Chapter 15. Home
Bella hesitantly stepped inside.
“Chey… is it really okay for me to use all this?”
“You’re the master of this house now.”
The interior had a vintage and elegant atmosphere, with all sorts of valuables neatly stacked. Emphasis on stacked.
Bella examined the porcelain nearest to her. It was from the Kingdom of Is—highly prized and rare. Just one of these could fetch at least four hundred gold coins in today’s market.
Four hundred!
Bella touched her chest with trembling hands, wondering if her heart had just stopped. Chey watched her like she was some odd spectacle.
“Bella. What’s wrong?”
“Uh, um…”
Bella stammered, sweeping her gaze around the room again.
“Is the amount too little?”
“What?”
She blinked in disbelief. Too little? She nearly blurted out that she wanted to open his skull to see what kind of standard he was working with.
No, it wasn’t too little—it was far too much.
If she sold all this, she’d earn dozens of times more than the total wealth she’d painstakingly saved over the years from working herself half to death.
Chey quietly watched her, then softened his gaze with faint pity.
“Sorry. Since it hasn’t been managed properly for a long time, there probably isn’t much that’s useful.”
Bella almost grabbed the back of her neck and collapsed. What was this ghost saying? Clearly, the biggest danger in her life wasn’t assassins, but Chey.
“If I sold all of this…”
“It’d be better to sell it off gradually rather than all at once. If you tried to take this much out in one go, people might get suspicious and investigate you.”
“Not just investigate. The whole mansion would be crawling with thieves!”
Bella absentmindedly stroked a nearby sculpture. The way it captured the delicate fluttering of a goddess’s dress—it could easily fetch two hundred gold coins.
It was a goldmine. She’d struck gold.
Bella’s face lit up with pure delight.
“Chey!”
She rushed to hug him, but her arms passed straight through. She ended up hugging herself, but she didn’t care—she jumped for joy.
She didn’t know what to do, her expression shifting between laughter and tears.
Her body trembled from the cold seeping into her—likely from being in contact with Chey. But she didn’t care. With her heart pounding like this, she was more worried she’d end up warming him.
“Bella. Are you really okay with this?”
“What are you talking about! I love it! I’ve never even touched anything this precious, not even when I was the daughter of a baron!”
She made another motion as if to hug him. Chey blinked, still unsure of how to react.
Then suddenly, his expression turned cold.
“Bella. Step away from me.”
When he noticed her lips slowly losing color, he stepped back.
But Bella didn’t falter. She stepped closer again and tried to embrace him tightly. A rare look of confusion appeared on Chey’s usually relaxed face.
Despite the intense chill, Bella didn’t remove her hand from him.
“Chey… just tell me what you need. What can I give you? Do you have a wish?”
Chey’s blue eyes lowered to her hand. It was pale, trembling, but clinging to him.
Her hand was covered in calluses, with joints that protruded—a hand hardened from struggle.
That’s exactly what it was.
“Wow, if I’d known earlier, I wouldn’t have needed to bet with President Mist!”
“President Mist?”
Chey tilted his head, puzzled, stepping away again.
“Yes, President Mist. But Chey, why are you avoiding me? Do you hate being touched?”
Hate it? No. Ghosts yearn for the living.
A ghost’s deepest wish is to live again. They crave the warmth of the living and cling to anything that can make them feel alive, even if it’s just an illusion.
Just being touched like this let Chey feel like he was alive—even if he wasn’t.
The faint warmth of a living person’s touch on his cold body was intoxicating. So sweet, it drove him mad to resist devouring it whole.
“It’s not me who should hate this. It’s you.”
“Well, I don’t!”
Bella shouted confidently. Chey looked surprised, his eyes widening.
“Bella. Don’t be stubborn. Touching a ghost isn’t good for the living.”
His voice was calm, almost too gentle. Bella felt as if even the cold air around him carried a sweet fragrance.
Chey reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear—unsuccessfully.
Bella placed her hand over his halfway and smiled faintly.
“Just for today, Chey. I’m too happy. Starting tomorrow, I won’t even come near you.”
“Heh.”
“…?”
Chey chuckled softly, and Bella tilted her head in curiosity.
He leaned in, closing the distance between them.
He always exuded a cool aura, and Bella preferred that winter-like scent to the heat of a living person’s breath.
Maybe that’s why her head was spinning just from being near him.
“But now I feel kind of sad, Bella.”
Ah, his looks were too much. Bella touched her blushing face, worried it might literally burst.
Chey chuckled again, maybe finding her reaction amusing.
Even his laughter was beautiful.
“T-That’s enough for now!”
Eventually, Bella backed away first. Only then did Chey return to his usual lethargic demeanor, quietly watching her. His calm attitude made Bella feel unfairly flustered.
His gaze briefly touched her lips. They had turned blue, drained of color. Though her body trembled from the ghost’s chill, she hadn’t even noticed.
This is what it meant to be bewitched by a ghost, Chey thought bitterly. Once a human, now a being that brought harm to the living.
“Bella. Are you afraid of me?”
“No! If you mean the kind of beauty that could enchant both men and women, then yes—it’s scarily overwhelming.”
“How can you say that so bluntly?”
“Because it’s true.”
Bella cheerfully replied and began examining the items in the room again, picking out a few.
Chey noticed she deliberately avoided the most valuable ones, taking only the cheapest. Smart move.
As time passed and color returned to Bella’s face, Chey finally let out a breath of relief.
Thank goodness—he’d distanced himself just in time.
“Hm? Why the sigh, Chey? Was one of these things precious to you?”
“No. Not really.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Sell them all if you want. Just use the money to stay away from this mansion for a while.”
“…Bella?”
Bella grinned awkwardly, showing her teeth.
That’s when Chey realized he’d misjudged her. He rubbed his forehead with one hand. He’d assumed she’d leave if he gave her money—but she’d never said she would.
“Chey. Thank you. I’ll use it well.”
“You could really die, Bella. This isn’t a game. You saw what happened. What are you thinking?”
“If I die, can I stay here as a ghost?”
“…What?”
Chey blinked in disbelief. Did she know what she was saying? Anyone who stayed in this house was at serious risk.
From Count Trecy’s behavior, there had to be a powerful figure backing him. People like that were always persistent and cruel.
Chey opened his mouth to warn her again, but Bella spoke first.
“Well, I mean… if I die, won’t I get to haunt this mansion too? A ghost with a home has somewhere to belong, right?”
“Bella, what are you saying? When you die, that’s it. No matter how grand the mansion or how much gold you have—death is the end.”
Chey’s voice trembled slightly.
Did she not realize? Her life, her warmth, her beating heart—those were the very things he desperately longed for. He would trade everything to live again.
The living could never understand just how much the dead crave life—how much they desire, obsess over, and yearn for it.
Chey tugged at the tight knot on his shirt collar. As it loosened, the shirt opened slightly.
Still, the suffocating feeling didn’t go away. It should be so easy—just leave the mansion. But why was she being so stubborn?
Then she said something that made Chey freeze.
“What if I die after leaving this house?”
“…”
Her voice carried layers of weariness, the scars of a hard life. Only then did Chey realize—she wasn’t joking.
She was serious. Deadly serious.
Who in their right mind values a home more than their life? What had she been through to feel that way?
He quietly stared into her eyes. Her violet gaze was heavier and darker than ever.
“What if I die and can’t find my way back here?”
“…Bella.”
“Then I want to die in my own home. To me, this is my hometown. My house.”
Carrying an armful of valuables, Bella brushed past him and left the room, clearly upset.
Left behind in the now silent room, Chey stood there, staring blankly.
“…Rather than have someone else take her—”
Maybe it would be better… if I took her first.
