A New Training Ground
The three brothers all shared the same pale skin, black hair, and black clothing. When Bayul had first met Death, the eldest of them, he had found the man a little peculiar but hadn't paid him much mind. His lack of manners, Bayul had assumed, was simply the result of a poor upbringing, and he'd let it go at that.
But had his approach been deliberate all along?
Bayul was the only son of Duke Randert. Getting to know him could only be a good thing, never a bad one.
And yet I can't sense a thing from him.
Bayul extended his senses with mana. Even so, he could detect nothing from Death or any of his brothers. Forget mana — even their natural auras fell squarely within the range of ordinary people.
When that happened, there were only two possible explanations. Either they were genuinely unremarkable people, or they were masters of such staggering skill that Ian couldn't even offer up a business card in comparison. In all his life, Bayul had witnessed the latter only once — in Duke Randert himself.
Or is he simply someone with unusually sharp senses?
Death was blind, so the possibility wasn't entirely out of the question.
"That's impossible! How can someone who can't see two feet in front of him move like that?"
The branch trimming had just come to an end, and Rita was shrieking in disbelief.
"Amon, Death's little brother — he's not actually blind, is he? Those glasses were suspicious from the start! Why would a blind man even wear glasses? It's not like he can see anything anyway!"
"Shh. Amon's every sense except sight is far sharper than anyone else's. If you keep shouting like that, you'll hurt his ears."
"…My ears? His ears hurt?"
"He said he wears the glasses to hide the fact that he's blind. People who don't know better just assume he's got his eyes closed for a moment."
"Oh. Right… well, I suppose that tracks."
Rita had shouted in her excitement, but now she felt a little sorry for having called his sight into question.
"Gardening has always been Amon's dream. He used to say that tending to grass and trees made him feel like a slightly better person. Do you see him trembling over there? He's just overjoyed — it's been ages."
"Doesn't your family have a garden, Death? Why would it have been so long?"
"It was forbidden."
"Forbidden?"
At Death's offhand remark, Bar slapped a hand over his own mouth. Rita pressed him for details, but with Death's murderous glare boring into the back of his head, all Bar could manage was a thin trickle of cold sweat.
"By the way," Bayul ventured at last, "what is that supposed to be? A shape of some kind? I can't tell no matter how long I look."
Only then did Rita turn her gaze from Amon to the tree he had sculpted. At once, several creases drew themselves across her forehead.
"What is that?"
Topiary, as a rule, was meant to take a pleasing form. Whatever this was, its purpose was impossible to divine. Honestly speaking, it was hard even to tell whether the tree had been shaped or simply mangled. And through it all, Amon wore the entranced expression of an artist admiring his own work, as though he could actually see it.
"Young Master, you're not—"
"Not what?"
Rita glanced furtively at the Death brothers and lowered her voice to a whisper.
"You're not going to take him on as a servant, are you? You absolutely cannot do it this time! Probation period or whatever — don't even give him the chance!"
"…Didn't you say Death was surprisingly good at cleaning?"
"Th-that's true, but—"
No one alive was harder to catch in the act of slacking off than Death. The mystery was that he still got every task done with crisp efficiency all the same. Every time Rita saw a window frame without a single speck of dust, she'd been moved all over again. That was why she'd never been able to cut him loose.
"It would only be fair to give the other two a chance as well."
"I mean, yes, fair point. But a cook who can't cook, and a gardener with taste this bizarre… no. This is not happening."
"You will teach me to cook."
Death pressed his demand once more.
"I'll really, truly study hard!"
Bar cut in as if he'd been waiting for his opening, squaring his shoulders with grim resolve.
"Also, why have you been talking in half-sentences this whole time? I've seen you before, you know! Is that any way for someone who wants to learn to behave?"
"I was just copying Hyung-nim."
As Rita shot Bar a withering glare at his shameless excuse, Amon declared with pride, "I have been speaking formally this entire time."
"And? Were you expecting a pat on the back for that?"
"Rita."
"…Fine. There is one thing I like about you. You, specifically."
Just as Rita grudgingly admitted it under Bayul's stern gaze—
"I'll use formal speech from now on too!"
Bar suddenly bellowed, snapping to attention. His entire body, however, was trembling like a leaf.
"Hm? Why are you shaking all of a sudden? Are you cold?"
"N-no! No, ma'am! Not at all!"
Not once did Rita suspect that the murderous pressure radiating from Death was what had Bar quaking. She simply made her refusal clear one more time.
"Anyway — this one is a hard no. Fine, you can teach him to cook. But what are we doing about that tree? I cannot have him doing that to the trees any longer. It's extremely, extremely troubling."
"I shall endeavor to change my tastes."
"…You think that'll happen overnight?"
"Our eldest says nothing is impossible if you put in the effort."
If only he could put in the effort to talk properly.
As Rita's lips pursed into a pout, Death fondly patted Amon's head. The strange thing was, this ought to have been a heartwarming display of brotherly love — and yet an inexplicable chill swept over Bayul and Rita both.
"Shall we get them started on work today, then?"
So this is how it ends up.
Bayul patted Rita on the back and told her to keep her chin up, but it looked like it would be quite a while before a smile returned to her face.
I miss Hamilton.
With two more men to train, Rita's head was already beginning to ache.
The weekend had passed like a war. Bayul couldn't think of a more fitting description. Save for the hours he slept, every waking moment had been spent within earshot of Rita's relentless scolding of Bar and Amon.
Two extra servants, and somehow Rita found herself cooking more than three times her usual amount. As if to prove their brotherhood, Bar and Amon's appetites were every bit the match of Death's.
Thankfully, Rita had stocked the larder to the rafters intending to fatten Bayul up after his return from the imperial palace — otherwise, they might well have run clean out of ingredients and starved.
"I have never eaten food this delicious in my life!"
"Now I understand why Hyung-nim cursed— I mean, why he lost his temper. I don't think I'll ever be able to eat Bar-hyung's cooking again."
Having tasted Rita's cooking for the first time, Bar and Amon spent the entire weekend showering her with a storm of praise. Perhaps that was why, no matter what abuse Rita hurled at them, neither so much as furrowed his brow — they simply parroted back "We're sorry" and "We'll do our best."
Their blind devotion (?) seemed to drive Rita even further off the rails, yet she never once told them to quit or said anything truly cruel. Apparently, their compliments weren't entirely unwelcome.
The food budget was bound to balloon through no fault of his own, but the once-quiet estate now hummed with life, and that made Bayul oddly content. This place was becoming comfortable.
"Bayul! Eli! What took you so long?"
Bayul and Eli had stopped by the dormitory to drop off their bags before heading to find their lockers. The moment Schubik spotted them, he came sprinting over, hollering.
"Wait, why is it just you two? Where's everyone else?"
"Aidan's off doing his little job, probably. Collecting books Monday mornings is his thing, remember?"
"Oh right, that's true."
"Quinn and Logan should be along soon too. What's got you worked up this early?"
"You're asking me that because you genuinely don't know?"
Schubik stared at Bayul as though he'd never heard a more ridiculous question in his life.
"The delegation, obviously! Do you have any idea how many sleepless nights I've lost over this?"
"What on earth could be so fascinating about it?"
Eli shut his locker and stood squarely in Schubik's path. Any reckoning that had to come was best gotten over with quickly — good for one's peace of mind.
"Jared got wrecked, didn't he? I heard he got his back whipped bloody with that wooden whip, and he got burned in a very important place — is that true? Bayul, you saw it, right?"
"…How do you know about that?"
"How do you think? Carrots, my friend — thanks to this!"
Schubik proudly fished a slip of paper from his pocket.
"Your helpful friend you mentioned before?"
"Yeah! Told me all about what happened at the imperial palace, laid it all out in detail just for me! Isn't that amazing?"
Is this guy an idiot?
Eli mouthed the words silently at Bayul behind Schubik's back. Knowing the palace incident in that much detail meant the helpful friend was someone inside the delegation — and Schubik, apparently, hadn't given that a moment's thought.
Let's just say he's too grateful for his source's help, shall we?
Then again, maybe his curiosity about the delegation was so consuming that his brain simply couldn't spare cycles for anything else.
"So did Jared cry? Come on, tell me he was shrieking like a banshee at least."
"Hmm, well. I don't think he cried."
"Aw, so it couldn't have hurt that bad, then."
Schubik clicked his tongue in evident disappointment.
"His Highness the Crown Prince handled it swiftly, so it all worked out in the end. Jared looked fine on the way back, anyway. Though he did seem a bit like his soul had left his body."
"Soul left his body? Why?"
"Hard to say. Embarrassment, maybe? Getting humiliated like that in front of a girl he fancies would sour anyone's stomach."
"A girl he fancies? Who? Don't tell me it's Princess Grace?"
At the mention of a girl, Schubik leaned in close to Eli.
"I only heard it from Bayul myself. Why not get the details from the source?"
"Ooh, now that's an idea!"
Without a shred of compunction, Schubik whirled around to face Bayul.
"Eli, you…!"
Bayul shot him a look of betrayal, but the water had already been spilled. If there was one thing certain about Schubik, it was that he never let his current prey escape. Sighing, Bayul gave him a brief account of that day.