The Attendant in the Horror Game C10

Chapter 10

“Kyaaaak—!”

At Ian’s words, Soondol bared his teeth and hissed fiercely. Acting like a child, he thought furiously. The audacity!

What about him then? He was no ordinary human, that much was clear from the aura alone—yet he dared to pretend meek and harmless before that foolish servant? Disgraceful.

Even now, Ian was gripping his wings tightly to stop him from flying away, and yet just moments ago, he had the nerve to act pitiful, claiming he was “afraid of monsters.” Without even blinking.

Having witnessed that farce with his own two eyes, Soondol felt wronged beyond words. So wronged that he wanted to crawl back into his egg and never come out again.

“Kahhh…”

The golden pupils dilated, the gleam within his eyes darkening. A viscous violet mist began to ripple behind his black-feathered back, like a swamp seething to life.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Ian’s voice was calm and low as he opened his eyes. His expression was composed, but his gaze was frigid.

He had recognized the creature the very instant he’d seen it hatch.

It was a mind-type monster—one that manipulated the human psyche. Though Ian had never met one in person before, he knew well that the smaller they were, the more dangerous they tended to be.

Such creatures made hosts of humans. They appeared to follow and serve, but it was all deception. In truth, they invaded the mind—disturbing emotions, twisting memories, and burrowing slowly into the deepest recesses of one’s consciousness.

They could conjure hallucinations at will, trap humans in endless loops of fear, delusion, or forgetfulness—until their victims lost all sense of self.

And this foolish thing had tried that very trick while Ian slept. He remembered vividly the faint, irritating sensation at his ear as the monster attempted to claw into his mind.

But it had failed.

The reason was simple—he was of the Linwood bloodline.

The first head of the Linwood family had forged a contract with an ancient demon, and the power inherited by the family’s firstborn rendered them immune to such mental corruption.

Only the eldest of the bloodline could wield that inherited resistance—and Ian was precisely that heir.

The pathetic creature had no idea, of course. It had floundered for a while, then, realizing its efforts were futile, flew into a tantrum and fled.

Ian had caught it—and thrown it.

When it came crawling back, he threw it again. Then he locked the door for good measure.

“Kyaaaak—!”

The monster’s eyes flared red, its aura deepening to a vicious crimson hue. It was preparing to try again, but Ian only laughed coldly, his smile sharp as glass.

“The mistake,” he said quietly, “was thinking such a cheap trick would work on me.”

“Myaaaak—!”

Soondol’s shriek echoed as his small body went soaring out of sight once more. Ian puffed out his cheeks, unimpressed.

A monster that had lived for over a hundred years—called “cute” and “harmless.” His new servant clearly had no sense at all.

That egg had originally belonged to his great-grandfather, who had slain a Black Dragon and taken several items from its lair. Among them was this strange, undersized egg—too small for a dragon’s, and too mysterious to be of any apparent use.

So it had been left behind here, in the nearest Linwood estate—this very villa. Even Ian hadn’t expected anything to hatch from it.

Monsters that emerged from eggs were rare. They slumbered for centuries before awakening—no one could ever predict when or how.

What made this kind special was that they grew while still within the shell, developing thought and power long before hatching.

Once they found a being whose energy resonated with them, they hatched and latched onto that chosen host.

Apparently, this one had found Jade “suitable.”

“Soondol, honestly.”

The name itself was ridiculous. Hardly fitting for such a foul creature. He couldn’t stand it.

Besides, monsters didn’t even need to eat. That was why they could slumber in eggs for centuries. Watching this one beg for mushrooms and act adorable was nauseating.

“How did he even come up with that?”

The name didn’t sound like any language Ian knew. Was it some ancient dialect? Even he hadn’t yet mastered the old tongue. Perhaps this new servant, bumbling though he was, knew more than he let on.

And oddly, the monster’s psychic powers didn’t seem to affect Jade either. Given the nature of such creatures, it should’ve tried him first—but the man appeared completely unharmed. Worse, the monster liked him.

“…”

Ian lifted his gaze toward the third floor, where Jade was probably still cleaning.

A strange servant indeed. Kind, but suspiciously competent. Immune to a mind-eating monster. A man who cleaned obsessively, cooked well, and—most unsettling of all—had saved him.

Yes. That was who Jade was to him now.

“Phew…”

Jade exhaled deeply as he lay sprawled across the newly polished floor. After hours of sweeping, wiping, and scrubbing with torn rags, the wood gleamed faintly under the dim light.

He sat up, panting, and glanced at the floating display above his head.

Lv. 1 – Apprentice Cleaner’s Hand Movements
EXP: 625 / 2,000

Not bad for one day’s work. Six hundred twenty-five experience points meant he’d swung the broom over a hundred times already.

>> System <<
Room: Ian’s Chamber

It was now officially labeled as Ian’s Room by the system—no more “Dust Pit” appended at the end. The small victory brought an unexpected sense of pride.

But this was only the beginning.

No matter how much he scrubbed, it still didn’t look livable. The curtains were gone—he’d cut them up to make clothes—and the furniture was too decrepit to fix.

Still, during his exploration of the villa, he had spotted a few usable beds. Most were sagging or broken, but he could probably salvage one for Ian’s room.

“Man, what a miserable life,” he muttered. “Even in death, I’m still doing chores.”

His eyes flicked to the half-shattered chandelier above. Its fractured crystals reminded him of his old life—brief, fragile, and dim.

He had died at eighteen, freshly come of age, while working a part-time job. One moment he was carrying a stack of dishes, and the next—he had slipped.

Just his luck. His head hit first. Instant death.

He could still recall the dull ache, the dizziness, the spreading warmth as blood pooled beneath him. The metallic smell of it—the last scent of his life.

But he hadn’t felt regret.

If anything, he’d been… relieved. Rest, finally.

His parents hadn’t been kind people. They belonged in the kind of melodrama where villains wore human faces. Being their son had meant growing up in neglect and loneliness.

By the time he was in elementary school, he’d already been cooking and cleaning for himself. When he was thirteen, he came home one day to find the house empty—his parents gone without a word.

He had been too old for an orphanage, too young to live easily alone, and too stubborn to admit he’d been abandoned.

So he’d worked. Any job he could find. Washing dishes, hauling boxes, scrubbing floors.

And by the end, there’d been no one left to miss him—and no one for him to miss.

The only regret he could think of was the pay raise he was supposed to get next month.

“Anyway,” he sighed, pushing himself up. “Moping won’t clean floors.”

He clapped the dust off his hands and picked up the broom again.

Sitting still was dangerous. It gave your thoughts too much room to grow teeth. Better to keep moving.

Ian’s room was mostly done, so the next would be his own. After that, he needed to gather more mushrooms, maybe find something else edible, fix up a few broken shelves… there was always something.

“No time to slack off,” he murmured, glancing toward the rattling window.

A cold draft swept through the room with a shrill whistle, shaking the old window frame. Jade mentally added firewood to his list.

By afternoon, Ian’s chamber was tidy enough for use. Jade trudged outside into the snow to gather what he could for firewood.

He decided to put off cleaning his own room until tomorrow. The image of Ian shivering through the night still lingered in his mind.

Surprisingly, his broom had proven useful even outdoors. Without an axe, he’d used the broom handle to snap smaller branches and collect them in bundles. By the time he returned, his arms were full of twigs and kindling.

But when he tried to light them, they only hissed weakly and smoked. The snow had soaked the wood through.

Of course—he’d never lit a real fire before.

To someone raised in a world of heaters and stoves, this was an entirely new kind of challenge.

He did have a little lamp oil and whale oil, but not nearly enough to keep a fireplace burning. And without proper kindling, even that would be wasted.

He thought briefly of breaking down one of the old chairs for firewood, but his body felt too heavy to move anymore.

Beside him, Soondol trembled, his fur puffed up against the chill.

“Myaaaang… Myang…”

“Eh-choo! A-achoo!”

Jade sneezed violently, huddled by the cold fireplace. His body shivered uncontrollably, his breath coming out in pale puffs.

Heat burned behind his forehead; his throat was raw. Between cleaning with open windows and trudging through the snow for supplies, his body had finally given out.

He had forgotten one critical detail: this borrowed body—this “Jade”—was weaker than the one he used to have.

The frame was the same, the face familiar—but the strength was not.