* * *
It probably felt a little cold to Ranshel, but Zavad didn’t complain, so he must have liked it.
His emotional shifts were so obvious—whining one second, quiet the next.
When he was angry, he’d lash out.
When he felt good, he’d calm down.
Ranshel was starting to feel nauseated at how simple it was to handle him.
Controlling the influence of other villains was an endless struggle, but Zavad was laughably easy.
This simple boy, blinded by revenge, would one day slaughter everyone inside the castle with his own hands.
That was the story’s tragic conclusion—and Ranshel had to lead him there.
The thought made his head spin all over again.
Ranshel sat with his back to the tub.
He should be keeping distance from Zavad, but his dizziness was so bad, standing might throw him off balance.
As he sat there, a piece of cloth entered his vision. Zavad, behind him, was handing over his pajamas.
Without turning, Ranshel simply reached back, took them, and dropped them somewhere.
Splash.
The sound of water parting told him Zavad had finally gotten into the bath.
Now he could sit back and rest until it was time to hand him a towel.
Splash, splash.
The sound of water lapping helped ease the dizziness.
Ranshel braced his legs, ready to stand, when—
“Hey.”
A voice came from behind. Ranshel pretended not to hear.
“Idiot. Moron.”
Still pretended not to hear.
“You asked me before… who put that in there.”
This time, he couldn’t ignore it.
“…That? Oh, the worm?”
Ranshel recalled the worm that had gone swimming in the clam chowder.
Zavad sighed.
“Was it really you?”
“……”
Ranshel’s eyes flicked to the side.
That had been the work of Petro, the eccentric gardener—but Ranshel had long since claimed it as one of his own misdeeds.
He couldn’t afford to give up any villain points now.
Ranshel nodded.
“Why did you do it?”
He didn’t know.
The crazy old man had messed with a fancy dish for no discernible reason.
That was all.
But Zavad wouldn’t be able to confirm the truth anyway.
No need to explain. Ranshel simply shrugged again.
Zavad was quiet for a moment, then spoke once more.
“Was it… for money?”
“……”
“Did someone offer you money to do it?”
He asked again.
Apparently, in Zavad’s mind, Ranshel was firmly branded as a money-hungry servant with thick skin.
‘Perfect.’
That was exactly the image Ranshel had been cultivating.
If money was the excuse, no further questions would follow.
‘He’s doing my job for me. Convenient.’
Ranshel just nodded again.
A splash behind him—and then Zavad’s voice came closer.
“If I gave you a lot of money…”
“……”
“…would you be on my side?”
The words were whispered right behind his ear.
Too close, too clear to ignore.
Ranshel forced himself to stay casual, pretending he hadn’t heard the desperate edge in Zavad’s voice.
“Young master, you don’t have money.”
“I do! Look, right there! They said it’s all expensive!”
Zavad pointed at the display cabinet, full of intricate ornaments.
Ranshel knew that just as well as he did.
“No, I mean, if you sold everything in this room, you could probably come up with the money… but, young master, you’re not even allowed to leave this place freely.”
“……”
“You don’t have any authority to make decisions, and you don’t even have the will to, do you…?”
Splash!
A loud sound of water being forcefully split echoed, and suddenly, a hand appeared in Ranshel’s field of vision, grabbing his shoulder and yanking him forward.
Caught off guard, Ranshel’s body tilted sharply, and his eyes locked directly with a gaze staring at him from up close.
“You can do it for me, can’t you?!”
“…What?”
“You’re allowed to go anywhere in the castle, right? No, even outside the castle—you can come and go freely.”
“…Wait, hold on.”
“All of that stuff over there—you can sell it if you want. So, just…”
“……”
“Can’t you just help me out, even just a little…?”
The red eyes blinking earnestly in front of him trembled with desperation.
Ranshel’s mind went blank for a moment.
What did it mean, to ask someone to take his side, to help him?
Ranshel knew he needed to dig deeper into what he really meant, but he kept his mouth shut for now.
He was afraid he’d accidentally say “okay” without meaning to.
Why was this guy asking for help from the one who put worms in his food?
Ranshel wasn’t even the lesser of two evils to him—he was just the worst option possible.
“……”
It’s not like he didn’t know the answer.
But even so—he was the only one.
It was clearly a terrible move, obviously a mistake. But there was no other way.
He was cornered to the point that he had to plead with a commoner—someone he always treated with disdain and contempt.
‘Why…?’
Ranshel’s eyes shifted.
He needed to think.
Zavad hadn’t been sleeping properly, and had been suffering from a lingering fever that had drained his strength.
If he missed this opportunity, he probably wouldn’t get another one where Zavad was this honest with him.
Ranshel slowly opened his mouth.
“What exactly do you want my help with?”
Zavad’s blood-red eyes quivered slightly.
“You’ll help me, right?”
“I can’t give you an answer without hearing what it is first.”
“…Actually, I…”
Cough.
Just as Zavad was about to say something, he suddenly broke into a cough.
Now that Ranshel thought about it, he was sitting in lukewarm water, half-naked and soaked.
Even Ranshel’s own shoulder, where Zavad had touched him, had long been damp.
“Let’s at least finish your bath first.”
The water must’ve been too cold. Ranshel poured in some more hot water.
“Ah, hot!”
Zavad flinched and pulled his upper body out of the tub, grabbing the edge.
Ranshel, surprised by how pale and smooth his skin looked up close, shot up to his feet.
Then he firmly grabbed both of Zavad’s shoulders and pushed him back into the tub.
“Wait, I said it’s hot!”
“Deal with it. You should at least get something out of the bath.”
He went through all that trouble to boil water and bring it over, and now the guy was turning it into a cold bath.
Ranshel clucked his tongue and held Zavad’s shoulders in place so he couldn’t squirm out again.
Zavad struggled at first, complaining about the heat, but after a while, he settled down like nothing had happened.
“See? Once you get used to it, it’s fine, right?”
“……”
Look at him, all quiet now.
Ranshel let out a small chuckle and loosened his grip.
“Stay like that until you sweat a little.”
“Where are you going?”
“To take a break. I’ve been working since morning—I’m dead tired.”
“Shouldn’t you finish your job before resting?”
“What job? What else am I even supposed to—”
Ranshel turned around, utterly baffled.
Zavad was resting his arms on the edge of the tub and pointing to a corner where soap and scented oil were placed.
“You said you needed to make money. Aren’t you going to work?”
“……”
Ranshel had never felt the urge to start a servant’s union more in his life.
‘What, am I supposed to wash him now too?’
He thought Zavad could bathe himself, just like he dressed himself.
But apparently, being the assigned servant meant he had to do everything.
Ranshel sighed internally and trudged back over to Zavad.
“I mean, it’s not like I don’t know the answer, but I still have to ask—do I need to wash your hair too?”
“……”
Zavad’s eyes answered for him.
Ranshel grinned, then sighed and picked up the soap.
* * *
