’re the same—two of a kind. No wonder they got along so well! Whenever they got together, they’d talk shit about Justyn nonstop!”
He ranted on about how they’d badmouthed Justyn daily, how he’d nearly been tricked into resenting him too—it all spilled out like a burst dam.
— Tsk, pathetic. Just like his ancestor. You know what it was like back in my day? He’d pick a fight over everything, always snarling with his teeth bared—and even when disaster was looming, he didn’t change.
“Seriously?”
— Seriously! The guy had no skills, just ambition. Kept yapping about how I was getting too much support and how it needed to be cut back. Then, right before the calamity struck, he chickened out and ran away from the front lines, pretending to be injured. I can still see his scared little face crystal clear.
If he had hands, he would’ve sketched that pathetic face and plastered it all over the Empire. Ries was genuinely impressed—this wasn’t just agreement; it was enthusiasm.
As the impromptu “Marquess Marilon Slander Hour” went on, Sefiut shared a few more jaw-dropping stories before finally grumbling:
— That guy’s inferiority complex and sense of entitlement have clearly been passed down the bloodline… Makes you wonder if malice itself runs in the veins along with curses. Either way, the Crown Prince was right. We’d better keep a close eye on him for a while.
There was something weighty in those words. The phrase “malice runs in the blood” in particular struck a chord, though Sefiut had likely said it offhandedly.
Then Justyn’s low voice cut through Ries’s thoughts.
“He starved you… locked you in a storage room… and beat you?”
“Uh, y-yeah?”
The voice alone was enough to send chills down his spine. Ries slowly turned to face his master, stiff as a board.
“And what else? What else did that bastard do to you?”
“Uh… there’s kind of a lot…”
Gulp. He hadn’t meant to, but his throat went dry. He could swear he saw a gleam of cold fury behind the black mask.
A terrible premonition whispered in his ear:
…If I keep talking, he might rush off to the capital and kill someone.
He could almost hear the sound of someone’s life being cut short in the distance.
Come to think of it, he’d never really gone into detail with Justyn about his time at House Marilon. He’d mentioned it once, in passing, but nothing more. This was probably the first time Justyn had actually listened—and taken it seriously.
“…You’re not thinking of doing something reckless, are you?”
He hadn’t meant to provoke such a strong reaction. All he’d really wanted was to vent about how Chesif used to badmouth Justyn…
When he glanced down, he saw Sefiut had already turned his body the other way, feigning ignorance.
So obvious. He was basically saying, You deal with this.
Ries sighed, blaming the overly perceptive fish doll who knew all too well when to disappear.
“Hey, it’s all in the past now… I really don’t care anymore, except for how he talked shit about you. That still pisses me off.”
He cautiously reached out and grabbed Justyn’s sleeve.
“The Crown Prince guy… yeah, he’s smug, annoying, and a total pain to you, but he does get things done, doesn’t he? And you’re here too. So I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
It worked. The fury that had boiled in Justyn’s eyes began to cool.
That’s when an idea struck Ries.
“Let’s do that thing.”
“…That thing?”
He glanced down at Justyn’s trembling fingers, then tugged gently on his arm.
Justyn followed without resistance, eyes blinking in dazed confusion. Clearly, he’d forgotten his own words from before.
Ries’s bright, neatly-shaped face lit up with a big grin. With quick hands, he grabbed the floating Sefiut and tucked him under his arm.
Then he declared in an excited voice:
“Let’s go see the mansion!”
He hadn’t forgotten Justyn’s promise—to show him the estate in this form.
Now that the business with the stand-in was done, and “Rienstine Elton” was officially integrated into the household, there was no reason not to. It was the perfect time to walk through the estate on his own two feet.
As he pulled both the man and the doll along, the office was left empty behind them.
A breeze slipped in through the slightly ajar window, rustling the neatly stacked documents on the desk.
…If Ketir had seen it, he would’ve gone through all five stages of grief in under five minutes—denial, despair, and finally, begrudging acceptance.
***
The held hands were awkward.
Ries had yanked Justyn out of the office on a whim and missed his chance to let go. Or more accurately—Justyn had tightened his grip the moment they stepped outside, and Ries couldn’t bring himself to pull away.
He kept darting his eyes between Justyn’s face and their interlocked hands, wondering if Justyn could hear how loudly his thoughts were racing.
Then, finally, Justyn let go.
“…Sorry.”
Only then did it seem like he realized what he was doing. Ries caught sight of Justyn’s red-tipped ears and felt even more flustered.
“Ah—no, no, it’s okay! I mean, I didn’t mind holding hands or anything, but, uh… people might see and get the wrong idea? So, um, I was just being cautious…?”
“……”
“……”
His awkward stammering did nothing to help. Sefiut, now freed from under Ries’s arm, let out a long, incomprehensible sigh.
— Sighhh.
The silence broke just after that. Justyn, avoiding eye contact and looking slightly to the side, cautiously spoke up.
“…I’m glad you didn’t mind. Actually, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”
“Ask me?”
“Yes. If you haven’t already decided where you want to go first… there’s a place I want to show you.”
Before Ries could ask where, their eyes met. Justyn’s narrowed gently as he answered.
“Your room.”
“My… I have a room?”
“Yes. You’re part of the ducal household in this form too, so it’s only natural that you have a space of your own.”
Ries’s interest visibly piqued. Justyn seemed to have anticipated that, and led the way without hesitation.
They passed through a long corridor before arriving at a room not far from the office—in fact, it was closer to Justyn’s own chambers.
Justyn carefully opened the door.
It swung open without a single creak, revealing the interior beyond.
Ries stepped in like he was under a spell, eyes wide with amazement.
“Whoa…”
The room was filled with high-quality furniture and elegant decor—nothing gaudy, just tasteful and refined. It was spacious and bright, clearly designed with his preferences in mind.
In a storage space tucked discreetly out of sight, a mountain of cat supplies had been neatly arranged. Fishing rod toys, plushies, and more… Ries closed the drawer with a sigh after eyeing the contents.
He had no idea when he’d use all that—but even at a glance, it was obvious a lot of thought had gone into preparing this space for him.
“I love it! When did you start getting this ready?”
The bed was especially to his liking—firm and solid even when he plopped down on it with his full weight. He lounged halfway back, fully enjoying the plush feel, and looked up to ask.
“Before the magic device was finished. But…”
The answer came quickly, though hesitation tinged the end.
It sounded like he had something serious he wanted to say.
