An Interview with Death
"Ah, assassins?"
It was a frightening word just to hear. Why on earth would a man whose specialty was killing be assigned as his escort knight? Bayul couldn't readily grasp what his uncle was thinking.
"Please don't be alarmed, my lord. Their duty will most likely be to guard you quietly, unseen. In some ways, that should make things easier for you as well."
"Ah."
Now it made sense. His uncle had known in advance that Bayul would find constant, visible protection suffocating, and had chosen these men specially with that in mind. The word assassin still sat uneasily on the ear, but moved by his uncle's warm consideration all over again, Bayul could only be touched.
"Is this letter the only one, though?"
"……"
He shouldn't have asked.
What was I even expecting?
The faint hope he'd nursed crumbled into dust and blew away.
"Please tell the men outside that I'll pay my formal greetings shortly. I need to change my clothes first."
"Understood, my lord."
Ian considered offering the disappointed boy some word of comfort, but quickly abandoned the idea. There was someone far better suited to that task.
After Ian left, Bayul stood staring blankly into space for a long while—until a knock sounded, and the ones he'd been waiting for appeared.
"Young master!"
"Arf! Arf!"
A smile bloomed unbidden on Bayul's lips as he turned. These were the ones who always brought him back to life. It was because of them that Bayul could endure anything.
"Here, your clothes."
"Arf!"
While Rita handed Bayul his garments, Black circled round and round her like a restless satellite. The beast had never shown an ounce of interest in anyone but Bayul, and Bayul found that endless curiosity of his fascinating.
"You two got awfully close while I was gone."
"He absolutely loves meat!"
"Meat?"
"Yes, the meat I was setting aside to grill for you when you arrived. He caught the smell and threw the biggest fit, so I tossed him a chunk, and ever since then he's been like this."
"Oh dear. Was he hungry?"
"I'll handle his meals, so don't you worry. Now—tell me about Master Logan. Did you actually see him this time?"
Behind her glasses, Rita's eyes sparkled eagerly. He didn't want to disappoint her, but a lie was out of the question.
"…No."
"Then he skipped the riding lesson again? I heard the demerits are enormous!"
"That's exactly why I'm worried."
"Running away like that won't solve anything, so what is he thinking? You'd think Master Logan doesn't even want to see you!"
Unable to bring himself to answer, Bayul only smiled bitterly. He understood better than anyone the heart of someone who ran and hid—understood it so well that he couldn't even bring himself to resent Logan for it.
"Couldn't you go to him first, young master? I certainly would have by now."
"No, I don't think that's right."
"Why not?"
"I just feel that for now, waiting for him is the right thing to do."
It wasn't as if Bayul had no such longing. He'd gone so far as to ask around and find out exactly which dormitory Logan lived in, and roughly where his room was.
But when it actually came to knocking on that door, worry overwhelmed him. He was afraid of how Logan—unprepared, cornered—would react if the two of them came face to face like that.
Whenever it might happen, waiting until Logan opened his heart again was, for now, the best choice Bayul could make.
"F-fine, I understand. I'll wait too."
Bayul and Rita had grown up side by side. To her, Logan was a precious bond as well. She missed him and wondered about him just as much as Bayul did—and that was precisely why her resentment ran just as deep. She had watched Bayul struggle from right beside him, and it only sharpened the feeling.
"Well then, go change. I have interviews to conduct."
"Interviews?"
"Yes, we're hiring new servants. I can't manage everything on my own, no matter how hard I try."
"Oh no, I never even thought about that. I'm sorry, Rita."
It was no mansion to rival Hamilton's estates, but the house was quite large—five bedrooms and no fewer than three drawing rooms. The idea of Rita managing it alone was absurd.
"You're supposed to be studying, young master. I'm perfectly fine, so don't trouble yourself over it."
"No, I've been thoughtless. You came all this way because of me…"
"I truly am fine! Just being able to stay by your side makes me happier than words can say!"
"Then should I help you pick the servants?"
"Gasp! Really?"
"Of course. Whoever it is will be working alongside you, so we'd better choose well."
"Oh! Then would you sit in and review them for me? Sir Ian set the wages quite generously, so we've had plenty of applicants. Honestly, I was at a complete loss over who to pick and how."
When Rita brightened as though she'd been rescued from a desert island, Bayul felt relieved. If he could help even a little, he would gladly step in.
"Go on ahead. I'll change and follow right after."
"Yes!"
With reinforcements like this arriving, strength surged naturally into Rita's shoulders. In her current mood, she felt she could do anything. Humming a little tune, she marched briskly off toward the interview room.
"Rita…?"
Bayul arrived at the interview room a step too late, and stopped in confusion. He'd been told there were several applicants—yet the only person present was a single black-haired young man. Rita looked close to tears, while the young man grinned and grinned, as if something about all this delighted him immensely.
"Rita, what happened? Where did everyone go?"
"Well… they all left, apparently."
"Left? Why?"
The interviews hadn't even begun. These people had set aside time, come all this way on purpose, and simply walked away? It made no sense to Bayul whatsoever. Something like this couldn't happen unless someone had deliberately driven them off.
"They're really all gone? Not waiting outside?"
"No."
Rita shook her head and pointed at the young man.
"He saw them. Said some urgent message came and they all rushed off."
"A message? What kind of message?"
"Apparently some other household offered a far higher wage. Ours was hardly a small sum, but seeing them all stampede out of here at once, their terms must have been incredible."
"No, but that's…"
"But you know what's really strange?"
Suddenly Rita leaned in close and dropped her voice to a whisper.
"That man wasn't here earlier. I arrived ahead of everyone and saw the room myself."
"He was just running late, surely."
It was fortunate enough that he hadn't been swept up in the exodus. If he had been, today's interviews might have been called off entirely.
"Doesn't something seem off to you?"
Rita's voice dropped even lower, and Bayul's shrank to match it.
"One look and you can tell he's no servant."
"Rita, there's no such thing as a fixed 'servant appearance.'"
"Ugh, that's not what I mean—I'm talking about the vibe! I'm telling you, this is not the kind of man suited for this kind of work. Look at him properly."
Worn down by Rita's stubbornness, Bayul reluctantly turned his head.
What on earth does a 'vibe' even—!
He had been idly giving the young man a once-over when their eyes met—and Bayul flinched as though struck by lightning.
Unease, perhaps. Strangely enough, in that instant the absurd thought crossed his mind that this young man was not of this world. And at the same time, a creeping chill seized hold of him.
Everything about the young man was black. His clothes, the hair that fell past his shoulders, even the eyes that glimmered faintly through his long bangs—all of it was dark as deepest ink.
The only white thing about him was his skin. It was pale to the point of looking bloodless, like that of someone who had never once stood in sunlight.
Black and white in perfect, striking harmony. That contrast made him feel all the more singular to anyone who looked upon him.
"See? Something's wrong with him, right?"
"He's unusual, sure, but I wouldn't go so far as to call him strange…"
"Look at that face—he's never worked a hard day in his life! His hands too! Does that look like a servant's hand to you? It's exactly like yours, young master!"
"…Does it?"
Bayul glanced down at his own hands, oddly self-conscious.
"I don't like that smile either. Why does he keep grinning like that?"
"Because he's here for an interview, I'd imagine."
"Being handsome isn't everything! It's like he's mocking you, young master. It's unsettling! The way he sits there so prim and refined—anyone walking in would think this house belonged to him. I'm telling you, if we hire a man like that, he'll work us into an early grave. And I know without looking—he'll be terrible at chores. No, wait—horrendously terrible."
As if she'd met the mortal enemy of a past life, Rita launched into a torrent of denunciation, her rejection absolute. Of course, every word of this exchange was conducted in whispers, so the subject of it couldn't hear a thing. Bayul sincerely hoped so, anyway.
"If you dislike him that much, there's nothing to be done. Do as you like, Rita. But he did come all this way, so let's at least give him an interview. He's the only one who stayed to the end. He might be exactly the person we need."
"As if that could possibly be true!"
"The decision is yours. I promise I won't interfere."
"There's truly no need to even ask…"
Though her discontent was written all over her, she couldn't defy Bayul. Rita squared her glasses and addressed the young man.
"Your name? And your age?"
"…Death. Nineteen."
Contrary to his smiling face, the young man's voice was deep and weighty. Perhaps it was the clipped way he spoke, but he seemed far more mature than his years.
"Nineteen? That's quite young. Wouldn't you say so, young master?"
He was three years older than Rita, but Bayul held his tongue.
"And I take it you have no experience?"
"……?"
"No references, then. I'd need to know which household you served before, so I could at least inquire about your reputation."
"Ah, this kind of work is a first for me."
"Just as I expected. I could tell at a glance."
"Rita."
When Bayul shot her a stern look, Rita pouted and tried again.
"Then do you have any special skills? Something you're best at."
"Hmm… keeping subordinates in line?"
"I'm sorry—keeping what in line?"
Rita was certain she'd misheard. He'd sat there pondering intently, and the answer he'd produced wasn't cleaning, or cooking, or running errands—but discipline? Did he think this was some kind of military training camp?
"I have a lot of people under me."
"…You mean you have a big family? Younger siblings?"
When Death nodded as if to confirm it, Rita's expression abruptly turned grave.
"Forgive me for asking, but… if you fail to get this job, will your brothers and sisters suffer for it?"
Death's head bobbed up and down once more. And with that, dark clouds gathered over Rita's resolve.
"Oh, this isn't right…"
Bayul barely managed to hold back a burst of laughter. A string of younger siblings, and a struggling household on top of it. If she hadn't known, that would have been one thing—but now that she knew everything, Rita would never in a hundred years simply turn the young man away. It simply wasn't in her nature.
In other words, she had to hire him—and since she couldn't stand the man herself, one could only imagine the scale of her inner turmoil.
"Rita, how about this?"
For her sake, Bayul offered a solution.
"Try training him first. Everyone has a first day."
"Well, yes, that's true."
"He'll be clumsy at the start, but given time he'll get used to the work, and eventually the day will come when he's good at it. Won't it?"
"You mean… watch and see?"
"I mean the final decision can wait until then. Think of it as a probationary period."
"Oh, that's good. A probationary period!"
She didn't like the thought of taking him on as a servant, but sending him away left a bad taste in her mouth too. Following Bayul's suggestion was, for now, the best plan available.
"You said your name was Death, yes? Very well. You're hired—on a trial basis!"
"Whoa, really? It actually worked?"
"You heard her terms—you're not a full employee, just temporary. If your work proves unsatisfactory, you can be let go at any time. Knowing that, do you still accept?"
"Absolutely!"
His tone was remarkably composed for a man who had just landed a job, but behind the curtain of his hair, those black eyes glittered with unmistakable light. The sudden thought flashed through Bayul's mind: someday, I'd like to see him sweep that hair aside and meet my eyes properly.
"Excuse me, but why do you keep talking down to me? Aren't you being a bit too short with your words?"
"How old are you?"
"…Sixteen."
"You heard my age earlier, didn't you?"
The meaning was unmistakable: he was the elder, and he intended to speak casually.
"Still, I'm the senior here…"
You can't do that, rose to the back of Rita's throat—but somehow, the words wouldn't come out.
Oh, you're going to get it! One mistake and I will show you zero mercy!
With flames blazing in her eyes, Rita made her vow.
"Where's Black, though?"
While Rita launched into a long lecture for Death on a servant's duties and dos-and-don'ts, Bayul suddenly realized the hound was nowhere to be seen.
"Where did he go?"
He stepped out into the corridor and searched, but not even a shadow of Black could be found.
"Did he wander off again already?"
The beast came and went entirely on his own schedule. He'd turn up again when the time was right, no doubt. Bayul shrugged and let the question go.