Chimera of Batius - Chapter 5

Ruzerolt shoved his way out of the captain’s office and headed for the reception room. The murmur of voices grew louder as he approached.

“Mason, thanks to you I’ve got a good show.”

“And what about the thing downstairs? Why don’t you get rid of that?”

As he neared the commotion, a whistle rang out. The gentlemen had Cheil surrounded. His shirt lay on the floor. Cheil didn’t have a single scrap of cloth on his upper body. He clenched his fists and said in a low voice:

“You’ve searched enough.”

“Who knows if you’ve got it hidden in your pants. Take those off too!”

Cheil stood rigid as a statue, as if doused with ice water. With resignation, he put his hands on the waistband of his trousers. A look of contempt flashed in his eyes as Ruzerolt approached. Even now, the opaque mask still covered his face.

“Mason.”

Every gaze swung toward Ruzerolt.

“Captain?”

Ruzerolt held up the pocket watch in his hand.

“Is this the item you said you’d lost?”

Mason stepped forward, startled and shaken. When he took the pocket watch, his face filled with bewilderment.

“This is…”

“I asked you if this was what you were looking for.”

“Yes, that’s it… No matter how much I searched yesterday, I couldn’t find it… How…?”

Cheil still endured the humiliation in front of everyone. Ruzerolt realized it. This was… a manufactured misunderstanding. An unjust misunderstanding that he himself had allowed. Ruzerolt had also been one of those who joined in humiliating Cheil.

“Hypocrite.”

Dexler’s words hadn’t been wrong in the slightest. Ruzerolt now felt ashamed of himself.

“Mason.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Do you remember what happened last night?”

“That…”

“I won’t pry into what pleasures you enjoy. But if an innocent is being punished, I can’t stand by.”

Mason couldn’t speak. The knights and he had made a mistake, and Cheil had been humiliated. Yet he didn’t understand why he felt so ashamed. Ruzerolt called to Cheil softly.

“Get dressed.”

Then Cheil bowed. He snatched up the fallen clothes with trembling hands. Head lowered, he stayed still. Ruzerolt wanted to see his expression but couldn’t bring himself to order him to look up.

“Hmm. Seems there was a misunderstanding. Sorry for the disturbance, Captain.”

Mason bowed, face flushed with embarrassment. Clearly the fault had been Mason’s. Still, he didn’t apologize to Cheil. Ruzerolt couldn’t force him to do so either.

“Go to your room.”

At Ruzerolt’s order, Cheil bowed.

“…Thank you.”

Ruzerolt couldn’t answer Cheil’s thanks. He could only watch the hair falling across his face. His chest felt tight again.

***

Regardless of the commotion, Ruzerolt’s responsibilities never changed. By the time he finished his work, it was already night. Normally, he would get ready to head to his room, but tonight he didn’t think he could sleep. Instead of going to the bedroom, Ruzerolt chose to take a nighttime walk.

Northerners didn’t care much for flowers. They preferred alcohol and s3x with the opposite gender. Thanks to that, the castle’s garden had always been Ruzerolt’s exclusive territory. That was also why he loved Heinsley Castle’s garden so much. Whenever he walked along the snow-covered conifer path, his feet sank into the snow. The familiar feeling calmed him.

As he strolled through the garden, a strange shape caught his eye.

…Who is that?

A tall figure with the hood of a cloak pulled low stood at the edge of the lake. Almost instinctively, Ruzerolt’s legs carried him toward him

Was someone wandering the garden at this hour? As he walked, he tried to recall anyone he knew, but no one matched the silhouette ahead. Ruzerolt stopped a few steps away.

“Who’s in the garden at this time of night?”

The stranger turned. The faint moonlight lit up the figure. When the hood was pushed back, a striking jewel around the forehead caught the light. A thin veil covering half the face fluttered in the air.

“…It’s you again.”

The reason he was walking in the garden that night stood before him. Ruzerolt stepped closer.

“What are you doing here at this hour?”

Cheil tilted his head and asked.

“That’s a question I should be asking you. I told you not to wander the castle at will.”

He was the exotic male dancer from the troupe Dexler had invited. Ruzerolt had definitely warned him before.

“…”

“Did you think I was joking?”

A brief silence fell. Perhaps because of the day’s humiliation, Cheil’s golden eyes looked fragile. Ruzerolt’s gaze on him grew heavier.

“I apologize. I only wanted some fresh air…”

As if warned by the cold reply, Cheil bowed his head even lower.

“I’ll pay much closer attention to your words during my stay. I’m very sorry.”

Cheil stood in the snow without proper winter footwear.

He tried to slip past Ruzerolt as if fleeing, brushing against his side. Ruzerolt found it hard to let him go like that, so he caught Cheil’s wrist.

“You can stay if you like.”

Cheil’s body turned back.

“…Thank you.”

Now he saw Cheil still wore thin clothes beneath the heavy cloak. He said he came from the south. It seemed he hadn’t been able to get new clothes yet, aside from his dancer’s costume.

He’ll surely get sick if this continues.

“Winter here is harsher than elsewhere. If you keep walking around like this, you’ll fall ill.”

Ruzerolt pointed at his clothes and his snow-covered feet. Cheil shrugged and smiled.

“I’ll keep your words in mind.”

When he smiled, a lavender scent blossomed around him. It wasn’t an alpha or omega pheromone. Yet the gentle fragrance wrapped around Ruzerolt as if he were embraced by a lavender garden. His heart softened. Was that why? He grew more and more concerned about Cheil’s attire. Ruzerolt pulled off his gloves and offered them to Cheil. Cheil’s eyes widened in surprise. Ruzerolt offered the gloves again.

“Didn’t you say you’d pay attention to my words?”

This time, Cheil’s eyes softened. Looking at the gloves, he carefully extended his arm. The wrist hidden beneath the cloak was exposed.

“Thank you very much, Sir…”

There was a bruise on the wrist where he held the gloves. Without thinking, Ruzerolt grabbed his hand and brought it closer to examine.

“What’s this bruise?”

“Ah, this… earlier…”

He remembered Mason grabbing him by the shirt collar. Cheil was taller and more heavily built than Ruzerolt or any other knight. Yet he had used no force and had simply endured the humiliations inflicted on him.

A sudden, inexplicable uneasiness washed over him. If Cheil had been one of his own people, he would never have let what happened that day go unchallenged. But Cheil was from Dexler. Would Dexler even know about this?

“Did you tell Dexler what happened today?”

Cheil blinked as if he didn’t understand. But soon his eyes curved, as though he had realized something.

“Lord Dexler has no interest in someone as lowly as me. Since I saw him in the ballroom, he hasn’t summoned me.”

“He seemed to value you quite a bit.”

Cheil shook his head.

“If that were true, I wouldn’t be here alone, taking in the night air.”

There isn’t a dancer alive, no matter how naive, who can’t recognize when attention is being paid to him. Cheil gave a bitter smile.

“In Heinsley, only people looking for a night of pleasure seek me out…”

An even deeper shadow crossed Cheil’s face.

“A dancer cast aside. A dancer scorned. A dancer with nowhere to turn, alone in the snow tonight.”

Cheil, who doesn’t belong in the north, is a solitary dancer. Just like me.

Ruzerolt gently stroked Cheil’s bruised wrist.

“Even if that’s so, if you fall ill from standing out here, you’ll be the only one who loses.”

“…I know.”

The distrust he had felt toward Cheil was slowly melting, giving way to compassion.

He pitied him; this man, though a servant of Dexler, had been abandoned by him. Cheil shifted the toes he had buried in the snow, as if he were cold. Looking down at the snow-covered ground, Ruzerolt spoke quietly.

“If you go that way, you’ll find a greenhouse.”

He pointed to a tree in a corner of the garden.

“You’d be better off resting there instead of here. Next time, go there.”

Cheil’s eyes widened in surprise. His reddening eyes curved as he looked at Ruzerolt.

“Thank you, Sir. Thank you so much.”

Maybe it was the night, but the formality of his thanks began to grate. Ruzerolt swept the snow with the toe of his shoe and said,

“Call me Ruzerolt.”

Cheil hesitated for a moment, then clenched his fist.

“Yes, Ruzerolt. Really… thank you.”

Without realizing it, the scent of lavender grew stronger.