Grandfather wordlessly placed a cigar between his lips. It was then that his gaze shifted strangely aside.
Maxim was following Dariya with his eyes as she stepped out into the garden. His stare was so unfathomably deep that Yuri found himself turning away.
“Yuri, rember this.”
Maxim spoke without once taking his eyes off her.
“If you beco an object of fear, you hold control. But one who longs to be loved is powerless. So if you wish to be powerful, never hang your neck on feelings that change.”
“......”
“Devote yourself to no one. And if such feelings co, smash them from the root. To beco a true Solzhenitsyn, you must cling only to cold reason.”
“And if I can’t?”
At that, his grandfather’s detached gaze swung back to him.
“But you married Grandmother.”
A flash of raw pain crossed Maxim’s expression and vanished.
“I did. And that is why I fell into hell.”
Bile rose in Yuri’s throat. Talking with his grandfather always left his chest scraped cold inside.
He didn’t know what he’d been thinking about as he wandered the mansion all day.
He locked the Blue Room tight, and began haunting the library stacked floor to ceiling with books. He researched human trafficking, «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» criminal prosecution, evidence gathering. On another day, he even looked up “ti required to dig through a wall with a shovel.”
Since then, his appetite had vanished. Even the sight of at dripping with grease made him feel sick. For so reason, the soles of his feet ached. Whenever he slept, he woke in a damp sweat.
“Lucky bastards...”
That night too, Yuri, waking halfway, skimd his classmates’ giggling ssages with a blank face, then tossed his phone aside. It was already long past midnight.
“Haa....”
Eating and sleeping here was torture.
The vacation was far too long.
Thump, thump, clatter, clatter—
“――!”
A sound like sothing rattling the window crashed into the silence of his room like a bomb.
Yuri jolted upright like a man with shattered nerves. Pale as chalk, he darted frantic glances around, looking every bit a neurotic wreck.
If anyone saw him like this, they’d surely collapse in shock. Yet he couldn’t stop this foolish behavior. He grabbed his father’s stethoscope and pressed it to the floor, the walls.
Clatter, clatter—yes, it was unmistakably the sound of a rat scurrying beneath the floor.
Where? Where is it?
Heart racing, mouth dry, Yuri suddenly burst into the hall. In his head, he conjured the blueprint, recalling which room was closest from here. An unexplainable hunch sent his pulse pounding.
Thud, thud—the sound rumbled from beneath the floor sowhere. Yuri flung open the room his father had used before his marriage, and stomped small beats on the tiles with his heel.
Thunk, thunk. Thunk, thunk....
Sure enough, one marble tile trembled. As in the dining room, as in the Blue Room, it was a square tile—far too small for any adult to enter.
“Fuck...”
He’d said the wrong prayer. Without realizing, Yuri fell to his knees.
And the mont his trembling hands pried up the tile—
The beast thrust out its two arms.
“――!”
The boy instinctively hauled it up into his arms. Round eyes blinked at him, as if recognizing him. A surge of indescribable feeling welled inside.
“Haa... You. You really have no fear at all.”
He couldn’t na this feeling. Just... sorry, grateful, proud.
Yuri, uncertain what to do now, tugged the white sheet covering the furniture and wrapped it around the child’s body.
“Kid, hold still for a minute.”
“――.”
The little beast, as if it had never leapt at him before, nodded ekly. Good kid. Yuri tapped the cold iron gently once and rose.
Surely nothing would happen on the way to his room. Shaping the sheet into a bundle like bedding, he walked calmly down the corridor.
“Yuri, what are you doing there?”
His nape stiffened.
“Up so late, not even asleep yet... are your knees aching again, my grandson?”
It was Dariya’s gentle voice.
Fuck. I’m screwed....
Yet Yuri turned with a natural smile. His expression seed calm, though the curve of his eyes trembled faintly.
“Why are you up, Grandmother? I couldn’t sleep, so I just—”
“What’s that?”
Her gaze fell to the sheet, bulging with what looked like a thick quilt.
“Why are you carrying bedding in the middle of the night...”
Her loose hair falling, Dariya blinked, then sighed softly, “Ah...”
“You’re going to wash it?”
“Pardon?”
“If Grandmother said it outright, it would embarrass my grandson, wouldn’t it? Of course you’d want to take care of the ss yourself... you’ve really grown up, Yuri. But don’t ruin your health over it.”
“Wait, Grandmother, you’ve misunderstood—”
“You’ve truly grown. My little one, grown so suddenly... my Yuri...”
Murmuring to herself, she staggered away. Grandmother...! Frustrated, Yuri called after her, but she only waved a hand in farewell. Then, firmly, she added, “Scrub it well.”
As Yuri flushed red in mute despair, the bundle squird.
“...You’re going to take responsibility and explain this later.”
Clutching the thing tight in his arms, he ground his teeth as if venting.
“So I can listen to another scolding in the morning.”
Then—sniff, sniff—he wrinkled his nose.
“But kid, did you even wash? Why do you sll like shit?”
“......”
At that, the squirming beast went utterly still.
“Stay still, damn it!”
At last he burst out in a shout.
Even among spoiled classmates with twisted personalities, none were grimy to this degree.
The mont he let this rat loose in his room, it bounded over desk, bookshelf, bed, leaving filthy footprints everywhere.
Watching its movents—so quick, so uncanny—he almost wanted confirmation from soone else that he wasn’t hallucinating.
Again, crash, crash, bang—! His temples bulged with veins.
This brat, this damned little beast, this filthy thing—he wondered what he could say to scare it into submission. But his shoulders only sagged.
“Kid, co here. Let’s wipe your feet.”
“......”
“First thing’s first. Clean you up before we talk or interrogate or anything.”
Maybe he really did take after Maxim Solzhenitsyn—seeing sothing dirty and chaotic, his first instinct was to clean it.
At last, as if understanding, the child stopped darting about and stared at him. But with only the eyes, nose, and lips exposed through the mask, he couldn’t read its full expression.
“Let’s take off that creepy mask too, while we’re at it.”
When Yuri dampened a towel in the attached bathroom, the child followed at his heels.
Finally subdued, the little one perched on the sink. Yuri began wiping its filthy feet.
He half-expected a struggle, like before. But the child only stared at him with jet-black marble eyes, breathing hard and small, almost cute.
“See this? This black stuff? It’s all dirt.”
Yuri showed the towel, already blackened. At that, the cheeky beast plopped its other foot onto his hand.
“What the—”
It blinked.
“You want to wash this foot too?”
“――”
Nod, nod. Yuri let out a baffled laugh. Bossing around with a chin gesture already, after only days of knowing ?
It had been so long since Yuri had laughed out loud in Winter Castle—since his parents had died.
He wanted to flick the tiny foot smaller than his palm, but worried it might be too cold, so instead he filled the sink with water and placed both feet in.
The child let out a sound—half sigh, half purr—clearly pleased.
It was absurd. Resting its head comfortably against Yuri’s chest like so master, relaxing utterly—it was laughable.
“But now I’ve got to wash your butt too.”
The child stiffened instantly.
“Kid, are you a boy or a girl?”
At those words, the nimble beast sprang again, headbutting Yuri square in the chest.
Ugh—! Fuck, that hurt like hell.... Clutching his collarbone, Yuri collapsed, while the child bolted to the edge of the bookshelf.
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