* * *
Aiden grabbed a water bucket and dumped it over his head.
He quickly washed his face and locked eyes with Ren.
Ren bit down on his lip and averted his gaze, as if trying to escape.
Right now, just holding Nael back was difficult enough—there was no room for words.
“Your Gr—”
Taking advantage of the brief moment when Ren’s grip loosened, Nael sank his teeth into Ren’s arm.
“Agh! Nael-nim!”
As Ren let go in pain, Nael broke free and sprinted toward the burning warehouse with everything he had.
“Master! John!”
“Nael! Damn it! Get back here!”
In the blink of an eye, chaos erupted.
All the shouting blurred together, and it was hard to tell if his own voice was even reaching Killian.
Thick black smoke poured from the open warehouse doors, and even just approaching it felt like it would suffocate him.
Killian and John were in there.
“Catch him!”
At Aiden’s command, the knights tackled Nael to the ground.
Tears poured down his face.
Please, Master, please—
Words tumbled out, incomplete and desperate.
He repeated them over and over, not even knowing what he was saying.
“They’re coming out!”
At someone’s cry, everyone’s eyes turned to the doorway, now blackened and warped by flame.
“Nael really won’t take his eyes off me, even for a second.”
“Hic… sob…”
Killian passed out John to a knight.
His shirt was covered in soot, and his face deadly serious.
Seeing him like that, Nael threw himself into his arms without hesitation.
“Show him to Norman. He probably passed out from prolonged exposure to the heat.”
“Your Highness, you should be examined first—”
“I’m fine.”
“…Understood, Your Highness.”
Killian wrapped his arms around Nael, who sobbed uncontrollably into his ash-covered shirt.
“Let’s go home.”
John had suffered burns, but thankfully nothing severe on the surface.
Still, they wouldn’t know if the smoke had harmed his internal organs until he regained consciousness.
“Please check Master, too.”
Nael—more forward than usual—interrupted their conversation.
Killian lifted his eyes and looked at him.
He recalled how adorable Nael had looked, squirming in Aiden’s large arms, calling out to him.
That memory brought a faint laugh to his lips.
At the sound, both Nael—who had been pestering Norman—and Norman himself stopped and looked at him.
Killian cleared his throat quietly.
“I said I’m fine.”
“Still, please let them check.
Your hands are red, and even the ends of your hair are singed.”
Killian had expected Nael to beg to see John.
But not once had he mentioned John’s name.
Even now, after hearing about John’s condition, he turned back to Killian, pleading to examine him instead.
Killian felt the corners of his lips tug upward again.
“Nael, would you trim it for me?”
“Me?”
“Yes. The burnt ends bother me—cut off whatever’s necessary.”
He’d tied his hair before going in, but had no time to worry about whether the ends were exposed to the flames.
It had taken longer than expected to find John deep inside the warehouse.
Every second had mattered, with the scorching heat and labored breaths.
Killian plucked at a singed, curly lock and gestured with his chin.
Ren handed the scissors to Nael. Nael stared at the sharp blades and hummed uncertainly.
“I’ll try.”
With a determined glint in his eye, Nael raised the scissors—and something deep within Killian stirred.
Day by day, Nael seemed to lose his light.
He couldn’t sleep properly, as if haunted by nightmares.
Killian’s heart ached just remembering the night before.
Nael had fallen asleep leaning into his chest, almost sinking into him.
But eventually, he started squirming.
Thinking his position was uncomfortable, Killian moved his arm.
Nael immediately slid off the bed.
“Hic… hic…”
He clutched his chest in pain, like someone drowning in sorrow.
Barefoot, he padded across the carpet, only to collapse in front of the bedroom door.
Afraid he’d bruise his knees, Killian hurried to get up—but froze.
“Noona… hic… it’s hot, I’ll go. I’ll go instead…”
“Nael!”
Nael clawed at the floor with his fingernails.
That’s why they’d been chipped and broken.
“Master, you can’t go in. Hic… I’m scared. Don’t leave me behind. Please…”
Killian wrapped his arms around him.
He pressed a kiss to his damp cheeks and gently wiped away the tears with the back of his hand.
Nael, lost in a dream-like state, didn’t even seem to be present.
Killian held him tightly until he finally calmed down.
“Don’t cry. It’s my fault. I won’t go in again.”
He whispered endlessly, even though no answer came.
By morning, Nael had forgotten everything.
When Killian asked if he remembered, Nael just mumbled with round lips, unsure of what to say.
Then, he brushed it off as nothing.
“I had a dream.”
“What kind of dream?”
Killian asked gently, but Nael shook his head.
“I don’t remember.”
Killian patted his round head and handed him a glass of water.
Nael flinched slightly as the water hit his raw throat—no surprise, given how much he’d cried.
Killian sighed quietly as he took the empty glass.
“Master.”
“Yes, Nael.”
“If I go with you to the South… Ah, never mind.”
“Go on.”
“Do you think my sister is still living in that cottage?”
“Probably not. She’s likely somewhere safe, recovering her health in comfort. So don’t worry.”
…Right.
Nael murmured softly.
“When this winter passes, we’ll go see her together.”
“Okay.”
Nael smiled faintly, but the bitterness wouldn’t go away—it sat heavy on Killian’s tongue like something rancid.
“Come here, Nael.”
Nael dragged his tired legs over and naturally settled onto his lap.
Killian held him close in front of the fireplace, making sure he was warm.
Nael leaned against his chest, his soft cheek pressing into him.
His eyes didn’t leave the fire.
It took a week before John finally regained consciousness.
Thanks to Killian’s orders, Norman had stayed by his side, giving him the best care.
Though his lungs wouldn’t function as well as before, he’d still be able to live normally—and that was a relief.
“Haah… what about the young master?”
That was the first thing he rasped out, his voice hoarse, once he understood his condition.
Killian summoned Edward again.
The Baron would take time to reach the North.
Based on the round trip of the raven scouts he’d sent, they were moving as fast as they could—riding the extravagant carriage and fine horses bought with the gold he’d granted.
Edward’s hands trembled.
Missing his pinkies on both hands made everything look awkward.
“Do you know why I summoned you?”
“I… I don’t.”
They’d said he wasn’t in his right mind—but his answer was alarmingly clear.
After treating Nael like a male whore and throwing him to the wolves, where had all that arrogance gone?
Now he looked pitiful.
So… taking things through that hole wasn’t as easy as you thought, huh?
He should’ve stayed quiet when all he’d lost were his pinkies.
But the idiot couldn’t help himself—he went and lit the sail on fire.
He’d been caught, of course, and paid for it at the hands of the sailors.
Even then, he didn’t reflect.
He tried to hurt Nael again—this time by locking him up in a brothel.
Just a reminder to never forget his place.
How dare the mere son of a baron treat something of the duke’s as if it were beneath him?
A punishment was only fitting.
Not that this foolish fool would have the faintest clue.
He was likely flailing in self-pity, blaming Nael for everything.
That much could be predicted even without hearing it from his own mouth.
Then how about this?
* * *
