Chapter 5

“Ray!”  

The woman, called Sarah, instantly brightened. Without caring about the gazes around her, Sarah threw her arms around Raymond’s neck.  

“I’ve been waiting. Do you know how long it’s been?”  

“Yeah.”  

“What happened to your face? Did the Earl…”  

“Stop.”  

Her voice, which had been full of venom and insults when slapping and berating him, now dripped with honeyed sweetness. Though Raymond had no right to blame her for that. He removed her clinging hands and replied curtly.  

“Just tell me why you called me.”  

At his icy expression, Sarah’s face faltered. He had been kind at times, but even in bed, he never sought unnecessary intimacy.  

From the very beginning, he had treated her, a lowly back-alley singer, as an equal. Because of that, she had never imagined he was a high-ranking nobleman. By the time she realized his attitude wasn’t kindness but indifference, it was already too late—she had fallen too deeply.  

Even though they were no longer lovers, she still knew one thing:  

Raymond Campbell Somerset never discarded someone he found useful.  

“The gun I mentioned last time—I got it. It’s silent and discreet.”  

For a moment, a flicker of emotion passed through his otherwise sunken gaze.  

“Ray, you’re not… planning to kill someone, are you?”  

Her voice trembled aimlessly as she asked. Meeting Sarah’s fearful and anxious eyes, Raymond smiled gently.  

“Of course not, Sarah.”  

“…”  

“It’s just… I’ve been bored lately, so I thought I’d go hunting. The Earl always assumes I’ll kill myself whenever I pick up a gun.”  

Or that one day, I might finally snap, shoot everyone, and set the place on fire.  

At his chilling mutter, Sarah instinctively followed his gaze. His eyes were fixed in the direction of a woman and a boy. Before she could even question it, Raymond tucked the item she’d given him into his coat and turned away. Sarah hurried after him and clung to his arm.  

“But Ray, who was that woman earlier?”  

At the sudden question, he paused for a moment. Helen Godwin. She wasn’t a beauty. Her dull hair color and plain eyes were utterly ordinary. A simple countryside woman who had handed a handkerchief to a man whose name she barely knew. A pawn that would soon prove useful.  

“A rustic tutor.”  

It was clear he didn’t want her to ask or wonder any further. Sarah pouted and fell silent.  

* * *  

A few days later, Helen had to admit that Henry’s claim about ghosts in the mansion wasn’t entirely an exaggeration. This was due to the strange stories circulating within the estate.  

‘Late at night, a ghost emerges from the chapel and wanders around.’  

The butler, who heard about it belatedly, dismissed it as a ridiculous rumor and tried to silence the gossip, but it was already too late. Helen, too, initially dismissed it, but there were simply too many witnesses.  

Even the young maid who brought her wash water had seen something. When Helen asked her what was wrong, the girl immediately burst into tears.  

“I saw a ghost! Last night. What should I do, Miss Godwin? Am I going to die now?”  

“What nonsense. Seeing a ghost doesn’t mean you’ll die.”  

“But it was so scary… The butler keeps saying it’s all an illusion, that I’m just weak, and that’s why I saw it…”  

“Could it have been a dream?”  

Helen seated the maid in a chair and patted her back. The maid shook her head.  

“No, it couldn’t have been. Even the girls I share a room with saw it.”  

“Well, it doesn’t seem to harm anyone or attack them.”  

“No, it just wanders around in a white nightgown with its long hair down.”  

It was peculiar. Usually, ghost stories involved headless spirits or faceless apparitions, but this one sounded like a perfectly normal person walking around.  

“Could it possibly be a person? Or an illusion?”  

“Who would wander around the mansion at night like that? It has to be a ghost!”  

The maid wasn’t just complaining out of boredom or sleepiness during her break. As soon as the story ended, Henry’s eyes sparkled with excitement.  

“A ghost story! See? I told you it was real!”  

“They say it only appears in winter and then vanishes.”  

“I’ve seen it too. A ghost with long hair down.”  

“You’ve never seen its face?”  

“No one has.”  

“Hmm.”  

Helen wasn’t one to believe in superstitions, but if it were true, it wouldn’t be strange for a place as old as Groene Hall to have a ghost or two.  

“That’s enough chit-chat. Let’s move on to the next lesson.”  

Helen dismissed the topic and got up to retrieve a book from the shelf. Just then, Henry suddenly sprang up.  

“Oh, right!”  

He ran to the window and threw it open without hesitation, waving his hand.  

“Brother!”  

When Helen approached, he pointed down below.  

“There he is! I thought he said there’d be a guest today. I knew it!”  

The cold wind blew in, causing Helen to tuck her disheveled hair behind her ear. Following Henry’s finger, her gaze fell to the garden.  

Narcissus, Saintpaulia, poinsettias, and various other winter flowers bloomed vibrantly amidst the snow-covered shrubs.  

In the center stood a man.  

No, it was as if a fleeting summer had bloomed amidst the half-formed winter.  

Hair like molten gold, flawless and radiant. Eyes as blue as gemstones. A proud nose and full lips that curved into an arrogant arc. His transparent, pristine appearance seemed like it could vanish into the snowy landscape at any moment…  

“Who’s that next to him? A guest?”  

At Henry’s muttering, Helen’s gaze shifted to the other side.  

Raymond Campbell Somerset wasn’t alone. Across a tea table sat a woman dressed elegantly. She was beautiful, like a masterpiece admired in an art gallery. A perfect man and woman, as if painted by a master’s brush.  

“Who could she be?”  

“I’m not sure. But Henry…”  

Helen averted her gaze, feeling an inexplicable sense of unease. It felt as though an invisible line separated them from her world, as if two worlds that neither crossed nor overlapped surrounded them.  

“It’s not polite to stare. Let’s…”  

“Oh, he’s looking this way!”  

Just as she was about to close the window, Henry shouted. Raymond had raised his head. Their eyes briefly met.  

For a fleeting moment, it seemed as if his gaze lingered, but then it passed indifferently.  

Henry mouthed words silently.  

‘Brother, what are you doing?’  

Though the distance wasn’t close, Raymond seemed to understand. He grinned and mimed a yawn.  

‘Entertaining guests. Bored to death.’  

While the brothers secretly exchanged playful gestures from afar, the woman, who had been staring at the scenery, noticed them. She leaned forward and whispered something into Raymond’s ear.  

After listening to her for a moment, Raymond raised his hand and gestured. Henry, delighted, jumped up and down.  

“Teacher, he’s calling us! Let’s go together! Please?”  

“It’s still study time.”  

“I’ll study extra tomorrow. I’ll focus completely. Please…”  

Though Henry was a bright and diligent student, he was also incredibly stubborn. When he made up his mind, it was nearly impossible to dissuade him. After spending over two weeks with him, Helen had come to understand this.  

She sighed and nodded.  

“Fine. But you’ll go alone.”  

Henry’s face fell, looking like a puppy caught in the rain, but Helen ignored it. For some reason, her stomach had been unsettled since the morning.  

***

The discomfort was a warning. Skipping dinner that evening seemed inevitable.  

When Helen woke up clutching her growling stomach, she fumbled for the candlestick and matches on her bedside table. She lit the candle and muttered to herself.  

“I should check the kitchen…”  

Perhaps there’d be some leftover cheese or bread. She grabbed her shawl, draped it over her shoulders, and opened the door.  

The moment she stepped out, a chill ran down her spine, causing the hairs on her body to stand on end.  

—They say it wanders the mansion in a white chemise. 

—With its long hair loose…

—And it stares with resentful eyes… 

Each step she took made her want to turn back and crawl into bed. But retreat wasn’t an option. Helen forced herself to shake off the fear and continued toward the annex. She focused on distracting herself with thoughts.  

A pastor’s daughter, afraid of ghosts? Simon would laugh his head off if he knew. He’d tease me about it for a month. I wonder how he’s doing.  

“Ah.”  

Lost in thought, she nearly bumped into the dining room door. It was ridiculous, not even paying attention to her surroundings like a child. The situation struck her as funny, and her nerves eased. Feeling calmer, Helen stepped inside.  

“Let’s see if there’s anything…”  

The room was pitch dark. She raised the candlestick higher, but then she felt it—a presence.  

She whipped her head toward it, but no one was there.  

“It’s just my imagination.”  

It was probably because of all the ghost stories she’d been hearing lately. The human mind was fickle, interpreting things differently depending on the situation—seeing what it wanted to see, hearing what it wanted to hear.  

Reassuring herself, Helen moved toward the counter.  

Then, she heard it again.  

This time, it was the sharp sound of something breaking.  

It felt as though someone had poured cold water over her head. She froze, her skin crawling. Turning around, she noticed a thick door she hadn’t seen earlier. It led to the wine cellar.  

“Probably just rats…”  

She wished someone else were there, but she was alone. She approached the door, which was slightly ajar, intending to close it. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward.  

Then, from the darkness, someone exhaled.  

The flame on her candle flickered and went out. Darkness fell in an instant, and the candlestick rolled to the floor.  

Before she could even scream, a hand reached out from behind and wrapped around her waist.  

As she struggled, a familiar voice whispered in her ear.  

“I’ve been waiting for you.”