* * *
Edward couldn’t keep his feet still, fidgeting as if he had cramps.
He scratched the back of his hand until pink marks appeared.
His nails, caked with dirt from work, barely got washed properly with the limited water supply.
“Tell me what you know.”
“I—I don’t know anything. I have no idea what my father does.”
“Really?”
“…Yes.”
“Then that’s the extent of your worth.”
“What?”
“Did you not hear me? I’ll give you a lifeboat. You can row back to the Baron’s estate.”
Edward blinked, dumbfounded.
There were no paths on the open sea.
How was he supposed to find his way?
He had only ever played around in a lake, rowing lazily for fun with noble ladies.
He had never rowed on the ocean before.
A nobleman wasn’t supposed to row at all.
That was what sailors were for—to navigate the grand ships, like the one the Grand Duke commanded.
“Your Grace, will you assign someone to guide me back?”
“…”
“You mean… by myself?”
Killian let out a chuckle.
How audacious.
This brat dared to cling to his words in front of him.
“Then let’s do this instead. Aiden, send a message to the Baron’s estate. Tell them: ‘Your son sneaked aboard my ship like a thief, drank my liquor without permission, and assaulted my men. I will punish him accordingly before sending him back. If you object, come fetch him yourselves.’”
“Your Grace! If my father finds out, I might be killed!”
“What’s the use of that big head on your shoulders, then?”
“…Pardon?”
Killian leaned in, his breath chilling against Edward’s ear.
“The one you should be afraid of… isn’t your father. It’s me.”
Scritch, scritch.
The sound of Edward scratching his skin echoed in the office.
He had clawed at himself so much that his skin rose in small, irritated welts.
“The young master must know something. I’ll ask him.”
Nael spoke with firm determination.
If he could get Edward to talk, he could relay the information to Killian.
That way, the physician could take action.
Or at the very least, ensure that medicine was never given again.
He got up. His tear-filled eyes, moments ago brimming with despair, now gleamed with resolve.
“Nael, he already said it was fine—”
“No. I have to do this.”
“But you need permission to leave the bedroom, don’t you?”
“Right now.”
“Right now?”
Nael gripped the doorknob, raising his chin defiantly.
“There’s no leash. No restraints. This is my chance. I’ll be back soon.”
“Nael—!”
John clapped a hand over his mouth before he could yell any louder. Damn it, Nael!
Suppressing his frustration, John hurried after him.
Did he even know where Edward was?
He didn’t even know the layout of the ship.
Nael rushed down the stairs.
He had to be quick.
He sprinted straight to the lowest deck, where Edward had been hiding.
Grabbing a candle from the wall, he called out softly.
“Young Master Edward. Are you here?”
“…”
“You’re not here?”
The darkness hadn’t settled in his vision yet.
He stepped forward, and something rolled against his foot with a soft clink.
A discarded liquor bottle.
“Oh, look who it is.”
“Young Master? Are you drinking again? If Master finds out, he’ll be furious. Put the bottle down before it’s too late.”
“What does it matter? My father’s coming to get me anyway. There’s so much of it—I doubt drinking a little will make a difference. What do you want, you little noble pet? Tch.”
“…About the letter.”
“What about it? What do you expect me to do? Whether they live or die has nothing to do with me. Now get lost.”
Glug.
The acrid smell of alcohol mixed with the damp air.
Nael realized that trying to reason with a drunk was pointless.
He lowered his lashes in resignation.
Fine. He would ask again tomorrow.
If he went to the deck at the same time as before, he would see him.
“Hey, half-wit.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t get it. What makes you so damn special to the Grand Duke? You and I look the same, don’t we? Blond hair, green eyes. It pissed me off so much—seriously, what the hell were you even born for? And yet, the Grand Duke… Why does he care about someone like you? Someone uneducated, someone who can’t do anything?”
I don’t know either.
Nael mumbled softly.
He wanted to know too.
What part of him was so appealing that it led to all of this?
Why had he been uprooted from the home where he had grown deep roots, only to be planted by the Grand Duke’s side?
But the man was someone revered even within the Empire.
Nael had no right to go against his decisions.
“I’ll come back tomorrow. Get some rest.”
Heh… damn it.
Edward’s ominous laughter rang out behind him, but Nael had only taken a few steps before—
Like a thunderclap striking his head, a blinding light flashed before his eyes, and then—darkness.
The surroundings were chaotic.
Whispering voices drifted through his ears.
Sounds poured in from all directions.
His body, lying on the hard floor, ached with muscle pain, and more than anything, the back of his head throbbed.
“You ran away, claiming it wasn’t true, but you got caught in the end?”
Nael’s long eyelashes trembled.
He barely managed to pry open his tightly shut eyes, and through his dazed vision, an unfamiliar face came into view.
Ragged and disheveled, yet with fine features, a pair of eyes were looking down at him.
“Ugh.”
“Are you coming to your senses?”
Someone prodded Nael’s shoulder blade from behind.
Where was he?
A musty smell irritated his nose.
He had gone down searching for Edward, and the next thing he knew, he had woken up here.
Nael pressed his hand against his throbbing head. His fingers scraped against rough, coarse fabric.
His eyes widened like an owl as he looked down at himself. Instead of the soft, fine shirt Kilian had given him, he had been changed into Edward’s old, stained servant’s uniform.
What the hell is this…?
Bang!
A sailor barged in, scanning the cramped space.
In an instant, the people surrounding Nael shrank back, using the shadows as cover.
Oh-ho!
The man’s eyes locked onto a useful-looking face, and he immediately turned to Nael.
“What’s this? You? The one who ran away?”
A deep, heavy voice rumbled from behind him.
Nael turned to look.
Ran away?
He had fled just before boarding, but something about the situation didn’t add up.
“I’m talking to you. You.”
“I, I…”
The man clicked his tongue impatiently and spat on the floor. A glob of spit landed with a splat.
The golden-haired man with bright green eyes stared at him dumbly.
His reaction was strange—he didn’t answer, merely hesitated and took half a step back.
His large, innocent eyes remained untainted and clear.
Judging by his clothing, he seemed to be the one they were looking for.
The man rubbed his chin, deep in thought.
“Are you a prostitute?”
“…What?”
Nael hesitated, unable to respond.
The man’s dark fingers jabbed his shoulder, pressing him for an answer, yet he couldn’t bring himself to speak.
He wasn’t sure what was happening, but the term the man used—prostitute—wasn’t inaccurate.
He had been sold.
His father had handed him over to the Grand Duke for a hefty sum, and last night, he had been tormented and used purely to satisfy the Grand Duke’s lust.
But not for a man like this.
“I need to go back.”
“Back where?”
“He is a prostitute!”
Edward suddenly popped up behind the man and answered in his place.
The clothes he was wearing—
They were Nael’s.
* * *
