41. Confusion
“No, that’s not it. I already revealed to her that I was the one inside your body.”
Chey answered calmly and then silently waited, giving Bella time to compose herself.
But this time, even Chey’s gentle and thoughtful demeanor wasn’t enough to soothe the turmoil inside Bella.
“Wait a minute. So Ridel met Chey? Through my body?”
“Yes. That day, I paid the price in full and spoke with Chey.”
“Don’t call my name so lightly, President of Mist.”
Chey’s icy voice didn’t reach Ridel. Only Bella could see the cold expression on Chey’s face as he stared at Ridel.
Chey was someone only she could see and hear. That made her arrogant. But ghosts could do more than she had thought.
Maybe it wasn’t Bella who was looking after Chey—it was Chey who was watching over Bella. Bella couldn’t harm Chey, but Chey’s very presence was enough to weaken Bella.
“Don’t keep things from me. Tell me. Right now.”
Bella sharply turned her head to glare at Ridel.
At that, Ridel let out a faint sigh, removed the mask of secrecy, and politely bowed to Bella, just like greeting a noble lady.
“Very well. I’ll explain everything. May I sit now?”
Though his speech was shorter than when he played the Mist Merchant, Bella felt more respect from him now.
Only after Bella nodded reluctantly did Ridel carefully sit back down on the sofa.
“Bella. As you know, I’m a noble.”
“I know. Sitting at the head of the table in someone else’s house—that’s such a noble thing to do.”
“Ahem.”
Ridel cleared his throat at Bella’s nonchalant retort.
This was the first time in his life he’d spoken while feeling like he was being interrogated. He was usually the one doing the questioning, observing, and evaluating.
Still, this unfamiliar feeling wasn’t entirely unpleasant. It was because of the woman standing before him with arms crossed and a cynical expression—Bella.
Despite her sarcasm, she possessed large dreams, a strong will, and relentless drive. In a way, she was the opposite of him.
To Ridel, a society without social hierarchy was too distant, almost impossible. While he appeared to be someone chasing big dreams, deep down, he had grown increasingly cynical.
With time, Ridel found himself reevaluating Bella—his opinion of her continued to rise.
“So, what did you and Chey talk about? Tell me, Ridel.”
Bella, clearly unimpressed by the way Ridel looked at her with admiration, pouted as she brought over a light tea set and sat down across from him—still treating him as a guest.
“It wasn’t anything special. I was just there to deliver the gold coins I promised you.”
“……”
As Bella silently poured the tea, Ridel continued. This was the first time he’d spoken about such things, except with a few close associates.
“I desperately needed the ghost of this mansion. That’s why I asked for your protection.”
“And what exactly do you believe this ghost is? You and Chey clearly know something, don’t you?”
“That’s…”
Ridel turned his gaze toward the window. Even though it was closed, the curtains gently swayed.
“How could Chey possibly help with your delusional dream?”
“Do you know who originally owned this mansion?”
“Yes. The Duke of Prellrod who died a hundred years ago.”
Bella placed the teacup in front of Ridel. He sipped it and looked at her in surprise—the tea was unexpectedly good.
As the daughter of a fallen noble, Bella embodied a curious blend of nobility and commoner. Most commoners couldn’t prepare proper tea—they’d rather drink milk or alcohol.
“And yet, you don’t know who the ghost is?”
At his words, the curtains fluttered more violently. Feeling Chey’s movement, Bella turned her head toward him.
Chey approached, looking somewhat gloomy, and stood before Bella as if telling her not to engage Ridel any further.
“Hmm, Ridel. You can’t see the ghost standing right here, can you?”
“No. That’s why I needed someone who could.”
After spending the past week in the mansion, Ridel was almost certain the ghost was the Duke of Prellrod. That kind of pressure and atmosphere could only come from someone like him.
But Bella didn’t show the slightest hint of surprise.
“Do you happen to know what the Duke of Prellrod looked like?”
“Of course. He had jet-black hair, dark blue eyes, a large build, and was an exceptional swordsman.”
Ridel still carried a small drawing of the Duke, like a sacred relic. Though a century had passed and others had either forgotten or turned him into a symbol of fear, Ridel believed he knew him best. Even without meeting him, he knew what the Duke had dreamed and accomplished.
He wielded a sword, but only to protect. His towering physique was meant to shield the weak.
So, surely the ghost in this mansion…
“The ghost standing in front of me looks like a delicate iris flower.”
“…What?”
Ridel froze as if a glass shattered in his mind.
The oppressive silence felt suffocating. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard from Bella.
“Delicate”? The most incompatible word with the Duke of Prellrod.
“Iris”? If he were to liken the Duke to a plant, it would be a tree—a majestic one.
“He’s graceful and beautiful, like he lives on dew alone. He has dazzling platinum hair and eyes like a serene blue lake.”
“Lies!”
Ridel jumped up, shouting in shock. He realized that the ghost who possessed Bella had never explicitly confirmed he was the Duke, which made him feel even more disoriented.
Bella, unshaken by his reaction, calmly sipped her tea.
“What lie? I’m only telling the truth. Chey is nothing like the Duke of Prellrod.”
“But…”
Ridel’s voice trembled. Always composed and arrogant as a merchant, this was a new side of him.
Bella, puzzled by his shaken demeanor, looked at him wide-eyed. She wondered if he might be an ardent follower of the late Duke.
“Don’t even think about making Chey do anything dangerous. I won’t allow it.”
Bella glared at him protectively, as if shielding the invisible ghost beside her.
The ghost’s existence was clearly a poison to Bella. If she had bought a small cabin instead of this mansion, she might have avoided all of this—no ghost possession, no weakening of her energy.
And yet, she tried to protect the ghost.
Ridel exhaled in disbelief at her attitude.
“Then why do you help the ghost?”
Ridel asked her back as she turned away to clear the teacups.
Bella set the teacup down on a table near the door and turned back to face him.
Though Ridel couldn’t see it, Chey was standing right in front of him, expressionless, as if trying to read his true intentions.
“Help the ghost? I’ve never helped him.”
“What—”
“We just live together. I know it might sound strange, saying a ghost ‘lives’ with me.”
“Are you saying the ghost is really elegant and beautiful…?”
Hearing Ridel’s dazed voice, Bella suddenly felt pity.
He had spent his life chasing a dream, searching for a helper to make that dream a reality. And now that he thought he’d found one—only to realize he hadn’t—it must be crushing.
“Yes. So wake up from your dream. Abolishing the class system? That’s treason. You’ll end up executed.”
To Bella, her own safety mattered most.
Not being looked down on. Eating three proper meals a day. Having enough to buy a few books she liked from time to time.
The last two were achievable now, but the first wasn’t easy.
No matter how gracefully she acted or followed noble etiquette, people still saw her as a mere common girl with no parents to protect her.
After enduring endless disdain and disgusting advances, the only thing she had left was her stubborn pride.
Money.
She planned to buy a solid house and protect herself.
Build high walls. Earn money making candles and soap in this massive mansion of hers.
And make sure no one could ever look down on her again.
