* * *
I didn’t push Sia to speak.
Instead, I went into the dressing room attached to the bedroom and changed clothes.
When I came out, I heard the master’s voice from outside, saying he’d brought food.
Opening the door, I took the tray.
Moving quickly so Sia wouldn’t see, I took a silver needle and pricked the food to check for poison.
When it didn’t change color, I hid the needle away and spoke casually.
“I’ll step out so you can eat in peace. But don’t get any weird ideas while I’m gone.”
“…What ideas.”
“Like, jumping out the window to escape. That’d be a really dumb idea. Someone as scrawny as you wouldn’t make it.”
“I wasn’t thinking that, okay?!”
“Oh, good. Enjoy your meal. Call me if you need anything.”
“Call you?”
“Yeah. Oh, I never told you my name. It’s Vivisian. Or just Vivi.”
Sia gave me a deeply suspicious look.
I didn’t bother explaining that I’d be keeping my senses trained on the room, so I’d know the moment he tried anything.
Instead, I just smiled slightly at his distrust and left.
Outside the door, I found the master waiting with an anxious expression.
I’d known he was there, but I hadn’t expected him to look so worried.
“…Asis? Why are you standing there like that?”
“First, sit in the wheelchair. And second, how do you have the energy to be testing for poison when you’re this injured?”
His sharp tone sounded more like the master’s usual demeanor than Asis’s.
I lowered myself into the wheelchair before anyone could come by and see, pressing my palm over my wound.
“Getting scratched by a cat can lead to infection,” he said flatly.
“…Well, technically, he’s a person.”
“The way he acts? More like a wild animal.”
I chuckled at the muttered complaint.
“You should see a doctor.”
“A doctor? I’m fine—…Alright. But bring them here instead.”
“To the hallway?”
“Yeah. Sia, I mean… you never know what the kid will do next, so I think I should stay here for a bit.”
I shamelessly answered the master, who looked at me like I was speaking nonsense.
He ran a dry hand over his face a couple of times before letting out a heavy sigh, his expression turning vaguely helpless.
“Wait here. I’ll bring a doctor… But seriously, why are you like this, Sir Vivisian? Even if he was granted freedom, he’s still a slave. And more than that, you brought him here using… well, a trick of sorts. You only need to take care of him just enough.”
“He’s just a kid.”
“…This is driving me crazy.”
The master muttered in a low voice, pressing his fingers against his eyelids.
He took a long moment to collect himself before finally exhaling and speaking again.
“You know… I can’t believe people actually thought you did all those things.”
“What, do I seem like a better person than they assumed?”
“Yes.”
I had asked lightly, but the answer that came back was more serious than expected.
As I rotated my shoulder and lightly clenched and unclenched my hand, confirming I hadn’t been injured too badly, I suddenly froze.
Looking up, I saw that the master had already turned his back to me and was walking away.
My bedroom was at the end of the hallway.
Feeling the sunlight spill over my back, I thought about what it meant to have someone believe in me.
“I thought that if there was even one person who trusted me, life would be a little more bearable… but it doesn’t really seem that way.”
With both hands resting quietly on my knees, I let out a soft laugh.
The warmth that cascaded from the top of my head to my shoulders reminded me of the time I had entered the temple, when my abilities first awakened.
Inside the temple, which was pure white from floor to ceiling, a warm breeze blew from no discernible source.
Light poured in even where there were no windows.
Simply existing in that place was proof enough that the gods were real.
I still vividly remember the voice that quietly descended upon me back then, while my cheeks were flushed with excitement.
[I shall bestow upon you the name Dolor. Blessed are those who mourn…]
“…For they shall be comforted.”
Resting my elbow on my thigh and propping my chin in my palm, I suddenly came to a realization.
The god who gave me a name had already known my future.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted…”
Muttering the words that had been whispered to me as though they were a divine consolation, I furrowed my brows slightly.
Had I been comforted?
No.
Then had I been helped by the god?
Not that, either.
“See? Completely useless.”
As I mumbled to myself and rolled my eyes, my gaze landed on a painting hanging in the hallway.
The first Grand Duke, receiving a direct blessing from the god, had been immortalized in that frame.
I stared blankly at the painting before slowly wheeling myself toward it.
The man depicted—who had once stood before salvation itself—looked strikingly similar to me.
I found myself gazing at an expression I had never worn before, until the sound of familiar footsteps echoed from the far end of the hallway.
The master was approaching with a woman at his side.
She introduced herself as Yuti and tended to my wounds with practiced ease.
Unlike the master, who had made a fuss, Yuti simply glanced at my injuries and assured me they would heal quickly.
When I smiled at her as if to say, “See?” the master made a disgruntled face, which amused me.
“For now, be careful not to get your wounds wet. And if possible, change the bandages regularly.”
“Alright.”
“If anything seems off or if you start feeling unwell, call me again.”
“Got it.”
Satisfied with my response, Yuti rummaged through her coat pocket and pulled out a fresh roll of bandages, setting it on my lap before vanishing in an instant, saying she had more work to do.
As I watched her disappear, I turned to the person still standing beside me.
“Were you worried?”
“…That kind of wound usually hurts the most.”
“So, Asis, have you been scratched by a cat before?”
“You insisted it wasn’t a cat.”
“Well, it’s not every day you get clawed up by a person, so I figured I might as well call it a cat.”
As I shrugged, he let out a deep sigh, making it clear he wasn’t pleased.
His obvious disapproval made me smirk, and I was about to crack a joke when—
Rustling sounds from inside my bedroom suddenly stopped.
Then, out of nowhere, came the sound of dry retching.
Alarmed, I rushed inside.
Sia was sprawled on the bed, gagging.
“Ugh….”
Seeing his small body tremble, a whirlwind of thoughts flooded my mind.
‘Did the chef have a grudge against me? Did they poison the food?’
Someone had once laced my meal with poison, right before I was thrown into prison.
But as soon as I saw Sia weakly whimpering and trying to climb off the bed, I pushed that thought aside.
The chef had no reason to hold a grudge against me.
And it hadn’t even been that long since Sia arrived—there was no way something like that had happened.
Regaining my composure, I got out of my wheelchair and cupped my hand in front of his mouth.
Anyone could see he was about to throw up, but he was stubbornly trying to make it to the bathroom.
‘What kind of kid is this stubborn?’
Clicking my tongue internally, I pulled his trembling hand away from his lips.
“Don’t hold it in—just throw up here.”
“Screw off! No, I… ugh… gross—urk.”
Despite his resistance, he ended up throwing up right into my hand.
Raising a kid really wasn’t easy.
As I numbly locked eyes with Sia, I asked, “Feel any better? Do you need to throw up more?”
“No….”
“Alright. Just wait a second.”
Leaving the exhausted child on the floor, I stood up, went into the bathroom, washed my hands, and grabbed a damp towel.
I returned to find Sia sitting in the exact same position.
Kneeling in front of him, I wiped his face with the towel.
Once his complexion looked a little better, I carefully lifted him up.
“Are you dizzy?”
“…No.”
He must have been completely drained because, though he fidgeted a bit, he was much more compliant than before.
I carried him into the bathroom, washed his hands, made him rinse his mouth, and then gently tucked him into bed.
His soft, curled-up, light pink lashes trembled slightly whenever my gaze landed on them.
Lowering my eyes, I met his gaze.
“Should I call a doctor?”
“No! I hate doctors…! They always make me eat weird stuff!”
Just when I thought he’d settled down, he hissed like a feral cat at the mere mention of a doctor.
Of course.
Still, there was something odd about it.
His reaction wasn’t just because medicine tasted bad—it seemed more like he had a deeper aversion.
Maybe something had happened with the ‘doctors’ back when he was with the slave traders.
I’d have to be careful about that.
For now, though, I wouldn’t force him.
But he did need a checkup.
My eyes flickered to the empty tray on the floor.
He’d eaten well before vomiting, which meant either indigestion or something else was wrong.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have the ability to diagnose someone just by looking at their face.
I rubbed my chin and frowned slightly.
“Still, you should probably see a doctor.”
“No!”
Sia yanked the blanket up over his face and shouted.
Forcing a doctor on him now would only make him resist even more.
In the end, I raised both hands in surrender.
His stubbornness was something else.
Shaking my head, I lowered the blanket slightly.
Even though he had pulled it up himself, his cheeks were flushed like a ripe peach, proving that he was, in fact, too warm under there.
Despite that delicate face, his expression was resolute—like someone standing before the enemy who had wronged his family.
The sharp huffs of air coming from his small nose were surprisingly strong. I watched, bewildered, as his soft pink bangs fluttered with each exhale, then let out a quiet chuckle.
“Alright. But if you throw up one more time, I’m calling the doctor immediately.”
“…….”
“I let it slide once, so you should compromise at least once too.”
“…Hmph!”
It hadn’t even been a full day since I met him—barely half a day, really—but I knew that was his way of saying ‘yes.’
“Such a little brat.”
I murmured to myself, and immediately, a sharp glare shot my way.
Pretending not to notice, I shrugged and left the room, leaving behind a reminder to call me if anything happened again.
Just in case, I pushed off my paperwork and lingered in the hallway.
Since I only returned to my office after the child had fallen into a deep sleep, my work ended much later than usual.
Even after finishing, I didn’t go to bed. Instead, I spent the night outside his room.
Throughout the night, he would stir, crying out for his parents in his sleep, but fortunately, he neither vomited again nor grew sicker.
* * *
