Chapter 43 - Parallel Lines

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Chapter 43

 

 

It seemed the final rejection had completely shattered him. Vito lay on the ground, his body taut and trembling. His muffled sobs cut off abruptly.

 

Serg knew he had no right to say anything. He was just here for a transaction, a deal now forcibly cut short. He wasn't sure what hurt more—the argument between Vito and Taotie, or the uncertainty that lingered with the deal's collapse.

 

Taotie sat silently, nibbling on a cookie. He always ate with such care and deliberation, savoring every bite, but today his movements were slower, lacking his usual focus and delight.

 

Vito still hadn't gotten up. His brown curls quivered with his sobs, and Serg couldn't help but reach out to touch that hair—soft and unruly, like that of a big dog.

 

A chilly breeze crept in through the open door, making the air cold and tight, as if stealing the breath from the room.

 

"Ah! Taotie!"

 

A fluffy gray ball suddenly burst through the open back door, accompanied by a panicked cry.

 

The silence shattered like a glass cup hitting the floor. Taotie's usually calm expression twisted, and Vito, who had been limp on the ground, sprang up as if burned. They rushed to the table, frantically hiding all the food with clumsy hands.

 

Uh... Serg couldn't quite keep up. He stared blankly at the master and servant who had nearly parted ways moments before but were now working together seamlessly. Then his gaze turned to the fluffy ball rolling near the door.

 

The little ball let out a stream of pained whimpers. Though the words were Italian, Serg couldn't understand them. He only knew it was a clear, feminine voice—likely crying out in pain.

 

"Mr. Serg, this is Miss Migu."

 

Vito moved with practiced speed. Though his face still bore traces of tears, his eyes were puffy, and a faint smear of blood marred his forehead, he did not forget to introduce the ball of fluff lying on the floor.

 

"Migu?" Serg echoed, finding the name's peculiar sound somewhat amusing. He remembered she was one of the candidates.

 

"Yes, Miss Migu..."

 

After cramming all the cookies back into the oven, Vito closed the door. Serg noticed he snuck a quick bite of one.

 

"Mr. Serg, I think it's best if you keep your distance from Miss Migu."

 

"Why?"

 

Serg glanced at the fluffy ball, then at Vito's serious expression. He took a small step back.

 

"She's bad luck."

 

The response came in perfect unison from both Taotie and Vito. Serg couldn't help but laugh out loud, a sense of relief washing over him.

 

Even though the master and servant had nearly split ways not long ago, and despite Taotie's earlier sternness, their current, natural interactions made him happy.

 

This was the Taotie and Vito he knew. The heaviness from before must have been just a dream.

 

"No, I'm not!"

 

A small face peeked out from the ball of fluff. A delicate nose held up oversized, thick-rimmed glasses that nearly slipped off. Her round, bright eyes, as innocent as a fawn's, blinked hard twice.

 

"Migu."

 

Taotie naturally nudged Vito forward, then frowned and shook his head.

 

"Miss Migu, why didn't you contact Master when you arrived in America?"

 

Vito quickly stepped forward, helping Migu to her feet and patting the dust off her gray coat.

 

"I thought I saw cookies..."

 

Migu pushed up her glasses, her frown giving her a childlike innocence.

 

"You were mistaken."

 

Taotie and Vito once again spoke in unison.

 

Her glasses slipped down her delicate nose, and Migu hurriedly reached up to push them back.

 

"But I can smell them... I'm so hungry."

 

"Miss Migu, how about I make you a sandwich? Is there anything you don't eat?"

 

Serg couldn't ignore someone saying they were hungry—especially a young woman in fine fur, clutching her stomach pitifully.

 

"I eat everything! Are you Mr. Serg? I've been dying to try your pastries! Taotie told me about your skills so many times!"

 

Migu's face lit up with emotion as she stepped forward, reaching out to shake Serg's hand. She had barely taken two steps before her left foot somehow tangled with her right, and her petite body toppled forward.

 

Serg gasped and instinctively reached out to catch her. Before he could react, a strong arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him into a broad, warm chest.

 

The faint smell of sweat and the dry warmth of a hearth enveloped him—familiar yet foreign. His cheeks flushed crimson.

 

Migu had fallen to the ground again. Vito seemed ready to help her up, but his movements were a beat too slow. His fingers barely grazed the hem of her flying coat before Migu hit the floor with a thud.

 

"Ouch! That hurts!"

 

After a small yelp, Migu pushed herself up, clutching her reddened nose and muttering softly.

 

"Miss Migu, you need to be more careful when you walk!"

 

Vito pulled out a handkerchief, offering it to her with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

 

"I was careful! But I'm so hungry... Taotie, give me food."

 

Taking the handkerchief to hold against her nose, Migu started rubbing her stomach again, curling up like a kitten.

 

"Where are Celine and Peter? How could they let you run around alone?"

 

Vito glanced at Taotie, who gave a subtle nod. Only then did he grab a freshly washed cucumber from the countertop and hand it to Migu.

 

Migu let out a cheer, eagerly taking two big bites. Her blissful expression, as if she were savoring the finest delicacies, made Serg wonder just how long she had gone without food.

 

"I think I might have... accidentally lost them." Migu finished the cucumber quickly, scratching her soft chestnut hair and chuckling sheepishly. "I lost them... two days ago."

 

"If I may be blunt, you got lost again, didn't you?" Vito pressed his forehead, sighing deeply. "Miss Migu, you're incredibly lucky to have found your way here."

 

"Ah!" Migu yelped again, scrambling to the door and peeking outside. "Oh no! The taxi is still waiting! Taotie, I'm sorry—could you pay for me first?"

 

"Vito." Taotie hesitated briefly but still called Vito's name. Vito's sky-blue eyes brightened instantly, brimming with so much joy it seemed he might leap into the air.

 

"Yes, Master." Vito's steps were light as he turned to leave, his voice so lively he was almost singing.

 

Taotie scratched his cheek, his gray eyes wandering over the ceiling. Serg could hear him sigh softly, muttering in Italian under his breath.

 

"Phew! Good thing I remembered your address." Migu thumped her chest in relief, this time carefully slowing her pace as she walked to the table and pulled out a chair. "But I forgot the hotel's address and name. I wonder if Celine and Peter are really worried right now."

 

Taotie still held Serg close, his nose brushing against Serg's neck as he took in his scent. He merely hummed in response to Migu.

 

"Why aren't you talking to me? I didn't mean to do it last time! I know that piece took you six months of hard work... Ah! Taotie, don't be mad at me!" Migu's voice wavered with guilt. She puffed her cheeks and lowered her head, looking like a scolded child.

 

"It was eight months." Taotie finally responded, his displeasure unmistakable. "You shouldn't have entered my workshop. That was our agreement."

 

"I was just so happy! You know, I finally finished my poetry collection, and I wanted to show it to you!" Migu's lips pouted slightly. When she looked up, her glasses had slipped to the tip of her nose, making her resemble an adorably scatterbrained little girl.

 

"You shouldn't have entered my workshop." Taotie emphasized again, resting his chin naturally on Serg's shoulder as he held him.

 

"And you knocked over Master's pastries," Vito added, shutting the door as he returned from paying the taxi fare. "Three days in a row."

 

"Rosaline's fruit and nut cake, chocolate pie, peach shortbread..." Taotie murmured, his voice low and resentful. Serg could feel his frustration almost palpably.

 

"That's only because Taotie kept avoiding me! Mr. Serg, don't you think that's unfair? I just wanted to share my joy! It's my very first poetry collection!" Migu tapped her knees insistently, eager to pull Serg to her side as if they were long-time friends.

 

Serg didn't exactly feel troubled. Migu exuded a friendly, approachable aura, and her petite, adorable appearance naturally drew people in. He simply didn't know how to respond, so he offered her a gentle smile.

 

"Mr. Serg, Miss Migu is a renowned author, specializing in fantasy literature. Perhaps you've already read her works?" Vito kindly explained, his blue eyes briefly glancing at Serg's waist, still held tightly by Taotie, a subtle curve at the corner of his lips.

 

Embarrassment flushed Serg's cheeks. He nudged Taotie, but the man didn't budge, continuing to murmur other pastries' names in Italian under his breath, while his warm lips repeatedly brushed against Serg's heated neck.

 

It felt as if, having been interrupted from his "snack time," Taotie was seriously considering turning Serg into a substitute treat.

 

"I love writing poetry, really romantic ones! Like laying a thousand roses on a grave, accompanied by the calls of nightjars, paying tribute to the pale, withered bones..."

 

"Miss Migu, perhaps it's best if you didn't write poetry," Vito said earnestly, gently patting her fur-covered slender shoulder. "I'll contact Celine and Peter for you."

 

"Oh." Migu scrunched her nose and nodded, her doe-like eyes shifting to Serg, blinking curiously. "Taotie, is Mr. Serg sweet?"

 

The bluntness of her question made Serg so flustered he didn't know where to put his hands or feet. He stiffly pushed Taotie, but the strong embrace wouldn't budge. He had grown too accustomed to Taotie's closeness, and even to Vito's snickering as he pretended not to see. This was bad.

 

Taotie, who had almost been nibbling, suddenly paused, his habitual gesture of licking his lips after eating led his warm tongue to brush over Serg's sensitive neck.

 

"Miss Migu, the master doesn't like to be disturbed during meals." Vito looked quite serious, though Serg could hear the barely concealed amusement in his tone, making him even more mortified.

 

"Vito, that's not...!" Serg pushed Taotie again. The man behind him hummed softly, reluctantly loosening his grip, but his face remained nestled against Serg's shoulder.

 

"Ah! Sorry!" Migu jumped up from her chair, waving her hands frantically. "Taotie, don't mind me—go ahead and eat! I didn't see anything! I... ah—"

 

Somehow, her feet tangled up again, and Migu yelped as she tumbled into the edge of the long table.

 

"Is it okay?" Taotie's breath tickled Serg's ear, but the question left him unsure how to respond.

 

He almost missed the tense atmosphere between Taotie and Vito from earlier—it had at least spared him from facing such an embarrassing situation.

 

Blushing fiercely, Serg could only pretend he hadn't heard anything. His voice trembled slightly as he asked Migu, "Miss Migu, would you like to join us for dinner? Are you, like Mr. Taotie, a vegetarian?"

 

"I want meat." Rubbing her sore nose, Migu adjusted her glasses, her face full of anticipation. "Peter and Celine like meat too."

 

"No." The face resting on his shoulder shook slightly, and Serg's view was filled with the swaying of fiery red hair. "I hate the taste of meat."

 

"But... Mr. Serg should count as meat, right?" Migu tilted her head, giving Serg a once-over, speaking as if it were the most natural observation in the world.

 

"He's chocolate."

 

No... Serg smiled bitterly, his entire body burning red. He should be a human, shouldn't he?

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