–Erin’s POV–

  “Good morning to you, sir.”

  “Good morning.”

  Erin bowed her head and resumed her work.

  As usual, she dusted the shelves, wiped the banisters, mopped the long corridor floors, fetched cold water from the well outside, carried the heavy basin back in her small arms, refilled pots, and set water to boil over the kitchen hearth. The quiet sound of her movements blended with the faint creaking of the old manor.

  The girl still wore a simple white long-sleeve dress embroidered with tiny yellow flowers at the collar and cuffs. A neatly tied apron hugged her waist, already speckled with droplets of water and dust. A crisp white bonnet hid her blonde hair, which she had tucked into a tight bun to keep it from falling while she worked.

  For now, since the young master had not given her any special tasks outside of cleaning, her job was relatively easy. At least, easier than the fieldwork she used to help with back at Rease Town.

  Inside this mansion, it seemed there were only her and Arnold living here. Though she had discovered many empty rooms filled with dozens of fine clothes, she could not find signs of their owners, nor trace of any other residents. The mansion felt both grand and hollow.

  Erin carefully brushed the dust off a vase decorated with scenes of rearing stags, then wiped the cold steel of a suit of armor.

  She did not dare touch the Gargoyle statue beside the entrance. Its beastly claws and sharp-fanged grin frightened her every morning. To her, such things were born of nightmare, and She avoided even glancing at it for too long, afraid the thing might turn its head.

  ‘Young master…’

  While working, her mind often drifted into useless thoughts. She always scolded herself for it, but the thoughts crept back no matter what.

  This village was strange to her. She had arrived three months ago with her parents, guided by a kind neighbor who had recommended them a job as servants for a noble who lived deep in the forest. He told them the noble needed a housekeeper and was generous in pay.

  After settling in, that same neighbor introduced her to Glen’s band. They blindfolded her before leading her inside the forest, telling her the noble did not like strangers knowing the route to his home.

  Although it was odd, it sort of made sense? Erin tilted her head/

  After staying here for a night, however, she had a particular idea about Arnold’s true identity.

  ‘He is not a young master. He is one of the very men who brought me here.’

  Erin remembered him clearly. A handsome blond boy named Arnold, who trailed behind Glen’s band.

  He was barely taller than Erin herself, and at first glance, he seemed painfully shy and constantly nervous. Skittish, always shrinking behind the older men. She remembered him apologizing even when he did nothing wrong, and he had looked barely older than her.

  But the Arnold now… he felt like a different person entirely.

  His demeanor exuded a mature, assertive authority, and his gaze was no longer timid but sharp and assessing. He no longer stumbled with his words nor shrank away from eye contact.

  And his face… beneath the bandages, she knew, lay a horror she could not unsee. Instead of the handsome features she remembered, he now bore burned and twisted skin beneath his bandages. His beautiful blond hair was gone as well.

  If not for his height and his familiar voice, Erin would never have guessed he was the same boy.

  Although she was no genius, she could still sense something was wrong. There were no traces of Glen’s band here, as if they had vanished, leaving Arnold alone to watch over her.

  This realization made Erin hesitant whenever she had to approach him.

  Was he truly a noble? Was everything she saw with the band just a grand deception? Which version of Arnold was the real him?

  Though he had not harmed her, his usual demeanor was very strange, even for Erin.

  Sometimes, he gave off a warm familiarity, like a caring older brother. He would speak with an unusual seriousness, lost deep in thought after the simplest conversation. He would isolate himself in the study for long hours like her own father, an adult burdened with responsibility.

  At other times, he smiled with a bright, carefree smile. He would jog down the hallways, swinging his arms, humming while walking just as he had this morning. It was almost like a childish boy enjoying a game.

  Erin did not know how to feel about it. The Arnold she knew before was timid and nervous. The one now shifted between calm adulthood and childish spontaneity. It confused her more than anything.

  That was why she was so hesitant to speak to him.

  Besides, his appearance still frightened her.

  She knew it was disrespectful, but she couldn’t help but vividly remember the sight of his face when she had first awoken inside the mansion.

  And yet, looking at his bandaged head also gave her a mixed feeling. Why did she feel so dejected when he hid his face all of a sudden?

  ‘But… if he hides it, then am I the only one knowing the real him?’ Wasn’t that a good thing?

  An absurd thought surfaced in her mind, embarrassing enough that her cheeks heated. She frantically shook her head until her bonnet shifted.

  ‘No… no way, no way. I’m not like that.’ She slapped her own cheek weakly, forcing herself to concentrate and not dwell on such useless, foolish thoughts anymore.

  “Oh.”

  Erin looked around. After cleaning her way through the mansion from morning till afternoon, she realized, before she knew it, that she had finished the third floor.

  ‘It’s strange. This mansion is so clean.’

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  She didn’t know why, but the mansion was still very clean and neatly ordered, even though Arnold had not touched a single cleaning tool. Only a little dust remained.

  The floors gleamed slightly when sunlight from the tall windows cut across them. Cobwebs rarely appeared, and even the corners rarely gathered grime.

  Most of the rooms were locked. She didn’t think much of it; since they were not open, she simply left them be.

  ‘What do I do now?’

  Erin stood at the end of the hall, broom hugged to her chest, lips pressing together.

  “Perchance… find another chore?’

  Perhaps go back to the first floor and resume cleaning again. Or wash Arnold’s clothes, though he only seemed to wear the same few garments.

  ‘Or…prepare a meal for him?’ Erin tilted her head.

  Although she knew that the food here didn't belong to Arnold but to the previous owner, she felt a profound sense of gratitude when remembering Arnold’s words from yesterday.

  ‘It’s the first time someone told me that.’

  Telling her to eat more. Telling her to take three meals a day. Telling her to sleep early. That was the first time someone had told her to eat her fill and sleep early.

  Only wealthy people could afford such things. In her family, she stayed awake late helping with mending, washing, embroidering, or carrying things for her parents. Food was evenly divided among her siblings, always just barely enough to keep her belly from growling.

  Here, she was allowed to rest. To eat until she felt full. It felt unreal.

  ‘But…it’s weird.’

  Just yesterday and this morning, she had seen a loaf of bread that Arnold had probably bought from the village. He placed it on the kitchen table.

  However, this afternoon, she noticed a large portion of it had been eaten.

  Erin suspected there must be a rat’s hole nearby. A house this large, surrounded by woods, would naturally attract rodents. They were dangerous, since rats carried diseases, and there was no way to cure them that she knew of.

  Yet even after scanning the walls, corners, under cabinets, behind sacks of flour, she found nothing.

  She also often heard strange noises from the attic, but since Arnold had warned her about it, she hadn’t dared to venture up there.

  But…

  Erin looked up at the attic. Humans were curious creatures. And truth to be told, she was curious too. The more someone told her not to look, the more her mind wondered what was up there.

  What secret could a boy, perhaps younger than her, hide up there?

  ‘Perchance… A stash of indelicate pictures? Women in indecent, playful poses? Risqué ankle pics?’ Erin blushed at her own thoughts.

  Her father had also hidden a stash at home, which Erin had unintentionally found, so she wasn't very surprised. Arnold was a boy, after all.

  “Why not check it yourself?” a voice reverberated in her ear. There should be no harm, right?

  She wanted to find the rat’s hole and possibly exterminate the pests before they spread disease. Perhaps they were hiding in the attic. Those strange noises she heard should be from rats, too.

  Steeling herself, she ascended to the attic.

  —

  The girl walked up the staircase, each wooden step creaking beneath her shoes. The light of the oil lamps on the wall flickering, making her heart jump a bit.

  The attic was quiet.

  Upon reaching the upper landing, she saw a dark oak door waiting at the end of the short corridor. Dust drifted in the air through the dim afternoon light like snowflakes.

  Her heartbeat quickened, pounding so loudly she feared someone might hear.

  ‘No, Erin, you are doing this for his sake!’ she reminded herself.

  Her fingers trembled as she reached for the latch. She swallowed, turned it slowly, and nudged the door open.

  “E…excuse me.”

  The moment she stepped in, a wave of cold air swept over her. The attic felt like winter, bone-chillingly cold that crawled up her spine. Although a little light seeped through the draped window, it was still dark, without any other source of light.

  Erin narrowed her eyes, forcing them to adjust. She hugged her arms around herself as she stepped inside, her shoes thudding softly against the wood.

  She lowered her gaze and moved carefully. She approached the corners first, then the space beneath the covered furniture, searching for any sign of rat holes. She lifted the corner of white sheets draped over boxes, peeked behind an old table, the bottom shelf of a dusty bookcase.

  Strangely, no matter where she looked, she couldn't find anything.

  ‘Hmm?’

  Erin lifted her head slowly.

  As her vision grew accustomed to the dimness, the shapes in the room slowly revealed. She rubbed her eyes and looked up again.

  She froze and stopped moving.

  “Gasp!”

  Her body stiffened. A gasp escaped her lips as she brought her hands to cover her mouth.

  On the wall, illuminated by the thin beam of window light, hung a single portrait.

  “H…how beautiful…”

  ‘Who is she?’ Erin wondered. In all her life, she had never seen anyone this pretty.

  Long gray hair cascaded over her delicate shoulders like strands of silver silk. Her skin was pale and smooth, with no trace of blemish.

  But it was the eyes that seized Erin’s breath. Deep navy eyes that looked directly into hers, cold as winter. The gaze felt alive, as though it were judging her presence, weighing whether she deserved to stand in this room.

  Did Arnold really…hide a girl’s portrait here?

  ‘…’

  Erin locked eyes on the painted girl’s eyes, mesmerized. She could not look away, as if she were being captured by that gaze. Her feet rooted themselves to the floor.

  The longer she stared, the more she felt her thoughts drifting, drawn forward by that serene beauty.

  She didn't even turn at the soft footsteps behind her.

  “Why?”

  “Hiakkkkk!!”

  Erin jolted violently and spun around, only to see a small girl looking directly at her, her eyes wide.

  ‘Who…who is this?!’

  She was wearing a pure white dress that brushed her knees. Her straight black hair almost touched the floor, with long dark bangs shadowing her forehead. Her greenish eyes glimmered in the gloom, reflecting the dim light like the eyes of a cat.

  There was a blue flower resting on her head like a little hair clip.

  Erin blinked.

  ‘Isn’t it the flower Arnold brought back yesterday?’

  As the little girl sauntered closer to Erin, Erin instinctively stepped back.

  “He…hello?…”

  The black-haired girl gave her no reply. Instead, she walked right past her without a glance and stopped in front of the painting.

  She turned her head and stared directly at Erin again.

  ‘Ah.’

  Erin swallowed her saliva. The sight held her in a state of deep entrancement: Two girls. One painted, one real. Both staring at her.

  A bead of sweat trickled down Erin’s forehead.

  The small girl glared fiercely, her expression shifting into unmistakable fury. Her voice tore through the air.

  “GET OUT!”

  “Hiiik!!!”

  Erin stumbled backward, nearly falling as she scrambled toward the door. She fumbled for the latch, shoved it open and slammed it shut behind her.

  She fled down the stairs without looking back, leaving the little girl alone with the painting.