Obedient Only to Me! Sir Knight - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Lowie pulled out a thick bundle of cash to pay for the sword. The wad of bills that spilled from his pocket was enough to feed a common family for a month, and Ban’s eyes widened at the sight. Now that he thought about it—Lowie had also paid by himself back at the slave market yesterday. Surely no one would dare harm a nobleman in the middle of the city, but still, Ban instinctively grew more alert, scanning the surroundings with quiet caution.

“Hm, yes. Now that you’re holding a sword, you look the part.”
“Thank you.”

With his tall, solid build and now a blade strapped to his waist, Ban indeed looked quite imposing… even if the sword itself had cost less than a tenth of a jeweled pasta tong.

“Still, it’d be better if you had a finer sword.”
“This will do just fine.”

Ban shook his head. And truly, it would. But Lowie seemed unconvinced. The blacksmith had mentioned that good blades had to be custom-made in the neighboring kingdom of Marzen—Seraphila, after all, had no forges that specialized in weapons.

Well, who would come to a resort island just to buy a sword?

The explanation made sense, but Lowie still looked dissatisfied, his eyes lingering on Ban’s blade with disapproval. It just didn’t look impressive enough. Perhaps it was because he’d seen the price tag on the pasta tongs earlier, but somehow, they seemed more elegant.

“Well, can’t be helped. Let’s go buy clothes next. Once we’re back on the island, we won’t be coming out for a while.”
“The island, my lord?”
“Didn’t I mention? We have to take a boat to get there.”

That was all the explanation Lowie gave. Ban assumed it must be one of those noble leisure islands and didn’t question further. Soon, Lowie dragged him into a clothing boutique—the one the blacksmith had recommended after noticing Lowie’s disappointed pout over the lack of sword holsters.

Thankfully, Lowie knew much more about fashion than he did about weaponry. He fussed and commented freely—“Pretty,” “Not pretty,” “No, that collar’s hideous”—until Ban found himself dressed in fine, tailored shirts and trousers that fit him perfectly. With the luxurious fabric hugging his form, he looked less like a slave and more like a noble knight. Lowie beamed proudly.

“Oh my, sir knight, what a physique! My lord, how about this vest? If we tighten it around the waist, it’ll make his chest look just right!”
“Ah—yes, I’ll take that too.”

The shopkeeper clearly knew which customer to charm. She kept presenting new outfits to Lowie, who nodded eagerly at every suggestion, while Ban reluctantly stepped in and out of the fitting room again and again.

Only after being fully adorned, almost to the point of resembling a golden mannequin, did their shopping spree end. Both of Ban’s hands were overflowing with shopping bags. When he saw the total cost, he instinctively bowed under their weight—out of both shock and servility.

“My lord, this is far too much. These clothes could last a lifetime—more than that—”
“Haaam…”

Lowie didn’t respond. His energy had finally run out.

From boarding the boat in the morning, to visiting the slave market, to eating desserts, and now shopping—it had been a long day. For Lowie, who wasn’t exactly used to physical exertion, it was an impressive display of stamina.

His steps began to drag, and seeing this, Ban stepped closer and extended an arm, escorting him with quiet composure. Dressed in his fine jacket with a sword at his waist, Ban truly looked every bit a gallant knight.

“Carry me.”

Lowie spoke suddenly, impulsively. He’d never been carried before—not as a child, not ever. The thought just came to him, and once it did, it refused to leave. Ban, without hesitation, knelt slightly.

“Please wrap your arms around my neck.”
“Why? Are you going to drop me?”
“Of course not.”

Still, he waited until Lowie’s arms looped around his neck before he began walking again, holding all the shopping bags in one hand as if they weighed nothing.

He’s… surprisingly steady.

Though Lowie was no lightweight, Ban carried him effortlessly.

Being carried is… really comfortable. I don’t even have to walk. And… he’s warm.

Resting his head against Ban’s shoulder, Lowie let his eyes drift half-shut. The new clothes Ban wore covered his neck well, but from this angle, Lowie could still see the unsightly restraint collar.

I’ll definitely have to make him a new one.

One that could make him kneel… lower his head… and carry him, too.

And I’ll have him cut my pie again.

The memory of Ban’s careful hands slicing pie came to mind, and Lowie giggled softly to himself.

“Where should I go, my lord?”
“Mmm, that building there.”

Lowie pointed toward a red-brick building at the end of the street. Ban nodded and walked on, steady and sure. The gentle swaying on his back soon lulled Lowie to sleep, a faint smile still lingering on his lips.

The place Ban carried him to was the finest inn in the district. While Seraphila’s capital was Serren, its most prosperous city was undoubtedly Seto—the grand port city where nobles, weary of nature’s calm, gathered to indulge in luxury and excess. It was a city built solely for pleasure.

Lowie owned a manor here as well, though no one ever expected him to actually live on that isolated island of his. The servants his family had sent him all resided here in Seto. Still, Lowie had never once set foot in that manor. Not because of any tragic reason—he simply couldn’t stand the nagging.

“Welcome back, my lord.”
“Hello.”
“Your usual suite is ready for you.”

And so, Lowie stayed at this inn instead whenever he came ashore. He didn’t visit often, but each time he did, he spent lavishly enough that the staff remembered him well.

A polite attendant guided them upstairs. Even with Lowie dangling lazily on Ban’s back, the attendant’s expression didn’t waver in the slightest. That was exactly why Lowie preferred inns like this to his family’s manor—no questions, no lectures.

“Please rest well.”

Click. The attendant left with a final bow, closing the door softly behind him.

“I’m going to sleep.”

Lowie slid down from Ban’s back and immediately collapsed face-first onto the bed. He burrowed into the blankets, wrapping them tightly around himself like a cocoon.

Ban watched for a moment, then glanced around the room. It was a spacious suite with a sitting area, a bedroom, and an adjoining chamber. Every piece of furniture gleamed with luxury.

He’d already gathered that his new master was absurdly wealthy, but standing here among such finery only made him feel smaller. Having once lost everything to money, Ban couldn’t help but tread carefully.

Hopefully he won’t make me pay if I dirty the carpet.

Thankfully, Lowie had bought him new shoes to match his new clothes, so even that worry was unnecessary. Ban began to unpack their things carefully—most of which, embarrassingly, were his own new garments.

Will I ever even wear all this?

They’d bought so many formal suits it was ridiculous. Enough to attend ten royal banquets—and given the price, maybe even one every day for a year. Ban’s hands grew even more cautious.

Knock, knock.

A polite knock sounded before a staff member entered again, delivering more clothes—formalwear from Lowie’s manor. Ban accepted them with a nod and resumed organizing.

“My lord, they’ve brought some more clothes from your residence. Perhaps you should—my lord?”

He must be exhausted.

On the way here, Lowie had been swinging his legs on Ban’s back like a delighted child, but after a while, he had gone quiet, his body heavy with fatigue. Now, seeing him immediately collapse into bed without so much as changing, Ban realized just how tired he was.

Still, he ought to wash up, at least. Ban hesitated, stepping closer to the bed.

“My lord?”
Sniff.

Ban froze. Had he heard that right?

Sniff.
“……”
Sniff.

Why… why was he crying?

Sniff, whimper…
“……”

Ban’s eyes darted nervously. This was new territory. He’d never been a slave before—what was he supposed to do when his master cried?

While Ban circled the bed in confusion, Lowie lay under the blankets, silently sobbing. His head throbbed, his limbs felt like lead, and a suffocating heaviness pressed down on his chest.

Just get through the night.

The nights were always the worst. Every time darkness fell, the melancholy returned.

Blessed with enormous magical power, Lowie’s mind was naturally strong—resistant even to most psychic or illusionary spells. Which made this—this crushing sadness—all the more alien.

I just need to sleep.

But his mind wouldn’t quiet. His thoughts drifted back to earlier—to the sweet things, to the laughter.

The ice cream was good. The cake, the pie, too.

He tried to recall the taste, but all that lingered was the salt on his tongue—the taste of tears. Ice cream, pie, cake, cookies…

Ice cream…

He forced himself to picture it—cold, sweet vanilla melting on his tongue. But even that image melted away like tears.

Tears were… sad things. And sadness returned in waves, crashing, relentless.

I have to sleep.

He squeezed his eyes shut. The tears kept falling. The long night had begun again.

Sniff.

Ban stared at the small lump under the blankets. The cocoon was wrapped so tightly that only a tuft of silver hair peeked out from one end. Slowly, the mound squirmed toward the center of the bed and curled up even smaller until even the hair vanished under the covers.

Sniff.

Only the sound of quiet sobs and the occasional trembling hinted that someone was beneath. Ban shifted awkwardly.

Sniffle. Sniff.
“……”
Whimper.

The crying didn’t stop. It only grew louder.

Hic, hic.

Now hiccups too. Even children didn’t cry like this. Ban stared helplessly at the mound.

He was smiling just hours ago…

Over something as small as an ice cream, Lowie had smiled so brightly that it lit up the world. That soft expression had been like sunlight—so warm it made Ban unconsciously smile with him. And now…

Sniff, sniff.

Now, all he wanted was to cry alongside him.

What should I do?

He had no idea how to comfort a master. But… he did know how to soothe a child.

Hic, sniff… hic.

Ban looked down at the trembling blanket, took a slow breath, and finally spoke.