Ruslan was beginning to feel certain about something.
The room was still divided in half, neither invading the other’s territory, and mealtimes remained silent, but Ruslan felt a faint courage growing within him.
Sarka still stood beyond the coat. In that case…
It was one day when he was carefully watching for an opportunity.
When Ruslan set down his plate, Sarka, who had been sitting on the sofa, closed the book he was reading.
Ruslan glanced at the book Sarka was about to put away, hesitated slightly, then carefully broke the silence as if tossing a ball.
“……Do you like classical literature?”
At the suddenly thrown question, Sarka paused and turned to look at Ruslan.
Ruslan gestured with his chin toward the title of the book Sarka had been reading and asked cautiously.
“It seems like you’re always reading classical literature.”
“……”
Sarka hesitated for a moment.
Ruslan nervously waited for Sarka’s reaction.
When Ruslan had first entered Sarka’s room, whenever the excited Ruslan had poured out personal questions, trying to act ‘friendly,’ Sarka had coldly drawn a line each time.
Whether that line still remained, and if it had been pushed back, how far it had been pushed back—it wasn’t clearly visible yet, but it was worth trying.
It was the moment when he was anxiously wondering what if Sarka ignored him, showed wariness again, or felt uncomfortable.
“……Not really. ……I’m reading it because I don’t know it well.”
A low answer fell. Ruslan subtly raised his head.
Sarka looked at Ruslan with slight awkwardness, then lightly frowned and added.
“……They don’t teach your literature at vampire school.”
“Ah……”
Ruslan blinked and understood.
Sarka paused somewhat awkwardly, then soon put away the book.
While Sarka pulled his plate closer, Ruslan was lost in thought for a moment.
Many thoughts arose, but for now, one thing seemed certain.
If a ball is thrown, Sarka doesn’t refuse it.
Even though he couldn’t yet clearly know where to throw it or how far Sarka could receive it, one rule seemed to have been established.
If I ask a question, Sarka answers <honestly>.
Rather, once he was certain of that, Ruslan found it harder to speak to him than before.
He had more thoughts.
What he wanted to ask Sarka was still a mountain of things, but they were all too dangerous to throw carelessly.
He didn’t want to hastily throw them like before and tear into that sensitive boy’s nerves.
Among the balls that the unknowing Ruslan had thrown suddenly, how many had made Sarka uncomfortable or displeased?
Instead of speaking, Ruslan observed Sarka more and more carefully.
Sarka was always quiet.
When with friends, he smiled readily and responded gently to small talk, but when he returned to the room, Sarka rarely opened his mouth.
Ruslan wondered if he was particularly tense or on guard inside the room, but upon consideration, Sarka wasn’t particularly talkative even among friends.
Rather than leading conversations, Sarka was closer to keeping pace or listening.
Unless it was a situation that required his intervention, like when he stopped friends who mocked Ruslan, Sarka usually chose to quietly step back.
Ruslan thought the reason Sarka saved his words was probably because he didn’t want to draw attention.
As Baigarten had said, Sarka was a boy with a distinctly striking appearance.
While Esteban School had a mix of various nationalities and races, the noble children sent to this school with its astronomical tuition fees had a high proportion of Easterners.
They were characterized by dark hair, ruddy and thick skin, and solid builds.
With his snow-white skin like Northerners, his long and graceful build, rare silver hair, and distinct features, Sarka stood out anywhere in the school.
The moment Ruslan first saw Sarka at the freshman oath ceremony, he thought of a unicorn or pegasus caught among brown ponies.
The beautiful boy who always moved quietly and gracefully among the wildly rambunctious teenage boys gave off a strange sense of incongruity.
It was even more so when he occasionally exuded a languid sensuality or mysteriousness unbefitting a child.
Sarka himself seemed to know that he had an appearance that easily drew people’s gazes.
In fact, for someone in a position where he had to hide his identity and blend into human society, it was practically a fatal obstacle.
Perhaps because of that, Sarka rarely opened his mouth and tried carefully and cautiously to match the atmosphere around him.
As a result, Sarka was kind to everyone, yet only kind enough not to remain particularly memorable in anyone’s memory.
Even while disliking Bruce’s gang, he didn’t openly display hostility or show an attitude of blatantly defending the scholarship students who became Bruce’s targets.
It seemed he wanted to avoid earning someone’s enmity or, conversely, receiving excessive goodwill.
In fact, even just thinking about Ruslan’s case, it was understandable caution.
Even Ruslan wouldn’t have been able to find Sarka’s presence so quickly if it hadn’t been for Sarka’s striking silver hair and that overwhelming appearance.
Thinking of Sarka’s position—having tried to help Ruslan in a way he thought no one would know about, only to have his identity discovered and end up in a troublesome situation—it was natural that he didn’t want to become entangled with anyone carelessly.
Perhaps because of that, Sarka’s daily routine was always strict and monotonous.
Every day he punctually attended classes, and without a single wrinkle in his attire, he observed all school rules impeccably.
Not only did Sarka faithfully uphold all the virtues of an exemplary student, he also had no fault in the culture or gentlemanly conduct expected of noble children.
Considering that he had only been in human society for a year and a half and still needed his guardian’s help even when dressing, it was actually quite remarkable.
It must have required tremendously precise calculation and effort, tension and vigilance.
The reason Sarka always read books was ultimately in the same vein.
Having observed the titles of the books Sarka read, Ruslan noticed that Sarka mainly read basic cultural books like classical literature or fairy tales—the kind that would be read in Basic School.
As Sarka said, they were closer to reference books for information gathering rather than books chosen out of taste or interest.
If vampire society was so cut off from human society that even the way of dressing and accent changed, Sarka likely couldn’t understand most of the idioms or quotations humans habitually used.
Sarka probably experienced many situations where he alone missed the context in classes or conversations with friends.
When Ruslan first came from Frükan, he too had experienced many difficult situations not understanding the everyday expressions used by people of the Empire.
Although Sarka used the same language, he had been educated in the Pureblood Faction, which had long been cut off from humans and even treated humans as livestock while hating and despising them.
Certainly, the sentiments and culture overall would be completely different, so perhaps he had even more difficulties than Ruslan.
Baigarten tried his best to look after such Sarka in as much detail as possible, and Sarka also suppressed his irritation and accepted those teachings, but there were inevitable limitations.
That boy, who always tried not to expose his weaknesses, probably tried to reduce the risk of making mistakes by reading books whenever he had time.
If anyone saw him leafing through books that even children would read, they would surely think it strange, so he seemed to have chosen reading locations like the old book archive where people rarely came.
As much as he had to be tense, Sarka found gatherings with people tiring.
While there was certainly rejection toward mingling with humans, Ruslan, who had always had to be tense to avoid becoming a laughingstock among foreigners with completely different cultures, understood that fatigue.
Ruslan, who buried his head in books whether his classmates laughed at him or not, was still the less observant type.
Since he was a commoner who would be ignored no matter what he did, it didn’t really matter much what others thought.
But Sarka would have been different.
He was known as the son of an influential noble family in the Empire, and was expected to have dignity and culture befitting that status.
Additionally, he had to satisfy his father and the watchman his father had assigned with his appearance of adapting among humans.
Ruslan thought that Sarka’s insomnia might perhaps stem from such tension and stress.
On days when he hung out late into the evening with friends or went out over the weekend and came back, Sarka became more tired and sensitive than usual.
If he happened to attend gatherings full of people like parties held by professors or friends’ families, Sarka tossed and turned, unable to sleep easily even while completely soaked in fatigue.
On such days, before even getting into bed, Sarka would turn to Ruslan and add in a dull voice.
“Don’t bring breakfast tomorrow.”
Ruslan nodded silently.
The next day, Sarka couldn’t get out of bed until breakfast time was almost over, then finally got up with a tired face at the last moment.
Watching Sarka’s languid back as he entered the bathroom, Ruslan felt sympathy.
Even with a face that looked irritated to death, Ruslan thought that Sarka surprisingly didn’t complain much.
He still snarled irritably when he encountered Baigarten, but considering the fatigue Sarka experienced in daily life, Ruslan thought even that attitude was quite lenient.
Anyway, since Baigarten was the only place he could vent or express his honest emotions, it seemed he acted particularly sharply toward him.
As Baigarten had said, Sarka’s only pleasure at this school was scratching away at his watchman’s insides and acting spiteful.
It was one day.
Sarka returned to the room full of irritation again.
Irritation dripped from every movement of taking off his jacket or loosening his tie.
Ruslan, who had been doing assignments at his desk, glanced repeatedly at Sarka’s mood.
Even after Sarka, who had half-thrown off his uniform, washed up and changed into a nightshirt and came back, he couldn’t calm his mood for a long time.
As if trying to sort out his emotions before getting into bed, Sarka stood still for a moment with his hand on the bedpost.
Ruslan, who had been watching cautiously, hesitated then asked carefully.
“……Did something bad happen?”
Sarka turned his head to look at Ruslan.
Ruslan, who flinched at the fierce expression mixed with irritation and fatigue, swallowed.
Sarka was silent for a moment, then muttered ominously.
“……Nick Spencer.”
“……?”
Ruslan hesitated at the name that came out of nowhere.
Sarka stared at the empty air with burning eyes, then exhaled like a sigh.
“……He talks too much.”
Ruslan nearly burst out laughing without realizing it.
Spencer was a boy in the noble group Sarka hung out with. He had a talkative personality and was bursting with energy to the point of being slightly burdensome. He was a cheerful boy who got along well with everyone, but sometimes acted impolitely. He was also the first to tease by imitating Ruslan’s pronunciation.
They seemed close… but inside he dislikes him enough to grit his teeth.
Ruslan looked at Sarka’s completely fed-up expression, then asked with a curious look.
“……But why do you hang out with him?”
Sarka was silent for a moment with a tired expression, holding onto the bedpost.
Soon, Sarka, who let out a light breath, replied expressionlessly.
“……Because it’s my duty.”
Duty?
Ruslan blinked in puzzlement, but Sarka didn’t explain further.
Ruslan didn’t ask any more, seeing Sarka getting into bed soaked in fatigue.
Ruslan, who kept wondering about it, was able to hear the answer to that question one day at the tea table Baigarten had called him to.
