The Attendant in the Horror Game C11

Chapter 11

“Cough, cough—hah.”

Jade groaned, clutching his chest. He missed his old body—the one honed by years of hard labor, lined with firm, lean muscle. Now, after just two days of menial work, he was already sick. How was he supposed to survive the harsh northern winter like this?

“……”

He felt a gaze on his cheek and turned his head. Ian was there.

Usually, the boy kept a cautious distance, always alert and wary. But now, perhaps because Jade no longer seemed threatening in his weakened state, that distance had shortened. It felt as though a faint wall between them had finally begun to crumble.

I really am pathetic.

When he’d jumped in to save Ian yesterday, he hadn’t thought—his body had simply moved on instinct. He’d been genuinely relieved to see the boy unharmed.

Still, a small part of him hoped that act had at least earned him a sliver of goodwill. After all, he needed Ian’s favor if he was going to avoid being killed by him.

Would he really kill me?

Two days had passed in this villa. Five remained. According to the story, Ian was supposed to kill him on the seventh day.

But the same boy who now sat beside him—quietly, almost like a curious puppy—was difficult to imagine as a killer. Those wide, innocent eyes didn’t belong to a future murderer.

“I’m fine, really—ah, achoo! Khhm.”

He tried to sound lighthearted, but the sneezes kept interrupting his words. His forehead burned; a dull ache spread across his skull. His body felt heavy, his limbs sluggish, and his muscles throbbed as though stuffed with lead.

“I didn’t ask.”

“Haha, I know. I just didn’t want you to worry.”

Jade smiled sheepishly. For someone claiming not to care, Ian had been hovering nearby for quite some time now. His feigned indifference was almost endearing.

“Cough, cough.”

It was definitely the flu. After trudging through snow for two days and taking on every chore from cooking to cleaning, it was inevitable.

His vision began to swim. Even blinking felt slow. If only the villa were a little warmer…

“……”

When Jade’s coughing fit worsened, Ian leaned closer, studying him intently. Then, with a small, tentative hand, he reached out and touched Jade’s forehead before pulling back just as quickly.

The hand was so small that Jade forgot his fever for a moment—and laughed.

“Haha.”

How could anyone look so much like a woodland creature from a fairytale? If Jade didn’t know Ian’s future, he might’ve scooped him up and taken him home right then and there.

His golden hair gleamed softly even in the dim light, as bright as wheat under the summer sun. The slight curls at the ends gave it a soft, cloudlike texture—an almost unbearable temptation to ruffle.

If he’d been born a girl, Jade thought, he would’ve grown into a beauty that could shake kingdoms. Even now, his small face—porcelain-white, delicately featured—was almost too perfect. His eyelashes were long, his eyes crystalline.

Jade knew what this boy would become: the same angelic face, but taller—190 centimeters, graceful and regal, with a godlike presence that inspired awe and fear alike. And behind that divine façade, he would commit unspeakable acts. The contrast had been almost poetic when Jade had read it.

But looking at this small, flushed child before him, it was impossible to connect the two.

“Cough, cough. Young Master, when I get better, shall I trim your hair for you?”

“My… hair?”

Ian blinked, his pale blue-gray eyes round and clear as drops of glass. His long hair fell into them, hiding their beauty. It must have grown unchecked for months; a few uneven strands suggested he’d tried cutting it himself.

“It keeps poking your pretty eyes. Doesn’t it sting?”

“What—!”

At the word pretty, Ian’s face turned crimson. Against his porcelain skin, the blush spread like watercolor. His fingers fidgeted with a lock of his hair as his gaze darted away.

“It doesn’t sting.”

“Then once I’m better, I’ll trim it properly. I’ll make it neat for you.”

“…Do as you wish.”

Ian nodded reluctantly, curls bouncing with the motion. The soft golden strands curled into perfect rings at the ends—like fine spun silk.

Jade couldn’t help himself; he brushed a strand gently with his fingertips. Ian flinched, jerking his head away, his face glowing even redder—like a roasted sweet potato.

Jade smiled faintly, though a heaviness lingered in his chest. Ian was so different from the image he’d formed before meeting him.

He had expected a cold, cruel child. But instead, he found someone who—despite pretending otherwise—seemed to crave warmth, who blushed easily, who looked terribly lonely.

Jade had known loneliness like that too. Maybe that was why he couldn’t help seeing it so clearly now.

How, he wondered, could a boy this gentle grow into such a merciless man?

Perhaps the other servants had thought the same—right before they’d let their guard down and died.

How long can I really stay here?

The Linwood family sent supplies once a month, and a new servant every three to check on Ian’s well-being. But since all the previous ones had “gone missing,” Ian’s uncle must have been growing impatient. That was why Jade had been sent—with orders to kill Ian himself.

If Jade failed to report Ian’s death, another servant would soon be dispatched to finish the job. Or the carriage driver delivering supplies might bring new orders—or news that would seal both their fates.

Either way, Ian’s uncle would not approve of this: the servant cleaning the villa, cooking meals, and—worse yet—getting attached.

Leaving before the next arrival might be the best option. If he disappeared, the family would likely just assume he’d shared the same fate as his predecessors.

After all, in the northern wilds, death came easily—to humans and monsters alike.

What about Ian, though?

The thought surprised him. Two days, and already he was worrying about the boy.

Of course, Ian would survive. He had to—he was destined to become a duke, a conqueror. But right now, that future seemed impossibly far.

He looked so fragile, so small, that the idea of leaving him alone here felt cruel. Maybe it was pity. Maybe it was projection. Maybe he just saw too much of his own childhood in him.

No, Jade told himself, I have my own problems.

He had nothing—no money, no connections, no plan. Survival came first.

Even if he wanted to leave, the villa was deep in the mountains. In winter, the path to the nearest village was buried under snow taller than a man. Without a horse, the journey would be suicidal.

Even if he reached civilization, what then? What could he possibly do with nothing but a broom and a skill in mushroom picking? Cleaning and identifying poisonous fungi didn’t exactly pay well.

No—he needed to adapt first. Learn the world’s rules. Then he could think about leaving.

“Are you sleepy?”

A soft tap on his hand brought him back. Ian was staring at him, poking his knuckles with one finger. Then, without hesitation, the boy scooted closer.

“Don’t come near me, you’ll catch my cold.”

“Oh.”

Jade shuffled sideways, putting the same distance between them again. Ian looked momentarily flustered—not because Jade had warned him off, but because he’d realized how close he’d come without noticing.

Cute. Too cute.

Jade chuckled quietly. Still, he had to insist. The villa likely didn’t have proper medicine. If Ian got sick, it could turn dangerous fast.

“You should go to bed first,” Jade said, gently pressing a hand to Ian’s back.

But the boy didn’t budge. Despite his small frame, he was surprisingly immovable.

Am I this weak, or is he that strong?

He tried again, but Ian didn’t so much as sway. Instead, he looked up and asked softly, “What about you, Jade?”

“I haven’t cleaned my room yet,” Jade replied. “So I’ll just sleep here tonight.”

“……”

“Go on, Young Master. Ghosts might get you.”

“Are you seriously scared of ghosts at your age?”

Jade raised both arms and wiggled his fingers, pretending to haunt him. Ian merely shot him a flat, unimpressed look.

No trace of fear—only mild exasperation.

Kids these days, Jade thought, half amused. He’s braver than I am.

“Meow? Meow!”

“Soondol, don’t push the Young Master with your paws.”

“Myaaaang!”

The little creature protested indignantly as it kept nudging Ian with all four legs.

“Let’s just sleep together here,” Ian said suddenly. “There don’t seem to be any ghosts in this room anyway.”

Jade blinked. What an unpredictable kid. A moment ago, he’d blushed at a touch—now he wanted to share the room.

“That’s your room, Young Master. I’m just a servant.”

“You need to get better quickly if you’re going to work again.”

“…Ah.”

So that was it—practical reasoning. Jade couldn’t help but laugh quietly.

“Still, no. You’ll catch it too. And I recover quickly anywhere—ah, ah-choo!”

“…Then I’ll sleep here too.”

Before Jade could argue further, Ian lay down on the cold floor in silent defiance, staring at him from the corner of his eye.

He’s not… planning to kill me tonight, is he?

Jade swallowed, unsure whether to laugh or sweat.