The basement was cold and damp. Zetak could never forget what had happened there. The children around him dying one by one, the stench of rotting corpses. Those days, which he had thought of as hell, still came back to him in his dreams. These dreams always began with despair, but inevitably ended with hope. 

The image of a blond boy looking down at him. Even in the darkness of the basement, that boy alone seemed to be radiant – that was what Zetak remembered. He could never forget that moment. The warm hands that had picked him up. The unhesitating way they had carried him, despite his filth. It was a kindness he had never experienced before. 

‘I want to live for this child.’

In the haze of his fading consciousness, it was the only thought that stood out clearly. Zetak vividly remembered the feeling. He felt as if he could do anything as long as he stayed by the boy’s side. But this feeling wasn’t normal. It was an abnormal obsession. He was aware of it, but he didn’t care. 

“I-I am honoured to serve Your Highness!” 

When Zetak met Jaibid again, he vividly remembered his heart pounding. He had heard countless times how vast the Imperial Palace was. So Zetak figured it would be at least three years before he could see him again. He had never imagined that he would become Jaibid’s personal attendant, so his joy and surprise were doubled. 

As a result, he stuttered when he spoke and was even asked if he was ill. Nevertheless, Zetak was happy. When he saw Jaibid again, he was as radiant as ever. His golden hair shimmered in the sunlight, almost blinding. Of course, that was just Zetak’s infatuation talking. 

He was happy. Karial, the spies under Bapharos pressuring him to be an informer – none of that mattered to Zetak. The one person who had ever shown him kindness, the boy who had pulled him out of that hellish place – just being by his side made Zetak feel like he was in heaven. 

‘He must be a kind and gentle man. After all, he saved me.’

This illusion, born of his expectations, was great. And it didn’t last a day before it was shattered. 

It was only after becoming Jaibid’s personal attendant that Zetak realised that Jaibid was nothing like he had imagined. Far from being the gentle and kind person he had imagined, Jaibid was a cold and distant child. In fact, even calling him “cold” seemed like a euphemism, Zetak thought. Jaibid seemed more like an emotionless puppet – a walking corpse. 

When Zetak first heard the rumours about him, he was furious. So angry, in fact, that he shed tears of frustration. But deep down, part of him understood. Jaibid really did resemble a corpse. He showed no interest in anything or anyone. It was as if he had no feelings at all. 

But strangely enough, this only made Zetak’s heart beat faster.

‘Even though he’s so cold and indifferent to everyone else, he saved me. He carried me out of that filthy cellar himself. Maybe I’m special to him?’

The boy’s imagination ran wild. But it wasn’t all Zetak’s fault. 

If Jaibid had treated him with the same coldness he showed everyone else, Zetak wouldn’t have fallen into such delusions. Had Jaibid ignored him completely, as he did others, Zetack’s feelings might have been nothing more than loyalty. Or perhaps he would have mistaken them for loyalty, never realising the true nature of his feelings. 

Jaibid was friendly. Though his face remained expressionless and his tone curt, Zetak could sense it clearly. To Zetak, he was infinitely kind. Even when Zetak couldn’t contain his anger and cried after hearing the nobles insult him. Even when he recklessly insisted on swinging a sword and almost got hurt. Even when Zetak sobbed in his arms. Jaibid was kind. Even when Zetak dared to stain the royal robes with his tears, Jaibid simply patted his back in silence.

Zetak remembered it well. The time he helped Jaibid bathe and accidentally broke a bottle of perfume. Jaibid, startled by the sound of shattering glass, stepped back and accidentally stepped on a large shard. The glass, embedded deep in his foot, was unforgettable for Zetak. As was the sight of Jaibid calmly pulling the shard out without changing his expression. Even as blood dripped onto the floor, his face remained calm. Zetak could never forget the scene.

How could Zetak forget what Jaibid had done when he claimed responsibility for breaking the oil bottle in front of the head servant? It was no small injury. Zetak remembered how even the priests were shocked by the amount of blood on the floor. Jaibid took the blame to protect Zetak from punishment. To Zetak, Jaibid was infinitely kind. But he didn’t know how to put it into words. As a child, the only word he could silently repeat to himself was kind.

But Zetak’s feelings began to change.

“Your Highness. Your Highness. Your Highness.”

Every time he saw Jaibid, his heart raced. In the past, it was simply the joy of being near his saviour. But somewhere along the line, the reason for that racing heart had changed.

“I want to see him smile. I want him to be nicer to me. I want him to see me as special. I wish he wouldn’t look at anyone else.”

Every time Zetak saw Jaibid, he felt happiness and pain in equal measure. Jaibid was a member of the royal family, while he was merely a servant. The enormous wall between them prevented him from even holding Jaibid’s hand.

The knowledge of their gulf caused Zetak unbearable pain. He knew that one day Jaibid would become Emperor, and with that role, marriage would be an inevitable duty. Zetak understood only too well that, as a mere servant, all he could do was watch Jaibid from afar.

‘It’s all right. Just meeting him like this is enough. I’ll spend the rest of my life watching over him from afar.’

Zetak often comforted himself with these words. He suppressed the growing feelings inside him and deluded himself.

It was all right at first. He was young, and of course a child’s feelings were pure. It was enough to look at someone he liked from a distance. But even that began to change with time. Although he was still young, he realised his feelings far too early. A year passed, then another. His immature, childlike body gradually grew into that of a boy. Along with it, a new emotion – desire – began to emerge quietly. Still, it was nothing more than the innocent desire of a young boy.

Zetak’s thoughts were simple and predictable. The kind of fantasies that made boys his age feel their hearts race. Fantasies of holding the hand of someone they liked. To fantasise about confessing their feelings. Maybe even imagining a kiss. Before falling asleep, Zetak would lose himself in such thoughts, covering his flushed face with his hands and kicking his legs in the air. The other servant boys who shared his room looked at him as if he were mad, but Zetak didn’t care.

‘It’s embarrassing. But I like him. I wish Jaibid liked me too.’

Zetak thought that, even though he knew it was impossible. Isn’t it said that imagination knows no bounds?

“Don’t go near that guy. He seems a bit unhinged.”

“I know, right? Isn’t he the one who randomly kicks his blanket in his sleep? Sometimes his eyes look totally out of it too.”

Zetak became the number one target for avoidance among the servant boys of his age. He was branded as strange, but he didn’t care. To him, anyone other than Jaibid was irrelevant. Even if the passing “Ant No. 1” and “Ant No. 2” whispered about him, he didn’t care. Their words never reached his ears.

Pure Zetak at thirteen. Still pure, but in a way it was a kind of purity that had gone a little off the rails.

Servants were usually placed in rooms where there were five or six of them together. Zetak also lived in a room with servants his own age who had entered the palace early. They were children of about twelve years old, but they quickly became aware of things about s*x. As they worked, they often overheard the lewd conversations of the nobles, and occasionally, while cleaning, they would find strange books hidden under their beds.

“Look at this. My master told me to throw it away, but I just put it aside.”

One boy took a book out of his clothes as if it were a very precious treasure. The eyes of the other children immediately lit up. Being young, their curiosity was natural. In an instant, they gathered around the book. Zetak, like the others, could not resist the temptation of curiosity.

“Eek!”

The moment they turned the pages, the boys covered their eyes with their hands.

“Oh my God… but they’re both men…”

“W-where are they putting that?”

“That looks like it would hurt.”

“But their expressions look like they’re enjoying it?”

Though they covered their eyes, a series of gasps of shock could be heard from different angles. Their fingers were slightly spread, and between them you could see their eyes, unable to believe what they were seeing. Zetak felt the same. The man in the picture had spread his legs, accepting the possession of another man. Zetak’s heart beat fast and hard. But he wasn’t the only one – all the children present had flushed faces.

The next page showed a s*x scene between a man and a woman. “Wow!” Cries of surprise and admiration could be heard from every corner of the room. But Zetak didn’t seem to hear anything. The new image didn’t even cross his mind.

‘Is it possible between two men?’

In that case, is it possible between me and His Majesty? He looked down at his bottom. Zetak, an innocent thirteen-year-old, is slowly waking up to the complexities of the world. His pure innocence is beginning to crack.