Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The potato nearly flew back up my throat. I wasn’t the amazing expert those women thought I was. I’d never even set foot in an Academy. I was just hired to be scared alongside the Duke.

*Cough.*

As I pounded my chest to swallow the lodged potato, the woman to my right poured me a glass of orange juice and handed it over. I took it, drank, and looked up. Every woman at the table stared at me with wide eyes. They paused their meals or chewed very slowly, waiting for me to speak.

“No, nothing like that. He just needed someone to organize paperwork. I suppose he wanted to lighten that burden since he’s so busy.”

I answered with an awkward smile.

“Really? Then why did he suddenly hire someone now?”

The woman across from me said, puzzled. The others nodded as if they understood well enough and went back to eating.

“By the way, is that hair color real? Not dyed, right? There’s another girl among us with hair just as fiery red, but she’s on leave. She’ll be back the day after tomorrow, I think.”

“She’s pretty too. Oh, but all her siblings have black hair. Funny, isn’t it?”

The two women flanking me hadn’t finished their story — the conversation had already veered into completely different territory. *Chatty people,* I thought, letting the words from my left slip out my right ear and vice versa. My hand found the fork again, and I went back to eating.

The chef here’s genuinely talented. This tastes like a solid Michelin three-star.

“By the way, did you hear someone running in the corridor last night? Small, quick footsteps — sounded like a child.”

The woman across from me cut in then. I was drinking orange juice and nearly choked — sent it sputtering down my chin like something out of a morning drama. I blinked wide, looking at her like I needed an explanation.

“Ah. Looks like the kid went your way this time.”

“Right. No wonder it was so quiet last night.”

The women giggled at my reaction. I just sat there, feeling vaguely stupid.

“Everyone knows about that sound?”

I glanced between them, baffled. They shrugged and answered as if it were nothing.

“They say it’s a ghost that’s been in this manor since old times. Runs up and down the corridor every night like that.”

“But it’s just a little mischievous — not a bad one. If you tell it to keep quiet because you’re trying to sleep, it actually listens and disappears.”

“The Lady-in-Waiting tells it the same thing when it shows up again. Guess it went your way last night of all nights. You probably didn’t sleep well, Your Excellency. You do look tired.”

I couldn’t believe it.

*Excuse me? If everyone can hear it that clearly, this ghost is dangerously strong!* “It sounds like a little girl, from the voice. There was a daughter of the ducal house who died young in an accident, a long time ago. Most people think it’s her soul.”

“Judging by the voice, it’s a girl. A long time ago, one of the young ladies of the Ducal House died early in an accident. Everyone thinks it’s her soul.”

*Everyone can hear its voice too? This is genuinely bad news.* “Right. She’s not a bad kid.” “And she minds well.”

“That’s right. She’s not a bad maid, Ann.”

“Each of them chimed in with another line.”

*What is this? Why is everyone so calm about it? Am I the only one who thinks this is weird?* Suddenly, every scrap of ghost-lore I’d accumulated in my life felt like it was crumbling. *Why isn’t anyone the least bit scared?* “Hang in there, Your Excellency — it’s your first day. The Duke can be… a bit irritable.”

What is this? Why is everyone so calm? Am I the only one who finds this strange?

For a moment, I felt like every piece of common sense I’d built up about ghosts in my life was crumbling. Why isn’t anyone even a little scared?

“Aide. It’s your first day, so hang in there. His Grace the Duke can be… a bit irritable, though.”

The woman on my left stood up, her voice cheerful.

“Still, he’s not a bad man. Pays better than most places, too.” The other women finished their meals and rose from the table soon after. I downed the rest of my orange juice in one gulp and stumbled to my feet, following their lead.

Soon the women finished their meal and rose from the table. I downed my orange juice in one go, then got to my feet along with them, half by accident.

The ladies-in-waiting poured out of the dining hall in a cluster, then scattered to their various posts. The buzz of their voices went with them, dissolving into the quiet. In the end, I was the only one left standing alone in the silent corridor.

“Is everyone… what…? They’re not scared because they can’t see them? No—even though I can’t see them, I’m still terrified…”

Lost and flustered, I didn’t know what to do, so I headed straight for the Duke’s office. In this strange situation, I needed someone who would be afraid alongside me.

After knocking and stepping inside, the Duke greeted me with a face heavy with exhaustion.

“You’re here?”

He glanced at me briefly, then lowered his head again to scan some documents. Probably checking the dark circles under my eyes, from the look of it.

Easy for you to say, with shadows all over your own face…

I thought, pouting inwardly.

“I’ve set up a desk for you. Sit there and get started on your work.”

The Duke said flatly. I turned my head and saw a large desk placed beside his. But something felt off. The desk was far too nice—even bigger than the one he was using, it seemed. As I drew closer, I saw it was carved from a single block of solid wood.

No, wait—this is expensive!

I shifted my gaze to behind the desk. There sat a lavish chair fit for an Emperor. Seriously. Why were lion heads carved into the armrests, and delicate leaves into the backrest? And what was that red thing on top? Don’t tell me it’s a jewel?

Why go this far…?

I turned my head to look at the Duke. In that moment, our eyes met. But he quickly looked away, pretending not to have seen me.

“That should be comfortable enough. Even if you complain, I won’t do anything more, so sit down and work.”

Your Grace! You must be overjoyed that there’s someone else besides you who can see ghosts! But this is going too far! If anyone saw this, they’d think I was the Duke and you were the aide!

I kept my eyes fixed on the Duke. Whether he noticed or not, he just stayed glued to his desk, working.

Ah… forget it.

I pulled out the Emperor’s chair and plopped down into it. From the front, the Duke’s profile came right into view. The line from his forehead to his nose was remarkably elegant and beautiful. From this angle, he seemed quite handsome. In fact, I remembered his eyes—sharp and well-shaped from the glimpse I’d caught last night—were a clear sky blue. His facial structure and features were perfectly balanced, too.

But that face, which could have been flawless, was now filled with nothing but dark circles and fatigue. This is what a workaholic does to a person. I, too, had lost my chance for eye candy, hadn’t I?

For a moment, I just watched him. With the hand opposite the one gripping his pen, he pressed his fingers hard against his brow—once, twice. A grimace flickered across his face before he turned back to the documents. He looked utterly exhausted. And though I couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, there was something hunted about him, a restless unease, like a man being chased by something unseen.

“Your Grace, have you slept at all? Wouldn’t a short rest do you some good?”

“No need.”

He answered without turning, his voice flat and rigid.

“There’s too much to be done. I’d better press on.”

Then, after a pause the length of a sigh, he spoke again. His tone had softened, just a fraction, as if belatedly apologizing for the dry edge he’d let slip.

I didn’t push further. If he keeled over from overwork, that was his own business. Still, the burly butler’s request—to take good care of him—nagged at me.

“What would you have me do, then?”

I asked, looking across the wide, spotless desk at the duke, who sat there with no pen in hand.

“Read a book, if you like.”

He lifted his thumb and gestured behind me. I turned to see a towering bookshelf that reached the ceiling, packed tight with volumes I hadn’t noticed yesterday. I must have been too distracted by the ghost to bother looking around the room.

Read a book during working hours? I’d heard I wouldn’t have much to do, but this felt excessive. Withholding tasks like this was a cowardly tactic for forcing someone to resign… Still, the fact that he’d set up this massive desk for me suggested that wasn’t the case.

I’m really going to earn two thousand five hundred florins just for seeing ghosts…?

I thought, trailing my fingertips over the spines. Then I grabbed one at random and pulled it free.

*Basic Concepts in the Philosophy of Art.* Just the title made me want to yawn. The cover was a plain, deep maroon with no pattern at all. A glance at the others showed they were all the same: *Business Management Through History*, *Lectures on Psychology*, *Das Kapital*—nothing but.

Just my luck… I wonder if there’s a racy novel hidden inside any of these covers?

I opened the philosophy book and skimmed its pages. It was exactly what the title promised—dense, dry sentences. I made it through ‘beauty arising from proper proportion satisfies both sensory and intellectual desire’ before snapping the book shut. The others would likely be no different.

He sure knows how to live a boring life… I thought.

I slid the books back into place, resigned. Reading stuff like this, I’d be asleep before my shift was half over. I ran my fingertip along the spines, scanning the rest, and at the very bottom of the shelf, in the farthest corner, I found *People Who Witness the Dead*.

Should I give this a shot?

The Duke had actually stocked the place—the Ghost House—with books that suited its reputation. But the copy looked pristine, untouched by eager hands, like no one had bothered to read it. I pulled it out, walked back to my desk, and sat down. Flipping to the first page, I found a question: What exists after death? I’d expected entries on ghost types and traits, but this felt like another philosophy text in disguise.

〈〈Those who believe they see spirits are, in truth, unstable within. They experience what is commonly called hallucinations or illusions—a phenomenon far more common than one might think…〉〉

No. Who wrote this crap? Sure, sometimes people mistake hallucinations—but ghosts are *real*. How many have I seen with my own damn eyes? Hey! You, the author of this book! Look at you, spouting off just because *you* can’t see them!

“Unnie!”

‘See? That voice—it’s that girl’s ghost from yesterday!’

And the moment that thought struck, my whole body locked up, rigid as stone.

Why can I hear that voice?

Slowly, I lowered the book in my hands. Over the top of it, a round head of blonde hair came into view first, then eyes and a nose. As her face slid into my sight down to her lips, I had no choice but to let the book drop—*thump*. My heart pounded loud and frantic in my ears. Because there, standing before my desk and looking up at me, was the braided girl from yesterday.