“Agh, I’m so tired I could just die.”
The moment I returned to my room after finishing work, the complaint spilled out involuntarily. The massive pile of dishes had finally ended—but well past dinnertime. I’d never imagined there were so many different kinds of tableware, much less that each type had its own way of washing.
By the time I reached the last few dishes, I was so exhausted I almost cried. Honestly, I really might’ve broken down if Elizabeth hadn’t graciously let me pet her chin when she saw my empty, soulless expression.
At this point, I seriously wondered why I was even bothering with this struggle just to turn the Beast back into a human. Frankly, it made zero difference to me if Kalz was human or had a lion’s head. And above all, why was I the only one putting in effort when the person in question wasn’t cooperating at all? The more I thought about it, the angrier I got.
“This is seriously annoying. Isn’t the price for thinking he was cute a few times way too harsh?”
I grumbled as I changed into comfortable clothes. No matter how I thought about it, it didn’t add up. How could I possibly feel anything special toward such a petty jerk? With that thought, I glanced again at the checklist lying on my desk.
[Checklist: Are my feelings really THAT?]
□ Do I want to be with him 24/7?
□ Do I get curious when he’s out of sight?
□ Does being with him make me happy?
■ Does he look attractive or adorable to me?
□ Do I feel jealous if he’s close with others?
□ Do nice things remind me of him?
□ Do I rely on him in difficult moments?
□ Do I feel an urge to touch or pet him?
Reserve judgment until all criteria are met!
“Twenty-four hours a day? I can barely stand seeing his face for thirty minutes—we don’t even eat together anymore.”
I snorted at the very first item. The rest weren’t any better.
“Happy when we’re together? Maybe if I were some hardcore workaholic who gets thrills from being buried under endless chores. Reminded of him when I see nice things? If ‘nice’ means perfect opportunities to annoy him, sure. Urge to touch… Does wanting to punch him count?”
I double-checked the entire list but found nothing new to mark.
“Ugh, just as I thought—there’s nothing here.”
I’d wasted my time writing this stupid thing for nothing. Irritated and disappointed, I grabbed the corner of the page, fully intending to rip it to shreds. But my hand hesitated when my eyes caught one particular line.
■ Does he look attractive or adorable to me?
The single marked item—and the reason I’d created this list in the first place. No matter how angry I felt now, I couldn’t deny how genuine that initial feeling had been. After a long moment of hesitation, I set the tattered notebook down again. With a reluctant sigh, I picked up my pen and drew another small mark.
■ Do I get curious when he’s out of sight?
“We only fought a little. Does he seriously think it’s fine to just disappear? What a jerk.”
Great. So I’m the only one bothered by this. Irritated beyond belief, I threw down the pen and trudged wearily toward the bed.
Grrrowl.
The instant I lay down, my empty stomach loudly protested. Seriously, what awful timing—if my stomach had complained just a bit earlier, I would’ve ripped that checklist up without hesitation.
Grrroooowwlll.
It’s not like I hadn’t eaten; I’d shared meals with the other employees. But my stomach, already spoiled by lavish dinners, was throwing a tantrum after just a week of boycotting them.
“Sigh. Stop wasting energy. Just sleep.”
But sleep refused to come. Last night, even though I’d felt hungry, I’d still managed to endure and fall asleep. Tonight, however, the hunger was unbearable. Clearly, washing all those dishes really had been intense labor.
No matter how much I tossed and turned, my hunger only sharpened, making me vividly aware of my empty stomach. After several miserable hours, I finally accepted the truth—I couldn’t endure it any longer.
I bolted upright and quietly tiptoed to the kitchen. My plan was simply to grab a piece of bread or two and sneak back. However, an irresistible scent captured my attention the moment I entered the kitchen.
“What’s this smell…? Braised beef?”
The savory aroma, mouthwateringly familiar, was coming from the leftover pulled beef from Kalz’s dinner. My last shred of restraint completely snapped when I spotted the rice Elizabeth had soaked for tomorrow’s risotto.
“How did it come to this…?”
Before I knew it, I’d arranged freshly cooked, steaming-hot rice, reheated braised beef broth, and a quickly tossed salad of leafy greens onto the kitchen table.
This wasn’t right. I’d come here to sneak food, but the spread in front of me was far too extravagant.
Yet, all my guilt vanished like melting snow the moment a spoonful of rice soaked in savory broth touched my tongue.
“Oh my god, this is ridiculously delicious!”
I ended my short burst of admiration and focused entirely on my meal. Every spoonful was so delicious, I actually felt sad watching the rice disappear. By the time my sanity returned, every last crumb had been cleaned from the dishes.
“Phew, I feel alive again. Wait—what time is it? Crap, it’s this late already?”
Glancing at the clock, I saw the hour hand pointing straight up. I rushed to tidy up, quickly rinsed fresh rice to replace what I had used, and quietly slipped out of the kitchen.
“It’s fine. Just gotta make it back to my room,” I muttered reassuringly. But the moment my foot stepped into the dark hallway—
Rustle.
It was a sound I recognized, one that brought back memories I desperately wanted to forget.
Rustle, rustle.
It had happened on a night just like this, well past midnight.
Instinctively, I glanced out the window. Just like before, a vividly glowing full moon hung high in the sky.
Dammit. Why another full moon?
Rustle, rustle, rustle.
Even the steady repetition of the sound was identical, giving me a disturbing sense of déjà vu. The only difference was that last time, the noise had come from downstairs—but now…
Rustle, rustle, rustle.
…it was on the same floor as me. Realizing this made goosebumps ripple across my skin.
Strangely, though, despite the similarities to that terrifying night, I didn’t feel as afraid this time. Instead, a bizarre courage welled up inside me, as if I could directly face whatever was causing this fear. Was it because my stomach was full?
Taking a deep breath, I cautiously called out toward the sound.
“Hey… Is someone there?”
Rustle!
The rustling grew frantic, as if startled by my voice. Controlling my pounding heart, I forced myself to open my eyes wide. Right—no matter what, even if it really was a ghost, it wouldn’t kill me. Because then I’d become a ghost too, and wouldn’t it be awkward, the two of us haunting this cramped castle together?
While mentally babbling nonsense to steady my nerves, the noise gradually approached. Soon, something shifted in the shadows, drawing closer. Unable to endure it any longer, I shut my eyes tight and shouted.
“If you’re human or animal, come out now! If you’re a ghost, just leave!”
“…A ghost?”
The voice responding wasn’t a piercing scream or eerie laughter. Instead, it was a soft, mellow voice. Cautiously, I reopened my eyes.
Under the clear moonlight, I could distinctly see who stood there—a man with hair as white as snow and a face equally pale and delicate. When our eyes met, he tilted his head slightly and smiled warmly.
“If I’m not a ghost, can I come closer?”
“…Ah!”
He was beautiful! Judging from his voice and build, he was undoubtedly a man—but, as reluctant as I was to admit it, his face was the second-most beautiful one I’d ever seen. Naturally, the first belonged to Briel—mine, of course.
Snap out of it! If you let yourself be charmed by his beauty, he might drag you hand-in-hand straight into the afterlife. With renewed suspicion, I glared at him again.
“You’re really not a ghost?”
“Nope.”
“Then why are you wandering around here so late at night?”
“You’re here too, aren’t you? Wandering around this late.”
Well… true. Were you hungry too? Did you sneak out to grab some food?
Anyway, between his straightforward responses and his appearance, he didn’t exactly scream “ghost.” Quickly glancing downward, I saw his bare white feet clearly standing on the ground beneath his black pants. His fingers, peeking out from under his shirt sleeves, weren’t transparent or bloody either.
Was he really not a ghost? To dispel any lingering doubt, I cautiously asked another question.
“Then…who exactly are you?”
“…I don’t know.”
Suspicious! Isn’t that exactly what a lost spirit would say—one doomed to wander the earth without memories? Seeing my expression pale, the (presumed) ghost quickly shook his head.
“I don’t remember my name. But I’m certain I’m human, and I definitely live here.”
“That’s impossible. There aren’t any humans living in this castle to begin with…”
Wait—was it really okay to tell him this? Just how far did the confidentiality clause stretch? Would a ghost even count under its terms? As I hesitated, momentarily speechless, his lips turned downward, giving him a genuinely hurt expression.
“I’m telling you the truth. I was born here and have lived here all along.”
“All along? Until when exactly?”
“Up until my most recent memory.”
He probably didn’t realize it, but his words had essentially confirmed he was a ghost. This castle had been enchanted for nearly a hundred years—plenty of time for a living person to become a ghost. So, this man was probably…
A bound spirit.
He clearly didn’t even know he was already dead, assuming that earnest, sincere expression wasn’t some elaborate act.
“It’s strange. Whenever I open my eyes, it’s always nighttime, and no one else is ever around. It feels like I’m trapped in a dream.”
“Do you remember meeting me before?”
“Yes, I do. It had been so long since I last heard another person’s voice. I went to find you, but unfortunately, you fell asleep immediately afterward.”
Actually, I hadn’t fallen asleep—I’d fainted from sheer terror. But someone who only appeared at night, with no clear memories of their past? This practically confirmed it. Now was the time to gently reveal the truth to him.
