The cat, which had been lying limp and lifeless, slowly turned its head with a creak. It was only after hearing Sefiut’s words that Ries fully understood.
Just as he’d said, soft, glowing white light dotted the hallway.
Like decorations set up for a celebration, they sparkled and glimmered, dazzling and delicate. Of course, no one could see them except for Ries, Sefiut, and a few other spirits.
This is… definitely…
At the same time, buried memories surged to the surface.
The blinding white orb that had struck from behind during Edler’s possession of Averitt. The burst of light that shattered the binding orb.
He’d never once forgotten that scene. And the light trail before him now—the color, the energy—it all felt unmistakably familiar.
It was an easy conclusion to draw.
The ghost who’d been trailing him lately, acting oddly—and the mysterious figure who had once reached out to help in the past—were the same.
His guess had been right.
Ries followed the trail as if in a trance, his steps aligning with the gentle glow on the floor, warming the soles of his feet.
After walking quite a distance, they eventually arrived at a familiar place. Sefiut, floating beside him, looked around.
— Here again.
The musty scent of mold greeted them at the foot of a staircase.
The attic room of the manor—one they’d visited twice before—stood before them.
It was the same room Justyn had spent most of his childhood in. He’d once said it felt more like a prison than a home.
The only thing that had changed was the figure now standing there.
A woman, gazing endlessly at the tightly closed attic door, her form faint and translucent. Through her ghostly body, the shabby wooden door was clearly visible.
— I never… wanted this.
A voice, choked with emotion, drifted toward them.
It was hard to tell whether it was a quiet lament whispered to herself, or a faint cry barely restrained—desperate for someone to finally hear it.
As Ries stood frozen, staring at her back, the woman slowly turned her head.
“……?!”
He stiffened. Every muscle in his body tensed in an instant.
Long brown hair tied into a single braid. Eyes the color of a rose-tinted sunset. Refined and graceful features. But that wasn’t what had surprised Ries.
— Hello, Ries.
Her eyes, her smile—they reminded him of someone else.
— I’ve wanted to talk to you for a long time. I didn’t expect you to come looking for me yourself… but I’m glad we finally get to meet.
“……”
— I’m Hillein. Hillein Laufe.
A monumental realization crashed over him.
Sefiut, who had also been holding his breath, exhaled and muttered like he couldn’t believe it.
— You… you were Justyn Laufe’s birth mother.
The woman gave a gentle nod.
Hillein Laufe. Said to have died before Justyn was even born—his biological mother.
On the surface, there didn’t appear to be much resemblance between the two. But that was a conclusion only someone who hadn’t spent time with Justyn could make.
Ries, who’d spent a long time at his side and often passed time by studying his master’s face, could easily pick out the similarities.
The arched brows. The slender eyelids. The sharp, clear eyes. And most of all, their smiles. The way their eyes curved when they smiled—it was nearly identical.
Not to mention her name—Hillein.
Familiar.
As if he’d heard it somewhere before.
He rifled through his memories, starting from the most recent and working backward, digging through the layers until he found it—
— Hill… lein…
That moment when the wraith, its body crumbling to ash, had whispered a single name with its dying breath.
The very last thing to fade were its eyes, filled with deep longing and regret.
It felt like a puzzle piece he’d long believed lost had finally clicked into place.
After losing his wife, Edler had twisted his grief into something monstrous and placed a terrible burden on their child.
He’d turned Justyn’s early years into hell.
If the person Edler clung to and resented even after death was his son—then in reverse… the one he couldn’t let go of, the name he’d cried out until the very end… had to be her. His wife.
And now, she stood right in front of him.
What kind of love must it be, Ries wondered, to crave it even at the cost of becoming something ugly and cursed?
That faint smile on her face stirred an oddly philosophical question inside him.
— Yes. I…
But before he could go any further with that thought, all the swirling noise in his head suddenly went quiet. Ries stared up blankly at the ghost who called herself Hillein.
— I’m that child’s… I’m Justyn’s mother.
Her expression was somber, and her voice barely a whisper, as if it could vanish at any moment.
It was that voice that caught Ries’s attention.
After learning to distinguish those who harbored ill will toward Justyn, he’d realized something: no matter how much someone tried to hide it, raw emotions always bled through.
And those who hated his master all shared common traits—an obsessive gleam in their eyes, unnaturally steady breathing, faintly agitated tones.
But this woman had none of that. Not even a trace.
She really doesn’t seem to hate Justyn…
Up until now, Ries had only met two of Justyn’s blood relatives: his father Edler, and his uncle, Averitt.
Perhaps that was why he’d assumed—wrongly—that Justyn’s mother wouldn’t be any different.
That even though he was her own child, the one who took her life, she might resent him more than either of the others.
But that was pure speculation.
Her translucent face held not even a speck of malice. Without realizing it, Ries blurted out the question.
“Mrr… nyoww?”
(Don’t you… hate Justyn?)
The response was immediate—and intense.
— What?! Of course not!
“Mroww…!”
She practically shouted, shocked beyond belief—as though he’d said something utterly unforgivable.
The calm voice, the elegant smile, the air of sorrow she’d worn just seconds ago—completely gone.
Ah, right… I forgot.
He remembered the sharp shriek that had pierced his ears when he’d grabbed her by the hem of her dress.
Was it… “Kyaa!” or something like that?
It hadn’t matched the image she’d presented at all—but now it made sense.
…Not that he’d wanted to see this side of her, but still.
As if giving up on appearances entirely, Hillein plopped down onto the dusty floor barely minutes later.
Ries eyed her wrinkled dress with distaste. Sure, it couldn’t actually get dirty since it wasn’t physically real, but still—it looked… off.
As his tiny feline face contorted with reluctant amusement, Hillein lowered her head and muttered miserably.
— I’m… I’m a sinner. I don’t even deserve to hate him…
Sefiut tilted his head.
— A sinner? Why? You don’t seem like someone who’d abuse their child or accuse them of crimes they didn’t commit like Edler did. You’ve been quiet ever since being bound to this world.
— …Edler.
Her expression twisted. Her voice trembled with long-buried fury.
— I can’t forgive him. I don’t want to forgive him. I hate him.
— …
— My son. The child I carried and gave birth to… He was cursed, yes. But Justyn was so small, so precious, so beautiful. I know—because I saw him. Not with my own eyes, maybe… but I saw him clearly nonetheless.
— …So that’s how it was.
Sefiut’s voice dropped to a murmur. By then, Ries had also more or less pieced everything together.
After a brief hesitation, he changed forms. His body glowed for a split second, as if drawing in the ambient light, then took on his human shape.
“You’ve stayed here all this time… because you wanted to see Justyn, haven’t you?”
After spending this much time around spirits, Ries had grown used to them—against his will, admittedly. And in doing so, he’d learned a great deal.
What bound them to this world were all kinds of lingering regrets.
Many stayed out of hatred—to kill, to seek revenge, to drag others down with them. But there were just as many who lingered for love.
Parents worried for their children. Friends who wanted to watch over someone left behind. Lovers who couldn’t bear to see their partner give up on life because of them.
And sometimes…
A soul would remain, having never seen the face of the child they gave birth to—because they simply couldn’t move on without that one glimpse.
When Ries asked the question, Hillein lowered her head again.
— …Yes. I wanted to see him. Even just once. I couldn’t let go because I never got to…
“……”
— Then I wanted to hear him babble. After that, I wanted to see him roll over. Then crawl… walk, talk, smile.
Every word was drenched in warmth and guilt.
Which made it clear—
What had chained Hillein to this world… was love.
The parental love Justyn had been so certain he had never received.
