By then, Ketir finally let go of Ries. He landed softly on the floor, light as flowing water, and looked up at the man who’d held him.
Sensing the gaze, Ketir spoke.
“I’m just going out to clean things up a bit. Honestly, I’d recommend staying inside if you can…”
His voice trailed off as his expression turned grim—like someone coming to terms with an uncomfortable truth.
“…But even if I say that, you’ll do whatever you want, won’t you? Fine. Do as you please. Just don’t get yourself hurt.”
With that, he stepped out of the carriage and gently closed the door behind him—unlike Justyn, who had once insisted Ries stay put.
The only difference was that Ketir, perhaps out of consideration, hadn’t shut the door completely. Ries slowly made his way toward it.
—It won’t be a pleasant sight.
Even though Sefiut, who’d been silent all this time, finally spoke up to stop him.
But Ries pressed on. Reaching the door, he nudged the small gap open with his right paw. It swung silently, revealing the outside world he’d longed to see.
And it was drenched in red.
Just like Justyn’s eyes.
***
—I figured as much. Still, it seems we’re not exactly welcome.
Sefiut’s bitter voice echoed from behind, but Ries couldn’t turn to face him. It felt like something had locked his gaze in place.
Limp limbs scattered across the ground. Painful groans here and there. Bodies still as death. And blood. Blood. Blood.
Only now did Ries truly understand just how sharp a cat’s sense of smell was. He’d never experienced the scent of blood this raw, this overwhelming.
“Kehek.”
His stomach churned, and a dry gag forced its way up. His paws grew cold, and reflexive tears pricked his eyes. Even as his body recoiled, Ries’s mind was already racing.
Amid this blood-soaked nightmare, certain details stood out: black clothes, black masks, and sharp weapons strewn everywhere. The attackers’ goal was obvious.
Were they after Justyn?
The thought hit like a punch to the gut. Ries had wandered harsh streets before, but he’d never felt such naked, violent intent until now.
Justyn returned right around the time Ries’s gagging had subsided.
“Ries, why are you outsi—”
He stopped. His red eyes dropped to the ground, spotting the traces of where Ries had thrown up.
“……”
He didn’t say another word. Or maybe, he couldn’t. Ries was certain his face behind that mask was twisted in horror.
He could picture it clearly—guilt, regret, self-loathing. Right now, he didn’t even need to see Justyn’s expression to know exactly what he was feeling.
“…Myaak. Keng.”
And then, like always, that familiar moment came. Ries was the one who moved first, stepping toward Justyn.
His mouth still tasted awful, but it didn’t matter. He’d already started adjusting to the stifling, metallic stench of blood. The mangled bodies lying around—he could ignore them with unfocused eyes.
The only one not okay here was Justyn.
Curled up like a frightened animal, he trembled. So Ries offered him something—a gift of claws. Just like the first time they met, when he stubbornly insisted Justyn take him, he hooked his claws deep into the man’s clothes.
Honestly, how can someone that big be such a scaredy-cat?
If he didn’t do something, Justyn would definitely panic and run. And who knew how long it would take him to come back?
Ries wasn’t about to wait. He wasn’t going to let him get away in the first place.
The hem of Justyn’s pants stretched with a loud rip, just like the day they first met.
Standing there stunned, Justyn muttered. Even the faintest sound was clear as day to Ries’s ears.
“You’re not afraid of me? …Even now?”
“Myaow.”
Of course not. Ries let out a sweet mewl and rubbed up against Justyn’s leg.
He heard him draw in a shaky breath.
Justyn hesitated for only a moment before scooping up the soft little body at his feet. Ries’s gently swaying tail brushed against his fingertips.
Watching them from a distance, eyes hazy—Ketir muttered to himself.
“As expected. Let’s just handle this ourselves.”
It was clear the Duke had completely fallen under the cat’s spell, so Ketir decided to let him go for now.
We’ve got interrogations to do anyway. That carriage ride can wait.
A wise decision.
***
Dinner was delayed a bit.
Understandable—no one could eat surrounded by the stench of blood and the dead. They’d taken the carriage some distance away from the scene, and by the time they finished unloading their things, night had already fallen.
After Justyn and Ketir stepped away, Ries quietly turned to Sefiut.
“Myaaaak. Aeaeng?”
So that really was aimed at Justyn, wasn’t it?
—Huh. Looks like you’ve got some brains after all.
Sefiut squinted lazily. It was hard to tell whether he was being sarcastic or genuinely impressed.
But Ries still wasn’t satisfied.
“Nya. Nyanyanya. Myaaaang?”
Why? Who? What were they after?
And he hadn’t forgotten the bitter tone Sefiut had used when he said, “Seems we’re not exactly welcome here.” It had sounded almost like…
—My descendant stayed in the capital for a long time for treatment. But it’s not like he kept in touch with the ducal estate while he was there. So obviously, someone else was playing the role of master in his absence. And now? Now they’re about to lose everything. Must be driving them mad—probably can’t even sleep from the stress.
“…Aeooong?”
And that’s enough to try and kill someone?
Sefiut let out a scoffing snort.
—More than enough. Though, I doubt they actually meant to kill him.
“Mya? Nyanyanya. Nyaaak!”
Didn’t seem that way to me! Ries recoiled at the way Sefiut spoke so casually about it all. The attack had been vicious—merciless.
—And yet those vicious bastards couldn’t even touch him. He cut them down like it was nothing.
“……”
Ries had nothing to say. Because it was true.
When he returned to the carriage with Justyn, it suddenly hit him—What if he was hurt?
From the glimpse he got, there had been at least six of those black-clad attackers. That meant Justyn had gone one against six—maybe more. Ries cursed them all for the cowardly ambush and frantically tried to check for injuries…
But there weren’t any. Not a single scratch.
He’d faced overwhelming odds and still come out spotless. Victorious.
So yeah, there really was nothing to say.
Sefiut rocked side to side, amused. His tiny fins wobbled along with the motion.
—Hmph. But since I know how soft-hearted you are, I’ll give you a little backstory. I’ve spent a long time floating around that mansion. Sure, I got stuck in the gallery for a while when I ran out of energy… but I had plenty of time to watch the living.
So that wasn’t the first time. Ries remembered that day—when Sefiut suddenly vanished, saying he’d burned through his energy.
—Justyn isn’t the first descendant to bear the curse. More than a few of them were trapped in that mansion, just like him. Because of the curse I spread… That place wasn’t a home. It was a prison.
“……”
—And it wasn’t just outsiders who tormented them. Their own family did too. People who shared their blood. They were hated, shunned… sneered at.
Sefiut paused, drawing a slow breath. He seemed to be calming himself.
—Funny, right? But they never dared do anything openly. Why? Because they were afraid. Afraid the curse might jump to them if the cursed one died. Like it’s some kind of contagious disease. What a joke.
Sefiut’s words were darker, sadder, heavier than Ries had expected. He found himself too stunned to respond.
And then, a thought crept in—
Was it the same for Justyn?
Had he also been shunned by his own family? Rejected by the very people who shared his blood?
If they went to the ducal estate… maybe he’d find out. Part of him wanted to know. Part of him didn’t.
The contradiction tangled up in his chest.
—Anyway, kid, you better keep your guard up too. I don’t know what the hell that idiot’s thinking, going back to the estate, but things aren’t going to be pretty. So brace yourself.
“Aeuuung…”
—Oh, don’t go moping already. You think he’d go back without a plan? Stick close to him. Show him a little affection. He’ll probably melt. And hey, maybe you’ll even help lift the curse while you’re at it.
Yeah.
Ries dug his front paw into the ground with renewed resolve.
