The Attendant in the Horror Game C9

Chapter 9

The little monster stomped its paws and pointed indignantly at the snow still clinging to its fur. Then, with an effort, it extended two of its short claws, though the rest refused to bend properly no matter how hard it tried.

“Myaang! Myang!”

“He threw you twice? Oh, come on, no way.”

“Myaaaak—! Kyak!”

When Jade looked skeptical, the creature dramatically flopped onto its back and rolled in midair, flailing its paws like a tantruming child. With tears clinging to its eyes and angry little growls, it was hard to believe it was lying.

“But still…”

Jade tapped his temple, going over the morning’s events in his mind.

When he’d woken up, Ian had been sleeping peacefully beside him. With his delicate features and golden hair haloed by the faint morning light, he had looked less like the story’s future villain and more like a prince from a fairytale. Jade had almost forgotten who he was supposed to become.

And now that he thought of it—the monster hadn’t been there. Even though the little creature had curled up against his side the night before, it was nowhere to be seen when he’d opened his eyes.

Which meant Ian must’ve thrown it out sometime before dawn. But how? Jade was a light sleeper, and he hadn’t heard a sound.

“Kyaak!”

The monster’s fur bristled suddenly. It bared its tiny fangs and glared behind Jade.

Following its gaze, Jade turned—and froze.

Ian was standing silently by the door. There had been no sound of footsteps, no sign of movement. He had simply appeared, pale and still as a ghost, his blue eyes fixed on them.

The boy’s expression was blank—cool and unfeeling, like the dry winter air itself. His messy fringe fell over his brow, the soft disarray oddly at odds with the cold detachment in his demeanor.

“Young Master,” Jade asked carefully, “did you really throw this little one into the snow?”

“……”

“Mya! Myak!”

Ian said nothing. He merely tapped the toe of his shoe against the floor, over and over. The silence wasn’t a denial—and that, more than anything, was an answer.

Jade sighed softly. How could he scold him?

The boy looked so small, so frail—like a little rabbit left out in the cold. One moment, Ian carried the calm, resigned air of someone far older than his years; the next, the unguarded immaturity of a neglected child.

“Young Master,” Jade began gently, crouching down to meet his gaze, “I’m not trying to scold you. But we’ll be living together for a while, right? We can’t have misunderstandings like this between us.”

His voice softened. For a moment, he was tempted to smooth the boy’s disheveled hair, but thought better of it.

After a long pause, Ian finally lifted his eyes—hesitant, uncertain—and spoke quietly.

“It’s ominous. It’s a monster.”

His voice was soft, calm, and matter-of-fact. Jade blinked in disbelief.

Ominous? That monster? The same creature that was supposed to be Ian’s future companion—his demonic familiar, his shadow?

And this was coming from Ian Linwood—the man who would one day make entire empires tremble, who could split skulls open with a mere thought once his powers awakened?

“Monsters are frightening,” Ian added simply. His tone remained even, unshaken, as his lashes fluttered.

“You’re afraid of it?”

“Yes.”

“The monster?”

“Yes.”

You’re literally the final boss of a horror game, Jade thought, swallowing back the words.

He knew why he’d been sent here. The previous servants hadn’t gone missing—they had died, likely by Ian’s hand. But who could contradict a child’s quiet declaration of fear? Especially one whose downturned lashes and soft voice made him seem so fragile.

Maybe he was afraid. Maybe beneath the calm, there was still a frightened child. The thought made something in Jade’s chest twist unexpectedly.

“I see,” he said softly. “But you don’t need to be afraid. He’s actually quite gentle.”

It seemed Ian simply had a deep-rooted bias against anything called a ‘monster.’ Jade found himself wondering how the original story’s Ian had ever ended up bonding with it in the first place.

“And you mustn’t throw it like that again, Young Master,” Jade added, half in jest. “You could have gotten hurt.”

“……”

Ian averted his gaze. Even in silence, his delicate features carried an almost pitiful fragility that made it hard to stay stern. Words like tiny and delicate existed for people like him.

Yes—he might grow into the ruthless man from the lore, but for now, he was still just a boy. A scared, lonely boy.

“Well, I suppose it’s understandable,” Jade said with a grin. “As long as you don’t do it again, that’s fine.”

“Alright…”

Ian’s voice was small, reluctant. His shoulders slumped slightly, and Jade almost reached out to pat him.

Still, he needed to be firm. Throwing the poor thing into a blizzard was no small thing. If it weren’t for the creature’s resilience, it might have frozen to death.

Honestly, Jade worried more about Ian. The monster was still too young to fight back, but once it grew stronger, the first person it might attack would be the one who had harmed it.

“Now, let’s make peace, shall we?”

“Myaang! Kyaaaak—!”

The little beast rolled across the floor, wings flapping, looking thoroughly wronged. Jade grabbed it, dusted it off, and held it up.

“There, there. You’re fine, aren’t you?”

“Myak! Myak!”

“Good. Then how about we commemorate this reconciliation by giving you a name?”

Despite its struggles, Jade tucked the creature under one arm, determined to end the squabble peacefully.

They couldn’t keep calling it ‘the monster’ forever.

Oddly enough, the game’s lorebook had never mentioned a name. Had Ian never named it at all?

“What about May? Cute and simple, right?”

Jade chose the first pleasant name that came to mind—he wasn’t exactly the sentimental type.

“It’s male,” Ian said flatly.

“Oh? Monsters have genders?”

Jade glanced down at the creature, examining it with mild curiosity. Well, he supposed it did look male. He was impressed that Ian had noticed so quickly.

“I don’t think we should name it,” Ian said.

“But we can’t just keep calling it ‘monster,’ can we?”

“Then don’t call it at all.”

Ian muttered under his breath, cheeks puffed slightly in defiance. The expression was unexpectedly cute.

“That won’t do,” Jade said firmly. He was determined to change Ian’s perception—to make him see the creature as something harmless, even endearing. If the two got along, his life would be much easier.

“How about… Amadeus? Sounds grand, doesn’t it? Like some ancient demon king.”

“Myaa, Myang!”

The monster brightened instantly, rubbing its head against Jade’s hand with a pleased purr. Ian, however, frowned in clear distaste.

“That name doesn’t suit such a pathetic-looking creature.”

“Young Master!” Jade scolded lightly. “You shouldn’t say such things—it might hurt his feelings.”

“Myang?”

“He’s still young, you know. Sensitive.”

Truthfully, Jade kind of agreed. For a so-called demonic creature, it was absurdly cute.

The monster tilted its head, confused by the conversation.

“Hmm, then how about… Soondol?”

Jade clapped his hands together, proud of himself. “It sounds sturdy—like a rock! Strong and friendly.”

“Myak?”

“Soondol…?” Ian echoed, unimpressed.

For the first time, both Ian and the monster wore the exact same expression—blank and vaguely displeased. Jade laughed.

“Myak! Myak!”

The creature quickly crossed its front paws in protest, shaking its head. Ian, however, smirked.

“Perfect. Soondol it is. A splendid name.”

“Kyaaaak—!”

The newly christened Soondol fluffed up furiously, screeching in outrage. But he didn’t dare approach Ian—perhaps worried he’d be hurled again. Even with wings, the little monster seemed genuinely afraid of him.

“Alright then, Young Master Ian and Soondol, please head downstairs,” Jade said, clapping his hands together. “This poor servant has some cleaning to finish.”

If he wanted to survive the northern winter, he had to finish tidying the rooms today. He needed shelter—a proper one.

Maybe he’d even earn some experience points while at it.

He pressed Soondol gently into Ian’s arms and ushered them both toward the door before turning back to his broom.

The moment they were out of the room, Ian dropped Soondol like a sack of potatoes and started down the stairs. The little monster fluttered after him, sulking.

“Myaaa…”

“You,” Ian said coldly.

“Myak!”

He hadn’t even turned his head. In one swift motion, he reached out and caught the creature by the wings. Soondol wriggled helplessly, suspended midair.

“Still flapping that mouth of yours?”

“Myaaaak!”

“You’re over a hundred years old, aren’t you? Then why the act?”