content warning
blood, animal death
There were several types of hunting, including trapping, hawking, and much more. Splitting them into larger categories, however, would leave you with two methods—to chase your game, or to wait for it. The fact that both methods were equally used didn’t differ much between the South and the North.
“My master prefers to set a trap and patiently await his prey.”
“I see.”
Michele made sure to etch Ain’s words into his memory. He was planning on doing things in accordance with Lord Sheleg’s preferences were they to ever go hunting together in the future.
“However, since my master isn’t present today, we will be doing things the way Sir Anatold wishes instead.”
Michele nodded enthusiastically in response to Ain’s somewhat nonchalant words.
“Then, I’d like to do some exploring… It was so suffocating staying in the mansion all the time!”
“Understood. I’ll make sure to pack lightly for an easier journey.”
Ain descended to the lower floor and began his preparations for the hunt. Michele simply waited for Ain to complete all the arrangements before coming to fetch him.
Although they called it a “hunt,” Michele didn’t hold the objective of personally bringing game back to the mansion. In reality, it was nothing more than a walk.
For starters, it was Michele’s first foray into a winter hunt. The territory was also unfamiliar to him, as he had never explored it before. Most importantly, however, Michele didn’t possess any exceptional talents for hunting, even back in the South.
Michele’s main role was to express admiration for his brothers’ marksmanship skills. He had never caught proper game by himself before. However, he did receive some assistance in capturing a rabbit during a hunting excursion with his second brother…
<Firing a whole seven bullets and catching just one prey—now that’s impressive, huh? It looks like nabbing a wolf will be a piece of cake for you once you come of age.>
<Please don’t tease me, Brother!>
…Strictly speaking, it was closer to his second brother sharing his catch with him.
Michele shook his head in response to the memories that had unknowingly resurfaced.
To put it nicely, his second brother was cheerful, and to put it badly, he was quick-tempered. Despite his frequent bouts of anger, he was equally swift in letting go of his grudges. For all his apparent flaws, he was also just as charismatic as an individual.
Unlike Michele, who was popular with the older ladies due to his gentle nature, his second brother was always surrounded by hordes of young men. Of course, since Michele was also included among those young men, he followed his brother around a lot. There was never a moment of silence with him.
…Right now, however.
He was also the main cause behind their family’s declining fortune due to his gambling. His second brother was, by no means, a bad person. He was just a little more hot-blooded than others. But how had things come to this point?
…A corner of Michele’s chest went cold upon sensing the division between the past and the present.
“Sir Anatold?”
Just as Michele’s heart started to sink, bit by bit, he heard Ain’s voice. His cold heart began to beat again.
“…Yeah,” Michele replied to Ain, his face pale.
“Are you not feeling well?”
“What makes you think that?”
“Your complexion doesn’t look very good.”
“…I think it’s just because I’m feeling cold.”
“In that case, perhaps we should postpone today’s outing and rest in the mansion…”
Michele shook his head. “No, I believe it’s better to take a walk outside during times like these.”
“If you truly think so…”
Ain kneeled down before Michele. He refrained from any unnecessary scolding or the like. Michele was grateful for that.
Michele placed his foot on top of Ain’s knee. The shoes Michele wore were made of thin fabric, and although they had been comfortably worn for outings back in the South, they had been reduced to interior shoes after arriving here.
Ain’s pants were black. Thanks to that, even if they were stepped upon by muddy shoes, it wasn’t all that obvious to the eyes. He was adept at serving Michele, and he seemed pleased to do his job. For that reason, Michele was able to push down on the firm thigh without an ounce of regret. He looked down at Ain from above. Even though they hadn’t set off for the hunt yet, it felt as though a large wolf was kneeling at his feet.
Ain removed Michele’s shoe and fitted a boot onto his foot. The leather was much thicker than the shoes he had worn in the South, and the upper rim of the boots was lined with fur. It was to prevent its wearer from getting frostbite from the heaps of snow outside.
The boot laces were tightly intertwined, resembling a corset and appearing impossible to undo on his own. Ain held Michele’s ankle, tightening the laces one by one. A tedious bout of time. Normally, Michele would have grumbled and asked his servants to hurry up, but strangely enough, he didn’t find the current moment tiring.
Michele looked down at his hair, as black as a crow’s. Then, he suddenly envisioned what it would look like to have Ain lick his foot—to have him tug on the ends of the laces he had meticulously tied with his teeth. To remove his boots and socks with those long fingers of his, the same ones that dressed him, and to press his lips against the top of his pale, exposed foot. To kiss someone’s foot, it was the most humiliating and extreme symbol of submission for a servant. To swear such absolute obedience—something he probably wouldn’t even do for Lord Sheleg—to none other than himself.
After that, Ain would take Michele’s toes into his mouth, one by one, and lick them. It was evident that Ain, accustomed to serving others, would diligently moisten them. Michele found it all too easy to imagine, leaving him with not even the slightest of qualms. There was simply no way that Michele, who could differentiate the types of silk from the East with his eyes closed simply by feeling them with his fingertips, wouldn’t be able to recall the sensation of Ain’s tongue.
“…Agh…”
Ain raised his head upon hearing Michele’s groan, which had escaped him unconsciously.
“Sir Anatold? …Did I tighten it too much?”
“N… no.”
Michele covered his face with one hand and shook his head. Stupid. Why did he think of such a ridiculous… Michele’s face flushed red.
“Please tell me if you’re feeling uncomfortable at any point. Even if you feel fine now, your feet could start hurting once we start walking.”
“I told you I’m fine…” Michele grumbled. It wasn’t as if Ain had caught onto what he was thinking, but Michele felt embarrassed for no reason.
Tighten it too much? …How could he say that so casually! Even if they were the only ones there, those words seemed far too extreme.
…Michele still had enough reason in him to not voice such ridiculous thoughts out loud.
“Would you like to take a walk around to see for yourself?”
Ain placed Michele’s foot back on the ground, seemingly finished with tying the laces in the meantime.
“…It feels a bit uncomfortable to walk.” Michele tapped his foot against the floor.
“Do your toes hurt because it’s too tight?”
“N… no, it’s not that… It feels like I’m floating, more than usual. Um… like there’s a hoof under my foot?”
“If that’s the case, it’s fine. A device has been attached to the sole to prevent your foot from sinking into the heaps of snow outside. It might seem uncomfortable now, but it’ll feel more comfortable once you step outside.”
“Really?”
Just as Ain had said, after several days of incessant snowfall, the snow in the shaded areas had managed to accumulate high enough to reach Michele’s knees. Come to think of it, when he first arrived here, he had also been carried on Ain’s back for similar reasons.
Then, Ain made him wear a fur hat and manteau, one after the other. These were the winter clothes Ain had gone down to the village to procure earlier. It was the perfect opportunity to become a Matryoshka doll. Michele piled on several layers of clothing.
Only after Michele’s preparations were finished did Ain begin to pack their equipment. Shotguns and various other hunting gear were scattered across the floor. Ain took it upon himself to carry Michele’s equipment on his back as well.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
“Give mine to me.”
Zlmtfif, kfjglcu rfnfgji ijsfgr bo mibatlcu, rajuufgfv bnfg jcv tfiv bea tlr tjcv.
“Vlcmf atlr lr Vlg Ccjabiv’r olgra aglq, la wjs yf ecmbwobgajyif obg sbe. P klii mjggs la ecali atf wbwfca sbe cffv la.”
“Dea…”
“Cgf sbe jczlber?”
Zlmtfif, ecjyif ab ugjrq Clc’r defralbc, aliafv tlr tfjv.
“Isn’t it heavy to carry two people’s equipment alone?”
That was Michele’s sole concern. Ain’s eyes softened.
“Even if I were to carry Sir Anatold in this state, I’ll be fine.”
“…I’m not fine with it, though.”
He didn’t want to be carried again. It wasn’t just about his wounded pride; he didn’t want to appear even more like a young kid to Ain than he already seemed.
…Now that he thought about it, wasn’t this the same man who had carried both him and a bouquet in the midst of a blizzard? He had asked out of fear that the luggage was too heavy, but his worries seemed to have been unnecessary. He had never offered to share the burden with the servants who transported his luggage in the South. Since it was the natural duty of a servant…
Seemingly embarrassed, Michele waved his hand, which had been hovering in the air.
“Then, how about I bring the horses?”
“We’ll be discovered.”
It was a meaningful answer.
“I know a few places where the mountain animals usually gather, so we’ll focus on wandering around those areas.”
“Okay, guide the way.”
Michele followed Ain out of the mansion, his strides feeling much more uncomfortable than before. He faithfully followed Ain’s instructions. Even though he was just a servant, Michele was tasked with learning from him for a month..
When he left the mansion, memories of when he first arrived here faintly came to mind. It was just fifteen days ago, but the events felt hazy in his memory, as if they had happened a year ago.
“Ha…” Michele let out a deep sigh. His breath turned into white clouds and dispersed into the air.
Even though Ain had armed him well, he still ended up feeling cold anyway. If the mansion was only cold enough for a chill to circulate in its midst, the outside had winds blowing without regard for time or space, making it feel as though countless little blades of ice were relentlessly grazing past his cheeks.
Still, it felt refreshing to be outside, perhaps because he had gotten a little used to the cold. Was he already on his way to becoming a Northerner?
It was a new feeling. For the very first time, Michele felt that the outside scenery was blindingly beautiful. In reality, it was actually blinding. That was because their surroundings were entirely blanketed in snow, an expanse of white. The sunlight cascaded onto the white snow, causing it to shimmer to the point of hurting the eyes. It was a sight that one would never be able to see in the South.
…Southerners often slandered such scenery. They said that the Northern lands were desolate and its weather relentlessly cruel, and that there was nothing of worth seeing or enjoying there compared to the South. Michele had simply nodded in agreement with everyone’s opinion, harbouring no doubt.
However, everyone’s words were unexpectedly wrong. The North was beautiful. The entire world was covered in white, like freshly squeezed milk poured on a silver tray. If he were to eat the snow, would it carry a savoury taste, just like milk?
“It’s pretty,” Michele innocently voiced his thoughts.
“Sir Anatold.”
“Yeah?”
Just then, Ain, who had been silently standing beside him, opened his mouth. “Please avert your gaze. Prolonged focus on the snow fields can cause harm to the eyes.”
“…Really?”
“Yes, in certain instances, you may even blind yourself, so please refrain from lingering your gaze on the ground where the sun shines down too long.”
Upon hearing that, Michele hurriedly closed his eyes. Yet, even with his eyes shut tight, he struggled to erase the image of the sun beaming down upon the sparkling snow.
“…To think that we can’t look at it for too long, despite it being this beautiful. It’s a bit of a shame.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s a common sight in the North. You can see it whenever you wish.”
“Still… Sometimes, you just want to stare for a really long time, you know?” Michele said, rubbing his eyes with both hands. When he was younger, he would often watch the sun until it completely set or spend hours at a time admiring the flowers. The sheer existence of beautiful things themselves was terribly lovely, but there were moments when he simply didn’t feel compelled to immortalise such beauty through poetry or drawings.
“I see.”
When Michele lifted his head and looked towards Ain, he instantly locked gazes with his blue eyes.
“…Yeah.”
Since when had Ain been staring at him? Without even realising it himself, Michele avoided his gaze. While there had been many times when he felt that flowers were beautiful, not once had he himself become the flower. For some reason, he began to grow embarrassed.
“Since the snowstorm, which lasted a couple of days, has finally ended, the animals who had been starving for the duration of it will venture out in search of food. It’s a good day to hunt,” Ain said, taking the lead. Michele followed after him, walking through the snowy path, which reached to his ankles.
“Please follow my footsteps, Sir Anatold. It’ll be much easier for you to walk that way.”
“O-okay!”
Michele nodded and followed behind Ain.
It was a rare, pleasant day, even amidst the capricious weather of the North. A day where the hungriest of beasts would be the first to run out of its cave, and a day where it would die as a hunter’s first prey.
Once inside the forest, it became difficult to distinguish one area from another. So, without a gamekeeper, it was fairly easy to get lost, even within the confines of the forest located before one’s own castle.
—What’s more, the forests of the North, blanketed in snow, were even more confusing than those of the South. Even the trees and rocks, usually used as landmarks, were covered in snow, making it nearly impossible to discern where was where.
The only things Michele could rely on were his two legs and Ain. As he traversed the flatlands before the castle, his surroundings glimmered with the light reflected off the snow. However, within the mountainous area, everything was dark. Perhaps it was due to the snow, layered on top of the thin branches like leaves, but there was almost no sunlight peeking through. Even the chirping of birds was few and far between.
It was a quiet peace. The rays of sunlight, barely managing to poke through the snow-laden branches, were as precious as drops of honey on pale skin.
Amidst the sounds of his breath, Michele could hear the soft patter of snowfall and the occasional distant chirping of birds. Whenever Michele’s curiosity veered towards those trivial things, Ain informed him of their names and characteristics.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.”
There was little conversation. Occasionally, they exchanged a word or two as they threaded through the mountain, but that was all. For the most part, it was just silence.
In the South, silence was often seen as the product of extreme sadness and a lack of strength to speak. Michele had thought so as well. But, even though he was just silently following behind Ain, he didn’t feel the least bit sad. Rather, he felt strangely at peace. In this silence he wouldn’t have been allowed to indulge in back in the South…
“…Didn’t I warn you about staring at the snow on the path for too long?”
Ain’s voice came from above Michele’s head.
“Yeah…”
Michele raised his head. Deep within the mountain, where light was scarce. Perhaps it was due to the darkness, but Ain’s face seemed much colder than usual.
“When I was a child, I learned that the reason for this is because ‘the God of the North is so capricious that He won’t even let anyone gaze upon Him.’”
Did this man also have a childhood? Michele chuckled as he listened to the fairytale-like story, a stark contrast to Ain’s cold visage; it sounded like a tale that would be told to children.
“Do my words sound strange to the ears of a Southerner?” Ain asked, perhaps in wonder. Michele shook his head.
“No… it’s interesting. Was it perhaps your mother who told you this story?”
“…Yes.”
“I thought so. I think my mother would have also told me a similar tale had she lived a longer life, huh?”
Michele thought back to his late mother. He had heard that she was a typical Southern beauty: kind, vibrant, and always kept a smile on her face.
“This might be a bit presumptuous of me as a servant, but may I inquire a little more about her?”
Ain willingly assumed the role of Michele’s conversational companion.
“…I’m guessing that Lord Sheleg hasn’t mentioned this to you?”
Ain offered a faint smile instead of responding.
“Okay. My mother passed not long after I was born. The cause of her passing was probably because of me,” Michele said nonchalantly. He had a large age gap with his brothers. Madame Anatold was in her mid-thirties when she had Michele, and she gave birth at a rather late age.
“My apologies for prying.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t tell you this expecting to hear an apology from you, anyway.”
It was most definitely a sad event, but not sad to the point of bringing him to tears.
In a sense, Michele could even be called the fruit of Madame Anatold’s courage and love. As it was common for married couples in the South to have their own lovers after producing a legitimate heir, it was rare for noble ladies to fall pregnant at such an age. In other words, it meant that Michele’s father had no other paramours and only loved his mother.
His mother’s decision to give birth to him and not give up was a remarkable display of courage. Thanks to his mother’s sacrifice, Michele was able to have a life. So, whenever he felt the urge to cry, he made a silent vow to himself that he couldn’t allow himself to feel sad because of it, even if others might not see it the same way he did.
Even though he was unable to keep that promise, but…
“…According to my brothers, however, my mother seemed to have wanted a daughter instead of a son.”
Fortunately, his mother was always alive and well inside his brothers’ stories. Thanks to his brothers, Michele was able to rebuild his mother through memories.
“I see, so the Anatold family’s lady wished for a young miss instead of a young master.”
“Yeah. Since she already had three sons who could qualify as successors, she probably hoped for a daughter this time. That’s why my name is Michele. Well, it probably would’ve been easier for her to shower her love on a girl rather than a boy.”
Michele was a gender-neutral name, but in reality, it was more commonly used for women than for men.
“…Still, I heard that, until the moment she passed, the one she cherished most was me, her youngest child. I have little to no recollection of my mother, but the feeling that she was ‘kind’ still lingers within me.”
So, Michele often found himself imagining what life would’ve been like if his mother hadn’t passed and had continued to live until the present.
In the present circumstances, with his father deceased and his brothers in a state of confusion, would his mother have stopped his marriage to Lord Sheleg? Would she say that, regardless of whether the family fortune was on the decline, she couldn’t bear to send her beloved son to a place where no one knew what he would be put through? Or would she have resigned to the predetermined fate of a Southern noblewoman, helplessly nodding with tears in her eyes?
…He had no idea.
“Oh yeah, Ain. What was your mother like? Seeing how she told you such a tale, she must’ve been a good person, right?” Michele deliberately asked. He wasn’t particularly curious about Ain’s past. However… it wasn’t as if his memories were as precious as gold or anything, but still, he felt somewhat embarrassed to be talking all by himself.
“I’m not sure whom I should speak about.”
What Michele had been looking forward to were the reminisces shared with a mother, something he never had. However, Ain’s response veered away from his expectations.
“…Whom you should speak about?”
“My birth mother passed away a long time ago, and my stepmother passed away a few years ago.”
Michele found himself unable to continue speaking.
The experience of losing a mother was sad all the same, regardless of whether one was noble or lowly, whether they were rich or poor. However, Ain’s words and expressions were strange, making it difficult to discern his emotions solely from them.
“They were both good people.” Ain added belatedly, perhaps sensing Michele’s hesitation, “—Usually, when people hear the word ‘stepmother,’ they’re overtaken with hasty worries that she wouldn’t be able to love the child like its birth mother did, but she took good care of me.”
“R-really?”
“Yes. Though not as early as Sir Anatold, I also lost my mother at a young age… I received a lot of the love I was lacking from my stepmother.”
“……”
Michele furrowed his brows. Ain’s words were ordinary, leaving no room for argument. No, rather, Michele came to realise that Ain was a person with deeper emotions than he had initially assumed. But, for some reason… Without even realising it himself, Michele took a step forward and grabbed his arm.
“As a noble, Sir Anatold is likely aware of this already, but older women tend to have a lot of love to give, and older men… always have something you can learn from them,” Ain answered, coldly but quietly, like the winter wind.
Michele suddenly felt a strange sensation… However, due to his immaturity, he was unable to define it in reason or explain it in words.
“Ain… agh!”
“…Sir Anatold.”
Before Michele could even ask, Ain took the initiative to pull him into his arms first. He lowered his head and stood closer to Michele. His voice, much lower than before, resonated in Michele’s ears. His breath made direct contact with his ear. Michele’s heart raced with frenzy.
Usually, whenever they got this close, it was for the sole purpose of doing that…
“Take a careful look over there.”
Michele looked over to where Ain’s finger was pointing.
“……!”
—And he swallowed a shallow breath.
From a distance, he noticed a red dot faintly moving about. It was difficult to tell since their surroundings were entirely made of snow, but those red eyes unmistakably belonged to a rabbit.
“H-hurry…”
Before Michele could even complete his sentence, Ain passed him the shotgun. Ain had loaded the gun beforehand, which led Michele to wonder how he had known in advance.
Was it because it was a distance away? The innocent mountain creature seemed to have yet to notice their restless movements.
Michele focused all his attention on the tiny rabbit. Even the sound of his own blood coursing through his veins could be vividly heard in his ears, as though his heart were placed right beside his ear.
Had the trigger always felt this heavy?
Despite his perfect aim, Michele found his finger unable to pull the trigger.
“Sir Anatold, stay calm…”
Ain wrapped his hands around Michele’s shoulders, which were trembling, perhaps from the cold or from the weight of the shotgun, or perhaps it was even from his nervousness.
…Amazingly enough, the tremors caused by the excessive agitation immediately settled down.
“You only have one chance.”
Instead of responding, Michele simply offered a small, brief nod of the head. Finally, he took a deep breath and pursed his lips. He stopped breathing and used his entire focus to aim the tip of his gun at his target. The trigger was slowly pulled inward. And…
…Was it a coincidence? The moment he pulled the trigger, he locked gazes with red eyes.
Bang—!
The gunshot shattered the silence into pieces, as if piercing through a glass cup.
The few birds perched atop the trees were startled into flight. Branches swayed, and the piles of snow resting on top of them fell to the ground. For a moment, a ripple seemed to pass through the mountain, like water in a glass.
Faint wisps of smoke continued to bloom from the gun’s muzzle. Following the gunshot, an even deeper silence descended upon the mountain.
“…I think I hit it!” Michele yelled, tossing the shotgun onto the snow.
“I’ll go check first.”
The hand that had been holding Michele’s shoulder began to distance itself from him. Michele released the large breath he had been holding and nodded his head.
It wasn’t as if he were the one wielding the knife, ready to stab the rabbit, yet for some reason, he felt cold. His brother had called this sort of thing “the true taste of hunting,” but… Michele felt that he had undeniably “hit” something.
After taking a moment to catch his breath, Michele followed in Ain’s footsteps, who had gone ahead first. Since Ain had already left a path for him, Michele was easily able to reach his destination.
“Ain! …How is it? We caught it, right?” Michele asked in a voice that was a pitch higher than usual. Ain sat on the ground, his knees pressed into the snow, and his back turned to Michele.
“From the very start, I’d been wondering if luck was going to be in our favour today, and things kind of felt different from usual, so…”
Ain turned his body to the side, showing Michele the prey.
“…Oh, dear.”
Michele’s eyes widened.
Something had gone wrong.
Michele had clearly aimed for its head. The rabbit should’ve died from a single bullet. Yet, whether it was due to his lacking skills or the fact that the mountain beast had been a step faster than he was, noticing its impending doom and evading in advance, a problem had arisen.
“It seems its leg was hit instead of its head.”
It was horrible. Michele gazed down blankly at the quivering little creature, foam forming at its mouth.
Even if Michele was excited to succeed in his first hunt, it was difficult for him to behold its condition without feeling any sort of sympathy.
“Give it to me.”
Ain passed the gun to Michele. He aimed the gun at the mountain animal’s head and promptly loaded it.
“Are you going to kill it?” Ain asked in wonder.
“…Of course. Won’t it just be painful for it to remain in this state?”
“It’s kicking up a big fuss, but aside from its injured leg, it suffered no other injuries. Since things have already come to this, why don’t we take it with us and treat it?”
Michele lowered the muzzle of the gun upon hearing the unexpected suggestion.
“Ain, are you actually not that big of a fan of hunting?” Michele asked, feeling a sense of wonder. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that a Northerner might be fond of common mountain beasts. Ain shook his head.
“That wasn’t what I meant. Sir Anatold, haven’t you been feeling bored lately?”
“……?”
“In its current state, even if we treat it, it’ll never be able to use its hind legs again. For a rabbit to not have any legs to run on, it’s the same as losing its only weapon for life. Seeing how skinny it is, even if we just leave it be, it’s destined to starve to death. Since it has such an innocent and endearing appearance, why not bring it back to the mansion to spend its remaining time and play with it?”
Both of Ain’s hands, which had been examining the rabbit, were soaked in warm, red blood.
“…But I’m the one who caused it to lose the use of its legs, aren’t I?”
“Even if it cowers and fears you at first, as long as you feed it, it will naturally begin to follow you. Of course, it won’t be as loyal as a dog, though.”
Even as Ain calmly offered him an explanation, the rabbit continued to cry, letting out pained groans.
“Don’t nobles usually like deformed beings?”
“T-that’s…”
It was a typical aristocratic hobby to collect beasts or individuals with unusual appearances. Because, although they weren’t beautiful, they were rare. Many nobles from the South had such “collections.” Michele had memories of visiting a certain family when he was younger and witnessing an “exceedingly rare sight.”
“Thanks to that, this little rabbit will also be able to keep its life, so although it’s a beast that cannot speak, it will feel internally grateful towards Sir Anatold,” Ain said, his expression remaining unchanged.
“……”
Michele was at a loss for words.
Ain was serious. From worrying about Michele, who had been feeling bored, to wanting to make that little rabbit into a sort of comfort for him, he was being serious about all of it.
But…
“Get out of the way, Ain.”
Michele aimed the muzzle of his gun again. Ain obediently stepped aside.
Bang—!
The second gunshot rang out. There seemed to be less impact than when the first gunshot rang. No birds took flight this time, nor did any piles of snow fall in response.
Perhaps due to the close range at which Michele had aimed, the rabbit’s tiny head splattered into bits and pieces, leaving not even a form behind.
“…Such a thing is pitiful,” Michele said as he handed the gun back to Ain.
Michele thought that, rather than living the entirety of its life as the plaything of the one who had taken away its ability to walk, death was the greatest generosity that could be bestowed upon it by the one holding the gun.
However, such ways of thinking were nothing but the complacency of a noble, and the little beast might have wanted to live, even if it meant living under such conditions.
In that case, he decided that, as the one who held the gun, the one who was no different than God to the little rabbit, he would rather indulge in the arrogance of his role.
…Or maybe he was just venting his frustrations on it.
“It’s the first prey.” Ain’s voice came from behind. Michele nodded silently.
orcinus comments:
future content warning may also act as spoilers, so you can either go in blind like I did or be aware of any possible triggering elements in the chapter by clicking the content warning haha
I don’t have any comments about today’s chapter (because I’m scared I’m gonna accidentally say a spoiler)
I feel like there’s probably some major foreshadowing here, but I can’t tell if it will be a good or a bad thing. Is this story a BE?? 🙈
there’s way too many things to consider for me to blindly slap HE or BE on it haha but personally I like to believe its a HE
Thanks for replying! I’m fine with bittersweet, open-ended or odd/mixed feelings endings, I just can’t handle those out of nowhere tragic endings, like the main character is murdered for no reason.
Thanks for the chapter