Though Zavad expressed his dissatisfaction, he left a light kiss on Ranshel’s cheek and obediently lowered his naked body into the tub.
“Don’t let your hands touch me.”
“How can I wash you without touching?”
“Figure it out.”
“Ah, don’t splash the water!”
Ranshel shook his head from side to side after being hit by water Zavad had flicked from the surface with his fingertips.
“Did I raise a puppy?”
With his eyes narrowed into a curve, Zavad reached out and rubbed Ranshel’s wet cheek.
Ranshel burst into laughter from the tickling sensation as Zavad slid his finger to scratch under his chin.
At the sound of that laughter, clear as an innocent boy’s, the smile vanished from Zavad’s face.
Ranshel, led by the hand holding his chin, leaned against the edge of the tub and closed his eyes.
Soon, their lips met lightly, parted for a moment, and then locked again.
At first, it was closer to a soft graze, but the parched skin began to soak as the contact grew gradually more intense.
Splash.
Just as a sturdy arm submerged in the water rose to wrap around Ranshel’s shoulder—
Knock, knock.
Startled by the sound at the door, Ranshel pulled his lips away and backed off.
“……It seems the maids are here. Please wait a moment.”
Ranshel stepped back, straightening his waist and avoiding Zavad’s dissatisfied gaze.
He quickly moved away, barely managing to calm the heat pooling in his body.
It was a relief; had he been any later, it would have been difficult to pull away.
“What is it?”
Contrary to his expectation that it would be maids with water pitchers, the person at the door was an elderly attendant.
He was also the former superior who had assigned Ranshel his duties when he first visited this castle long ago.
“The Duke summons you.”
“……You mean me, not the Young Master?”
“Yes.”
This man had also been the one to personally guide the monk who visited the castle every week to examine Zavad under the guise of being a physician.
Ranshel recalled that on those days, even though he was Zavad’s personal servant, he wasn’t allowed in the room and had to perform other chores.
In other words, while Ranshel was away, this attendant had stayed in the room and watched—sometimes actively helping—while the monk injected monster blood into Zavad’s body, causing high fevers and injuries.
And for such a thing to be possible, there had to be an order from the person with all the power in this castle.
‘This man is the Duke’s confidant.’
Ranshel didn’t stall any further and followed him obediently before Zavad could notice anything.
They passed through the dark nighttime corridors and entered the designated room.
The interior was filled with billowing smoke, making his vision entirely hazy.
Ranshel held his breath at the pungent smell that immediately stung his nose and stepped deep into the room as the attendant led him.
Soon, the Duke appeared through the slowly dispersing smoke, puffing heavily on a cigar.
‘This isn’t a raccoon’s den.’
Ranshel clicked his tongue inwardly and stared quietly at the Duke, who was gloomily exhaling smoke through flared nostrils.
The Duke glanced at Ranshel, crushed his cigar out carelessly on the table, and picked up a glass filled with red wine.
“It seems you’ve built quite a bit of trust with that fellow in the meantime.”
“……Well, it’s my job.”
“I hope you haven’t gone and developed some sort of affection while living together?”
Benjet Pomel—the master of this castle and the current Lord of the Duchy—looked up with bloodshot eyes.
Ranshel shrugged his shoulders, twisting his lips as if the idea were absurd.
“Would that ever happen with an assassination target?”
“…As long as you do your job properly, I don’t care about the process. When the time comes, you must cut his breath properly.”
Ranshel stood crookedly with one knee bent, letting his eyes roam over Benjet’s grayish hair, his dark-shadowed eyes, his sunken cheekbones, and his frail shoulders.
Since they weren’t blood-related, it was natural, but nothing about this man resembled Zavad.
If they had at least looked at each other’s faces and exchanged conversation, they would have been colored by each other whether they wanted to or not—but it seemed he had locked Zavad away at the top of the tower after Charlotte left and hadn’t spared him a shred of interest since.
And yet, because he lacked the confidence to hold a sword and face him himself, he went through the trouble of hiring a professional assassin to keep by his side?
Just so he could kill him whenever necessary?
Ahaha!
Ranshel couldn’t hold back his laughter.
He leaned back and laughed loudly as if he had heard a hilarious joke.
Benjet’s face turned stony.
“What is this all of a sudden?”
“No, it’s just so pitiful to see you personally calling me here to give a warning just so you can kill your son properly.”
“……What did you say?”
“I’ll take care of it on my own, won’t I? Don’t interfere for nothing; just stay here smoking your cigars and drinking your wine.”
He should have just put up with it and let it go, but it was too hard to endure even this short moment.
This man was a mere villain who had ruined Zavad’s childhood, yet he was a coward who hid in fear, to the point where they had never even seen each other’s faces until now.
Ranshel found it simply staggering that such a man was pretending to be Zavad’s arch-nemesis.
At the same time, it was such a waste—a terrible waste.
Zavad could have been perfectly happy. Like other noble children, he could have grown up peacefully, worrying about the ordinary things people of that age do.
All that past time he had to spend addicted to hallucinations and tormented by malice was unbearably wasteful.
‘That time is so desperate to me.’
Ranshel prayed every day to let this current daily life continue just a little longer because it was so precious.
If he could have met the Zavad of that time, he could have cherished and cared for that child more than any treasure in the world.
Even if it were a bottomless swamp, he could have fallen in for him….
“……You, you common brat!”
An enraged Benjet threw the wine glass in his hand.
Ranshel didn’t dodge, choosing to take the hit so as not to provoke him further.
The glass hit Ranshel’s shoulder, soaking his white shirt in dark red before falling to the floor and shattering into pieces.
“Where do you get off mouthing such arrogant nonsense? I am the client who bought you with money. How dare you, not knowing your place!”
Ranshel watched the fuming, Raging Benjet with an indifferent expression, then suddenly turned his head toward the door as it opened.
Through the crack in the door, an attendant who had heard the sound of breaking glass was seen pushing a maid into the room.
The maid approached hesitantly, trembling and holding a hemp sack, toward the spot where the glass was scattered.
She looked young, and it was painful to see her forced out by her superiors.
Ranshel reached out to stop her and bent his own body to clear the glass.
Naturally, such a chore wasn’t difficult for him. He grew anxious to finish the cleanup quickly and return to the room.
However, Benjet suddenly stood up from his leather chair and stomped his boot down on Ranshel’s hand as he was gathering the pieces.
Crunch.
The glass beneath his palm was crushed, and sharp shards dug into Ranshel’s skin.
“Trifling thing, did you think you were someone important just because I called your name?”
Ranshel furrowed his brow.
He didn’t care what the Duke babbled at him, but getting a wound was a problem.
‘He’ll definitely notice.’
He was just wondering how he should explain it when—
Bang!
A violent sound erupted as if a door had been broken, and the room door was swung open with force.
Zavad, who had come out to find the missing Ranshel, strode into the room.
His wet clothes, which hadn’t been dried properly, clung to his body, and droplets of water hung from the tips of his hair.
