Vermon teleported with Orb back to his ship, which was waiting to sail that day. As soon as he appeared in Vermon’s private cabin, Orb felt the place filled with warmth and the air saturated with the smell of salt. It made his cough lessen but did not heal his shortness of breath.

Vermon freed Orb’s arm only after forcing him silently to sit on a stool opposite his bed. Orb was mentally exhausted and with no power to defend himself from any possible upcoming beating. He expected Vermon to shout at him, reproach him, lash him, and finally fulfill his wish and kill him. However, Vermon did not do anything aggressive at that moment.

“Don’t move,” he ordered.

Vermon summoned one of the crew members to bring Orb’s bag from the storeroom. Vermon stood by the cabin’s open door as he waited, scanning the sea in silence without looking back at Orb, who sat quietly, looking gloomy.

When the small bag was brought, Vermon took it inside and threw it at Orb, who understood that Vermon wanted him to find a shirt to wear. Orb opened it, immediately took out the only white shirt he had with one hand, and left the bag on the floor with the other.

“What is this? Is that all you have?” Vermon stepped forward, snatched the bag from the floor, and searched. He only found white pants, a red apple, a bottle of medicine, and some gauze. “I told you that we are traveling abroad; you should have brought more clothes with you,” he sounded irritated.

“There are no other clothes than the ones in the bag,” Orb spoke quietly.

Vermon stood opposite Orb with his hand clenching the strap of the empty bag. “Did Huhu not bring you new clothes yesterday?”

“No.”

“For the past month, has he never bought you anything?”

Orb gripped the shirt in his lap. “I put everything I have in the bag,” he said quietly.

“Why, that filthy little bastard!” Vermon exclaimed, but not wanting to erupt in a state of rage, he tightened his lips and tried hard to control his breathing. I gave him an allowance to buy clothes for Orb. What did he do with all the money I gave him? That devil!

Then, a sudden realization hit Vermon: The isolation room, where Orb was kept, was always bare. It contained nothing but his sleeping mattress and a quilt. He had never seen Orb keep any bundle of clothes anywhere inside that room.

Feeling exasperated, Vermon struck his forehead with the palm of his open hand. “Ha, ha! Of course,” he gave a scornful laugh. “And from where did you get the bag?”

“Riecho,” Orb replied. “I borrowed it,” he added.

“I see.”

With his palm still on his forehead, Vermon stood quietly for another minute. Of course, Vermon would never let go of that betrayal and deception by Huhu, a servant who consistently defied him in his sneaky ways, despite the constant warnings and punishments. Vermon was determined to punish him severely when the mission was over.

Orb remained silent for some time, then attempted to put on the shirt.

“Stop,” ordered Vermon sternly. He moved around Orb’s stool and stood behind him. With his big, beautiful eyes, Vermon examined in apparent irritation Orb’s back, which looked as thin and ragged as his bag. His over-sweating and freshly bleeding wounds disgusted Vermon, but he believed it was necessary to dress them.

What happened, Orb? Vermon wondered as he stared at the crimson cuts almost maiming Orb’s back. I expected the wounds to heal in two more weeks. So what made them look like that?

Despite Vermon’s extreme frustration, he strove to curb his temper. He wanted to pour his mad questions over his runaway slave, give a voice to his disapproval of his misconduct, and severely interrogate him, yet he held back again.

Vermon acknowledged himself as a man of ferocious nature. He acted tough when dealing with his own feelings, but it alarmed him to sense his heart pounding in anger and disappointment, to the point of wanting to beat Orb to a pulp.

When Vermon saw clearly that his slave was pale, sweating, wheezing, and shivering, he remembered Orb’s sorry state and his depression a few days ago. Bracing himself, Orb was already in a state of panic, exhaustion, and confusion.

Calm Down, Vermon. He did this because he didn’t want to travel with you, and you forced him. It is your fault.

Vermon struggled to convince himself that Orb’s failed escape attempt and falling into Barloschios’ hands and then returning to him was a good lesson for him, a cruel punishment, and enough psychological torment.

“First, rebandage your forehead,” Vermon ordered firmly before throwing the bag to Orb again, who flinched at both the aggressive act and object. Orb extended his hand inside the bag and took the gauze out. He believed that he was being watched closely.

***

Vermon remained standing with his arms crossed while watching Orb with peering eyes. The blind young man wrapped his forehead with his hands slowly and cautiously, despite their visible trembling. As Orb moved his arms, the wounds across his back began to throb with pain, and his sweat stung the cuts, but he gritted his teeth and did his best not to groan.

Amid his silent anger and disappointment, Vermon eventually could not help but ask questions in feigned indifference and a calm tone.

“Did Barloschios hurt you?”

“No.”

“Did he touch you somewhere?”

Orb’s hand paused for a moment in midair. “What do you mean?” He did not want to explain what Barloschios did, so he pretended not to understand.

An indescribable rage enveloped Vermon’s inside.

“Did he—” he cleared his throat, “touch you in private places?”

“No,” Orb’s expression darkened though he replied impassively. He felt Vermon’s concern, yet his instant relief upon hearing Orb’s answer.

Vermon walked toward his bed, grabbed his own bag, and took out a sack containing a small bottle of disinfectant and cotton balls before returning to stand behind Orb. “Stay still. I will disinfect your wounds,” he demanded.

Orb complied without saying a word. He was aware that he could not do it by himself. Therefore he placed both hands on his knees and let Vermon take charge. Am I in the quiet before the storm? Vermon’s attitude worries me.

Orb heard the bed creak and deduced that Vermon sat on its edge behind him. The next moment, Orb winced at the stinging effect of the disinfectant all over his back.

“Did he do this to you?”

“N—Ugh. No.”

“Did he beat you?”

“N—no.”

Vermon did not speak for a moment as he pressed disinfectant cotton balls on top of Orb’s bleeding wounds with a force that made the latter uncomfortable. Orb suddenly stood up in an attempt to escape Vermon’s cruel hands, but the latter grabbed his wrist and jerked him back to his place, “I SAID STAY STILL!” he yelled.

Orb hissed in pain and frustration. His suspicion of Vermon’s anger, which he felt in his touches, turned into a belief when Vermon insisted on asking questions.

“Did he make your back bleed again?”

“He—Ugh—No.”

Orb spoke with difficulty while suffering from Vermon’s rough touches on his back. He even asserted that Barloschios had nothing to do with the newly open wounds.

“Barloschios—has nothing to do with it,” Orb stressed.

“Covering for him,” Vermon’s hand grew more aggressive as it pressed on Orb’s raw wounds, “I see.”

“STOP!” Orb suddenly turned around and grabbed Vermon’s angry hand, “NO MORE!” he shouted in pain. Orb’s hand and Vermon’s struggled silently for moments until Orb yelled again in frustration, “IT HURT!”

“WELL, TELL ME, WHY ARE YOU BLEEDING, THEN?” Vermon yelled as well as he gripped Orb’s hand and jerked him toward himself with ferocity.

“I don’t know,” Orb faintly said as he lifted his dead eyes to Vermon’s face.

Seeing Orb’s wet eyes, Vermon was silent for some time before quietly releasing him. He waited for Orb to turn around again and wipe his eyes. He then, started carefully and slowly wrapping fresh gauze around Orb’s back. He still had more questions to ask, and he wanted to hear from Orb about his kneeling in Barloschios hall and wearing smelly oversized pants but not a shirt. When he finished what he was doing, it bothered him that Orb was quiet.

“What did he tell you? What did you both talk about?”

Orb felt the sharpness of Vermon’s tone of voice and his impatience; therefore, he tried his best not to say anything to infuriate him further. The words that came out of Orb’s lips were cautiously and quietly uttered. “I guess he was curious about my blindness and why you still keep me even though I am useless.”

“You guess?”

There was a moment of silence.

“So when will you turn around and apologize for inconveniencing me? When will you beg for forgiveness for your sin of escaping from your master? When will you thank me for saving you? And thank me again for helping you just now with the bandages?”

Orb straightened up and directed his gaze to the open door he could not see as he struggled to control his trembling. What’s his problem? He can punish me without asking these annoying questions. Orb secretly wished for this psychological torment to end when he heard more questions. Indeed, this is another kind of torment today.

“What did you say to him when he saw your stitched forehead?”

“...”

“Did you tell him you tried to kill yourself but failed because of the seal? Or did you falsely claim that I did that to you, and that’s why you ran away?”

Orb’s heart rate began to accelerate once more. He feared that Vermon was gradually allowing himself to lose his temper because he intended to harm him.

“I didn’t,” Orb panicked.

“How did you fall into Barloschios’ hands?”

“I escaped three men who tried to assault me, and as I ran along the top of the port wall, I almost fell into the Rockmound; if it wasn’t for his timely appearance and rescue,” Orb looked toward Vermon as he spoke.

“HE DID NOT RESCUE YOU, YOU FOOL!” Vermon struggled to curb his rage but failed, “HE ABDUCTED YOU!”

“...”

***

Vermon exhaled audibly. “You tricked me! You told me you wouldn’t try to escape, yet you did! Why did you run away, Orb? Why did you lie to me?”

Orb shuddered at the ominous portent of Vermon’s icy and distant tone of voice, yet he could not predict how Vermon felt and what he intended to do.

“...”

I see you refuse to speak and admit your mistakes. Damn you! Vermon felt disappointed.

There was another moment of silence.

“Are you cold?” Vermon’s voice was still cold and distant.

Orb replied in a low voice and, after a moment of hesitation, “A little.”

“Serves you right,” Vermon was quick as if he was waiting for that response from Orb. “Serves you damn well right!” He eyed the shirt resting on Orb’s knee and continued with the same savagery, “Why aren’t you wearing your shirt? What are you waiting for?”

Orb touched his knee as if he just remembered that there was a shirt waiting to dress his frail body and hurriedly put it on. Vermon kept watching him intently with furrowed eyebrows.

“Stand up,” Vermon demanded, then handed Orb his white pants, which he took from Orb’s bag, “Put these on.”

Orb held them in his hand as he stood up, feeling hesitant.

“I said, put these on,” Vermon demanded while eyeing the old loose pants which Orb was wearing.

“Here?”

“HERE AND NOW!”

“Then don’t look,” Orb firmly requested.

“ARE YOU TESTING ME?” Vermon glared.

Orb slowly retreated to the wall, wanting to shelter his behind as much as possible. He furrowed his brows as he removed his pants with one hand while covering his private parts with the other. Knowing that Vermon was watching him, Orb’s flushed cheeks and trembling movements suggested his great frustration, humiliation, and embarrassment.

“Are you watching me?” he asked.

“Of course! Why do you mind me watching you stripping? I am your owner, and every part of your body belongs to me!”

“Please respect my wishes,” Orb sounded irritated, “I want my privacy.…”

“Stop lying! You didn’t mind others ogling your private parts at the port! You even had the audacity to knock someone unconscious and put on his dirty pants.”

“How did you kno…”

“Stop arguing! You pervert!”

“I am not,” Orb objected as he pulled up his pants with force, “I didn’t want that to happen. Only when I transform…”

“Shut up! I’ve heard enough of your lies!” Vermon strode toward Orb, forced Orb’s hand open, and placed his red mask in it.

“Did you employ me to collect your stuff? I found your clothes at the port where you disappeared but got rid of them for they got soiled. I only kept your red mask. What are you staring at? Put it on!” Vermon scolded Orb.

Vermon stared intently at Orb, who looked dejected and upset about everything Vermon said.

“I SAID PUT IT ON, YOU…!” Vermon snapped.

Orb slowly put on the mask, oblivious to the fact that this high-quality leather mask had a lock of Vermon’s hair attached to its strap, which meant that it could provide Orb with a limited but undetectable source of Uthus energy.

Is this slave aware of such honor? Vermon was unable to explain the value of his gift to Orb. It was a symbol of his determination to protect and watch over his slave. Yet he could not and dared not say it.

“Whatever I gift you, keep it safe. Why don’t you understand?” Vermon sounded upset, but Orb failed to notice and understand. Vermon then grabbed his arm and silently pulled him out of the cabin.

Where is he taking me? Orb submitted to the strong grip.

The two began to walk together through the ship’s corridors amid the watchful and curious eyes of the crew members, who awaited Orb’s punishment after his escape, some of whom were secretly sympathetic with Orb but did not speak up for fear of Vermon’s anger. Having witnessed Vermon’s fits of rage before, the men knew his temperament well and what he could do as a Knight of the empire and owner of the slave.

Vermon took Orb to the lower compartments of the ship, where the storeroom was located. Orb guessed where he was going and Vermon’s reason but made no objection or complaint. He didn’t use teleportation. He seems to have consumed all his energy searching for me in the port, fighting Barloschios and teleporting us back to the ship.

“Don’t you dare think I have no energy to teleport! I meant to humiliate you in front of my men,” Vermon warned without looking at Orb, who flinched at first but felt relative relief at hearing that.

Vermon opened the door to the storeroom and glanced at Orize, who immediately stared at him, disapproving of Vermon’s rough manner of entering the room without greeting him and for walking in, while dragging his human acquaintance behind him like a punished child.

Vermon forced Orb to sit on the ground and tied him up securely with ropes to a column in the center of the room.

“Not again! Vermon, please,” refusing to be tied again, Orb objected. “My whole body is aching,” looking over his shoulder, Orb added earnestly, “I will not try to escape again, Vermon. I promise.”

“I do not need your promises, Orb. I do not know what powers you still have and hide, and I don’t want to bother myself or my men watching you, but let me tell you this,” bending over Orb from behind, Vermon spoke in a low but vicious tone, “If you do disappear again, Orb, because I had seen you when you did it in the port,” Vermon gritted his teeth, “I say if you do that again, I swear by Uthus, I will find you, and force you to walk on all fours around the capital, stripped of both clothes and dignity. Then, I will gladly hand you to Barloschios so he can do what he pleases with you.”

Orb shuddered and grew pale as he listened to Vermon’s threat. He could not respond to such savagery. He wanted Vermon to kill him and make him cease to exist, not to humiliate and torture him more than he already did.

“I am sure you don’t want that, do you?” Vermon straightened up and angrily glanced at Orize, “What are you looking at?” The horse stomped on the floor as he whinnied in irritation at his master, who left the room without looking back at Orb.

Orb stretched his legs out before him, feeling bitter defeat and sadness. Orb could not deny that Vermon was generous enough in the past few days to leave him alone and give him enough space to breathe and recover. Yet, fear and panic blinded his reason and drove him to attempt escape, even though he belonged to a strong and formidable master.

Perhaps what Vermon did today and what he will do in the future was the result of Orb’s misconduct or bad luck, for he could not tell which. Anyway, Orb knew at that moment that Vermon would never trust him again, and after today’s incident, Orb had returned to ground zero.

***

Vermon, who returned to his own cabin, kicked Orb’s empty bag aside and lay on the bed, spreading his arms and legs wide. He was exhausted and stressed, physically and mentally. He searched for his runaway slave in every alley and square in the port like a madman.

Along the way, he shoved people and children, kicked boxes and barrels, and broke the wheels of carriages and windows. He even spat at Court Jesters[1] and fought with nasty workers until he heard one of them talk about a runaway slave of a higher official.

Vermon stopped the man, and after extracting information from him, he learned that Orb was molested and chased by three merchants near the Rockmound before Barloschios abducted him. Although he was vexed at the news, Vermon searched the port until he found the three merchants and beat them to a pulp before throwing all of them into the sea.

Even after Vermon breathed a sigh of relief at the moment of recovering Orb, a deep sense of anger was still lurking inside him. Not only was the ship two hours behind schedule, but Orb’s attempted escape ended with his being abducted by Barloschios, of all people. Vermon could not bear the idea of putting Orb in one place with his opponent.

Vermon folded his hands behind his head as he looked at the ceiling. Why didn’t I feel Orb’s anger at what Barloschios did to him? What did that beast say to him? Did he tell him about his tragic history and therefore gain his sympathy? What happened? What did they do? What did they talk about?

Vermon flipped on his right side, resting his head on his right palm. Did he touch him in his private parts? Did that fool resist? But Barloschios paralyzed him in a strange position. What was he trying to do while Orb kneeled in front of the fireplace, almost naked? Why didn’t I pay attention? Why didn’t I ask him?

Vermon then turned on his stomach and buried his face in the pillow. Well, I was so angry and in a hurry. Hold on, that lunatic was alone in a corner, hammering a marble slab. It was the only thing that did not get destroyed by Orb’s energy. I’m vexed that Orb used his ability before my enemy. Wait … What? Was Barloschios trying to sculpt my own slave?

Vermon turned and sat up, rubbing his forehead in silent discomfort. “How dare you think about that? How dare you do that without my permission? YOU OLD BEAST!” Vermon suddenly shouted.

I should look into the matter when I get back. Vermon then sighed and shifted his thoughts back to Orb. How am I going to punish him? How am I going to make sure he doesn’t run away again? Didn’t he get tired of restrictions, punishments, and injuries? What should I do? Must I crush his legs?

***

End of Chapter (34)

[1] Court Jesters – Birds, native to Arkosia Empire, which grow to between 70 and 100 cm in length. They have colorful feathers of different green shades, black bellies and griffin-like splayed crests in crimson red. Known for haunting the port, they throw their heads back in hysterical laughter when they sense the passengers’ strong emotions of sadness or anger.

Illustration by Norei https://norei.carrd.co/