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Chapter 13
The box was far too small.
I couldn’t stretch my legs, couldn’t lift my head.
There wasn’t even room to move a single finger.
It was suffocating and terrifying.
That fear from that day had been so overwhelming that even now, I sometimes broke into a cold sweat just remembering it.
“I curled up as tightly as I could.
I must have been trapped for hours before a servant happened to find me and let me out.
Ever since then, whenever I’m in a closed space where I can’t stretch out, I get that same crushing fear again.”
Even after that, I’d been locked up several more times.
Once William realized I feared that more than violence, he became even crueler.
“That’s what trauma is,” I said quietly.
“Wounds don’t fade—they leave scars.
The sensations stay alive, vivid, even now.”
He looked at me silently. I didn’t avoid his gaze.
“That’s why, Boss,” I said softly, “I hope you don’t think of this place as your own little box.”
He didn’t answer.
“Because this room—this space—you can stretch out your arms and legs here. You can even ride a bike in it, if you wanted to.”
He just stared at me—no, more precisely, he seemed to be staring at my neck.
Then, without breaking his gaze, he reached out his hand. His fingertips brushed my neck, then pulled away.
A tiny bead of moisture clung to his fingers.
While I’d been talking, I must have gotten so tense that my body started reacting to the memory.
Embarrassed, I wiped the cold sweat from my neck.
He looked at the sweat on his fingers for a long moment before asking,
“So… how did you overcome it?”
“I didn’t.”
Can’t you tell from how much I’m sweating?
“I just live with it. It’s not that deep.
I only panic in those specific situations—it doesn’t affect my daily life.
It’s not so bad that I can’t function.”
“You look half-dead just from bringing it up…”
He muttered incredulously, then asked again,
“And you just let him do that to you?”
“William really hates bugs.”
“So do I.”
“Me too.”
He gave me a look that said, And what exactly is your point?
At this rate, I was starting to think we could hold an entire conversation just with our eyes.
“You know how kids are—they’re fearless.
I used to catch every bug and insect I could find, then dump them all over him while he was sleeping.”
He blinked.
“He screamed bloody murder. Cried, thrashed—it was incredibly satisfying.”
He straightened his back, looking unimpressed. Sitting cross-legged, he propped one knee up and rested his chin on it.
“That’s it? You should’ve locked him somewhere smaller.”
“I didn’t have the strength—or the size—for that.”
He gave me a slow once-over and clicked his tongue.
“With those skinny legs, can you even stand up straight?”
For some reason, his tone sounded lighter—almost casual. I didn’t point it out; if I did, he’d go back to that stiff, arrogant posture again.
When people start to feel comfortable, the first signs always show in how they speak, act, and express themselves.
So all I needed to do was keep this relaxed conversation going.
“Not only can I stand, I even walked all the way over to you, Boss. You should be proud.”
“Hah.”
He let out a short, incredulous laugh, then bit his lip.
“So what’s the point of all this talk?
You want me to feel sorry for you?
Or are you trying to make me open up too?”
“Huh? Were you even listening earlier?
I said something really cool, remember?”
I lowered my voice and spoke seriously.
“I said I hope this place isn’t your little box.”
Silence.
“See? I said it so coolly the first time.
But if I have to repeat it, it loses all its charm.
Now I just sound lame.”
“You’re noisy.”
“Or maybe your listening comprehension needs work—oh. I see.”
His glare sharpened, full of irritation.
“That look is banned.”
“I’m scared.”
“Huh?”
His sudden words caught me off guard. He turned his head away as if it was nothing, and began speaking in a low, even voice.
“Even if I could go outside again, I’d still be afraid.
I’m already broken like this… and I don’t even know what the world out there has become.”
Was he remembering something?
His face twisted, his chest rising and falling roughly—as if he couldn’t suppress the emotion anymore.
“That’s why I hate it.
No—maybe I need to hate it.
I’ll never be able to leave anyway… so if I keep hating the outside world, at least I won’t be tempted to miss it.”
I couldn’t make sense of his words. Never be able to leave?
So he was choosing to hate the outside world first?
What is he talking about?
But I couldn’t bring myself to ask.
His expression was too shattered, his voice too raw.
Through clenched teeth, he sounded almost like a wounded animal.
“Pathetic… really… how did I end up like this…”
His head drooped lower and lower, his whole posture collapsing in on itself, as if he were falling into a bottomless pit.
Seeing that, I reached out and grabbed his arm. He froze, startled, and looked at me.
He was finally beginning to feel at ease around me.
I couldn’t just let him fall back into that darkness.
But I couldn’t ask What do you mean, you’ll never leave?—he’d never answer that.
So I asked something else.
“Boss… this might sound out of place right now, but…
before all this, you never thought of yourself as pathetic, did you?”
“Not at all.”
…In a way, that was impressive.
I gently stopped his hand as he rubbed his face.
“I’ve always thought I was pathetic,” I said.
“Honestly, I think everyone has, at least once.”
He didn’t respond.
“But we live anyway.
Sometimes I think I’m pathetic,
and sometimes I think I’m actually kind of amazing for getting through it all.”
“Everyone thinks that way.”
“Exactly.
And today, I especially think I’m amazing—
because you got to enjoy a delicious meal, and that’s thanks to me.”
I smiled.
He just looked at me silently.
Then—tap.
Our toes brushed together.
* * *
Zervant slowly rose from where he had been crouched and walked toward the wall adjoining Titia’s room.
There was no sound coming from the other side.
He placed his palm flat against the wall.
The cold surface seeped into his skin.
“That’s why I hope you don’t think of this place as your little box…”
He turned and looked around his room.
For the first time, the space that had always felt suffocating and cramped now seemed… larger.
When he was with Titia, even the darkness that usually writhed at the edges of his world seemed to recede.
He slowly pulled his hand away from the wall and started toward his usual spot—then stopped and sat on the sofa instead.
He looked toward the small corner where he always used to curl up to sleep.
Every single night.
For two years straight.
He did it because he thought if he held onto even the faintest trace of warmth, it wouldn’t disappear completely.
That tiny bit of warmth had kept the anxiety at bay.
Maybe that was why he couldn’t stop curling up, hugging his knees tight.
Because no one else ever held him, Zervant had been holding himself all this time—desperate to survive it somehow.
But now… he didn’t need to.
The anxiety wasn’t swallowing him as it used to.
His emotions, his heart, his body—they all felt just a little lighter.
It was a definite change.
And that scared him.
Unable to shake off the fear, he returned to the narrow space beside his bed.
There, the familiar darkness greeted him, whispering its poison.
“You can’t change. No matter what you do.”
“Nothing about your situation will ever be different.”
“Even if you change… it won’t matter.”
“You’ll always be the same.”
Consumed by bitter self-loathing, Zervant trembled and writhed in torment.
* * *
Early the next morning, I pressed my cheek against his door, a tray of food beside me, and pleaded earnestly,
“Boss, we had such a good atmosphere yesterday, didn’t we?”
Silence.
“Please open up.
I do have the key, but it’d be pretty inappropriate to barge into an adult man’s room uninvited, don’t you think?”
Silence again.
“Boooss!”
Sniff. Why are you like this?
Did you have a nightmare last night, my giant stray cat of a boss…?
Or was it that seizure Joshua mentioned?
He said when the Boss had an attack, it got really bad… so maybe not that.
Should I start sleeping here too?
Haena was allowed to stay because she’s a woman, but what if he’s scared I’ll eat him alive…?
