“Something troubling you?”
A familiar voice reached my ears. My gaze, loose and unfocused from staring vacantly at nothing, struggled to sharpen as I turned toward its owner.
“What kind of trouble could steal your soul like that?”
A soft smile adorned his face, cheeks aglow with the red warmth of the hearthfire. I managed to gather my scattered thoughts, forcing a strained smile in return.
“Nothing.”
“Are you cold? You haven’t taken off your cape.”
His gaze drifted to the cape that trailed heavily on the floor. I lifted my hand and waved, dismissive his worry.
“I get cold easily, that’s all. Please, don’t mind me—”
“Then come sit here.”
He gestured toward a spot across from the fireplace. Right beside him, too close to my liking.
“…I’m really fine.”
I pretended to engross myself in a book, only to realize with a jolt of embarrassment that I was holding it upside down. Whether he noticed or not, he urged me again, a hint of amusement was hard to go unnoticed in his voice.
“Don’t be stubborn, come here.”
He wouldn’t let it slide, I could feel it in my bones.
I hesitated, then reluctantly stood and took the seat he’d indicated. As expected, he was within arm’s reach. While resting his chin on his hand, his eyes settled on me, patient and intent. My eyes glued on the page, using every fiber I have to not get affected by the fiery crimson eyes.
“I’ll begin reading where we left off yesterday,” I said. He replied with a small smile and a nod.
I cleared my throat, unnecessarily so, and began to read. Though my entire being was acutely aware of the closeness between us, I willed myself to concentrate on the written words.
One page turned, then another. Everything was progressing smoothly, until…
“Did you know…?”
His hand reached out, fingertips brushing the fingers I used to grip the book.
“Your voice…” He paused. His red eyes, ever vigilant, ensnared me in. “…sounds like a cat crying.”
I looked up and saw he had leaned in, closing the distance between to nonexistent. Too close, enough to feel each other’s breaths.
“I… I’ll continue reading.” A pathetic response stumbled out of my lips. His usual teasing was nowhere to be found.
“The book is just an excuse. You know it too.”
His eyes, smoldering with quiet intensity, burned through the cracks in my heart. They always did. Every time I resolved to keep my distance, those eyes tore down the walls like paper.
That was why, night after night, I sat this close to him. Even though that only meant reading meaningless pages.
“Or are you pretending not to know?”
“That’s not true. How could I ever…”
“You’re always repeating the same thing.” His stare, unwavering and fierce, pried at the truth I had long buried. “What I want is your heart.”
Could he see it? That more than anyone, I wanted to pour out the truth?
That I would’ve traded every memory I’ve ever had just to get back the face that was stolen from me?
“Say it. Say what’s really on your heart.”
But I couldn’t bear to go through it again. Nor could I make him go through it a second time.
So I hesitated, like a fool, even with him right before me. I clung only to the name he once begged me to remember and built my life around it, never once daring to say.
“…Your Highness, I…”
Because I knew what would happen if I said how I truly felt.
“Truly…”
Because we had already seen how it ended.
A harsh wind howled. Len shivered as the chill slipped through her thin clothes and quickened her steps.
‘Looks like a storm’s coming. What a shame, the Prince finally visits, but the weather turns foul.’
The Clint Ducal Estate, the most powerful noble house in the Empire, was vast—so vast that even Len believed its own master surely hadn’t seen every corner of it.
She clutched the bundle of laundry in her arms, shifting its weight as she walked. The servants’ chatter entered her ears, and she found herself picturing the Prince she’d seen at the banquet.
Kaelzeno, the firstborn of House Munis, had been selected as Crown Prince a decade ago and ushered into the palace early. It was said to be because the current Emperor could not have an heir due to the curse.
The curse of the Great Witch that had severed the Imperial bloodline stirred people in fury. But it had also brought a new hope, a new era.
“Our young master will become Crown Prince.”
“Who else could take the throne, if not our young master?”
The household wanted for their young lord to inherit the crown. On the other hand, Duke Clint seemed to hold no such ambition. Rather than reveling in the prospect of seeing his house ascend to royalty, the Duke appeared burdened. By sorrow, by a solemn sense of duty toward the fallen Imperial line.
His humbleness won the reverence of the servants, making him referred to as ‘a human god’ and ‘a god among humans’ in this small Empire.
“They might move the outdoor banquet indoors after all.”
“Pity. His Grace went to such trouble to welcome him.”
The mansion buzzed with preparations. The Prince had returned from the palace to celebrate his sixteenth birthday with a grand welcoming ball.
Len had been staying at the estate because of this, as she belonged to the largest dance troupe in the area. She had joined it as a child. Besides dancing, she had also done all sorts of errands for several years. Her youth drew scorn, and the hard labor drained her, but she never gave up.
She would have crawled barefoot from her hometown to the capital if it meant learning the finest dances.
“This should be it.”
She arrived at the outer quarter, the estate’s laundry annex.
Just like its name, the place was out of human touch, desolate and remote, barely visited. The air carried a haunting chill. Knee-high grass touched against her calves, rough and unkempt, leaving an unpleasant sensation. The stone walls exhaled a cold, uncanny breath, adding to the eerie atmosphere.
She shivered. But she had no choice.
Her seniors driven her out to the laundry, and these clothes had to be washed, dried, and ironed by morning. Tonight was her only chance.
“Let’s get this over with.”
Len marched forward, trying to shake off the creeping unease, and entered the innermost laundry room. When she put down the mountain of laundry, her entire body screamed in protest, but she had no time to waste. She immediately found a place to sit and focused on sorting the clothes.
With utmost care, she sorted delicate fabrics aside and heavily soiled garments doubled for later. She was making steady progress when—
Thud.
—A dull noise reverberated through the silence. The source seemed not too far from her.
A memory surfaced, gossip she’d heard from her fellow dancers.
They’d whispered that long ago, a maid had taken her life by hanging herself in a room around this annex. And ever since, strange sounds were heard from that room. Heavy and rhythmic thuds.
“It’s probably just her body swinging and hitting the wall,” someone had joked.
Everyone laughed it off, but too many had heard it so the room was sealed, and the annex abandoned soon after.
And the said room where the maid died was the left room beside the laundry room.
“…No, I must’ve misheard.”
Muscles stiff with fear, Len scrubbed more aggressively. Surely it was just the old building creaking. Just the wind, or warped wood groaning under its own age.
She tried to focus on the fabric, getting the stains out of the clothes. Just one more rinse and she’d be done. She just had to finish and hang the laundry—
Thud.
She stopped dead.
Her eyes were pulled, as if by force, to the left-hand room. Its door, cloaked in dust and shadow, stared back at her like an open grave. She held her breath without blinking.
The source of the sound was undeniably from there, and it definitely not from the wind nor a thing, but from something.
She felt like she wouldn’t be able to finish her work without checking, so she got up and slowly approached the door. The closer she got, the stronger the smell: rot and mildew.
Zero courage to open it, she opted to stick her head out and put her ear close to the door. All her senses were focused, but all she heard was a quiet stillness from beyond the door.
Maybe she really had imagined it.
Just about to step back—THUD!
A shriek escaped her lips as fast as she fled from the scene. A cold wind chased her, licking at her back. There was no way she dared to look behind her. She sprinted out of the annex, down the path, and didn’t stop until she was far, far away.
By then, she let herself collapse. Between her ragged breaths, she muttered as she scared out of her wits, “Gh… Ghost…”
Her legs were shaking, her heart thrashed so hard it felt like it would leap out of her mouth. Len no longer wanted to know what was on the other side of that door.
“I’m not… going back… never again…”
Muttering like one possessed, she staggered away.
Dark clouds were already blackening the sky from a distance.
In the pitch-black night, Len stood in front of the deserted annex again, with only a small oil lamp she had borrowed.
“There’s something there, I’m telling you!”
No matter how much she pleaded with the other dancers, their response was cold.
“Then what should we wear? Do you want us to dance naked?”
There was no other way. Her pile of laundry had been abandoned while she ran away, so it was up to her to go back and get it.
The rain was pouring down heavily. Boom—the thunder rumbled with an angry roar, and lightning occasionally flashed down like blades. The oil lamp flickered weakly, like it wouldn’t be able to hold long enough from the harshness.
“I’m not scared… I’m not scared…”
As if chanting a mantra, she steeled herself and slowly entered the annex.
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