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Northern Slave chapter 11

* * *

The mention of his foot injuries brought a sting of awareness.

His soles throbbed as he recalled running barefoot, stepping on debris without regard for the consequences.

Scratched and bruised, his feet now burned from the dirty water that had seeped into the cuts.

A thin trail of blood marked the wet floor.

“Ah.”

“Nael, allow me to help you. Are you able to walk?”

“Yes, this much is fine.”

The moment Nael acknowledged the pain, his body began to betray him.

Every step sent a sharp ache through him, making his shoulders slump with exhaustion.

He barely made it to the tub before coming to an abrupt halt.

“Ugh!”

A sharp, piercing pain overwhelmed him, as though a blade were digging into his foot.

He wanted to sit down and inspect the sole of his foot, suspecting a splinter or worse.

“Let me assist you. First, we’ll clean the wound with fresh water, then I’ll examine it.”

Killian’s jeweled jacket hit the floor with a clatter, its weighty ornaments making a sharp sound.

Free of its burden, Nael felt lighter as he cautiously stepped into the tub.

Though Ren wasn’t as large as Killian, his sturdy hands felt secure as they guided Nael.

Submerging his body in the warm water brought an immediate sense of relief.

The water splashed over the edges, spilling onto the floor—a minor loss, but Nael couldn’t help feeling guilty about wasting it.

The tub was small, requiring him to fold his legs to sit, yet Nael was grateful.

As a servant in the Baron’s household, he could never have dreamed of such a luxurious bath.

Back then, fetching water to heat for himself was unthinkable, as he was constantly ordered to move faster and work harder.

Bathing was hurried and cold, often just a quick splash, even in winter.

“All this water… Who prepared it?”

Nael muttered to himself, reminiscing about his sister, Lily, who had been frail and needed his help to fetch warm water.

If she washed in cold water, her coughs would worsen. Nael sighed deeply.

“I did,” Ren replied, mistaking his musings for a question.

Startled, Nael looked up to find Ren’s warm brown eyes crinkled in a gentle smile.

The earlier tension and anxiety seemed to have vanished completely.

“Ah, I see. Thank you.”

“You can speak comfortably with me.”

Why was Ren showing him such kindness?

To Killian, Nael was merely a purchased possession, a commodity to be owned and controlled.

Yet Ren treated him with respect, almost as if he were his superior.

Was this also Killian’s doing?

Nael sighed again, his headache making it hard to think.

“Nael, may I see your feet? I need to check the severity of your injuries.”

Nael lifted his foot, resting it on the edge of the tub.

Ren carefully cleaned the darkened, dirtied sole, causing a slight sting that made Nael curl his toes.

Embarrassed by Ren’s intense focus, Nael crossed his arms over his chest.

“Fortunately, it’s just surface scratches. You’re very lucky.”

“Lucky?”

“Yes. This area has many fishermen, so it’s common to find discarded rusty fishhooks. If you had stepped on one, the wound could have become infected, possibly leading to gangrene.”

“G-Gangrene?”

“If that happened, the affected foot would have to be amputated. Otherwise, the infection could spread, leaving you unable to use your lower body.”

Ren spoke so matter-of-factly, his innocent demeanor clashing with the grim reality he described.

Chilled by the thought, Nael shuddered and splashed warm water over his shoulders, trying to shake the eerie sensation.

“Don’t worry, Nael. You’ll be fine.”

After finishing the bath, Ren applied ointment and wrapped Nael’s feet in clean bandages.

“Ren, what will happen to this ship after it arrives in the North?”

“As far as I know, it will head east to collect supplies.”

“The East…”

Back in his bedroom, the soiled sheets Nael had cried into were replaced with fresh linens.

All traces of his earlier outburst had been erased.

“The sea breeze is quite cold, so I recommend staying indoors after sunset. If you need anything, please call for me at any time.”

“Ren.”

“Yes, Nael.”

“Can you read?”

“Yes, of course.”

Nael’s face grew warm.

“C-Could you read the letter the Baron sent to His Grace? Killian read it to me earlier, but I’d like to hear it again.”

“I’ll ask His Grace for permission.”

Ren bowed slightly.

Outside the room, Killian leaned against the door, listening to their conversation.

The Nael who had sobbed and clung to him like a child now spoke casually with Ren.

When Aiden reached for the door, Killian raised a hand to stop him, choosing instead to eavesdrop on their exchange.

“I thought putting him on the ship might calm him down, but it seems he’s already plotting something ridiculous. Do I need to put a leash on him to make him behave?”

His simmering anger finally erupted into action.

The bedroom door slammed open with such force that it struck the wall, the impact echoing through the space.

A towering figure loomed over Nael.

“Y-Your Grace…”

“Have you finished crying yet?”

His gaze, looking down, was unbearably cold.

The crimson eyes turned into sharp thorns, leaving invisible scars on Nael’s heart.

Killian was a man who commanded.

He had no reason to concern himself with the moods of those beneath him, nor any obligation to soothe their hearts.

He believed he had explained everything sufficiently, but Nael had missed no openings.

Having confirmed Ren’s departure to the east, it was clear Nael now intended not to disembark from the ship at all.

“Nael, were you planning to take this ship all the way to the East?”

His voice, calm and steady, began to simmer with irritation.

Despite his clear explanations, this boy was relentlessly plotting his escape.

As if that wasn’t enough, he had turned the port upside down in chaos, injuring his own body—Killian’s property—in the process.

Nael swallowed dryly. In the stillness, the sound of his gulp echoed sharply.

“Would breaking your ankle finally keep you in line?”

Tears welled up in Nael’s green eyes, threatening to fall at any moment.

He struggled to breathe, suffocating under the weight of Killian’s murderous tone, which felt as though it was strangling him.

Nael clutched his throat, gasping desperately.

“Khuh…”

“Did you think that even if you managed to escape, I wouldn’t find you?”

“I-I have a home too.”

“You’re not naive enough to believe the baron would take you back, are you? How foolish.”

His words dripped with icy disdain as he let out a bitter laugh.

“I’ll say this only once more. If you try to run again, I’ll burn that small estate of yours to the ground. I’ll break your ankles and make you watch it all, letting you savor the smell of charred wood and ash as everything turns to ruins. The first to go would be the Baker Barony.”

“Gasp…!”

“Is that what you want me to do?”

Nael shook his head wildly, unable to utter a word.

Fear crushed his thoughts into silence.

Hot tears streamed down his swollen cheeks, leaving streaks on his flushed face.

Killian clicked his tongue as his eyes fell on Nael’s battered feet, likely injured from his frantic escape attempt.

He hoisted Nael up, draping him over his thigh.

The position—one of submission, like a child being scolded by a parent—made Nael squirm uncomfortably.

“Ugh… Your Grace.”

Killian yanked down Nael’s freshly donned trousers and undergarments, revealing his bare backside.

Faint pink marks, remnants of an earlier punishment, colored his pale, slender frame.

Despite his thin build, his body was inherently well-proportioned, soft, and unblemished.

“When you make mistakes, you face the consequences…”

* * *

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Comment

  1. Sweetbutpsycho says:

    Nael, don’t make yourself even more pitiful than you already are..

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