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“Lord van Zieks, a moment of your time, please.”
Barok stopped and turned to face the man who had called out to him. He’d never been especially fond of Lord Marplot, who had a taste for gossip and rumors that Barok couldn’t stand. However, if he had any hope of repairing his reputation in the wake of his trial, treating other members of the nobility with courtesy was all but required.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I speak on behalf of all the nobility when I say I’d like to thank you for your tireless service to the crown through your work as a prosecutor. It would be a great loss to London if anything were to happen to you, and therefore… well, I do not mean to question your judgement, but I heard a rumor that you had opened your home to that foreigner.”
Anger flashed through Barok, and he narrowed his eyes. “Prosecutor Asogi is an official envoy from Japan as well as my apprentice, and well on his way to becoming a respected prosecutor. You would do well to remember those things.”
Marplot looked startled by his vehemence but didn’t back down. “I’m only asking out of concern for you, Lord van Zieks.” False sincerity dripped from every word. “After all you’ve survived, it might not be wise for you to allow someone like him to get so close.”
“Someone like him, you say?” Slander against Kazuma made Barok’s blood boil, never mind that he had once made similar comments against the Japanese as a whole. He would have preferred barbs aimed at the Reaper or the Professor’s brother to this rubbish. “Prosecutor Asogi is a trustworthy man. I would sooner fear danger at the hands of a snake like you than from him, and I would advise you to stop meddling when your advice is neither needed nor desired.”
“Forgive me. I only meant to warn you that Mr. Asogi has been witnessed tampering with your mail.”
The unexpected accusation threw Barok off balance. “I beg your pardon?”
“So you didn’t know!” Despite his feigned concern, Marplot looked delighted to have finally revealed this information. “A caller to your manor a few days ago witnessed him going through your mail in a highly suspicious fashion.”
Barok scowled. “They obvious misunderstood whatever it is they saw.”
“Assume that at your own risk.”
“I will. Thank you.”
He stormed off without waiting to hear anything else. The nerve of that man to imply Kazuma wasn’t trustworthy, after he had won even Barok’s trust…
Worse, he knew how men like that operated. Now that Marplot had brought up the idea, he would likely continue to reference it whenever he saw Barok in the hopes of creating a rift between him and Kazuma. Infuriating, yet unavoidable unless Barok could shut down his accusations with definite proof.
Unfortunately, he could not swear the accusation was false. Kazuma always sorted through their mail before he even saw it. Instead of waiting for mail to be delivered, he woke up first thing in the morning and went out to collect it personally, and then he did the same in the evening after they returned from the office. By the time Barok was dressed for work in the morning or changed into casual clothes in the evening, his mail was waiting for him in a neat pile on his desk in the study.
He had assumed it was some quirk of Kazuma’s culture and saw no harm in letting him do it if it made him more comfortable. He never thought it would be used against him.
Well, it would be simple enough to prove nothing sinister was involved.
#
The next morning, Barok woke up early and dressed before Kazuma was even awake. He ate breakfast by himself until the other man came downstairs and joined him at the table with a cup of tea.
“You’re up early.” Kazuma stretched and took a drink of his tea.
Barok nodded. “Since I rose ahead of you, you need not trouble yourself with the mail. I will go out and collect it myself.”
His apprentice choked on his tea and downed the rest of the cup in a single gulp. “Actually, I was just on my way!”
“D-Did you just swallow an entire cup’s worth of hot tea??”
“I was thirsty,” Kazuma said, even though his eyes were watering. “Now, I’ll get the mail. I have some business in town anyway. You just relax, my lord.” He jumped up and raced to the door.
Barok stared after him with more than a little frustration. As much as he hated to admit it, his insistence on getting the mail himself did look suspicious.
When Kazuma returned some time later, he already had the mail sorted into two neat piles.
#
The simple method had failed, and he suspected this morning’s routine would repeat itself if he tried. If Barok intended to find definite proof to clear Kazuma’s name, he would need to get devious.
So when the time came for them to leave the office that evening, he cleared his throat. “I have some further business to attend to,” he said, “so you may return home without me. I will join you in a few hours.”
Kazuma looked surprised. “Is it something I can help with?”
“No, this is more of a personal matter.”
He looked curious, but didn’t question him. “All right. See you later, then.”
Barok nodded and returned to his work. He waited until Kazuma had left the Prosecutor’s Office, then grabbed his cloak and followed.
Years of fighting in the streets had taught him how to be stealthy when he needed to be. He tailed Kazuma at a far enough distance not to be noticed, despite the guilt that prickled through him. He tried to ignore the feeling. He was doing this for Kazuma, after all.
Kazuma retrieved their mail directly from the postman and then continued on to the manor. Barok followed.
When they reached the manor, Barok waited until he’d left the entrance hall and then slipped inside after him, careful to close the door quietly enough not to be heard. This all felt rather foolish, yet at the same time, his curiosity had been piqued. He crept carefully after Kazuma until he peered into the parlor and found him there.
Inside the parlor, Kazuma was sorting the mail into two piles. Once he finished, he set one pile aside. From what little Barok could see, the name on the front was Kazuma’s. Then he turned to the other pile—which had to be Barok’s mail—and sorted it into two more piles.
…Three total piles of mail?
He rose and walked toward the parlor doors. Barok backed away from the door and ducked into a side room. Kazuma continued down the hall without noticing.
He was beginning to understand why, if someone had witnessed this, they would assume Kazuma was tampering with his mail. There had to be an innocent explanation for what he was doing, yet even Barok was at a loss as to what it could be.
Kazuma returned to the hallway carrying a steaming kettle and continued past toward the parlor.
More baffled still, Barok slipped back into the hall and crept to the parlor door to continue watching.
Kazuma began steaming open the sealed envelopes from the third pile of mail. He opened each letter and skimmed it. One of them was then returned to its envelope, resealed, and placed on top of Barok’s pile. The remaining group of letters, he picked up…
…and carried them over to the fireplace.
“Why are you burning some of my mail?!” Barok demanded.
Kazuma jumped and whirled around, letters still in hand. “W-What are you doing here?! You told me you wouldn’t be back for hours!”
As if he was the one acting suspicious here. Barok folded his arms. “I was attempting to clear your name after someone accused you of tampering with my mail.”
The other man’s cheeks flushed. “So you decided to spy on me? You don’t trust me?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Should I, when I found you secretly reading and presumably burning letters addressed to me?”
Kazuma flinched, and regret flooded Barok at his hasty words.
“I didn’t mean that,” he said quietly. He didn’t mistrust Kazuma. For all the suspicion and cynicism that had hounded him over the years, he couldn’t bring himself to believe he’d misjudged his apprentice. Learning to trust him had been such a long, difficult road, and he wouldn’t abandon it lightly. There had to be some logical explanation for this. “I just want to know what you’re doing.”
“I was just getting rid of the unnecessary letters,” Kazuma said.
“The… unnecessary ones?”
“That’s right.”
“Should I not be the one to decide which of my mail is necessary?” Barok took the letters out of Kazuma’s hands.
The other man reached out for them and tried to grab them back. “You don’t need to see them. You shouldn’t see them. Trust me, please.”
Barok stared at him, at a loss for words. He had expected his apprentice to get angry and shout at him over the perceived lack of trust. That pleading note in his voice struck him straight in the heart. All Kazuma wanted right now was his trust. He wanted Barok to trust that he knew what he was doing, that he had a good reason to burn those letters.
Something in his eyes made Barok pause. He was letting Marplot’s words get to him, even though his goal had been the opposite. Now that he had the letters, it would be so easy to examine them and determine the truth, but even doing that much implied he believed the accusation on some level.
He exhaled slowly and handed the letters back to Kazuma.
Kazuma’s eyes widened.
“I trust you,” Barok said quietly. “I only wish you felt you could confide in me about whatever this is.”
His apprentice gave him a sad smile. “If you think about it, you’ll probably figure it out. You must have wondered why none ever came.”
“What?”
Kazuma cast the letters into the fire without another word.
#
Those words troubled Barok as he looked through his surviving mail in the study. You must have wondered why none ever came. Today’s mail included a letter from Albert, a long-awaited response to a letter he’d sent to Naruhodo, an invitation to tea from Iris, and a letter about a charity event undoubtedly being sent to everyone in the Prosecutor’s Office.
He wasn’t expecting anything that wasn’t here. He couldn’t recall anything like that happening recently, either. In fact, there had been a marked improvement in his mail lately.
Wait.
Barok drew a sharp breath. For years, his mail had been filled with anonymous threats against the Reaper and condemnations of what people perceived to be his crimes. He had grown numb to it over time, but fortunately it had died down in the aftermath of his trial and finally stopped completely.
Or so he assumed.
He had anticipated the resumption of such letters once he went public with the truth about the Professor case, but none ever came. Now that he thought about it, that made little sense, unless…
Unless Kazuma was sorting through his mail each day to remove anything cruel or hateful before Barok could see it.
A pang ran through him. What had he done to earn such loyalty and protection from the man who had once tried to destroy him? He had grown to trust his apprentice, yet he hadn’t realized just how blessed he was. Perhaps the other man’s actions were technically wrong, but… Barok was tired. Tired of being hated, of being scorned, of being hurt by people who didn’t see Barok van Zieks the man. Kazuma invading his privacy was a small price to pay for never seeing those words again.
He rose slowly and returned to the parlor, where Kazuma sat on the couch staring into the fire. Countless emotions swirled inside of him, and he sat down alongside in him silence.
Kazuma spoke before he could. “I apologize for going through your mail behind your back.”
“No, it is I who should apologize.” Guilt troubled Barok more than ever in light of his revelation. “I should not have spied on you.”
“You had reason to. I realize I’ve overstepped my bounds. I won’t stop you from checking the mail next time.”
“There is no need for that. I… believe I understand what you’re doing, and I thank you. Despite how you come across at times, you are truly a compassionate man.”
Kazuma drew himself up with a frown. “What do you mean ‘despite how I come across’?! That’s rich coming from you of all people!”
Barok only smiled.
The other man’s expression softened into something a little more uncertain. “Even so… you might have a guess about what I’m doing, but you don’t know.”
“You’ve earned my trust.” Barok took a breath. “And that is precisely what I will say the next time anyone makes an accusation against you. As far as I am concerned, you hereby have the authority to handle our mail however you wish.”
Kazuma smiled and said nothing. Nothing more needed to be said.
They sat together, looking into the fire where the letters had burned.