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Translator: penny
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: How to Take Care of a Fox
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Thanks to the intensive care over the past few days, Piel's body had changed remarkably.
When I first brought her here, she was so emaciated that her bones seemed ready to poke through her skin, leaving the inside of her bandages visibly sunken. But now, she'd gained weight in proportion to the food I'd made sure she ate, and color was starting to return to her skin.
It was also pleasant to see a faint spark of vitality in her face now that the swelling had subsided.
The problem was... only her body had recovered.
Whenever she heard my words, her expression never changed at all. She simply obeyed.
Whether I opened the door, told her to sit, or said to eat, her response was always the same.
For two whole days, I'd tried to get her to sit at the table, but Piel always ended up sliding down to the floor.
A beast cannot eat in the same place as humans.
That single sentence seemed to bind Piel completely.
So in the end, when I tore off a piece of meat and gave it to her, she would just eat it off the floor like a dog, without even using her hands.
Her body had come back to life, but her mind was still dead.
While cutting meat on the table, a deep sigh subtly escaped me.
'Haa... What a headache.'
Let's say eating off the floor was the result of forced conditioning after being dragged here as a slave.
Even conceding a hundred times, one could think there was no helping it.
So I'd tried to at least change her clothes, but even that ran into a wall.
"Ah, no! How could a wretch like me dare wear clothes meant for humans? I should go naked every day instead, but I'm always grateful for even the sackcloth to hide this ugly body of mine!"
Sigh...
Siiiiiiiiigh!
Is it normal for a girl who looks barely old enough for elementary school to spout lines like that without batting an eye?
Yet there she was, clutching her torn rags with both hands to hide her private parts whenever she stood alone, terrified they might peek through the gaps...
Her instinct to cover herself clashed with the implanted training that 'hiding is a sin,' leaving her completely twisted up.
So in the end, I changed tactics.
"Piel. Sit next to me. This is an 'order'."
"An... order?"
"That's right. An order."
I said it calmly, but inside, it felt like walking on thin glass.
I now knew how heavy a simple "sit" was for this child.
Like applying disinfectant to a wound, it would sting and hurt, but I had to believe it would lead to healing in the end.
Today, as another huge barbecue platter arrived, Piel crawled to my side on reflex.
Though her frame was small, her movements were steeped in resignation and submission.
I gazed at her tiny back as she got down on all fours, then knelt before her.
To match her eye level.
I extended my hand slightly.
The moment my fingertips brushed her, Piel's shoulders twitched.
She didn't run, but the tension of a creature ready to bolt was palpable.
Yet I didn't grip her hand tightly.
Just enough that she could pull away if she wanted, just enough to give her room to follow.
And I pulled up a chair—not across from me, but right beside, close enough our shoulders might brush.
"Truth is... I don't like looking down on people."
"I-Is that so?!"
"Yeah. So I'd like you to sit next to me. And just so you know, this isn't because you're doing a good job. It's because I want it that way. You just have to obey."
Even as I spoke, I had no sense of what words would 'trigger' her and which would feel 'safe.' My own fingertips trembled from it.
But there was no turning back now.
"C-Can... Can I really do that?"
"Of course. You can."
The very fact that a beastkin like her would ask so timidly if she could sit next to a human was heartbreaking.
Still, Piel mustered her courage.
She stood trembling on tiptoes before the chair, then slowly—agonizingly cautiously—lowered herself onto it.
As if setting down a cracked bowl.
And I sat at the same moment.
Same height. Same place.
A position where no one looked down on anyone.
In that brief instant, Piel held her breath.
Her body froze solid at the mere sound of me sitting beside her; she couldn't move at all.
Yet she didn't flee.
That alone felt like greater progress than any of my previous attempts.
Right up to that moment.
I was just someone who'd read about Piel's hell in words.
Believing I'd understood it was the most horrific arrogance in front of this trembling child.
"Piel, shall we eat together then? I'll feed you, so just open your mouth."
"..."
"...Piel?"
"Hah... Hah!"
It happened in that instant.
In the few seconds it took to spear a piece of meat with my fork and turn to her.
The girl who'd just mustered the courage to sit was gone. In her place on the chair huddled a beast.
Her shoulders convulsed, her teeth chattered, her eyes lost focus as they stared into some private nightmare.
Her breath came in heaving gasps, her hand rose to her mouth and bit into her own flesh.
She didn't stop even as blood seeped out.
I knew at a glance.
This wasn't mere surprise.
Breathing, pupils, muscle tension, self-harm—the hallmarks of a full-blown panic attack.
And the trigger? My simple order to sit in the chair.
"Piel, look this way. It's okay, everyth—"
Before I could finish, a strangled wail burst from her throat.
"W-Wheeeeeek!"
Vomit poured onto my shirt in an instant.
"?! Damn it... Karen! Are you outside?!"
"Young Master? I told you not to come in— Eek?! That filthy slave girl dares to vomit on the Young Master—!"
Before Karen's scream finished, Piel tumbled from the chair like she was sliding off it, groping the floor with both hands as she gasped and heaved up whatever was left in her stomach.
The vomiting wouldn't stop.
It felt less like her body rejecting it and more like her terror expelling it.
And that's where it should have ended.
But the moment she saw the vomit splattered on my clothes, Karen's face went blank.
The next expression wasn't anger—it was the rigid mask of family rules kicking in.
Her feet moved before her words.
Thud—!
"Guhk?!"
Piel's stomach took a kick, her small body flipping through the air and rolling to the corner of the room.
The sound of her hitting the wall was dry and crisp.
Warm liquid spread from between her legs on the floor, mixing with the vomit.
Yet Piel didn't cry.
Like reciting an answer from memory, she dragged herself up onto her knees, hands raised straight above her head.
She didn't look straight ahead.
She didn't close her eyes.
Her trembling body stayed as it was, while her hands rubbed together in the air.
A body begging forgiveness before judgment, awaiting punishment before it was given.
This wasn't a simple reaction.
It was discipline. Brainwashing.
The only survival method this world had taught her.
"I-I'm sorry... Forgive me... I'm sorry, forgive me, forgive me, forgive me..."
"Pi... el."
"I'm sorry, forgive me, forgive me, forgive me, I'm sorry, forgive me, forgive me, forgive me, I'm sorry, forgive me, forgive me, forgive me—!"
Karen's voice was ice-cold.
"A filthy slave dares do that and beg forgiveness? Young Master, this is blatant treason. As your attendant, I will dispose of this trash immediately."
At those words, Piel's eyes flickered for a moment.
Eyes that already knew her place in the order of death.
Her hands rubbed together even faster, madly. Skin peeled, blood smeared, but she couldn't stop.
Karen sneered.
And grabbed the fox girl's hair like she was yanking up a kitten by the scruff.
In that moment, I raised the fork I'd just used for the meat.
"Y-Young... Master?"
I said nothing.
Instead—
Stab.
The fork pierced straight through the back of my hand.
"Kyaa, kyaah?! Y-Young Master!"
"Shut up. I'm burning up right now... cooling off. So stay quiet."
Blood dripped from my palm to the floor, drop by drop.
This was punishment I'd inflicted on myself as a doctor—for my arrogant, foolish mistake in repeating the same error.
With a sigh, a few seconds later, I yanked the fork from the back of my hand.
"Karen."
"Y-Yes! Young Master."
"And speak properly. You're not an attendant—you're a watcher, right?"
Karen's mouth snapped shut.
"And you kicked Piel not out of worry for me, but because you were pissed that filth splashed on a valuable product you plan to sell later. Right?"
Her hand froze mid-motion.
Until now, she'd calculated that passing off her cruelty as 'for Lucas's sake' would secure her position and earn trust.
The original Lucas would have lapped up that hypocritical loyalty and grinned like an idiot.
The moronic version that would beam at the slightest flattery.
But the one before her now wasn't that Lucas.
I pointed the bloody fork tip at Karen and continued.
"From now on, if anyone lays a hand on my people while pretending it's 'for my sake,' no matter what—it won't end like this."
"Y-Your people...? Haha... Young Master, surely you're not tossing aside a first-class maid like me for that trash slave—"
"Correct. I trust her more, so shut up and listen."
The moment I finished, Karen could do nothing.
Her face showed she knew her calculations had failed, that she'd lost completely.
And I approached Piel, who was frozen in pain, and checked her soiled body.
"M-Master... I'm... filthy..."
"So?"
"S-So... If it's the vomit on the floor, I'll lick it all up..."
Her eyes trembled at the corners.
This child wasn't speaking from guilt, but from conditioning.
I thought that would finally calm my anger, but damn, it dragged my old temper out after all this time.
"Piel. You shut up too."
"Y-Yes?!"
Piel flinched.
"Do you think your body belongs to you? You're mine. And my people... are soon my 'family'."
"F-Family...?"
"The vomit on the floor, the urine—all of it, I'll clean it up. So don't act like a criminal. If you do... I might really stab my hand again."
Piel's eyes widened hugely at the blood flowing from my hand.
But before she could even be surprised, I issued the next order.
"Karen. Prepare hot water. Piel and I are bathing together."
"Y-Yes?! Young Master, surely not with a slave—"
"Ah, fuck, I said shut up."
Even if she was only half-noble, she still carried the blood of a prestigious house.
For a human of such status to enter the same bath as a slave who washed in cold water from a livestock trough?
Karen's face hardened in an instant.
The denial screamed across her features before she could even open her mouth.
But she couldn't argue.
The Young Master clutching his hand, blood dripping steadily.
The master barely containing his rage, veins bulging.
That face was one no one should touch.
"From now on, anyone who says 'no,' 'I don't want to,' or 'someone like me...' to my words gets a fork through my hand again. Yell if you want to see it—or shut up and move."
With that one sentence, the air in the room flipped completely.
No one dared stop me.
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