Arcadia Chapter 11.7

“This is… Well, I lost track of time. I’m sorry, Young Master….”

If he had known he’d be caught in such a disgraceful way, he wouldn’t have hidden in the first place. His earlobes burned, feeling like he had shown his unseemly side to someone much younger than him.

There was the sound of a heavy chair being dragged back. A hand was placed on Van’s head as he reflexively tried to lift it. The hand, applying pressure, pushed his head down. From above his head, the peculiar voice he had heard at dawn fell upon him.

“You… only seem to pick and choose the things you’re told not to do.”

There was no time to think it was humiliating. In the blink of an eye, a black cloth came closer and covered his eyelids. A lace cloth that was not tied so tightly as to be suffocating, but not so loosely as to slip off, was knotted behind his head. Contrary to the condescending tone, the hands tying the cloth had a hint of carefulness. Presently, the hands that had securely tied the knot slowly withdrew, brushing against his warm earlobe.

Van, his lips moving soundlessly, raised his hand and felt around his eyes, which were now covered with the unfamiliar cloth. The black lace cloth, with its rough texture, allowed him a level of vision where he could just barely make out objects. Setting aside his anxiety about being fired, it was a rather baffling treatment.

“Do you really have to go this far….”

“You can’t even do your job right, but you’re good at talking back.”

“…My apologies.”

He didn’t like the young master’s words and actions at all, but as he had broken the manual twice, he backed down meekly. Van, who had crawled out from under the desk in shame, brushed off his knees and straightened up. The interior was dark, and because of the dark lace covering his eyes, he could barely see in front of him.

The reason he goes to these lengths to not reveal his face must be… his appearance. The words, With that much wealth and that kind of body, what more could you want? rose to the tip of his tongue, but he held them back, recalling the contract clause, ‘I will faithfully comply with all of the employer’s requests.’ Figuring that seeing the man with the strange complex directly would set off his sensitive nerves again, he asked while looking far away, at a wall where an exotic painting was probably hanging.

“It’s true that I was in the wrong… but why am I the one blindfolded?”

The young master, who had pulled a chair up to the desk, snorted.

“Should I be the one blindfolded then? It seems if you’re stupid, you can’t even tell who the employer is.”

“You have a way with words….”

“‘A way’?”

“You’re so smart. That’s right. It makes sense for me to be the one blindfolded.”

Saying he sometimes did stupid things because he was uneducated, Van nonchalantly yielded and was about to say he would be on his way, but then he paused.

Wasn’t this their first face-to-face meeting since he was hired? Technically, their first meeting had ended at dawn, but they hadn’t been in a position to talk then, so now was the perfect time for a simple greeting, even if he couldn’t see his face. Van, still avoiding the direction where the man was, asked.

“Shall we shake hands? It’s our first meeting, after all.”

“Get out.”

The young master was as sharp-tongued as he was sensitive. Van, who had adapted to conversing with him in his own way while being tormented, tried to show a bit of friendliness to the much younger man.

“I apologize for my mistake. So….”

“I said, get out.”

However, the young master seemed to have no intention of getting friendly. Van, raising one corner of his mouth, didn’t linger any longer and backed away. He said he would be going, but as expected, there was no reply. Van carefully took a step. He could vaguely see the door through the intricate lace.

As he headed for the door, careful not to bump into the furniture, Van saw the trolley standing right at the entrance of the room and thought, oops. He had hidden, leaving behind the trolley he was supposed to clear away after cleaning, so there was no way the man wouldn’t have noticed. Lamenting his own sloppiness that perfectly matched the description of ‘stupid’, he firmly gripped the trolley handle when the young master, who had been maintaining his silence, opened his mouth.

“I hate you.”

The awkward and stiff sentence, as if practicing a new language, caught his ear. Van, who had stopped for a moment at the subtle impression the sentence gave, retorted in a nonchalant tone.

“I’m not exactly fond of you either.”

One could say it was insolent for an employee, but it was partly the young master’s fault for not including conditions like ‘obedient’ or ‘businesslike’ when hiring someone.

He said his final goodbye and left the private room. As soon as he locked the door from the outside with the key he had and pulled off the cloth covering his eyes, the sound of something shattering to pieces came from inside the private room. Van, clutching the lace cloth, stared with wide eyes at the door from which the clamorous noise erupted, then clicked his tongue. He was truly a damn pain-in-the-ass young master.

Having learned his lesson from the previous night, Van placed a pitcher filled with water on the table and crawled into bed, only to wake up again at dawn. It would have been better if it was because he was thirsty or a ghost was scratching at the door; it was due to the blaring ring of the telephone that gnawed at one’s sanity. Startled by the loud noise, Van shot up and, as soon as he realized it was the phone, bit back a curse. Since he couldn’t not answer it, he scowled deeply and put the receiver to his ear.

Just as he was about to demand that the man refrain from calling at dawn, no matter how much there were no set working hours, a low voice beat him to it.

— Why do you hate me?

“…Pardon?”

— I asked, why do you hate me?

Having just woken up, he couldn’t easily understand the young master’s question, which lacked all context. Blinking, Van belatedly recalled what had happened that afternoon, wiped his face, and asked back in a hoarse voice.

“Did you call at this hour just to ask that?”

The other end was silent. It was taken as a yes. He almost burst out into a hollow laugh at the absurdity of it all, but he held it in with a small cough. If he had laughed openly, he would not have been able to escape the sharp-tongued young master’s anger. Instead, he soothed him in a soft voice.

“That was…. It was just something I said because you said you hated me. It was a joke. Just kidding.”

— Don’t play jokes like that.

The sharp tone was as cold as ice, but the meaning contained within it was, paradoxically, somewhat cute. Van, whose heavy eyelids were tinged with sleepiness, opened them loosely and asked gently.

“Were you upset?”

— I don’t get upset over things like that at all. Don’t make assumptions.

“Not upset, yet you called at this hour.”

Another silence fell. It was a silence that made the corners of his mouth twitch up rather than feel suffocating. Van let his propped-up upper body fall back and lay down comfortably, pressing the receiver tightly to his ear. The clinging sleepiness faded slightly, and a strange feeling of wanting to continue the conversation a little longer arose. As he listened to the silence, a somehow subdued voice seeped into Van’s eardrum.

— You shouldn’t be like that. You….

The voice, its original pleasant tone veiled by a layer of static, was suppressed, as if forcibly holding back words that had risen to the back of his throat. Van waited for the words that didn’t follow, then spoke first.

“Anyway, I’m sorry. It’s my fault…. What can I do to make you feel better?”

— Don’t talk to me like you’re soothing a child.

“Isn’t it true that you’re younger than me? If you don’t like it, you can fire me.”

Even if he had gotten the opportunity to work in a noble castle, Van was a human who couldn’t pretend to be a piece of moving furniture. Van, who used to casually toss out silly jokes to his employers even when he worked as a mercenary, made a retort that could sound impertinent and laughed foolishly.

It was a joke meant to make him stop being gloomy and laugh, but the other side went quiet again. When a cold reply came back shortly after, Van realized once again that there were people you could joke with and people you shouldn’t.

— You want to quit?

“No.”

— Then why did you tell me to fire you?

“That was just a joke….”

Van, giving up on adding that it was a joke every time, mulled over how to explain it to this asocial young master, then decided to be honest. With guys like this, it was better to be direct than to beat around the bush.

“You don’t show your face, you don’t even say hello…. So I thought you didn’t like me. I like this job. I have no intention of leaving on my own accord until you fire me.”

— …Really?

“Really.”

— Keep that promise.

“Of course.”

— I don’t believe you.

Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t. He was a young master with absolutely no intention of looking at the world positively, but he decided to understand with a heart as vast as the sea. Van, yawning silently, indicated that he wanted to hang up if there were no other requests.

“So, have you resolved your curiosity now? May I go to sleep?”

— No.

“…No?”

What on earth did he want, to the point of disturbing his employee’s sleep? The request was more shameless and bewildering than he had expected.

— I can’t sleep. Sing me a lullaby.

“…A lullaby?”

— Yes. A lullaby.

“Didn’t you just tell me not to treat you like a child….”

— You said you liked this job. You said you wouldn’t leave on your own, yet you can’t even sing a lullaby?

His skill at twisting words was top-notch. To think he had found this person cute for even a moment. He must have briefly lost his mind from not seeing people for so long. Van silently kicked off his blanket and readjusted the receiver. If he wanted a lullaby that badly, there was no reason he couldn’t sing one.

The lullaby that began that way continued until 3 a.m. Whenever he thought it was time to stop, the young master would demand he keep singing, saying he wasn’t asleep yet. In the end, even when it was obvious he was getting drowsy and slowing down, he was made to sing endlessly. Van, who had never sung a lullaby for such a long time even for a lover, finally hung up first, glaring at the receiver from which no sound came after his voice had gone completely hoarse.

“What kind of god-awful ordeal is this….”

Even letting out a sigh that could make the ground sink didn’t relieve his sense of injustice. Feeling as if he had been saddled with a wicked child, Van soothed his indignation by stroking his sore throat and imagining smacking the young master on the head.