By Zephyria 
Chrissy stared at Nathaniel with a displeased expression.
“Don’t tell me you’re trying to hold me responsible for that now. Let me be clear: you brought that on yourself. It would be problematic if you can’t remember how you ended up injuring your leg.”
Chrissy shut his mouth, thinking that if Nathaniel said one more word, he would recount every single detail of what had happened back then. Despite his high guard, Nathaniel unexpectedly let out a smirk, the corner of his mouth curling up. As a flustered Chrissy blinked, Nathaniel leisurely brought his wine glass to his lips.
“Don’t worry, my memory is quite good.”
After saying that and taking a sip of wine, Nathaniel began eating first. Chrissy felt a bit deflated that the situation had ended so anticlimactically, but he couldn’t linger long. His time to head to work was approaching. As Chrissy silently began to clear his plate, no sound filled the space between them for a while, save for the occasional clink of cutlery.
Maybe this is better.
Thinking this, Chrissy focused on pushing the food into his mouth. In his head, he went over the tasks for the day, the new trial he was handling, and how he would track down those bastards to make them pay for their crimes.
It was nearly the end of the meal when he felt something strange. Turning his head instinctively, Chrissy found himself locking eyes with Nathaniel.
…What is it?
Chrissy stared back at him, feeling his brow furrow involuntarily. Since when had that man been looking at him like that?
The realization that he had been under constant observation made him uncomfortable. Moreover, even though their eyes met, Nathaniel didn’t look away; instead, he brazenly continued to stare. Chrissy glared back out of sheer stubbornness, but in the end, he was the one who grew tired first.
“What? If you have something to say, say it.”
When he spat the words out in an irritated voice, Nathaniel finally averted his gaze and replied shortly.
“Nothing much.”
Hah.
Chrissy was speechless, but Nathaniel, indifferent to his reaction, finished the rest of his wine and stood up. Watching him walk toward the dishwasher with a piece of used tableware in each hand, Chrissy looked on in bewilderment, then suddenly shifted his gaze to the man’s leg. He seemed to be walking normally, but if one watched closely, it was apparent. He was limping ever so slightly on one side.
You brought it on yourself.
Sitting in his office and staring at documents, Chrissy recalled the same thought from earlier. Even if a permanent disability remained, it wasn’t his fault. It had been self-defense. Chrissy felt no guilt about that.
…However.
There was something else on his mind. The gaze he felt at the dining table hadn’t been an illusion. Even in the car on the way to work, Nathaniel had stared at him with a peculiar look. Though he had demanded again that the man speak if he had business, the answer remained the same.
‘Nothing much.’
Recalling that indifferent face made Chrissy’s anger flare.
“What do you mean ‘nothing much,’ you damn bastard.”
He spat out a curse while crumpling an innocent document, but that didn’t soothe his frustration. Eventually, he pulled a cigarette from his drawer and put it in his mouth. Only after several drags of smoke was he finally able to shake off the distracting thoughts.
I wonder how that matter is progressing.
Waiting was always nerve-wracking, but he had no choice but to endure. Vowing that he would settle things—even if he had to strangle Nathaniel Miller—once a week had passed, he spent another day.
“…….”
Nathaniel stood in silence, peering into the closet. To be precise, he was looking at the prosecutor who was curled up tightly inside.
“…Again?”
He murmured in a low voice, then quickly fell silent. The prosecutor was trembling, his entire face drenched in tears. Staring blankly at Chrissy, who looked up at him in terror, Nathaniel silently leaned down and scooped him up. As he carried the stiffened body in his arms, Chrissy began to sob.
“I’m sorry, I was wrong… please don’t, please don’t….”
“I won’t,” Nathaniel said bluntly. “I’m not going to do anything, so stop crying.”
With those words, he strode forward. His destination was set. He went to his bedroom, laid Chrissy down on the bed, and covered him with the sheets. Even then, Chrissy was trembling, his entire body tense.
“It’s okay, so go to sleep now.”
Nathaniel said this while stroking his forehead. After that, Chrissy would blink blankly and gradually relax his body. Then, shortly after, he would let out a deep sigh and fall asleep.
This had been repeating for three days now. When night fell, Chrissy would have a panic attack, cry, and crawl into the closet. Nathaniel would take him out, bring him to his room, lay him on the bed, and tell him it was okay. Only then would Chrissy close his eyes and sleep peacefully.
Though this had been happening for three days, the cause remained elusive. The background check on Chrissy had been completed long ago. Nathaniel had ordered another investigation, but the results were the same.
Biological father was an Alpha, biological mother was an Omega. The Alpha, who already had a family, had shot and killed Chrissy’s mother for fear that his affair would be discovered. Orphaned, Chrissy was adopted into a childless home and grew up there; after entering college, he moved out and had maintained occasional contact until now.
It was a profile with absolutely nothing special about it. Cases where one biological parent kills the other and goes to prison, leading to the child being adopted, are common. From what he had found, the adoptive parents were also normally good people. Deeply religious and active in volunteer work, they were a picture-perfect middle-class couple with an excellent reputation.
But perhaps that was only the surface.
There were frequent stories of people who seemed peerless in their kindness but were actually domestic abusers or serial killers. One could never know what was happening behind closed doors.
Was it trauma from his biological parents, or abuse from his adoptive parents?
Nathaniel narrowed his eyes as he looked down at the deeply sleeping Chrissy.
Perhaps, both.
“Can you just stop looking at me like that?”
On the morning of the fourth day, Chrissy finally exploded. Was there anything more unpleasant than being stared at as if one were a specimen? Nathaniel had been doing this for four days now. From the perspective of the one being watched, it was, quite literally, a ‘disgusting’ feeling.
In contrast, Nathaniel simply watched Chrissy’s outburst without any change in expression. Without averting his gaze, Chrissy glared at the face staring back at him and waited. He decided that if the man uttered something like ‘nothing much’ again, he truly would not tolerate it any longer.
“…Do you.”
As Chrissy waited, ready to attack, Nathaniel slowly opened his mouth.
“Tend to dream a lot?”
“What?”
At the sudden question, Chrissy asked back instinctively. What on earth was this about? While he blinked in confusion, Nathaniel continued in his usual, deliberately slow manner.
“I was wondering if you often have nightmares.”
“What… what does that have to do with anything right now?”
After staring at him like a curiosity, this was all he had to say. Chrissy was so appalled that irritation surged within him.
“Is the lawyer business not going well? Have you decided to pivot to being a counselor now?”
He spoke with heavy sarcasm, but there was no change in Nathaniel’s expression.
“Tell me, what kind of dreams do you have?”
Ignoring the sarcasm, Nathaniel repeated the question, and Chrissy snapped back harshly.
“I don’t dream. If you’re going to do some cliché Freudian analysis, find another job. You don’t seem to have the talent for it.”
Surprisingly, Nathaniel let out a small laugh at the continued sarcasm and returned to his meal. What is wrong with this guy? Just as Chrissy was cursing him inwardly in disbelief, it happened.
Nathaniel suddenly muttered something. It was a soliloquy in a voice much lower than usual, so at first, he didn’t catch it properly. He only suddenly understood those words after he had just arrived at his office.
Does he really not remember?
Chrissy, who had just set his briefcase down on the desk, froze in place. What did that bastard say? He frowned and searched his memory, but nothing came to mind.
“Hah, seriously….”
With a frustrated sigh, Chrissy ran a hand through his hair. Only after smoking two cigarettes in a row was he finally able to clear his mind of the distracting thoughts.