When Ries came to after fainting, it felt like déjà vu—he’d already gone through this once before. But humiliations had a way of lingering. The more he wanted to forget them, the more they resurfaced to torment him. Every time he stood next to Justyn, he became self-conscious, and that only made him stumble all the more awkwardly in front of him.
Ughhh.
Of course, there was no way Justyn hadn’t noticed.
Ries cracked his tightly shut eyes open. That gaze, heavy with disappointment and hurt, was still fixed on him. If he dared to pull away now, Justyn really would dig a hole deep into the ground and bury himself there forever.
“…Meow. Myak.”
He shuffled forward. One step. Then another. Even slower than a turtle.
In the end, it was Justyn who spoke first.
“I…”
His breath caught, and then, as if something had suddenly clicked, the eyes behind his mask twisted faintly with strain.
“…I’ve made things hard for you, haven’t I?”
“…Eh? Eng?”
…Ries had been uneasy from the start, and sure enough, Justyn’s conclusion veered wildly off course.
A wave of panic hit him, sharper than the lingering embarrassment that had trailed him in the past.
“Myak? Myauk? Aeng! Waeeong!”
His tail shot up and lashed the air.
N-no, that wasn’t it at all!
He cried pitifully, but Justyn just sat there like a prisoner awaiting his sentence, not doubting his judgment for even a second.
“Muuuuung…”
Ries knew full well—he wasn’t stupid. This whole mess was his own doing. The sticky embarrassment and humiliation that had been dragging at his feet dissolved, replaced by guilt.
He’d always told himself he’d talk things out eventually, but he’d kept putting it off until it had come to this. Justyn’s clearly wounded expression stabbed at him like a thorn.
First, he had to stop Justyn from blaming himself. Ries leapt onto the bed, burrowed into the neatly arranged blankets, and wriggled his way inside.
Then, with a flash—
The lump beneath the covers shifted into human form. Ries’s human form.
He squirmed a little, then peeked out from beneath the blanket.
“…That’s not it.”
His voice was so soft it was barely audible, laced with embarrassment.
“I was never burdened by you. It’s just… all this time, I’ve been… ashamed of the stupid things I’ve done…”
He mumbled, then bit his tongue. He wanted to explain clearly, to spell out that Justyn was wrong, but the old habit of babbling nonsense when no one was listening—like when he’d been a cat—made his words clumsy and awkward.
He couldn’t bring himself to meet Justyn’s eyes. Not after baring his feelings so honestly.
But thankfully, the effort wasn’t wasted. The disappointment in Justyn’s gaze melted away like snow under the sun.
“…I see. As long as it isn’t that you hate me, then that’s enough. …I’m relieved.”
His voice was still tinged with sorrow, though. Which only made Ries’s conscience throb all the more.
If he could look at Justyn now and still keep up that cold distance, he wouldn’t even be human. He’d be nothing more than an animal.
Oh. Right. I am a cat.
Correction: not a person, not even an animal—just a useless rock lying by the roadside. Ries drew a steadying breath.
“I’m sorry. I’ll try to adapt.”
He couldn’t keep hiding forever out of embarrassment. He had to face his humiliating past head-on. If he didn’t, next time Justyn really might cry. It was just a gut feeling, but a strong one.
“You don’t need to apologize to me.”
“Even so…”
Ever gentle, Justyn shook his head, insisting that as long as Ries didn’t hate him, everything else was fine.
That was when Ries’s eyes lit up with an idea.
“Don’t you want anything from me? A favor? A wish—I’ll grant it!”
That way, he could cheer Justyn up and ease his own guilt. A perfect win-win.
The proposal was sudden, but Justyn understood immediately. And he saw exactly what Ries’s intentions were.
“I…”
He hesitated. Because no matter how noble he was, he was still human—and the word “wish” carried a dangerous allure.
The longer he hesitated, the more anxious Ries grew.
…What kind of wish is he going to make?
Gulp. He swallowed dryly and hurried to add a condition.
“A-anything I can’t actually do is off-limits.”
It sounded petty, but he couldn’t help it. Until recently—no, even now—he was still, at heart, a housecat. He had nothing to his name but his body. Not a single coin.
Anyone who knew the wealth of House Laufe would have laughed at the thought. But Ries didn’t know that.
Still, his outburst managed to snap Justyn out of his thoughts.
“…As if I’d ever put you in a difficult spot.”
He folded away the unspoken desires that had stirred in his mind.
That didn’t mean he had no request at all. In fact, there was one thing he had come to need.
“Then, Ries. Forgive me for asking, but there is one thing.”
He met Ries’s wide, nervous eyes and spoke.
***
Ries felt it—a prickly gaze tickling his back. All thanks to Sefiut, who was shamelessly using him as a shield.
“…Ae-woong.”
What do you think you’re doing?
He shifted restlessly. But the prickle didn’t stop. By the second and third time, quiet scolding followed.
―Stay still, will you? I even stayed out of it last night while you two were busy digging your own graves. The least you can do is this much!
The whispered voice, low and sharp, made Ries flick his ears irritably.
Digging our graves? What graves?
Sefiut often spouted things Ries didn’t understand, and this was another of those moments.
Still, Ries could understand why he wanted to hide. He turned his gaze slightly, sneaking a look at the unfamiliar guest.
That stare—relentless. If the room’s master gave the word, the man looked ready to sit down and openly watch them.
“Baron Embio.”
“Ah, forgive me. I’ve overstepped.”
Fortunately, Justyn drew the line first, sparing them the ordeal.
Catching the displeasure in his lord’s eyes, Baron Embio cleanly dropped the matter. He might have been curious about the being rumored to be a spirit, but he was a man who knew how to separate personal curiosity from business.
And he was here for business. He’d come to deliver a report after several hectic days, not to provoke his master’s temper.
The baron handed over the thick stack of documents he’d brought.
“As you commanded, I investigated Count Barmark and the retainer houses that supported him. Most of the embezzled funds were used as investments. At a glance, the money looks scattered in small pieces, but if you trace the flow, it all converges into a single point.”
He gestured toward the final page as he explained.
“Lately, there’s been a quiet rumor among the wealthy. They say the black market, which vanished ten years ago under the Empire’s purge, is quietly regaining power. It seems Barmark made contact with whoever is behind it.”
The black market. Hardly a trivial matter.
The Empire’s purge had been a declaration: such forces would not be tolerated. Lesser nobles who got tangled with them could see their houses wiped out entirely.
Justyn didn’t need Baron Embio to spell out the danger—he already understood.
“It’d be best to cut them off as an example. Recovering the investments seems unlikely, so confiscate a portion of the guilty houses’ assets and donate them to an imperial institution in House Laufe’s name. I’ll deal with the criminals myself.”
“Your will shall be done.”
By rooting out the guilty and showing goodwill to the Empire, their honor would remain intact even if the truth of the incident came to light later.
Yes, Baron Embio’s choice had been right. Justyn Laufe was a man worth following.
That self-assurance lasted only a moment.
“There’s something else I’d like you to do.”
The baron had expected to be dismissed. Instead, Justyn had another request.
His eyes lit with interest once more.
“As long as it’s within my power, I’ll do my utmost.”
“I’d like you to arrange a meeting with a magician, if you know one.”
“A magician… I do know a few personally. But ones discreet enough for Your Grace to meet privately—at most, two.”
He grasped Justyn’s intent instantly and trimmed the list to suit his needs.
Magicians were rare, even in the Empire. Not as formidable in combat as swordsmen, but their power to twist the laws of the world made them invaluable.
As the operator of a vast trading network, Baron Embio had frequent contact with them. Few merchants could supply the rare and finicky materials magicians demanded.
A part of him was curious. What purpose did Justyn have in seeking them out?
But he had no intention of pressing.
He was a retainer. As long as his lord did not stray onto the wrong path, he would fulfill his duty faithfully.
This may be more important than I can imagine. I’ll arrange it at once.
With that conviction, Baron Embio promised to set things up quickly and withdrew.
But could he possibly have guessed?
“That way, Ries, I can have clothes made for you.”
That the so-called “grave matter” was nothing more than commissioning custom-made clothes for his cat.
