The Attendant in the Horror Game C41

Chapter 41

“Ha….”

Morning came, and Jade woke with a sigh.

Even after a full day, the pain had not improved. His hand stung, but the scab had formed and it was manageable. The real problem was his arm. The fractured bone clearly needed proper treatment.

No—he wasn’t even sure if it was really just a fracture. It could be fully broken, or infected. The way the swelling and pain worsened by the hour was not a good sign.

“I’m hungry.”

Pain or no pain, responsibilities remained. There was no one else in the villa who could work besides Jade.

One monster and one child—their lives were literally in his hands. And as of yesterday, Parang had gained a mouth, which meant Jade now had three creatures to feed.

The longer he lay down, the harder it would get to stand. So he forced himself up, washed, and headed downstairs.

But… was he imagining things? He heard soft chatter and the sound of a knife clumsily chopping something in the kitchen. The cutting sounds were horribly slow and awkward.

“Myang!”

“Then why don’t you do it.”

He heard Soondol’s grumbling meow and Ian’s prickly voice. They were bickering again.

Jade had wondered why Soondol wasn’t beside him when he woke. Now he had his answer. When he approached, he saw Ian standing on a chair, clumsily preparing potatoes.

“What are you doing?”

“…You said breakfast was potato stew today.”

Ian muttered stiffly, looking flustered. The sight made Jade laugh.

He felt more and more like he understood Ian. Whenever the boy was embarrassed or bad at expressing emotion, he became sharper and more irritable. Clearly the child wanted to help because Jade was injured.

And it was true—today’s breakfast was potato stew. Originally Jade planned to grill potatoes, but because of Parang, he’d changed the menu. Now that Parang had a face, Jade checked yesterday and discovered it had no teeth. So a soft stew was safer.

“Hm.”

It seemed Ian had tried to cut the potatoes into stew-friendly pieces… unfortunately, the potatoes on the cutting board were a mess.

The peel had been removed in thick, jagged chunks, the pieces were uneven and lumpy, and some bits of the peel still clung here and there.

But the kitchen only had one large knife. Jade could peel and cut vegetables with a chef’s skill thanks to countless part-time jobs, but Ian’s tiny hands were clearly struggling with a knife that big. Honestly, it was a miracle he hadn’t cut himself.

“You did a good job.”

Jade smiled at the boy who had clearly fought a long battle with the potatoes. Ian lowered his eyes and muttered:

“Liar.”

“I’m serious. I was much worse than you at your age.”

It was true. Jade had cooked for himself since childhood—there was nobody to feed him, so he survived on the easiest food possible. Back then, knives terrified him. He usually ate rice with a splash of soy sauce. Compared to that child Jade, Ian had done amazingly well.

“I’ll handle the knife now, so please help with something else.”

Jade gently took the knife from Ian’s hand. No, it wasn’t because the sight made him believe Ian could kill two attendants with it.

“Could you hold the potato still for me?”

“…Okay.”

Jade placed an uncut potato on the board. Since he couldn’t use both hands, Ian held the potato steady while Jade cut it into even pieces.

“Next is the carrot.”

The same process applied to the carrot—peeling, cutting, all easier with Ian holding it in place. Ian was quick. When Jade needed to wipe the knife, Ian turned on the water. When Jade went to season the stew, Ian handed him the salt.

“Can you taste it for me?”

“Okay.”

“Ugh.”

Jade instinctively tried to use his left arm, and pain shot through him. A quiet groan escaped. Ian flinched and looked up, eyes softening with worry. Jade forced a smile.

In his original world, he would have gone to a hospital for treatment and a cast. Here, a splint was the best they could do. At least the fracture was on his left arm—he could still finish cooking.

“There! Potato stew is done.”

“Myang!”

“Uwaaah.”

After much effort, they finally completed the stew. Calling chopped potatoes, onions, and carrots simmered in broth a “stew” might have been generous, but Soondol and Parang were delighted.

“Huaah, uwaah.”

Parang looked even cuter now that it had eyes, nose, and mouth. It blinked its beady black eyes and opened its little triangular mouth.

Honestly, Jade wasn’t sure if Parang could actually eat. The book claimed so, but until yesterday, it had survived by absorbing moisture and nutrients from soil. Yet it enjoyed the stew, so it must have been capable.

“Want to try it?”

Jade cooled a spoonful of broth and fed it to Parang. The creature flapped its tiny arms and wiggled happily. Its leaf bobbed up and down. Mashed potatoes also earned approval. The problem was its arms were too short, so Jade had to keep feeding it. Good thing his injured arm was the left one.

“Hehe.”

Ever since getting a face, Parang had shown interest in everything. It reacted differently from when it used its leaf to sense things. When set in a flowerpot, it would look around endlessly. If it smelled something nice, it sniffed enthusiastically. And it hardly cried anymore.

Last night, it had even crawled out of its pot and toddled around the villa. Jade had assumed its stubby legs would keep it from moving well, but it explored everywhere—though it fell over often because of its oversized leaf.

“Can you eat onions too?”

“Hehe?”

It seemed it wasn’t picky. Jade felt strangely like he’d become a parent overnight. But he wasn’t tired. Having lived alone his whole life, the chaos felt… warm.

“Jade, aren’t you eating?”

“I am. I’m eating.”

“……”

Ian stared at him disapprovingly. Jade’s stew bowl had been untouched for ten minutes, his spoon resting in the same place. Even when Ian pushed the bowl closer, Jade kept feeding Parang instead.

He really should’ve thrown the plant when he first found it. It had no wings, so it couldn’t have flown back. The noisy little thing was annoying enough, and now it whined too. But even so, whenever Ian ate the stew, a gentle warmth spread in his chest.

“Myang…”

Sensing Ian’s sharp mood, Soondol nervously darted its eyes, stew smeared on its whiskers. Breakfast came to a close with Jade and Ian each having their own thoughts.

He would have to descend to the village next week at latest. He needed treatment, but more urgently, the final deadline was approaching.

In about ten days, supply day would arrive. And the man had said he would no longer send supplies. That meant he expected Ian’s corpse.

Kill Ian, or run. Those were the choices.

The second option meant becoming a fugitive for life. If he took the money but didn’t complete the job, the consequences would be severe. Judging by the man’s attitude, he would hunt Jade to the ends of hell.

But could Jade really kill Ian?

Not a chance.

So, running was the only option.

They could hire another assassin to kill Ian later, but Jade chose to trust the story’s “destined future.”

Even if Jade left tomorrow, Ian would survive—that was the kind of character he was. He would live and become the final boss. Jade just needed the resolve.

And honestly, Jade was far more likely to die first. Between a future final boss and a failed assassin? Jade didn’t need a manual to know who was more disposable.

As for money, he gathered valuables from the villa, but most were in terrible condition. Would anyone even buy this junk?

Maybe that chest really was a dragon’s claw…

He remembered the box Soondol had emerged from—the latch shaped like a dragon’s talon lingered in his memory. Dragons were rare in any fantasy world. The box could be worth a fortune.

“Soondol, about the box you came out of. You really don’t need it?”

“Myang, myng.”

Soondol swatted lazily, clearly uninterested. Jade had knitted a ball of yarn from an old sweater, and the creature was too absorbed in play to care.

“But what if you want it again someday?”

“Myng?”

“I’m not saying go back inside, I mean if you ever—”

“Hiss—!”

Apparently Soondol took it as being told to return to the egg and box. Its fur puffed up as it hissed fiercely.

“Fine, fine. You said you don’t want it? I’m holding you to that.”

“Myawng.”

“No take-backs later, okay?”

“Myang!”

Once he got the final confirmation, Jade headed to the storage room. Though the weather was warmer, going around the villa was bothersome, so he used the underground passage.

The path was always eerie. Even with a lantern, it was dim and damp. But it was the shortest route, so Jade pressed on—then froze.

Uuoooh—

A strange groaning noise echoed through the underground tunnel.

“Huh?”

He thought he misheard. Maybe it was trapped air or wind blowing through.

Uooohhh—

But the sound came again—lower, longer than before.