The Attendant in the Horror Game C63

Chapter 63

Night wind brushed through the inner corridors of the temple. Ian drew in a slow breath. The air—lifeless and dry—seeped all the way into his lungs. His face, too, held no trace of vitality.

With a cold expression, he silently stared at the empty corridor beyond the half-open door.

Ever since Jade had headed for the infirmary, he had not closed the door. He simply felt he shouldn’t. If he closed it, it felt as though Jade would never be able to come back through it. He wasn’t a child, and yet…

“……”

Two hours had passed since Jade left. Neither Jade nor Soondol had returned. And in Ian’s hand was a single scrap of paper.

Not long after sending Soondol out, he had found it tucked inside the basket. And from that moment on, Ian had stood in the same place, in the same posture, staring at the note for over an hour.

On the small paper were written exactly seven neatly formed characters. There was only one person who would leave a note like this—Jade. Even the handwriting—clean and meticulous—was unmistakably his.

“Ha.”

Ian let out a breath that was half-laughter, half-sigh. He crumpled the note, but almost immediately smoothed it back out. It felt wasteful to wrinkle handwriting so neat. His small, pale hands gently rubbed the creases from the paper.

Once, back at the villa, he had stared for a long time at a memo Jade had written.

It had been nothing more than a list of supplies to buy in town, trivial words in a row—yet even that reminded him of Jade, and Ian’s eyes had kept drifting to it. He liked the unornamented, tidy handwriting.

He had slipped the memo into his pocket that day. And when Jade later fretted that his memo had gone missing, Ian had pretended not to know.

“……”

Even now, staring at the note, he couldn’t understand its meaning. Take good care of him. What did that mean? Why would Jade entrust him to a mere monster?

Jade was Ian’s attendant. Naturally, Jade was the one who should take care of him.

Ian had sensed the difference in Jade’s demeanor earlier. The expression he wore when saying he needed more treatment had been strange—his voice was faint and subdued. That alone had made Ian uneasy.

When he watched Jade’s back grow distant down the corridor, he had nearly followed. His feet had moved before he realized it, afraid that Jade’s shrinking silhouette would disappear altogether. A pounding dread had filled his chest.

But then reason had tugged him back down. He was not a three-year-old child who had lost his mother. Jade had only said he needed to finish his treatment.

And even if he did follow—what would he say? I was anxious you might leave me, so I came after you? Jade already treated Ian as if he were far younger than he was. Ian could not bear the thought of showing something so pathetic.

“…Money.”

Ian fiddled with the money pouch and then opened it. Sweat from his palms had dampened the leather. He couldn’t count how many times he’d clenched and unclenched the pouch since Jade left.

The amount inside was everything they had left. For some reason, that brought him comfort. Since all the money was with Ian, Jade couldn’t leave—not without funds for even a single carriage ride.

It wasn’t just the money. Everything Jade had bought was still here. The knife he’d said would cut vegetables cleanly… the flour he needed to bake a carrot cake… all untouched.

The words on the note must simply be about him and Soondol bickering often. Jade always worried about Ian—that was nothing new. And yet the ominous thrum of Ian’s heart refused to settle.

“Ah.”

Parang—the Bluewood—was missing.

Jade had carried nothing with him when he left for the infirmary. That had been one of the reasons Ian hadn’t immediately followed—he knew Jade wouldn’t abandon the little thing that followed him every day.

But Parang was nowhere in sight. The moment Ian realized this, something cracked inside his mind.

“Hey, you.”

Ian nudged the broom-ghost with his foot. The ghost, which had been slumped beside its handle, immediately straightened up.

“Where’s the blue one?”

“Kki-ae? Kki-ae-ae?”

The broom-ghost glanced around cluelessly. It didn’t know either.

If Jade had left empty-handed, the only one who could have taken Parang was Soondol. And Soondol showed no sign of returning.

Ian stepped out of the room. The corridor where Jade had disappeared seemed especially long and dark. As he walked, he spotted a young acolyte passing through.

“Where is the infirmary?”

“If you go to the eastern wing of the temple, you’ll find—May I ask why you’re looking for it?”

The young priest tilted his head. Ian’s eyes trembled faintly. His lips were dry, and a coldness crept up his chest.

“My companion went for treatment and hasn’t returned.”

“That’s strange. He finished his treatment earlier. The infirmary is closed now.”

Ian’s pupils froze instantly. Whatever the acolyte said afterward did not reach him. The snowball of dread that had been forming in his throat shattered violently, scattering at his feet.

“……!”

Ian ran—without even realizing he’d started. It was only when the scenery blurred around him that he understood he was sprinting. Someone shouted behind him, but he couldn’t stop.

“Ugh.”

He slipped on the polished corridor floor and scraped his knee. He didn’t feel the pain. All of his senses were fixed elsewhere. He pushed himself up and ran again.

His ankle twisted—his foot refused to move properly. He needed to catch up. He had to. And yet he couldn’t even make it out of the corridor quickly. That frantic helplessness crushed him.

“Haa… haa…”

He should have gone with Jade when he said he needed more treatment. He should have questioned him further when Jade claimed he’d buy his winter coat next year. He should not have ignored the unease that had filled him to the brim. Regret piled upon regret without end.

“Haa… haa…”

After what felt like an eternity of running, Ian burst through the temple doors. His lungs burned. The cold wind clawed at his cheeks. Where had he gone? Without money, Jade wouldn’t have taken a carriage; he wouldn’t return to the villa either.

Ian’s feet moved nowhere—they only hovered uselessly, unable to decide a direction. He had no idea which way Jade could have gone.

His head whipped back and forth, scanning the darkness. Few people passed by at this hour. None of them were Jade. His vision shook from anxiety.

“Did you see a man? Dark hair—”

“No, didn’t see him.”

Ian questioned passerby after passerby, but no one knew anything. Sweat ran down his back despite the chill. His hair was a tangled mess.

And Jade was nowhere nearby. If he were, he would have run straight to Ian, smoothed his disheveled hair, and wrapped his collar tighter against the cold.

“Ian…”

A hand seized his arm. Ian spun around. It was Priest Greor. Hope flickered in his eyes for a heartbeat before collapsing into disappointment.

“You must return inside—!”

“Let go.”

Ian shook his hand off and turned back toward the street.

Jade had said he would return soon. Perhaps he was scouting an inn for the two of them to stay in tomorrow. He had no money, so naturally, he’d need Ian before finalizing anything.

Ian stood still and waited. If he didn’t know where Jade had gone, waiting was the only thing he could do.

He would come. He always did. When Ian waited outside the villa, Jade ran to him immediately, warming his frozen cheeks with his own hands—even when Jade himself was colder, having searched the snowfields for food.

“It is late. Please go inside.”

“I won’t. Don’t mind me. I’m leaving tomorrow anyway.”

He would have to leave the temple tomorrow. As a non-noble, he could not stay more than one night.

Greor sighed at Ian’s rigid back. After a moment of hesitation, he spoke.

“Your attendant asked that we take guardianship of you here at the temple.”

“Guardianship…?”

Ian’s brow furrowed. A memory surfaced.

“You could entrust yourself to the temple?”

“Only if you have divine power or noble lineage.”

Had that been why Jade asked?

“Who told him he could entrust me anywhere?”

Ian’s voice was icy and trembling. The story sounded false—something the priest might have made up. Perhaps he was right to doubt. There was no one in the world to trust.

As if sensing his suspicion, Greor took something from his robes and held it out.

“He entrusted me with this sword, asking that I look after you until you reach adulthood.”

Blood drained from Ian’s face. His body locked in place. He wanted to deny it, but all he could do was bite his lip hard enough to taste iron. It was unmistakable—his sword.

“……”

He stared blankly at the blade, unable to take it.

What had he felt when giving that sword to Jade? As someone thrown away and abandoned, that sword had been his only possession. From the moment he entered the villa, he had kept it close—believing it was the one thing that could protect him.

But somewhere along the way, he had begun to hope otherwise. That perhaps, while living beside Jade, he might not need this sword anymore. With that faint hope, he had handed Jade the only thing he had ever owned.

And now it had returned to him.

“Ha…”

A hollow breath escaped him. Strength drained from his body as if the ground beneath him had caved in. His ears rang; the back of his head throbbed. He needed to answer the priest, but something hot kept rising inside his throat, refusing to escape no matter how hard he exhaled.

Ian looked down at the note still in his hand. Sweat had smudged the once-clean handwriting. The ruin of those neat letters hurt more than it should have.

The northern night felt warmer than the cold swirling inside him now. A frigid wind raked endlessly across his chest.