The Young Master Without His Mask
Mumbling incoherent nonsense under his breath, he suddenly sprang up as if he had stepped on a sharp nail.
Crash, clatter, clang, clang.
All the equipment that had been carelessly left lying around the floor tangled under his feet and knocked together. The racket of metal smashing against metal was deafening.
Miraculously keeping his balance, he frantically searched for a place to hide. Three long strides away stood the door leading to the small bedroom. The man flung it open, dove inside, and slammed it shut with a resounding bang.
A pitch-black silence swallowed his white hair. In the darkened room he clutched at his thundering heart. His stomach churned violently. Like a blind man groping in the dark, he lifted a hand to his bare face. The rough palm met blistered cheek. He wore neither mask nor bandages. The duke wanted to weep.
From beyond the bedroom door came the low murmur of conversation.
A moment later Freed wheeled Desidero into the room.
“What are you doing? This is completely undignified.”
His younger brother stared up at him with open pity.
Even now the Duke of Farrow remained glued to the wall, eyes fixed on the newcomer. Suspicion and anxiety made his purple irises tremble uncontrollably.
“Do you have any idea how much I frightened her about you? I delivered an entire lecture on how difficult and demanding my older brother is.”
“And now look at you. In one instant you’ve made me look like a fool.”
Desidero’s grumbling barely reached the duke’s ears. Cold sweat slid down his spine. His face burned crimson. His eyes were vacant, yet his expression looked ready to erupt like a volcano. It seemed as though lava and toxic gas might burst from every pore.
The man stroked his cursed cheek and muttered hoarsely.
“Th-there was no mention… of a woman….”
In that moment, Nyx Farrow wore the most idiotic expression Desidero had ever seen on his face.
Tichite Ranlam had an older brother two years her senior. In age alone he qualified as an elder; he possessed not a cat’s claw of responsibility or maturity.
“Nirgi! How many times must I repeat myself before you understand? I told you to separate the clothes worn in the dye shed and put them in the small basket.”
Tichite separated the work clothes her brother Nirgi had tossed aside from the dry laundry, anger rising with every motion. Fishy water dripped from the man’s discarded garments. The thought of that vile fish stench soaking into the wash made irritation boil inside her.
The man who was the target of her scolding offered not even a sleepy grumble in return. He never managed to drag himself out of bed until the sun stood high in the sky.
“Wake up, Nirgi. How long do you plan to lie there sprawled out?”
She yanked away the blanket, but what she truly wanted to seize was his laziness. The man pulled the pillow over his head instead and groaned.
“Just ten more minutes…”
Tichite sniffed at the bedding, only half-listening. She checked whether it carried any strange odor, then continued pouring scolding words onto the man curled up like a silkworm cocoon.
“The weather is perfect today. Have you forgotten what day this is?”
“…What day?”
“It’s finally the day of the ham party.”
The Pig Princess was marrying the Salt Lord. Their wedding was commonly called the “ham party.”
It was a rare celebration in a kingdom that had only recently found peace after a long war. Guests had gathered from every corner of Bigland to honor the union, and the flow of people and gifts through the castle gates had not ceased for days. The streets were crowded wherever one went.
“Gillian intends to make a fortune from the occasion.”
My own brother lies here sleeping without the slightest effort or ambition, Tichite lamented.
“…Make a fortune? How would he manage that?”
Now that even the pillow had been taken, Nirgi could no longer cling to sleep and finally reacted. His mumbled voice still sounded half-lost in dreams.
“He likes tampering with salt, doesn’t he? He asked me about herbs. Said he’d dry them, grind them, and mix them into the salt.”
“So you told him?”
Nirgi hated it when his sister shared knowledge with others, even though he had never been the one to teach her. He seemed to believe the knowledge was the household’s only useful source of income. In any case, it belonged to Tichite, not to him.
“I told him that while I know a great deal about herbs, I know little about salt, so I couldn’t be certain what would happen when the two were combined.”
“Don’t associate with Gillian. That bastard only ever thinks about using you.”
There is no man in my life who uses me more than my own brother does.
Tichite closed her mouth, dissatisfied. When no immediate agreement came, Nirgi’s eyes sharpened.
“What is that expression?”
Now fully awake, Nirgi threw off the blanket and pressed her.
“Did you actually fall for that bastard?”
He guarded fiercely against his sister taking a lover—not out of familial affection, but out of fear that his meal ticket might disappear.
“Did you sleep with him?”
His interrogation grew more insistent. Tichite sighed deeply, regretting that she had spoken at all. Whenever the conversation drifted in this direction she felt so ashamed and uncomfortable she could hardly endure it.
“Why can’t you simply say no? Huh? Did you sleep with him? Did you?”
“What if I did? What if I didn’t? Why must I report every single detail to you?”
“You brainless bitch.”
When Tichite answered defiantly, Nirgi’s hand flew up. His palm struck her head with no trace of familial love.
“I told you not to give it away for free. If you’re going to sleep with a man, at least get money for it. Understand?”
“Ah!”
A cry of pain burst from Tichite’s lips. Nirgi continued to strike her head several more times with heated emotion, then kicked her thigh hard enough to knock her over.
“No matter how many times I tell you, you never listen. There are no men who are sincere with Tilamin women. They’re all bastards who approach you just to get a free fuck. How many warnings will it take before you remember? Huh?”
Nirgi was short and slight, yet Tichite was smaller and more fragile. Once he decided to use real force, she had no hope of resisting.
Curled on the floor, Tichite thought that even if Nirgi’s words were true, being beaten on the head by a blood relative was far more miserable than being struck on the rear by a man she actually desired.
After enduring as long as she could, she finally shouted.
“I only do it with a man I want! I will never spread my legs for money! If you like the idea so much, why don’t you try it yourself, Nirgi?”
“What? You filthy rag of a bitch.”
Her resistance only inflamed Nirgi’s rage. He rained blows on the curled-up Tichite. The one small mercy was that he avoided her face. Nirgi was always like this—outside they had to maintain the appearance of a loving brother and sister.
In truth, Tichite knew the quickest way to escape his violence. She simply had to give him money.
When she sobbed and revealed the location of the money drawer, the man finally withdrew his fists as though his anger had been soothed. It was a common scene between the siblings. Money could solve many problems in the world, yet the fact that it also bought escape from domestic violence was bleak indeed.
“…You’ve saved quite a lot?”
Still sniffling, the woman brought out an amount suitable for Nirgi’s gambling. She tossed it at his feet; he gathered the coins and stuffed them into his pocket.
“Yes, Tich. I know very well. You’re a capable woman who can earn money without having to whore herself out.”
Nirgi offered the words as if they were praise. The way he turned sheepish after beating her with rolling eyes was revolting. His grinning face at the thought of rushing off to the gambling tables with that money made her stomach turn.
“Hey, are you going out?”
……
“Answer when someone speaks to you.”
“Yes.”
At his threatening tone Tichite answered in a voice thick with mucus. Still sniffling, she began braiding her hair. She was preparing to leave. She wanted to escape him as quickly as possible.