* * *
John kept his head bowed, waiting for orders, while Killian remained deep in thought, offering no immediate response.
A sigh pressed against his throat, but he swallowed it down.
It felt as though something thick was lodged there, refusing to go down.
How many times had he told them to drink in moderation?
And yet, here they were.
The blame fell squarely on Edward.
Nael had barely left after giving them bread when chaos erupted—sailors ransacking the ship in search of stowaways.
John had tried to hide Edward, but the drunkard, bottle in hand, had declared he would kill any sailor who came after him.
No weapon, yet he had attempted to wield a glass bottle as one.
Had John not clung desperately to his legs, a true disaster might have unfolded.
Just imagining it was dreadful.
The son of a mere Baron attacking a member of a Grand Duke’s household?
Unthinkable.
John exhaled a shaky breath.
“Your name?”
“John. Son of the Baker family’s coachman.”
“I’ll see to it that your father is informed.”
“Thank you for your mercy.”
John bowed deeply, sincerity etched into every movement.
Though he was no nobleman, at least Killian had not sentenced him to death or punishment.
“What does he lack?” Killian asked, his tone unreadable.
John hesitated, wetting his lips.
Did he mean to ask whether Edward was an idiot?
“He was raised… in great comfort.”
“…Comfort, you say.”
“Yes. He is the only son of the Baron’s wife.”
“And that’s why he turned out this way. Tch.”
Killian clicked his tongue in irritation.
“I’ll have a room prepared for you. Rest there. Your fate will be decided later. For now, your job is to keep Edward from causing further trouble.”
“Yes, Your Grace. Thank you.”
He had survived.
John could breathe again.
Edward had said the North was only a few days’ journey away—but it was, in fact, a full month’s voyage.
He could not expect Nael to keep sneaking them food forever.
“Your Grace, if I may ask…”
“…”
“Would it be possible for me to see Nael from time to time? He must be lonely. I know I have no right to make such a request, but if you would grant me even just a moment each day—”
“Has Nael spoken of escape?”
“N-no! Not at all!”
“Then.”
John swallowed dryly. He had to choose his words carefully.
A suffocating pressure clamped around his throat.
He regretted speaking up, wondering if he had said something unnecessary, but it was too late.
The words had already left his mouth, and there was no taking them back.
Now, he had no choice but to answer.
“Nael was a bright child who smiled often.”
“He didn’t smile?”
“……No.”
Killian tapped the armrest of his chair thoughtfully.
Had he been too harsh, blaming Nael and cornering him relentlessly?
Perhaps it was time to offer a carrot instead of just the stick.
At last, Killian’s low chuckle broke the silence.
The deep resonance of his voice carried immense weight.
“The two of you cannot be alone. I’ll assign someone to stay with you, and you are not to spend more than an hour together each day.”
“Th-Thank you.”
“That’s enough. Remain as good companions until we reach the North, then part ways. You’ll be shown to the room you’ll use.”
It was a clear dismissal. John bowed and left the office.
A bright child who smiled often…
Had he ever seen Nael smile?
All he ever did was cry, say no, and refuse.
Maybe… he should tell him to smile just once.
Gulp.
He downed the remaining liquor in his glass in one go.
“Your Grace.”
“Come in.”
Aiden entered, carrying a birdcage, and handed it to Killian.
The bird looked exhausted, having traveled a long distance.
“This is from the Imperial Palace.”
“Yes. There has been no word from the South yet.”
Aiden, who had already grasped Killian’s intentions, answered promptly.
They were waiting for a reply to the message Nael had sent to his sister right after setting sail.
It might have arrived sooner had it been sent directly to Baron Baker’s estate.
But Killian didn’t trust him.
There was no guarantee he would provide accurate information—or even deliver the letter to Lily at all.
So instead, he had sent it to another noble, one not far from the Baker estate.
At first, Aiden had found Killian’s decision odd, but after seeing Edward today, he belatedly realized the Duke’s foresight had been correct.
Blood cannot be deceived.
Perhaps it was a relief that Nael carried a different bloodline.
Killian took the letter tied to the bird’s leg and handed it to Aiden.
He then stroked the small, jet-black crow’s head.
“It seems His Majesty is planning to expand the territory eastward.”
“…….”
Without hesitation, Aiden tossed the letter into the hearth.
The small sheet of paper was instantly engulfed in flames, turning to blackened ash.
“Give this one fresh meat. There will be no reply, so let it rest.”
Killian smoothed down the crow’s glossy black feathers before placing it back in the cage.
The bird fluttered its wings in disappointment.
“Put Edward in charge of the crow’s care.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Since Edward had boarded the Duke’s ship uninvited, he ought to be punished.
But Killian was willing to overlook it, for Nael’s sake.
Instead, Edward would now be responsible for feeding and cleaning up after the crow.
Since it was a valuable bird belonging to the Duke, he couldn’t treat it carelessly, nor neglect it.
This would teach him a lesson—just how insignificant he truly was.
And at the same time, it would show him how he ought to treat what belonged to Killian.
Including Nael.
“What should we do with that John fellow?”
“Have him assist Ren. He’s observant and well-mannered, so he won’t cause Ren any trouble.”
“Understood, Your Grace.”
As Aiden covered the cage with a black cloth, he cautiously opened his mouth.
“Your Grace, there’s no way for Nael to escape from here, so… the leash…”
“…….”
“I apologize. I spoke out of turn.”
“Nael must have a talent for stealing hearts. I never expected you to concern yourself with such things, Aiden.”
Killian poured himself another glass of wine.
“When we caught deserters on the battlefield, do you remember what most of them did?”
“……Yes. Most of them attempted to flee again.”
Even when death awaited them, they never stopped trying to escape.
Aiden swallowed hard.
“I know what you’re thinking. That this is not a battlefield. But for Nael… this place will be even more suffocating than the bloodstained fields of war. Still, he’s clever. He’ll adapt soon enough. I’m simply giving him time to accept his fate.”
His voice was gentle, almost like an angel bestowing mercy.
“Keep Edward away from Nael.”
Foolishness was like a disease. He had to ensure that Edward’s stupidity didn’t take root in Nael’s innocent mind.
At that thought, Killian let out a suppressed chuckle.
He should go see Nael.
Clank.
Even the slightest movement made the collar catch on the chain, producing a cold metallic sound.
The range of movement was so limited that Nael couldn’t even leave the bed.
He sat there blankly, passing the time by staring out the window whenever Ren came to check on him.
A full day had passed.
Killian hadn’t come to see him.
Nael wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or anxious.
One thing was certain—something felt missing.
And then, there was what Ren had said.
That after he had collapsed following their affair, it had been Killian who wiped him down and stroked his hair.
When suspicion turned into certainty, Nael wanted to ask.
Was it really okay for him to do nothing?
“Nael.”
At the sound of Killian’s voice, Nael turned.
Clank.
The chain rattled heavily.
He grasped the collar around his neck with both hands.
“Master.”
“Did you sleep well?”
Nael shook his head.
His mind was in turmoil, too restless to sleep.
He had strained his ears all night, fearing that Killian had thrown them into the sea the moment their presence was discovered.
But aside from the gentle lapping of the waves, he had heard nothing—no ominous splash, no heavy thud.
* * *
