* * *
“Hey, do you know where the charcoal iron is? The one we use for pressing clothes?”
“Isn’t it in the laundry room?”
“Can’t find it. Help me look.”
“…You’re really getting a taste for bossing me around, aren’t you? Why the hell should I help?”
Gary crossed his arms, clearly not planning to budge.
‘If I say it’s for the young master’s stuff, he’ll pass out.’
Couldn’t have him summoning the gods again and throwing a fit.
So Ranshel held up the book in front of him.
“Found this while cleaning out the storage. A little crumpled and couldn’t find the owner, so they said to toss it. Looks like quality material, though—if we press it right and sell it for a good price, I’ll give you a cut.”
“You should’ve led with that!”
Gary immediately dropped his arms and led Ranshel straight to the iron.
Ranshel lit the fire and gently heated the iron.
He laid a thick towel over the book, and then, taking the utmost care not to damage the paper, began straightening each crumpled corner one by one.
“That’s gonna take forever if you do them all like that.”
“Hard work pays off. If I want top price, I’ve gotta make it look good.”
“True, but… is it really that valuable?”
“Way out of our pay grade.”
Of course, Ranshel had no idea how much the book was actually worth.
But Gary wouldn’t know either, so it didn’t matter.
‘It’s a noble’s book—can’t be cheap, right?’
In truth, whether it was expensive or not didn’t matter to Ranshel.
It’s not like he could take any money with him when he died.
So why was he doing all this?
Ranshel laughed quietly.
Even after Gary went off to do something else, Ranshel kept at it.
Only around lights-out did he finally finish and close the last page.
As Ranshel carefully hugged the now-pristine book to his chest, Gary clicked his tongue.
“You’re seriously something. You in desperate need of money? Got a family member getting married or something?”
“I’m saving it for myself. What’s family got to do with it?”
“What? No, I mean—why not just give more offering to the temple? The priest will pray for your family’s peace.”
“I told you. What does my family have to do with anything? As long as I’m at peace, that’s enough.”
“…Wow. You’re just—wow.”
Gary gave him a scandalized look that practically screamed profanity, but Ranshel ignored it.
If his family was at peace, a lot of people would bleed.
It’d be better if Nameless quietly disappeared.
Honestly, he just wanted all of this to end so he could go where his real family was.
Suppressing a sigh, Ranshel wrapped the book in a towel and slipped it under the mattress.
Gary, watching him closely, asked quietly,
“So… when are you gonna sell it?”
“Dunno. Gotta pick the right moment.”
Gary, counting something on his fingers, added,
“Better sell it within three months.”
“…You want me to sell it before you quit?”
“Yeah. You said I’d get a cut, remember? You haven’t forgotten, right?”
“Oh, yeah. Of course not.”
Gary eyed him suspiciously, not buying it one bit.
Then, like he was doing Ranshel a huge favor, he announced grandly:
“Tell you what—I’ll donate my share to the temple in your name. That way, you’ll get the blessings too. Sound good?”
“…Wow. That’s amazing. Please do.”
Ranshel made a mental note not to give Gary a single coin. He nodded seriously.
“I’m coming in, young master.”
Knock knock.
Ranshel barely waited a few seconds after knocking before pushing open the door.
Not like he was expecting a reply anyway.
Unusually, Zavad wasn’t tucked away inside the storage cabinet.
Instead of his favorite chair, he sat at the edge of the bed.
Wearing crumpled and disheveled pajamas, he stared blankly into a corner.
The shadows under his eyes were deep, as if he hadn’t slept properly.
It seemed even the methods Ranshel had offered for comfort hadn’t helped at all.
‘Did he have a high fever again last night?’
Maybe it would be better to find some fever medicine from somewhere.
With a furrowed brow, Ranshel strode toward him.
“Young master.”
“……”
Zavad didn’t respond, only moved his fingertips slightly atop his knees.
He didn’t even turn his head in Ranshel’s direction.
‘Back to silent protest mode, huh.’
Taking advantage of Zavad’s quiet state, Ranshel openly scanned him from head to toe.
The sharp scent that pricked his nose helped him decide what he needed to do.
Today was bath day.
Even for a noble, daily baths weren’t standard.
But leaving a body repeatedly soaked in sweat and dried again like this wasn’t an option.
Of course, all the preparations for Zavad’s bath were entirely Ranshel’s responsibility.
He missed the modern miracle of just turning a faucet and having hot water pour out.
Sure, there were times the boiler broke and he had to shiver under icy water—but at least he didn’t have to endlessly climb stairs to fetch it.
‘And people say Zavad’s the pitiful one.’
No, the truly pitiful one was himself.
Though, admittedly, he was the one who first thought of Zavad as pitiful.
Either way—whatever.
Grumbling curses under his breath, Ranshel hauled steaming water back and forth.
The washbasin was already in the room, so all he had to do was fill it—but that was easier said than done.
Especially for Ranshel.
‘Feels like I’m tasting blood.’
His body was at rock bottom.
As he filled the tub used for bathing, his muscles already screamed with fatigue.
“Time to wash.”
“……”
“You smell pretty bad and look filthy right now, so let’s just get you clean, okay?”
Zavad, who had acted like he would ignore Ranshel forever, couldn’t resist the provocation.
His eyes flashed with menace, but then he turned toward the steaming bath, face reddening with embarrassment.
Ranshel, on the other hand, was completely drained.
His whole body felt like lead.
He was the one who wanted to soak in that hot water.
A good bath followed by sweet banana milk—that would be absolute heaven.
“…Ugh!”
SPLASH!
While Ranshel was zoning out, Zavad dipped a hand into the tub and immediately pulled it back, yelling.
“Hey! Ranshel!”
“Yes?”
“Seriously? You can’t even get the water temperature right anymore?”
Hmph. Ranshel, who had been slacking off for a moment, slowly stood up at Zavad’s scowling face.
He copied Zavad’s move and dipped his hand in—but didn’t take it out.
‘Ahh… nice and hot.’
It was the perfect temperature for sweating, washing, and drying off.
Ranshel was so tempted to get in himself.
The fact that he couldn’t made him just a little sulky.
“This feels hot to you?”
“What, you think it’s cold?”
“You’re not a baby, you know….”
“What did you say?”
Zavad glared, but Ranshel had been on the receiving end of his eye daggers so many times, he barely felt anything now.
“I’ll mix in some cold water. Just get in already.”
He was young, but every time Ranshel saw him, he felt even younger.
Like bathing a newborn—he’d have to make the water lukewarm to get it just right.
“Try your hand again. How’s this?”
“…Still hot.”
Not a newborn, then.
A fetus, maybe?
Ranshel added more cold water and gestured.
“How about now?”
“……”
* * *
