17. Seria's Anger Melts
"That could've been me······."
"S-sorry! My bad! I won't make it again!"
I groveled desperately. But Seria didn't even snort in response.
"Hmph."
She whipped around and limped off toward the Lord's Castle.
"Seria! Wait up!"
I scurried after her. But she was moving fast. Her legs were wobbly, yet she walked like she was using some kind of shrinking step technique.
"Hey, Seria. Your legs hurt, right? Let me carry you on my back."
"No need. I'll crawl if I have to."
"Come on, don't be like that. I take full responsibility—hop on."
"I'd feel safer crawling on all fours than riding on your back, Young Master."
"That's harsh!"
And so we crossed the garden in a cold war. Or was it a total cutoff? Whatever.
But the ordeal wasn't over yet.
"What in the world is all this commotion!!!!"
Father stormed out, bellowing. He clutched the back of his neck at the sight of the wrecked flowerbeds—looking like a field of mugwort—and the shattered shrubs.
"Who turned my garden into this? Which one of you did it!"
"Eek!"
I tried to duck behind Seria, but she nimbly sidestepped. Leaving me face-to-face with Father.
"Son······ you again?"
"D-Dad, it's not— I was just doing a little······ scientific experiment······."
"Oh? A scientific experiment?"
Father turned to Seria.
"Seria, explain."
I shot her a hopeful glance too. But Seria, her face caked in dirt, wore the most wronged, tragic expression imaginable.
"Yes, my lord. This incident is entirely the Young Master's fault. I am the clear victim here. In short, I did nothing wrong."
"I see."
"············."
Father nodded and slowly fixed his glare on me.
"Kalian."
"D-Dad, it's a misunderstanding······."
"Would Seria lie?"
"······No."
"Then you're the culprit."
Of course. Seria never lied except when teasing me or on my orders. Me? My rap sheet was a mile long. Our credibility was worlds apart.
"Oh, my poor Seria. You must've been so scared to end up like this."
Father patted her shoulder.
"Go wash up and rest. Have something nice to eat."
"Thank you, my lord. Given my fragile state, I'll retire now."
Seria bowed and turned away without a second thought. She glanced back at me once—her eyes screaming, 'Good luck.'
Sniff. I brought this on myself, but that's cold!
"Now, Kalian."
Father's voice dropped low.
"Follow me."
"······Yes, sir."
—30 minutes later.
I knelt alone in the Lord's Castle corridor, hands raised high. Passing maids clucked sympathetically.
"Aigoo, Young Master must've caused trouble again."
They strolled by like it was routine.
"Ugh······ my arms hurt."
Thirty minutes into punishment. My shoulders felt like they'd dislocate. But the punishment itself was fine—I did mess up.
The problem was that.
In the distance, a freshly washed Seria approached, dressed in clean clothes, sipping from a cup of milk.
She shot me a glare, then—
"Hmph!"
—whipped her head away and stormed off.
Ah, she's really pissed.
How do I fix this?
But for some reason—
Clop clop.
Clop clop.
Clop clop.
'····What?'
Every five minutes, she paced back and forth in front of me. And when our eyes met—
"Hmph!"
—head snap, quick march away. Same routine.
Is she worried about me?
About an hour later—
"····Hey, Seria."
I tried calling out. She stopped dead.
Good, she's responding.
"········."
But no reply.
"I-I really committed a mortal sin."
"········."
"Can't you forgive me just this once?"
Finally, Seria turned slowly. Her eyes were freezing.
"Young Master."
"Y-Yeah?"
"Be quiet. You're reflecting."
"Got it. I'll reflect properly, so can't you un-pout a little?"
"I'm not pouting."
"Your lips are puffed out huge!"
"They're always like this."
She whipped her head away again.
Then Father appeared.
"Kalian!! Not reflecting—just chit-chatting!?"
"N-No, she kept pacing in front of me······."
"You spoke first, Young Master. I'll be going now."
"···············."
Punishment extended by an hour.
—After the kickboard incident, Seria—
"Ugh······."
Even after washing up, my legs still wobbled. I checked the mirror. Clean, but my eyes were still red and puffy from shock.
"Young Master's an idiot."
I grumbled, towel-drying my damp hair.
I trust and follow him, but not this time. Can't let it slide.
'Gotta pretend to be mad for real.'
That way, he'll never make something that dangerous again.
I practiced a stern face in the mirror. No mercy, ever.
I stepped into the corridor—and froze.
"Ugh······ arms hurt."
In the distance, Young Master knelt with arms raised. That tiny back looked so pitiful. Arms trembling, head bowed low.
'····Serves him right.'
I tried to think it, but my chest ached.
He's not strong stamina-wise. What if he collapses? He fell trying to save me earlier—hope his knees are okay.
Without thinking, I walked toward him. Just to check if he was alive. For real.
"······!!"
Young Master spotted me, eyes lighting up desperately. Normally I'd say, "What is it?" But not today. I ignored him, haughtily turning away.
"Hmph!"
I felt his pleading gaze on my back but pressed on. If I gave in now, he'd think, 'Oh, Seria gets over it quick,' and cause more trouble. This was education.
But—
'····Was that too mean?'
Around the corner, worry flooded in. He was sweating buckets earlier. Should I get him water? Or beg the lord to forgive him?
I paced the corridor. My feet wouldn't leave.
Finally, I headed back. Not because I was worried—just my walk route, that's all.
Clop clop.
Passed him. He peeked. I avoided his eyes, breezed by.
Turn.
Clop clop.
Again. I felt his eyes tracking me. Still had energy, good.
Fifth lap.
"····Hey, Seria."
He called. I stopped.
Signs of remorse?
"I-I really committed a mortal sin. Can't you forgive me just once?"
His voice was so dejected. My resolve wavered. No! I snapped sternly.
"Be quiet. You're reflecting."
"Got it. I'll reflect properly, so can't you un-pout?"
"I'm not pouting."
"Your lips are puffed out huge!"
"They're always like this."
I retorted curtly and turned. Truth was, I was dying to keep my lips from twitching up. Rare sight—Young Master squirming like that.
But—
"Kalian!! Not reflecting—just chit-chatting!?"
Perfect bad timing—Lord emerged from his study.
"N-No, she kept pacing······."
"You spoke first, Young Master. I'll be going."
I bolted in panic. Behind me: "Kalian, punishment plus one hour!!" and his wail.
'Ah······.'
Guilt crashed like waves. An extra hour because of me? Too much?
—Night deepened.
Punishment over, Young Master returned to his room. At dinner, he picked at his food, eyeing me warily. I felt awkward too, ate silently, and left.
Lying in my bed. So quiet. Too quiet.
Normally, I'd raid his room for snacks or chatter about the day. Or he'd go, "Seria, check this out!" with some cool magic.
"······Boring."
I hugged my pillow, rolling around. Anger? Gone ages ago. The kickboard scared me, but remembering him desperately yelling to save me softened it. Just a bit annoying.
'What’s he doing now?'
Whining about sore arms? Or hurt by my coldness? What if he's sulking, like 'No more playing with Seria!'?
Anxiety hit. If I sleep like this, how do I face him tomorrow? Awkward forever? No way. Worse than death.
"Ugh······."
I kicked off the covers and sat up. Pride be damned—this unease wouldn't let me sleep.
I clutched my pillow tight. Crept to the door, slipped out.
Corridor dark, but faint light leaked from his room. Still awake.
I stood at his door, deep breaths. Whoosh, whoosh. Heart pounding like on the kickboard.
Knock knock.
Cautiously.
"······Who?"
His voice—exhausted.
I gripped the handle, turned slowly. Creeeak.
"······Young Master."
He bolted up from face-down on the bed. Eyes widened at me.
"S-Seria?"
"······."
I mumbled into the room. Now what? 'Sorry' makes me the victim. 'Forgiven' too abrupt.
He eyed my pillow, asked carefully.
"Can't······ sleep?"
"······Yeah."
Tiny voice.
"The······ wind's too loud. Scary, can't sleep."
Lie. Night was dead calm. But he chuckled and nodded.
"Yeah, wind's pretty bad."
He patted the bed beside him.
"Come here. Let's sleep together."
"······Is that okay?"
"'Course. Bed's big."
I shuffled over. He lifted the covers. I set my pillow down, slipped in.
Warm. His body heat, familiar scent enveloped me. Tension melted away.
We lay side by side, staring at the ceiling. Long silence.
"Seria."
"Yeah."
"Sorry about earlier. And thanks for sticking around during punishment."
He apologized first. My throat tightened, tears threatening. I felt bad too—for getting him punished alone.
I fidgeted under the covers, tugged his sleeve lightly.
"······Young Master."
"Hm?"
"I'm still not fully over it."
"Huh? For real?"
He looked flustered. I pouted, glared.
"Just came 'cause sleeping alone's scary. Not forgiving you—don't get ideas."
"Pfft."
He burst out laughing.
"Okay, okay. You're still mad. Got it."
"For real."
"Sure. Sleep here till you cool off. I'll guard you all night."
He stroked my hair. Felt so good, I scooted closer.
"······Buy me something tasty tomorrow."
"Yeah. Cake."
"Two."
"Three."
"······Fine, you're forgiven."
Finally relaxed, I closed my eyes. His steady breathing lulled me like a lullaby.
Best place is by Young Master.
Getting mad takes patience—I suck at it.
What to play tomorrow?
With that, I drifted into deep sleep.