Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Part 1: Hired at the Mansion of Ghosts

My family isn’t well off. Which is to say, we’re poor. How poor? Poor enough that when a hole opened in the ceiling and rainwater leaked in, we had no money to fix it. Drafts slipped through the old walls, and the creaking floorboards threatened to give way at any step, so we had to tiptoe around like we were walking on feathers.

Of course, we couldn’t afford servants. Regular noble families would hire people for cleaning, cooking, garden work—but we five siblings had to handle everything ourselves.

If only the house were small. But this manor, handed down from some ancient ancestor, was horrifically vast. No matter how many little hands my siblings put together, some corners were bound to fall into neglect.

In the end, the half-abandoned mansion grew shabby, inside and out. And a few years ago, a flock of crows made our grounds their home. They couldn’t be driven off, no matter what we tried. Come dusk, they’d circle over the roof, their calls scraping like metal on metal. Thanks to them, the whole estate felt haunted.

Our home had a proper name — the Highen Mansion, after the House itself — but the locals called it the Ghost House. Or the Cursed House. I couldn’t blame them, really. The place looked haunted enough that no one would’ve been surprised if a ghost crawled out of the walls. But there were no ghosts in this house, and no curse either. That nickname was a damn shame.

The final blow came last night, during a storm that tore through like it had a grudge. This house had so many problems that I’d long ago stopped flinching at every new one. But this… this was bad. Really bad.

I woke from a dream about standing under a cool, cascading waterfall. The moment I opened my eyes, the dream turned into a nightmare. The old ceiling — the one that was supposed to be there — was gone. In its place, rain poured straight into the room. A crack of lightning split the air and struck the ground right beside the mansion.

“Shit. Are you kidding me?”

Yeah. The wind had ripped the roof clean off.

In my past-life memories, there was this phrase: “so poor the roof was torn off.” I’d always thought it was just a figure of speech. Turns out, people meant it literally. The roof. Torn off.

Oh, right. I should mention — I have memories of a past life. But that’s not exactly the most important thing to discuss when my siblings and I are about to end up on the street, so let’s move on.

Anyway, all I felt was rage staring at the mess in front of me. This life — constantly broke no matter how hard I worked. A roof so rotten it couldn’t even hold up against a strong gust of wind. And parents who’d left me to raise four younger siblings with zero backup. Why couldn’t my life bloom even once in this lifetime?

I swallowed a sigh and let myself cool down in the cold rainwater. Then I kicked off the soaked blanket and stepped out of the room. First things first — I needed to make sure the kids were okay. I walked down the corridor, turned toward the stairs, and found my siblings already huddled together, climbing up from the lower floor.

“Noona¹? You okay?”

“Unnie², there was a loud crashing sound from outside. I looked out the window — the garden’s full of roof pieces.”

“Unnie, is our house gonna fall down? Mom and Dad’s stuff is all here! What do we do?!”

The kids started crying out the moment they spotted me. The softest-hearted of us all, Roti — the fourth — rushed into my arms, her face trembling with worry, tears welling in her eyes.

“Let’s go downstairs first. You’re getting soaked.”

I patted Roti’s head once and led the kids down to the lower floor. My mind was a tangled mess. For safety alone, there was no way we could keep living in a house with no roof. But I didn’t have the money to find us another shelter either.

“First, I need to find a place to put the kids, then sell off whatever’s in the house to cover the rent. Should I sell my hair too? If I let it grow a bit longer, I’d get a better price… but with things as they are…”

I changed out of my wet clothes, found a room where the rain didn’t leak, and squeezed in with my younger siblings. The third and fourth ones tucked themselves under my arms, burrowing into my chest. The second was at the corner of the room, patting the youngest. I let my gaze drift over each of them in turn, then looked back at the ceiling. I had to fix this squalid situation somehow. I was their guardian, after all.

As soon as morning broke, I headed out to the marketplace. I stopped by the bakery, bought a few of the cheapest—rock-hard but affordable—loaves, and tucked them under my arm.

“Are you all right? I heard the roof of your house collapsed.”

“Luckily, none of the kids got hurt.”

“Oh dear. You should just sell that place off already.”

The bakery lady shook her head with a click of her tongue. I couldn’t agree more. I’d have loved to ditch that wreck of a house and find somewhere small, dry, and leak-proof. But—

“The kids don’t want to. It still holds traces of our parents. I spent more time with them than the little ones have, so… I want to let them have their way.”

“You’re a kind young lady.”

She pressed a few more rolls into my hand. I accepted them carefully, hesitated, then looked back up at her.

“Thank you. Um… do you happen to know any shops around here looking for help these days?”

“After the lean season, even the regulars are being let go.”

“Right? Hard times for everyone.”

“Oh! But I did hear that House Cuvershaiden is hiring. That House Cuvershaiden.”

“You mean that mansion standing grandly over there?”

I pointed at the imposing estate perched on a rise at the edge of the marketplace.

“That’s the one. Ah, but the master there doesn’t have the best reputation. They say he’s fierce and terrifying. Stern with his staff, too. Why? Are you interested?”

“If the pay’s good, I’m not in a position to be picky about who my employer is.”

Turning my gaze back to House Cuvershaiden’s mansion, I spoke. Even from a distance, its spotless facade and ornate carvings stood in stark contrast to my own shabby home. A master of a place like that must be drowning in coin—he’d pay well.

Stern with underlings? So what. If he says jump, I’ll act like I’m dead. What’s the big deal.

I headed back home with an armful of bread. But the moment I stepped through the front door, Lucia and Roti came scurrying up to me. Roti was sniffling as she threw her arms around mine.

“Unnie, we thought you were gone.”

“What are you talking about? Why would I be gone?”

“We thought you ran away because the house collapsed and we were too much trouble.”

“Why would I do that? And leave you behind? Here, eat some bread.”

“Mmm…”

Roti nodded, her face still buried in my arm.

“Don’t do that, you’re making Noona feel bad. Lucia, Roti—go get a knife and some plates so we can cut the bread.”

Ren, the second oldest, appeared a beat late and scolded the sisters. They peeled away from me and hurried toward the kitchen. Once the third and fourth were out of sight, Ren took a step closer to me and spoke carefully.

“Ryan had a fever. While you were out, I went and got some antipyretic on credit.”

“Yeah? How is he now?”

“The fever’s gone down a bit. I think it was just the chill in the air overnight.”

The youngest was dozing softly in Ren’s arms, his face flushed red from what must have been a lingering low-grade fever. I looked down at his round cheeks and let out a long, deep sigh inside.

*Babies get sick all the time. Medicine’s going to be a regular expense. Either way, it all comes down to money.*

After we finished a meal of bland bread and cold water with the kids, I led them to a rundown inn nearby. Ren carried Ryan, Lucia carried her sewing work, and Roti clutched the wooden jewelry box our mother had left behind as she followed me.

I rented the smallest room there, settled the kids in, and pleaded with the innkeeper to let me pay within a week. He clicked his tongue—*tsk*—but thankfully, he wasn’t cold enough to throw children out onto the street. He gave a curt reply, telling me to handle it myself, and disappeared into the kitchen. I kept bowing my head to his retreating back, murmuring thanks. I’d managed to buy some time.

Then I walked straight out of the inn and made my way to House Cuvershaiden. The Cuvershaiden mansion—I hadn’t realized it from a distance, but it was farther than I’d thought. By the time I hitched rides on passing carts and finally arrived, it was already late, and the night had turned pitch-black.

I knew it was rude to show up at someone’s door at this hour, but I crossed the garden and pounded on the front gate.

“Is anyone there?”

After a long pause, an elderly man with graying hair opened the door.

“And who might you be?”

With his silver hair swept neatly back, he asked the uninvited guest who’d come so late in a polite voice.

“I came because I heard you were hiring here. Sorry for the late hour. But there’s nowhere to stay nearby, so I came straight here.”

“Come in. The Master finds this time convenient, anyway. To him, it’s as good as midday.”

The old man smiled and led me inside. I counted myself lucky not to have been turned away at the door and stepped into the mansion. But the moment my foot crossed the threshold, a chill hit me like a wall. Winter was already creeping in, so the air was cold—but this was different. It was the kind of shiver that raised every hair on your body, from your toes to the crown of your head, prickling and wrong.