The Beast of the Albard Mansion - Chapter 8

The end of winter was approaching. Tender green buds were peeking out from the tips of the snow-covered branches. The biting cold wind had subsided, replaced by a warm breeze from the west.

My father became more lenient now that Desi had stopped growling. He removed the iron collar and replaced it with a tough leather one. When the hard, cold iron that had been hurting Desi’s neck was taken off, I sighed in relief. Although the leather collar would still be uncomfortable, it wouldn’t cause wounds.

The iron collar clinked as it fell off, stained with blood and pus. The maid, finding it disgusting, grimaced as she disposed of it.

Having given the new collar, my father ordered Desi to be washed. The maids looked at Desi with expressions of disgust, as if his natural skin color might be grayish-brown from all the dirt.

When one of the maids roughly grabbed Desi, he bared his teeth with a fierce expression. Although Desi merely growled, the maid screamed and fell backward.

My father laughed heartily, satisfied, saying that Desi recognized his master. Even though the maids were frightened, my father paid no mind, only shouting at them to hurry up and wash him. When another maid, looking terrified, approached Desi, he growled again, baring his sharp white teeth.

Seeing Desi’s sharp teeth, I put my hand in my mouth and felt my own teeth. Mine were flat at the ends. Compared to mine, Desi’s sharp teeth were better since they scared the maids away.

“Get a muzzle.”

Enjoying the maids’ frightened reactions, my father eventually called for a muzzle. Made of black leather with holes for breathing, it seemed the fun was over for him.

When my father personally placed the muzzle on Desi’s mouth, the maids who had retreated came forward, reassured. With the muzzle on, Desi could growl without scaring them away.

“Wash him thoroughly.”

The maids began dragging Desi to bathe him. Desi, seemingly understanding what was happening, resisted with all his might. He appeared to hate being washed.

When Desi wouldn’t budge, more servants joined in. It took eight servants to drag Desi along, even with his hands tied. Seeing eight adults struggling to move the small Desi made my eyes widen in astonishment.

Desi was incredibly strong.

Knowing how strong Desi was, I felt a weight on my shoulders. I remembered something my brother had said. There was a time when I was upset because the maids gave me only half the amount of food they gave my brother.

I thought it was unfair since we both had one mouth, and though I wasn’t starving, it still felt wrong to be treated as less. It felt like I was receiving half the respect my brother did.

I held back my complaints over a hundred times. On the 101st meal, I couldn’t hold back anymore. After my father left the table, I ordered the maid serving food to give me as much as my brother.

My brother laughed at my demand and told me I couldn’t eat that much. When I asked why, he said it was because I wasn’t strong enough.

He explained that the amount one could eat depended on their strength, and ignoring that would make one either a gluttonous pig or a weakling who would starve to death.

Now, knowing that Desi’s strength was equal to that of eight adults, I was worried. If Desi continued eating as little as he did, he would become weak. The amount I gave him was clearly not enough. I couldn’t let Desi starve to death. How could I provide Desi with the food equivalent to eight people’s portions? It was my new challenge.

Lost in thought, I quickly followed the servants to not miss Desi’s first bath. A large bathtub filled with cold water was prepared at the washing area. I clicked my tongue, thinking they should have prepared warm water.

Splash—

The servants threw Desi into the tub, causing water to splash everywhere, soaking the surrounding servants.

“You beast!”

“Hold him down properly!”

The shouting continued due to Desi’s resistance.

“Take off all his clothes!!”

“Pull the collar!”

Desi’s resistance intensified at the command to undress him. The more he resisted, the rougher the servants became. They even grabbed his collar and shoved him underwater. I was worried Desi might drown.

“Stop it!”

I had no choice but to intervene. The commotion paused as everyone, including Desi, looked at me with wide eyes. Desi’s ragged clothes were half off, and none of the servants around the tub remained dry.

“The water is cold. Use warm water. And be gentle. He might be in pain.”

With my hands on my hips, I scolded them. The servants exchanged bewildered glances, still looking flustered. One of the maids, regaining her composure, approached and pushed me away.