The Attendant in the Horror Game C7

Chapter 7

“…I’m screwed.”

The words slipped from Jade’s mouth before he could stop them.

The shattered eggshell crumbled onto the floor with a dry crackling sound. The glossy black fragments dissolved into a faint, dark violet mist that soon vanished into the air. And nestled in Jade’s trembling arms, the newborn monster—still blinking open its eyes—slowly flicked its small tail.

“Myaang?”

The creature tilted its head and poked at Jade’s chest with its tiny paw, as if urging him to hurry up and serve it already. Jade’s vision darkened.

Sweat ran down his forehead as he looked up at Ian, who stood at the top of the stairs. One second. Just one damn second—and he’d stolen Ian’s destined moment. He shut his eyes tightly, then opened them again with a groan.

“Meow—!”

“If only I’d run faster…”

He muttered helplessly as the little creature in his hands wriggled, shaking off the pieces of shell that clung to its wings. Its movements were small, but purposeful—like it was already preparing to take its first steps into the world.

“What is that?”

Ian, having descended the stairs, frowned faintly at the creature in Jade’s arms. He didn’t seem frightened—just distinctly displeased.

“Kyah!”

The monster, catching sight of Ian pointing at it, raised a paw and swiped aggressively. Jade had thought Ian was catlike in temperament, but this creature was the real cat—literally.

It looked exactly like a small black kitten, except slightly plumper, with a pair of delicate wings sprouting from its back. It even twitched its triangular ears and flicked its tail like one.

“Kaah!”

“Whoa, no, don’t do that!”

Jade hastily lifted the creature into the air, holding it away from Ian. This was bad—very bad.

This was supposed to be Ian’s familiar, his dark companion, the monster that would grow strong feeding on his malice. Together, they were destined to bring ruin to the Linwood family and the empire itself.

Jade had read enough transmigration novels to know how this was supposed to go. Usually, the protagonist changed fate—tamed the villain, purified the evil, or rewrote destiny for a happy ending.

But he had no interest in that.

If Ian wanted to slaughter his family or turn into a warlord who ruled the empire with terror, that was Ian’s business. Jade just wanted to survive, avoid breaking the main storyline, and maybe find a way back home. He didn’t need a happy ending. He just wanted a stable paycheck and three meals a day—same as his last life.

And to achieve that, he needed this monster to recognize Ian as its master. Not him.

“Y-Young Master! Look at this thing, quickly! You have to see it!”

Jade turned the creature around, trying to force eye contact between it and Ian. If the recognition had been decided by a one-second difference, maybe he could fix it—just maybe.

But Ian’s expression remained flat. He didn’t even look particularly curious. Any other twelve-year-old would’ve been beside himself at the sight of a winged kitten, but not Ian. His face was indifferent, his lips barely moving.

Meanwhile, Jade was sweating bullets.

“Look! Its eyes—aren’t they adorable? Golden eyes! How rare is that, right?”

“……”

“And its ears, look at those little ears! Oh, and the wings! Can you believe this? A flying cat! Amazing, right?”

Jade kept going, desperate. But Ian only spared the creature a brief, unimpressed glance. His plump cheeks puffed slightly before he murmured with deadpan bluntness:

“It’s ugly.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Mya?!?!”

The kitten froze, mid-lick. Then its fur puffed up like a black dandelion.

“Kyahhh! Myahhh!”

“Wait, no—!”

The little monster lashed out, hissing and flailing its paws wildly in Ian’s direction. But Ian, unruffled, dodged each strike with cold, effortless precision. The tiny creature didn’t land a single hit.

This was a disaster. Not only had the monster bonded with him instead of Ian—it had now developed an active hostility toward its future master. And Ian looked like he wanted nothing to do with it.

“Alright, let’s just—uh—head back to the kitchen. We’ve got the supplies anyway.”

Jade quickly stepped in, trying to smooth things over before claws met skin. Hunger made everyone cranky; maybe a meal would help.

“Young Master, could you hold the monster for me? I’m running out of hands. It’s very gentle, I promise.”

He tried to pass the creature to Ian while juggling the sack of supplies.

But Ian ignored him completely—and the monster, as if offended by the mere suggestion, flapped its tiny wings furiously and hovered into the air.

“Kaak! Kak!”

So much for “gentle.” The little thing darted circles above them, screeching indignantly. For such small wings, it flew remarkably well.

And so the three of them—Jade with the creature perched on his shoulder, Ian trailing silently beside him—made their awkward return to the kitchen.

“Haha… would you look at that. It’s already evening.”

“Mya!”

The crimson glow of sunset poured through the frosted windows. The day had gone by faster than he realized. Between mushroom-picking, storage-hunting, and near-death blizzards, he’d somehow managed to make it back in one piece.

The northern sun dipped early, casting the snowy world outside in shades of rose and gold. For a brief moment, it was beautiful. But Jade had no time to admire it.

He moved efficiently, setting the pot and pan on the counter. Years of living alone had honed his survival skills—cooking simple meals was second nature. The only issue? The lack of ingredients.

Still, he scrubbed the old cookware clean, rinsing out years of soot and grime, and sliced the mushrooms neatly. It took nearly an hour of effort, but eventually, something resembling a proper meal came together—a simple, steaming mushroom roast.

He placed the dish on the table. Ian’s eyes flickered faintly—subtle, but noticeable.

“How is it? Does it taste good?”

Jade speared the juiciest mushroom with a fork and held it out to Ian, then popped one into his own mouth.

“……”

Ian didn’t eat right away. He glanced from the food to Jade and back, expression unreadable—uncertain whether to trust the man or the mushrooms.

“It’s good! Really good,” Jade declared, giving two enthusiastic thumbs up. “See? Not poisonous!”

It wasn’t bad at all, actually. Strange-looking, but savory. If only he had salt.

“It’s edible, right? Not too bad?”

“…Not terrible.”

Ian chewed quietly, nodding. His pale cheeks moved softly as he munched—round and doughy like mochi. For someone so thin, his face was surprisingly plump.

“Myaaa…”

The little monster lay sprawled on the table, one paw on its belly, staring mournfully at the food. Moments ago, it had been hissing like a demon; now its golden eyes were wide and pitiful, like a cat begging for scraps.

“…You want some too?”

“Mya!”

Its tail wagged as it chirped eagerly, squeezing its eyes shut in anticipation.

So it could understand human speech—somewhat. In the lore, the creature had grown intelligent enough to converse with Ian fluently. But it seemed the baby version only spoke “mya.”

“Pig.”

“Young Master!”

Ian’s dry insult made the creature bristle again, eyes flashing. The tension that Jade had hoped would fade over dinner only seemed to grow sharper.

“Kyahhh!”

“……”

Caught between the two, Jade quietly chewed his mushroom and decided to leave it to fate. Maybe tomorrow would be better.

After what barely counted as a meal, Jade set about finding a place for Ian to sleep. Not for himself—he could sleep anywhere—but Ian was still a child.

The space under the stairs, which Ian had apparently been using, was filthy and cold. There was no way he could let the kid sleep there.

“There’s not a single decent room left,” Jade muttered, tapping the dusty floor with his boot as he checked each one.

Every door he opened revealed the same chaos—broken furniture, torn curtains, and layers of dust so thick it was almost part of the décor.

But still, he refused to let Ian sleep on the floor.

“I told you, it’s fine,” Ian said curtly from behind him.

“How can it be fine when there’s a blizzard outside?”

“……”

Jade ignored the sharp tone and kept searching.

The previous attendants had all locked themselves away, terrified of the state of the place, never lifting a finger to help. Jade, on the other hand, was doing the exact opposite—checking rooms, fixing things, cleaning where he could.

“You should rest, Young Master.”

“I said it’s fine.”

Ian’s voice was cool, but his eyes betrayed wariness. He didn’t trust the servant’s sudden helpfulness. Why should anyone care about him now? There had to be a hidden motive.

And frankly, this attendant was annoying. He’d even wrapped Ian up in a curtain earlier because he “looked cold.”

He’d thought about sparing him for a few days because of the mushrooms, but the man was already proving to be a nuisance.

“Haa…”

A small sigh slipped from Ian’s lips, dropping softly onto the floor. He couldn’t understand how he’d ended up following the servant around like this.

Jade, meanwhile, was still wandering the hallways, muttering about “decent rooms” and “warm spots.” Ian turned away, intending to go downstairs and hide somewhere quiet where the man wouldn’t find him.

The curtain wrapped around his body trailed behind him awkwardly.

It’s warm, though, he admitted reluctantly, which only made him more irritated.

He was still grumbling to himself when—

“…!”

His foot slipped.

The long curtain hem tangled beneath his shoes. By the time he realized it, his balance was already gone.

The world tilted.

And Ian fell.