#38. Instead of Tea
“This isn’t my blood.”
With that short remark, silence settled over the rain-soaked corridor once more.
His hands, gripping her wrists with more force than usual, wouldn’t let go. The heat from his body, transferred through the wrist he held, made the touch even hotter, almost painful.
Yet, despite this, Ninia had the strange thought that he seemed frozen.
“…You look cold.”
Perhaps because she had momentarily lost her composure earlier, words that she wouldn’t normally say slipped out naturally. At her remark, the grip on her wrist slowly loosened. A low chuckle then settled above Ninia’s head.
“The one who’s cold isn’t me—it’s you.”
He laughed as if her words were nonsense. Ninia was soaked from the rain, and he was covered in blood. By any measure, it was obvious that Ninia was the one shivering from the cold.
Tarahan was still drenched in blood, but the murderous glare in his eyes had slightly softened. Ninia realized that the madness induced by someone else’s blood had gradually faded.
Watching him stiffen, she spoke.
“I’m fine. If you’re not hurt… it would be good to warm yourself up.”
“How?”
Caught off guard by her straightforward question, she hesitated for a moment. After a pause, she spoke in as calm a tone as she could manage.
“First, you should wash… and then… how about some tea?”
Soon the blood on him would harden. It made sense to wash off the liquid covering his body first.
After that, drinking something warm seemed like a good idea. Suddenly, she remembered the tea leaves Rosa had given her. Not the finest grade, but still better than the tea Ninia usually drank.
“Tea?”
Tarahan let out a laugh, almost a snicker. Ninia studied his expression. Was it her imagination? She couldn’t detect any trace of sarcasm in his low voice.
‘Did I say something wrong?’
Ninia hesitated at his repeated question. In truth, she had been imagining this scene ever since receiving the tea leaves—but she was unsure if it would actually work.
“I have some tea leaves… the aroma is nice.”
She stammered on, knowing full well this wasn’t the time to be praising tea. Yet her words wouldn’t stop.
Tarahan sighed. Ninia tensed instinctively, but he didn’t scold her.
“Speak properly.”
He merely asked in a heavily subdued voice, his fatigue evident. This wasn’t his usual self, nor the man she first met.
If she had some skill, perhaps she could help him. But with nothing at hand, Ninia decided to offer the best she could.
“I thought it would be nice if you drank tea with me. I’d like to serve it to you.”
Drinking warm tea could relax the nerves that had been on edge. It might help Tarahan too.
‘To suggest tea to a man drenched in blood…’
This was the best she could offer. Ninia expected him to ignore her and pass by.
“Give it.”
“Huh?”
She thought she misheard him. Ninia looked at him dumbfounded, and Tarahan confirmed it with a deadpan expression.
“You said you’d give it, right? The tea.”
…Now? Her surprised eyes asked the question silently. Tarahan glanced at himself and realized his own appearance.
After a brief silence, he swept his bangs, wet with blood, from his eyes and said:
“Go wash. Get ready.”
Ninia remained frozen in place long after Tarahan brushed past her.
“Um… Master?”
It wasn’t until the servant who had stayed with her spoke that Ninia came back to herself. She looked past the corridor where Tarahan had gone and spoke.
“Prepare the tea set.”
The servants bowed and went to comply. Streaks of blood still traced the floor. Ninia followed the trail even after the servants left, then began to walk.
“It’s ready.”
A servant carried the tea pot and cups on a silver tray and led Ninia to Tarahan’s bedroom.
‘He’s only been gone two days.’
Ninia looked at the familiar door. She hadn’t intended to return to the same place, yet here she was, stepping back into his bedroom.
She glanced at the servant holding the tray. The servant’s face had gone pale at seeing the master return covered in blood.
‘This is probably the most comfortable place for Tarahan too.’
Ninia entered obediently as the servant opened the door. The servant seemed momentarily relieved and hurriedly left after placing the tea set on the table.
From inside her dress, Ninia took out the tea leaves pouch. She had worried when it rained earlier, but it had stayed dry inside.
‘What could have happened…?’
She could hear the faint rustle of the dry leaves as she handled the pouch. Tarahan had said he wasn’t hurt, but something must have gone wrong on the way back to the castle.
Ninia imagined Tarahan in the room. Still, a nagging concern lingered.
‘How far can I think about him?’
Perhaps because she had always been given permission in the past, she found it difficult to decide on limits now. Like a temple doll, she reflected on her old nickname, while also recalling the doctor’s advice.
‘You have to have your own opinion. About everything.’
She didn’t know why this advice came to mind now, but she also thought, if it’s about her true feelings, perhaps she could act as she wished. A small, fragile standard she had set for herself.
Ninia paused by the table. She heard a door connected to the bedroom open—the one leading to the bathroom. She turned toward the sound.
Water dripped from his still-wet hair. Wearing only a gray robe, he entered the bedroom. Despite having been covered in blood moments ago, he looked remarkably clean. Yet the faint scent of iron from the wash lingered.
‘He really isn’t hurt.’
He had said it wasn’t his blood, and indeed, no wounds were visible. As Ninia exhaled in relief, he sat on the chair opposite the table. The chair creaked under his large frame.
Tarahan closed his eyes. His thick eyebrows relaxed, giving him a serene expression. Ninia realized she had never seen him sleep before.
After a moment, she reached for what she needed. The kettle, which had been boiling vigorously, had cooled to the right temperature for brewing tea.
She opened the lid, added the tea leaves, and waited briefly. Having served many guests, she knew the etiquette and technique for brewing tea.
Ninia poured the prepared tea into a cup. As the last stream flowed, she noticed his eyes had opened, watching her.
His large hands grasped the pink cup, which looked almost like a child’s play toy in them.
When the cup touched his lips, Ninia’s gaze filled with anticipation—until a frown appeared on his brow.
“…This isn’t from the castle. Where did it come from?”
“It’s grown behind the castle,” she replied.
He seemed displeased at her answer. She tried the tea herself; it was certainly better than what she had drunk before.
She expected him to pour it out immediately. But this was another misjudgment.
He frowned with each sip, but in the end, the cup on the table was empty. Releasing the cup from his hands, he looked at her with his subdued gaze.
“Next time, just suggest drinking alcohol.”
His voice was drowsy, husky. Ninia set her cup down, and he reached a hand toward her.
“Come here.”
Hesitating for a moment, Ninia rose. As she placed her hand in his palm while circling the table, her body was pulled forward instantly.
“…Ah!”
Ninia buried her face against his chest through the gap in his robe. When she instinctively lifted her head, she caught sight of his lips, sharp nose, and the red eyes looking down at her.
