* * *
“The fever seems to have gone down. Why isn’t he waking up?”
“If I may be so bold, Your Grace…”
“…”
“He needs time. Please allow Nael to wake on his own.”
“If you’re only going to spew useless nonsense, leave.”
Killian’s curt dismissal made Norman sigh.
He had spent his entire life as the personal physician of the Devilles.
He had treated far worse injuries. Killian himself had faced death countless times.
Beneath his layers of clothing, his body bore a tapestry of scars, like medals of war.
He had never once concerned himself with them—so long as the bleeding stopped, he would take up his sword again and continue fighting.
Norman bowed and left with Ren, knowing there was nothing more he could do.
—
Nael’s body felt unbearably heavy, as if a boulder had been placed upon him.
When he finally opened his eyes, the thick blankets piled atop him felt suffocating.
How many layers were there? If he wasn’t careful, he might actually be smothered to death.
“Ugh…”
He kicked off the covers, allowing the cool air to wash over his overheated body.
Outside the window, the stars glittered like distant jewels.
This was the first time he had seen the stars from a ship.
On the first night, he had been too preoccupied—too exhausted from supporting Killian’s body to notice anything else.
But now, all he could focus on was the heat suffocating him.
Even with the window open, it wasn’t enough.
“Master? Ren?”
The bedroom was dim, lit only by a few flickering candles.
Ren had likely gone to sleep by now.
Killian had strictly ordered him not to wander alone.
If he disobeyed again, there was no telling what punishment awaited him.
But he was afraid.
He couldn’t tell what was real.
Was he truly standing here, or was he still trapped in the flames?
He wanted someone to tell him what was real.
“It’s too hot…”
He was still wearing a thick robe—one meant for winter.
Killian must have dressed him in it.
He only planned to stand at the end of the hallway for a moment.
Moving sluggishly, Nael opened the door and stepped onto the soft carpet.
A strong wind enveloped him as he reached the end of the hall.
The night sea was vast and silent, its waves whispering softly against the ship’s hull.
During the day, the ocean roared with violent waves, but now, it seemed to be resting.
No sailors. No movement.
Just silence.
It felt as if he were sailing toward a sky scattered with crushed gemstones.
“Nael.”
A thick cloak was draped over his shoulders.
The heavy fabric nearly made his knees buckle.
Terrified, Nael swallowed hard.
“Ah… M-Master. I-I wasn’t trying to run away. It was just too hot. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake Ren…”
“The wind is cold at night.”
Expecting a scolding, Nael hesitated at the unexpectedly gentle tone.
“The breeze feels nice,” he murmured.
Killian reached out, brushing his hand against Nael’s forehead, but Nael flinched and shrank back.
“I wasn’t trying to escape. I-I’m sorry. It was just… too hot. I opened the window, but it wasn’t enough. I’ll… I’ll go back now.”
“Your fever seems to be completely gone. Do you feel dizzy?”
“Huh? No… I’m fine.”
Nael stared out at the dark sea, avoiding Killian’s gaze.
The cool air that had once felt refreshing now seeped into his bones, sending a chill through him.
He rubbed his arms, trying to warm himself.
“Let’s go back.”
His fingers clenched around the edge of the cloak, stiff as if he had lost all feeling in them.
Killian’s hand on his shoulder was firm, making his entire body tense.
He wanted to push him away—he could walk on his own.
But the fear of Killian’s wrath kept him silent.
In his nightmares, he was still running toward the burning cabin, never able to reach it.
Even though he knew it was just a dream, he had no control over anything.
Was it just his imagination, or did he still smell smoke?
Nael shut his eyes tightly and let Killian lead him back inside.
—
“Your Grace!”
The sharp clanking of metal rang through the air.
Aiden rushed toward them, breathless.
“The Baron’s son… he set fire to the sails!”
“…Take Nael to the bedroom. Assign Ren to stay with him.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Nael clung to Killian’s hem, trembling violently.
His green eyes were brimming with tears, as if they would spill at any moment.
Killian wiped the droplets clinging to his drooping eyelashes with his thumb.
“F-fire… fire…”
“It’s nothing serious, so you don’t need to worry. Ren will be with you.”
“F-fire…”
Nael’s legs were frozen in place, unable to move.
Like someone in a trance, he repeated the same word over and over, cold sweat pouring down his face.
In his mind, vivid red flames and thick black smoke loomed ominously.
The fire, roaring as if it would devour him, felt like it was right before his eyes.
“Nael!”
His legs gave out, and he collapsed.
He could barely hold onto Killian’s hem, shaking uncontrollably. He needed something—anything—to hold on to.
Even if that something was the very person who had brought this ordeal upon him.
The weight of his misery cast a dark shadow over the atmosphere.
Edward, who had been caught setting fire to the sails, was confined to his quarters.
Aiden, having finished handling the situation, returned to report.
“John wasn’t involved. Edward acted alone.”
“I see.”
Killian let out a long sigh.
There had never been a more reckless fool.
Trying to understand his thought process wasn’t even worth the effort.
“He came here as a whore. Let’s make sure he fulfills that role.”
Aiden blinked, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected command.
If Edward was forced to endure the filth and humiliation of servicing others, it was only a matter of time before his mind shattered completely.
Had he simply done his job properly, Killian had intended to grant him enough money to live comfortably in the South for a while.
But as always, fools met a miserable end.
Aiden silently watched his master’s broad back.
Nael, who had fainted for a moment, stirred. Killian’s sturdy back flinched slightly.
“M-Master. The f-fire… what about the fire?”
“Aiden, bring in the meal.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The sound of footsteps faded into the distance. Killian let out a quiet sigh.
“He will receive the punishment he deserves. And a few damaged sails aren’t enough to sink a ship this large, Nael.”
“That’s… not what I meant… Master…”
Just the thought of fire constricted his chest.
Saying out loud that he feared the flames might spread to the territory would have been pointless—he already knew the answer he would get.
As long as he didn’t run away, the nightmare he had seen wouldn’t become reality.
He had decided to believe that.
Instead, he hesitated before finally voicing something he had been unable to ask until now.
How long would this voyage last?
He wanted to step on solid ground again.
To feel real earth beneath his feet, not this unstable, swaying illusion.
“How much longer… until we reach the North?”
“A day or two.”
“Uhm… Master, I… I have a request.”
Killian didn’t respond immediately, but Nael gathered his courage and continued.
“I want to learn how to read and write. So I can write letters to my sister myself.”
“You want to learn to read?”
“Yes…”
Afraid of being refused, Nael anxiously studied Killian’s face.
Time dragged as he watched Killian stroke his chin in thought, waiting for his lips to part.
“Fine. It would be useful for you. I’ll teach you whenever time allows.”
“M-Master, personally?”
Nael had assumed he would be assigned a teacher like Ren or Norman.
The unexpected answer left him momentarily stunned.
His green eyes wavered in surprise, and Killian, quick to notice, smirked.
“What? Do you dislike the idea?”
“N-no! I-I just… Master, you must be very busy…”
“I’ll make time for it. But be prepared. I’ll be a very strict teacher.”
“Yes! I-I can do it!”
Nael declared with determined confidence, his expression set with resolve.
* * *
