Chapter 42
Chapter 42
Because he was twice my height, I couldn’t reach the top of his head. To dry his hair, I needed him to sit.
“Have a seat here.”
He obediently sat down on the chair. I towel-dried his hair, now even curlier from the water. The dampness weighed down his usually bushy hair, making it droop further, completely covering his eyes.
“Hasn’t this been bothering you? It must be so stuffy.”
“Yes.”
“We’ll need to trim it next time, won’t we?”
Bathing had been difficult enough; how much more challenging would hair care be? Sharp scissors or a razor so close to his face… would he be alright?
‘It felt more daunting than the bath.’
“Not just anyone can trim hair.”
Such a delicate task often required a dedicated hairdresser. Naturally, I had no experience myself. It would be better to entrust this to someone skilled, but finding such a person wasn’t possible right now.
“Besides that…”
Fortunately, the bathroom was equipped with basic grooming tools: a razor, hair-cutting shears, nail scissors, and even a file.
“Hmm.”
An idea struck me.
“I can at least trim your nails, right?”
“Huh?”
‘Yes, those wickedly sharp nails. How many times had I bled because of them?’
I picked up the nail scissors.
“Let’s trim them. It’s strange to have such dangerous things exposed all the time.”
“Ooh.”
As expected, Cesar showed immense resistance. I firmly grasped his left hand, a hand I’d never touched before. His hand, which I’d imagined would be rough, was surprisingly smooth. I lightly ran my fingers over the blade-like, elongated nails.
“Ready?”
The nail scissors resembled tongs, with rounded, flat blades at the front for cutting and leather-padded handles at the back, looking sturdy enough. I positioned them at the tip of his nail.
“Like this,” I instructed. Cesar nodded once, looking a bit tense. Then, a problem arose.
“This is… wow.” His nails were impossibly hard, resisting all my efforts. The scissors wouldn’t budge.
“I thought they’d be softer after the bath.”
“Uh, no.”
‘You don’t like it? Neither do I.’
But I simply couldn’t cut them. Defeated, I handed the scissors to Cesar.
“You’re stronger. Try it.” Now, I was determined. I forced the scissors into his right hand. Cesar simply stared at me, bewildered, holding the tool.
“Hold this part and press. Hard.”
“Okay.” As he pressed, the blades clicked together. Click. A sharp sound accompanied a flinch from Cesar.
A nail clipping flew through the air. I checked his expression. He seemed alright, though a little sullen.
“Keep going.” My gaze remained fixed on his nails, each one at least two knuckles long.
‘We have a long way to go.’
Cesar looked at me, his expression uneasy.
‘What’s wrong? Let’s do this.’
“Ooh.”
His eyebrows drooped. Seeing the confusion swirling in his eyes, I quickly stroked his bangs. “There you go, good job.”
“…Okay.”
It wasn’t the most appropriate praise for a man his size, but I diligently petted his soft bangs. I wondered if it was too much, but he seemed to buy it. Click. Another nail clipping.
“Very good!”
I stroked his hair and gently tickled his cheek. He squirmed, glancing at me. In the end, it took hundreds of compliments before I achieved my goal. The nails were a bit uneven, but the sharp, menacing points were gone.
“Not bad, right? Why didn’t we do this sooner?” I marvelled, smoothing the rough edges with the nail file. Cesar winced with each scratch of the file. But every time he did, I’d say, “Good job,” or “I’ll give you a reward when we’re done,” and he’d immediately quiet down and endure. The bathroom filled with the sound of filing and my enthusiastic praise.
Discussion
0 CommentsReactions
No comments yet.