The Attendant in the Horror Game C14

Chapter 14

Jade murmured as he stared blankly at the message displayed in the system window. Judging by the fact that he’d obtained a new skill, it seemed what he had experienced wasn’t a simple fever but rather a form of growth-related reaction.

But more importantly—“Developer’s generosity?” Was the one capable of such “consideration” also the same person who threw him into this damned horror game? And after all that, only handed him pathetic items like cleaning tools?

“Generosity? How the hell is this generosity?”

Steam practically rose from his head. What Jade needed right now wasn’t some mysterious skill whose function he didn’t even know, but food and supplies that would actually help him survive.

More than anything, the fact that he had suffered for two whole days just to receive this ridiculous skill infuriated him. His temperature had been burning high, his whole body aching to the point he couldn’t even lift a finger.

“This is total bullshit. God, I’m pissed.”

System <<

Would you like to acquire this skill?

YES or NO

When Jade muttered curses under his breath, the system window in front of him began flickering rapidly. As if offended by his tone, it suddenly activated a timer, the text flashing before his eyes.

System <<
Would you like to acquire this skill? (3)

System <<
Would you like to acquire this skill? (2)

System <<
Would you like to acquire this skill? (1)

“Fine! I’ll take it! I said I’ll take it, okay?!”

Whatever it was, if it was a skill, he might as well accept it first and think later. Before the three-second countdown ended, Jade hastily pressed “YES.”

There wasn’t even the slightest trace of real “generosity.” He hadn’t been given a moment to examine what the skill actually did. Only after pressing YES did he notice the warning message that followed.

Warning <<
Using this skill will cause damage; the type of damage is unknown.

“Is this even a good thing?”

So-called “Developer’s Generosity,” they said—but every time the skill was used, it would inflict an unknown kind of damage. That hardly felt reassuring. The fact that the system didn’t even specify what kind of harm it would cause only made it more suspicious.

Then again, what did he have left to fear after already dying once?

System <<

You have successfully absorbed the skill [Ghost Obedience].

“Oh.”

As the next message appeared, a stream of green light flowed out of the system window. The shimmering light hovered for a while before touching Jade’s fingertips—then shattered and dispersed like dust.

For a brief moment, he could feel a faint, pulsating energy within his palm before it vanished. It seemed the skill had been successfully absorbed.

“‘Ghost Obedience,’ huh? What a name.”

It sounded like something a child would come up with—lazy and half-hearted. The kind of corny title you’d expect from a Saturday morning cartoon.

Back when he had played Blood Night, the skill names had at least sounded intimidating or sophisticated. Compared to those, this one felt like something straight out of a children’s action show. Still, it at least sounded more impressive than “Apprentice Cleaner’s Hand Movements.”

“‘Ghost,’ huh…”

Still, a skill called “Ghost Obedience” must exist for a reason. If there was a skill like that, didn’t that mean ghosts actually existed here?

“That makes sense.”

Since arriving in this world, he had been preoccupied with survival—cleaning the villa, collecting mushrooms, and recently recovering from illness—so he had momentarily forgotten that this was, after all, the world inside a horror game.

Blood Night wasn’t just filled with monsters—it also featured ghosts and bizarre NPCs. For instance, there was the “Old Man Who Carried the Grandfather Clock.”

He was one of the ghosts—an old man endlessly wandering the mansion with a large clock strapped to his back. From the name alone, one might expect him to manipulate time and space, bending dimensions or rewinding moments at will. But that was far too grand for this game’s standards.

In truth, he was simply a ghost who swung a grandfather clock like a weapon. The game was filled with anticlimactic absurdities like that.

Because of that, Jade had always thought the game’s developer was… unusual. There were countless poorly made elements, yet when it came to character building and storytelling, the developer poured their heart into it.

No wonder the most popular character in the horror game wasn’t a monster or demon, but the final boss himself—Ian. His popularity was so immense that every spin-off novel focusing on him sold out almost immediately.

Jade had even borrowed one of those novels from a friend and read the beginning. He hadn’t finished it, but he knew for certain that the book had sold far better than the game ever did.

“I wonder what kind of ghosts appear here.”

The ghosts showed up only inside the mansion, but Jade had always died before ever reaching it. Even when he looked through community guides, all he found were posts from fans crying over Ian or obsessing over worldbuilding notes—no useful information at all.

Besides, since this world’s “game” hadn’t properly started yet, he hadn’t expected any ghosts to appear at this stage. Monsters and demons were part of the world’s lore, but the mansion’s ghosts were a game mechanic.

“I should’ve read to the end…”

Perhaps the novel that focused on Ian’s perspective had hinted at things the game never revealed. The lore notes alone hadn’t been enough. But regretting it now changed nothing.

“Well, if they show up, they show up.”

When he thought about it, he himself wasn’t that different from a ghost now, was he? With a shrug, Jade snorted. The vivid graphics of the game world briefly came to mind, and though a twinge of worry lingered, he figured he’d manage—he had a skill, after all.

In truth, Jade was not the type to dwell on problems for long. To put it nicely, he was easygoing; to put it bluntly, he was somewhat oblivious. He’d always been the kind of person who brushed things off quickly, earning a reputation for being carefree.

But at this moment, he did have one genuine concern.

“Where did Ian go?”

Since this morning, Ian had begun avoiding him in earnest. Just when Jade thought they’d gotten a bit closer, Ian suddenly started acting distant, leaving him bewildered.

Everything had been fine up to the moment they successfully lit the fireplace. Even when they’d taken an afternoon nap together, there hadn’t been any issues.

At least, from Jade’s perspective. If he were to pinpoint the exact moment Ian started feeling uncomfortable, it would have been the night they shared a bed. Ever since then, Ian wouldn’t even make eye contact and gave curt answers to anything Jade asked.

Yet when Jade had been ill, Ian had roasted mushrooms for him and stayed by his side. But the moment Jade recovered, the warmth vanished—replaced by a chilly distance.

That very morning, Jade had greeted him, only for Ian to storm out without a single reply. It felt like they were right back to day one.

He couldn’t recall saying or doing anything that might have offended Ian.

“Was he uncomfortable sleeping together?”

The night before, Jade had again stayed in Ian’s room. The fireplace kept them warm, and he’d recovered quickly because of it. But maybe that was what had upset him.

Thinking back, Ian had never seemed fond of physical closeness. Perhaps sharing a bed for two nights had been a mistake. But then again, Ian had been the one who invited him to stay there in the first place.

“Maybe two nights in a row was too much?”

He had no way of knowing for sure. Children’s feelings were far too complicated. Jade remembered himself as a simple, easygoing kid, but Ian was a whole different story.

He had resisted the urge to pinch those soft cheeks or wash his soot-smudged face clean, and yet Ian had turned cold anyway. It felt unfair.

“Kids are so hard to figure out.”

Jade shook his head with a sigh, stretching his limbs. Such concerns didn’t suit someone like him—he’d never been the overly sensitive type.

“Myang.”

As he roughly tidied the bedding and prepared to leave the room, Soondol flew toward him. Ever since hatching from its egg, the creature had clung to Jade like an affectionate cat to its owner.

“Soondol, hey. Why do you look so down?”

“Myang-aaang…”

The creature let out a long, drawn-out whine, sounding pitiful. Jade ruffled its round head affectionately—but a bit too roughly, like he was dusting off laundry. Its fur stood out in every direction.

“Myang-aang!”

“What have you been up to?”

“Myang…”

Avoiding his gaze—clearly a sign it had bickered with Ian again. Already curious about Ian’s whereabouts, Jade questioned Soondol.

“You didn’t fight again, did you?”

“Myang-aang!”

“I told you two not to keep arguing. What’s the Young Master doing now?”

“Myang! Kaak!”

When Ian’s name was mentioned, Soondol’s eyes narrowed into triangles, and it turned away sulkily. Kicking its hind legs in the air, it flew off in a huff. It seemed both Ian and Soondol were equally difficult to deal with.

“Haha…”

Jade chuckled awkwardly as he watched the sulking Soondol disappear. Then, brushing aside his thoughts, he began catching up on the chores he’d postponed for two days. Keeping busy was always the best cure for useless worries.

“There’s so much to do. So much.”

He gathered edible mushrooms while avoiding poisonous ones to gain experience, swept the floors with relentless energy, and flaunted his skills as a true housekeeper.

And just like that, Jade forgot all about the [Ghost Obedience] skill—completely unaware that the so-called “gift” was not an act of generosity, but a warning of the small misfortunes yet to come.