The Hound Beneath the Soot
"Sir Ian, I think you're worrying far too much. This is my first time going, but my friends have all been already, and they came back saying they had a perfectly wonderful time." "That's because they aren't the young master. The rumors about you haven't spread through the academy alone." Few indeed were the souls brazen enough to lay a hand on the son of House Randert — but there was always an exception to every rule. The world had no shortage of lunatics, and Ian had a duty to protect Bayul.
"You have the face of a man who won't say yes no matter what I argue." "I'm sorry." "No, don't be. I understand." "Thank you." The moment Ian relaxed at how readily Bayul accepted it, the young master added, as if he'd made up his mind:
"Then there's nothing for it. I'll simply have to bring you along." "...I beg your pardon?" "I've already made a promise to my friends, and I've been wanting to see the night market besides. So please come with me, Sir Ian." Ian was caught completely off guard. He had expected Bayul to give up, and instead the young master had offered an unexpected compromise.
"You'll be bringing Sir Rizai and Sir Rivai as well, of course?" "Naturally." That was precisely why those two were stationed here. With them included, the escort would number three full knights. Whatever emergency might arise, they could surely see it through.
"We'll depart at five o'clock, then." "Augh! Just look at this pitch-black grime! Black, all this time you've been carrying around a body like this and snuggling up to me? Have you no conscience at all? When a gentleman calls on a lady, he's supposed to arrive clean!" Rita's booming voice rang out from the tap behind the mansion, where Black stood with her hand clamped on the scruff of his neck, locked in mortal combat with the water.
"Hold still! I haven't even started on the soap yet!" The coat had to be thoroughly soaked before the lather would take. He was enormous to begin with, and the sheer volume of fur meant that merely wetting him down ate up a good deal of time.
"Good grief, you're black as night! I wonder if all of this will even come off!" She wasn't exaggerating. By the time the clean water from the tap had passed through Black, it ran off him the color of ink.
"Black, do you know? There's another fellow around here just as filthy as you, and I absolutely, completely, truly can't stand him!" "Arf?" "You want to know who it is?" "Arf arf!" "Lather you up first, then I'll tell you!" The instant Black's guard slipped, Rita's hands sped up. In no time the beast was smothered head to toe in black soap suds.
"Ah-ah, Black! If you struggle, there'll be no treats — no dinner, nothing! Behave yourself!" "Whiiiine." Whether her threat worked or not, Black let out a whimper and lowered his tail. When food was on the line, no scheme could hold a candle.
"There we go. Good boy." Rita scratched under his chin with a thoroughly satisfied expression.
"Black, I'm only telling you this because you're you. You think I'd be venting like this if I weren't at my wit's end? You can't even talk! These days that man is giving me actual headaches!"
"Arf arf!"
"Oh, who is it? You probably haven't met him yet. Some fellow with a very strange name — Death. He's the new servant. Absolutely insufferable, and a total menace!"
As she talked, the image of Death floated up in her mind and her irritation came boiling back. A surprising amount of force crept into Rita's scrubbing hands.
"Does he think being older makes him the better man? In this house — no, in this industry, I'm the senior! But every other word out of his mouth is backtalk, and the way he packs away food — there's never anything left in the kitchen, never! Does he think I cook it just for him?"
The mansion hadn't yet hired a proper cook, so the kitchen fell to Rita as well. She'd always genuinely enjoyed cooking, and it had never bothered her before — but ever since Death arrived, she was starting to hate it.
"Ugh, I can't even stand the sight of him! Just let him finish his probation. The moment he does — snap! — I'll cut him loose, just like that!"
"Arf!"
"You don't think I would? It wouldn't be personal feelings, or wrongful dismissal, nothing of the sort! And where does a probationary servant get that kind of confidence anyway? Some days he doesn't show his nose at all! Black, does that sound right to you?"
Rita asked, but Black was in no position to answer — she had just hoisted the bucket and doused him with a fresh baptism of water. Then she went back to scrubbing.
"When you wash, you wash properly!"
That was her philosophy.
"Anyway, I'm fully biding my time these days. The moment I catch you slipping even once — that's the day they march you out the door!"
If that day ever came, she half thought she'd dance for sheer joy.
"As a matter of fact, today might just be that day. He's been so sluggish that I put him on attic and third-floor duty. I told him to have it finished before the young master arrives today — do you suppose he actually did it?"
"Arf arf!"
"I don't think so either. He's surely burrowed into some corner, dead asleep. I went to check earlier and there was no sign of cleaning, let alone of him! Once this bath is done, I'm going over there and he won't know what hit him! Time to show him the dignity of a senior!"
Burning with battle spirit, Rita moved on to the final rinse.
Shaaaaaa.
The bucket swept over Black's body one last time.
"Oh, cold! Black, you got water in my glasses!"
Freed from Rita's grip at last, the first thing Black did with his hard-won liberty was shake himself dry. As his body rippled, water droplets went flying in every direction.
"You really — huh?"
Rita had been about to give him a piece of her mind — I bathe you and this is how you repay me? — when her whole body flinched, as though she'd seen something no one was meant to see.
"Wh-why is... why is the fur white...?"
It was true. The creature who had been blacker than coal — no, blacker than anything — had somehow, in the space of a moment, transformed into gleaming white.
She simply could not believe it. Half suspecting her own eyes, she took off her glasses and put them back on, but nothing changed. A snow-white Black still filled her vision.
"Whoa. What in the world..."
Whether or not it registered with him how stunned she was, the beast was too busy licking his soaked coat to care. It was a sight beyond all reason.
"Wait a moment!"
After staring at him for a long while, Rita abruptly seized upon a single fact.
"So... the fur was always white, and it just got stained black with grime? Black, is that it?"
Even as she said it, she found herself absurd. How long would a creature have to go unwashed for something like this to happen? No matter how she turned it over, she couldn't begin to fathom it.
"Hey? Black! Where are you going!"
Just then, the beast suddenly bolted.
"You'll catch a cold running around soaking wet! Black, come back!"
Rita hurried after him, but there was no matching his speed.
"Is he... angry with me? I was going to give him a really delicious treat once the bath was done. He should've stayed to eat it."
She had gone out of her way to make dried jerky just for him. It was a different flavor entirely from the raw meat he'd been eating all this while — he was bound to love it. Just like Jasper.
"Hnngh, I miss our Jasper."
Perhaps it was the sting of being abandoned mid-bath, but Jasper came to mind all at once. That one knew a special treat waited after a bath, and had actually grown to love being washed.
"I hope he's doing well?"
Only once Bayul finished the semester and the holidays came could Rita return to Hamilton with him. When that day came, she would bring Jasper here to live with them, no question. If His Grace the Duke said no, she'd cry and fuss until he gave in.
"Hm?"
She had been lost in wistful thoughts of Jasper when someone finally came into view. A man in black hair and black clothes, walking along briskly. Death himself.
"Well, well. He finally shows himself."
By the look of him, he'd only just come out to start the cleaning.
"When exactly did I tell you to do it? And you're only starting now? You're dead today!"
At last, the moment had come to vent all her long-simmering grievance. The newly white-furred Black faded clean out of her memory. Rita rolled up her sleeves and took off after Death's retreating back.
"You there — halt!"
Before Rita's shout even landed, the walking man froze mid-stride. He swiveled around sharply and pointed a finger at his own chest.
"Yes, you! Is there anyone else here besides the two of us?"
"No, there isn't."
"Then what time do you think it is right now? Did you forget you're meant to clock in at nine sharp? There's leniency, and then there's this — you're far too late!"
"That is, something came up at home."
"You rushed over with your hair still wet — that reeks of oversleeping, doesn't it? Am I right?"
"Ah, well, there were circumstances that would justify—"
There was something oddly wounded about Death's expression as he touched his dripping hair, but that was no concern of Rita's.
"Fine, out with it. What happened? Did somebody fall ill?"
"It's a minor accident, really."
"Then what kind of accident? You have to tell me before I can understand it or not!"
Death scratched the back of his neck, hesitating, until Rita's pressure wrung it out of him.
"His arm got cut off."
"Oh, is that all — hey. People lose arms and legs all the time in this life, so what's the big— What?! His arm got cut off? Wh-whose? Your little brother?"
A nod.
"Oh my heavens! Is— is he all right? Did he survive?"
"For now."
"What kind of thing is that to say! If he survived, he survived — that phrasing makes it sound like you don't know how it'll turn out!"
"True. He's still alive, but it's a bit touch-and-go."
"Waah, really? What do we do!"
"Well. Something will be decided one way or another soon enough."
"Hold on — are you even his brother? His own flesh and blood nearly lost an arm in a horrific accident, and that's the most you can say? You sound like you're hoping he dies!"
"That's not quite it."
"Then what is it, then!"
"Just that... no one can know the moment of death. Not even a god knows that."
"...?"
"If it's meant to live, it lives. If not, it has no choice but to die. If that's the fate that's been fixed for it."
His eyes were impassive, yet ice-cold. The instant she met that gaze, Rita was seized by a creeping dread. A shiver ran down her spine and the hair on her head stood on end.
Wh-what... what is this?
The sudden shift in the air left her struck dumb. Her mind went blank; not a single word would come. For some reason, a wave of sheer despair closed over her.
"So why did you come hunting me down?"
"...R-right, that was..."
Why did I come here again?
Oh.
Thankfully, the memory returned quickly.
"The cleaning! I came to inspect whether you'd actually finished it or not... b-but never mind! With something that terrible happening at home, where would you have found the mind to clean? I'll let it slide."
She had been sharpening her blade for a day just like this one, but the moment wasn't right. His brother had lost an arm — hounding a man over something as trivial as cleaning would be monstrous. With medical bills piling up on top of it, this was simply not what a decent person did.
"Oh, that's all done."
"...Done? What do you mean, done? Don't tell me — the cleaning?"
A nod.