The Attendant in the Horror Game C8

Chapter 8

“Ah—!”

A sharp cry escaped Ian’s lips as his small body pitched forward. His golden hair fluttered through the air, and for a fleeting instant, fear flashed across his blue eyes.

He felt his weight lift from the ground—his body floating helplessly in midair. Time seemed to slow, stretching thin until only that moment of terror remained painfully vivid.

He was going to die. Truly, this could be the end.

Perhaps this was the servant’s plan all along. Perhaps the mushrooms, the curtain, the feigned kindness—all of it had been part of some elaborate deception.

He should have known the moment the man spoke to him gently. There had never been anyone in Ian’s life who offered kindness without an ulterior motive. He had let his guard down—and now, at the edge of death, he realized too late.

“Ah…!”

He gasped sharply, the sound of his breath swallowed by a scream that caught in his throat.

He didn’t want to die—not like this, not so meaninglessly. He had survived this long just to defy his uncle’s wishes.

He had endured starvation and isolation, clawing roots from frozen ground just to keep himself alive—refusing to become a morsel for the wolves waiting to devour him. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—die here.

But his body had already lost balance. His light frame was plummeting toward the hard, cold stone steps below. His heart rose to his throat, and he clenched his eyes shut in anticipation of pain. Or rather—he tried to.

“Young Master!”

If Jade hadn’t lunged forward and reached out, Ian would have closed his eyes and surrendered to the impact.

Jade caught the railing with one hand and grabbed Ian’s arm with the other. But the momentum was too strong, the boy’s weight dragging him forward. The railing slipped from his grip.

“Damn—!”

In a desperate move, Jade wrapped both arms around Ian’s body, pulling him close. A rush of warmth—like the scent of forests and sunlight—filled Ian’s senses just before they both tumbled down the stairs.

“Ugh! Damn—ow!”

The sharp edges of the stone steps struck Jade’s back and shoulders as they rolled. He twisted his body to shield Ian, gritting his teeth as pain shot through his elbows and knees. They finally came to a stop halfway down, breathless and tangled together.

“Ugh…”

Jade groaned, forcing himself upright. His knees throbbed and his elbow was bleeding, but he ignored it and turned immediately to check on Ian.

The boy’s face was pale as he looked up at him, trembling faintly from the shock of it all.

“L-Let go.”

Ian wriggled out of Jade’s hold as soon as he regained his senses, though his legs gave out the moment he tried to stand. Jade wasn’t in much better shape—he simply sat down beside him on the stairs.

“Are you alright?”

“I… I didn’t ask for your help,” Ian muttered, biting down hard on his lower lip. His voice was brittle, laced with embarrassment and confusion. The warmth lingering on his skin from the man’s embrace unsettled him more than the fall itself.

“Ha. Is that so?”

Jade’s only response was a sheepish shrug. Then Ian’s gaze fell on the man’s arm. The ivory sleeve near his forearm was stained dark with blood—he’d clearly injured himself trying to catch him.

And yet, Ian himself was perfectly unharmed. Not a scratch. The realization made his chest tighten with something unnamable.

“You…”

“Yes?”

“…Never mind. I just meant—you could sleep anywhere.”

“It’s far too cold for that.”

Jade brushed off the injury like it was nothing, rising to his feet and dusting off his pants. Ian lowered his head, ashamed of his own thoughts.

He had panicked, truly believing he was about to die. How ridiculous. At worst, he would’ve broken a bone or two—not died outright.

“Let’s stay in the second-floor corridor instead!”

“……”

“It’ll block the wind better.”

He was right. The second floor was far warmer than the drafty lower hall. The thin partitions there would at least keep out some of the biting cold.

Ian had always slept on the first floor because it was easier to move his meager bedding—but now that Jade was here, that excuse no longer mattered.

“Alright…”

“I’ll set it up right away.”

The moment Ian nodded, Jade busied himself hauling the bedding upstairs. Calling it a “blanket” was generous—it was little more than a frayed piece of fabric. But against the cold, even scraps of cloth were precious.

“……”

Ian clutched the curtain still wrapped around him—the one Jade had insisted on earlier—as if it were a shield. He watched silently as the man worked, unable to look away from the blood seeping through his sleeve.

He wanted to tell him to clean the wound, but the words refused to leave his mouth. Instead, he ducked his head, burying his face in the curtain that still carried the faint scent of pine and warmth.

Jade arranged the bedding, a tablecloth, and spare curtains into a makeshift bed. It looked surprisingly cozy—nothing like the cold, bare nest Ian had used before.

Why?

The question echoed in his mind. Why had this man saved him? Was he naturally selfless? Impossible. He was a servant sent by his uncle—a pawn meant to watch him die, not protect him.

“Please, lie down.”

“Ah…”

Before he could protest, Jade gently guided him onto the bedding.

He was still shaken from the fall, and his exhaustion quickly took over. The next thing he knew, his eyes were heavy and the world was soft and quiet. It wasn’t as cold as before.

When morning came, the question still lingered unanswered.

Jade woke up at dawn and immediately started cleaning. Last night, exhaustion had knocked him out as soon as his head hit the floor.

Even in daylight, the northern sky was dim—gray and misty. The air smelled faintly of snow. He decided to start with the room Ian would use and the one next to it.

In his hand was the broom he’d obtained yesterday.

Exclusive Item Activated: Beginner’s Cleaning Tools (1)

>> Skill Unlocked <<
Lv.1 – Apprentice Cleaner’s Hand Movements

The blizzard outside had calmed, so he opened the window and began sweeping. A cheerful chime sounded, followed by a glowing message.

So the broom unlocked a new skill. “Apprentice Cleaner’s Hand Movements,” huh? At this point, the pitiful naming conventions of his skills were almost funny. Still, any help was better than none.

“Use skill.”

He pressed the command. Nothing happened. No light, no aura, no fanfare.

He sighed and tried sweeping again—and noticed something odd. Each motion of the broom grew faster, smoother, more efficient. His cleaning speed had increased by nearly 50%.

“Oh hey, that’s actually useful!”

For a Level 1 skill, it wasn’t bad. Practical, at least. But the moment he said it, the effect wore off.

He frowned and checked the fine print.

“Activation time: ten seconds. Cooldown: ten minutes.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He barely resisted the urge to snap the broom in half. Thankfully, the system chimed again before he did something stupid.

>> System <<
Lv.1 Apprentice Cleaner’s Hand Movements → Lv.2 Housekeeping Expert’s Gestures
Upon reaching Level 2, additional items will be unlocked!

“Haa…”

Even cleaning skills required leveling up now? And what the hell did “Gestures” mean anyway?

That “(1)” attached to his cleaning tools had been bothering him—it must’ve meant there were more versions waiting to be unlocked.

>> EXP <<
40 / 2,000

He stared. All that sweeping, and only forty points gained?

He swept again.

[EXP +5]

Each stroke of the broom gave him five experience points.

To level up, he needed to sweep four hundred times.

He exhaled heavily. At least it’s better than picking mushrooms, he thought bitterly—and immediately hated himself for thinking it.

“God, this is depressing.”

He was muttering to himself when something knocked against the window.

Not the one he’d opened—the other one.

“…”

A chill crawled down his spine. This was the third floor.

And then he remembered—this world was a horror game.

Ghost stories flashed through his mind: faceless spirits floating outside windows, restless souls that tapped from the other side of glass—like the Bean-Knocking Ghost from childhood tales.

“Hm-hm-hm~”

He hummed loudly, pretending not to notice, sweeping more furiously. But the knocking grew faster, louder, more insistent.

Dear god…

Thud.

“Ahhh!”

The window rattled violently. It sounded like it might shatter.

Finally, Jade forced himself to turn his head—slowly, creakily—gripping the broom tight in case he needed to swing it.

But when he saw the source, all the tension drained from his body at once.

“…Oh, for crying out loud.”

It wasn’t a ghost. It wasn’t even a monster—well, not exactly.

It was his monster, the one from yesterday, pressed pitifully against the window, eyes glistening with tears.

“Why are you out there?”

“Myaang! Myang! Kyahhh!”

The moment he opened the window, the creature leapt into his arms, trembling and covered in snow. Its small body was freezing to the touch, and its golden eyes were filled with fury.

“Myaaaak!”

The little beast flailed, gesturing frantically.

At first, Jade couldn’t make sense of it—but after a few minutes of watching, he pieced it together.

“So… you were sleeping and then…”

“Myaak! Myang!”

“…Ian threw you out the window?”

“Myang! Myang!”

The creature jumped in the air, as if to say Exactly!

Jade could only stare, half horrified, half speechless.

Footnotes

1. Bean-Knocking Ghost (콩콩 귀신) — A Korean folklore reference to nocturnal spirits knocking on doors or windows