Chapter 57. In the End, Only One Person
Bella and Chei’s gazes locked, heavy and unyielding, yet neither dared to even breathe recklessly.
It was Chei who finally broke the fragile silence.
“Bella. You may leave me at any time, but I… I cannot freely stay by your side, nor can I freely leave.”
“That body—what is it?”
“I came to return the self you once cast aside.”
Chei lifted the upper body he had been bowing and spoke with a smile as flawless as if painted.
The only relief was that it wasn’t his real face.
“……”
“I want to apologize for deceiving you. As I said, I was desperate for you, so I was careful. I couldn’t just say anything. Because you are the only one who gives me this warmth.”
Chei clasped Bella’s hand, closing his eyes like a cat basking in touch, rubbing his cheek against her palm. His expression was that of a man driven mad with happiness at simply brushing against her.
“All that… you hid everything from me just for that reason? No, more importantly, what is that body? Isn’t he someone who works at our mansion?”
Bella, finally regaining her senses, shoved Chei’s shoulder back and bombarded him with questions. Looking closely now, she realized she had indeed seen that face before. At first, she assumed he was a stranger, but he was familiar—a servant Ridel had sent.
Chei frowned faintly, displeased by her words, then pressed closer into Bella’s arms, resting his head on her shoulder, as if declaring plainly he would not leave her even for a moment.
“I don’t like that you’ve memorized this man’s face.”
“You—you didn’t kill him, right?”
“What do you think?”
“Don’t joke with me! I’m dead serious right now!”
When Chei drawled lazily, Bella slapped his back with a sharp smack, startled.
And—contact.
Until now, whenever she tried to hit him, her hand would pass right through. But this time there was the clear sound of a smack. The sensation was profoundly strange.
Chei, too, widened his eyes in shock at the unfamiliar sting, then rubbed at his back as if he couldn’t believe it.
To feel pain meant he was alive.
That reality washed over him anew in that instant.
“I didn’t kill him. I only borrowed his body for a while.”
“You can do that? Then why didn’t you do it sooner instead of moping around the mansion like that?”
“…Hm?”
Chei tilted his head, slightly surprised.
Normally, this was the moment when fear should seize her. A dead man coveting the living’s flesh—wasn’t it natural for the living to recoil?
But Bella only furrowed her brows deeply, as if she could see straight through his misunderstanding.
“Do you think I’d scold you with some high-sounding moral lecture about how terrible it is to take someone’s body? I’m far too jaded for that. You really don’t know me at all.”
“…I admit it. I underestimated you. So then, Bella—”
Chei suddenly leaned in close, their breaths mingling.
Wait. Breath?
Bella’s heart pounded so violently she feared it might burst out of her chest. This wasn’t the icy chill that always emanated from him. It was warm breath.
“Wh—what about it?”
She stammered, and Chei’s lips curved into a soft smile.
“My act of being alive. Is it convincing?”
The eyes that met hers were not his face’s, yet the gaze within them was unmistakably his.
It wasn’t just “convincing.” It was him. The man who had died—yet with a body, he became living once more.
“I… I don’t know.”
Bella’s voice was faint as she lowered her gaze. Chei quietly stepped back, keeping at her side without a word.
By then, the sun had completely set; night had fallen. This was a graveyard—an hour when the dead should easily appear.
Yet only the breeze stirred, rustling the leaves. Nothing else.
“Chei. Why can’t I see Father?”
Her voice was hollow. The sun had set, the hour of the dead begun, yet none appeared.
“Who knows. Even those killed in the mansion never appeared. The only dead soul I’ve ever seen is myself.”
“Me too. Honestly, I thought… I hoped that when Father died, I would at least be able to see his spirit.”
Bella pressed her face into her hands, wearing an expression that was both laughter and tears.
The fact that she could see Chei meant this was not merely the world of the living—it was one shared with the dead.
But she saw nothing. No one.
Hot frustration surged inside her; she gasped, almost ready to scream into the void.
“…Other than me, you cannot see the dead.”
At his murmur, Bella’s face twisted strangely.
Her emotions were beyond simple sorrow. She was stifled, hollow, furious, and exhausted all at once.
“Isn’t it strange? Honestly, when you appeared in that body, I wondered if Father had sent me a gift, so I wouldn’t be left all alone.”
“……”
Her tone was bitter. Chei, eyes heavy, simply listened, as if willing to contain her every feeling.
“But the truth is, you hid everything from me, Chei. You’re dead. How could that ever be a gift?”
“Bella—”
“I don’t believe in fate or destiny. People who carve out their lives through struggle don’t believe in such nonsense.”
“……”
“But if you keep appearing, if you show yourself at moments when I most desperately need someone… then I… I—”
Her words trailed off into a sigh as she clutched at her hair.
Everything was wrong.
She thought she’d grow safely in her father’s love—she didn’t.
She thought working like a dog would one day give her peace—it didn’t.
She thought all she needed was a home—it wasn’t enough.
She thought Father’s death would free her—it didn’t.
She thought leaving the mansion would keep him from following—she was wrong.
“……”
Chei lifted his eyes to the black night sky, then lowered them again to Bella. He had never seen her shoulders so sunken.
The death of family had softened this strong woman so deeply. He felt something stir in him—something he had once known, long ago, before a century had blurred it away.
What words could he offer a soul so strong, and yet so fragile, that she entrusted even her heart to a ghost?
“…I’m sorry.”
Bella released her hair and stared blankly at him, as if she had never expected those words.
Chei reached out, his trembling fingers brushing her disheveled hair, smoothing it gently.
How he had longed to do this.
How he had longed to touch her.
“I… though I am but a dead soul, I dared to covet you.”
“Th—that…”
Bella seemed to realize what she had said, but before she could respond, Chei pulled her into a light embrace. Warmth spread over her chilled shoulders beneath the cold night air.
“I don’t believe in fate either. Though I’d like to think our meeting was inevitable, I don’t deserve that. But—”
“……”
As he paused, Bella raised her head, waiting.
His eyes, gazing past her, were darker and deeper than ever, so much so that she instinctively felt he was no longer merely human.
Sensing her tense, Chei lowered his gaze slowly to meet hers.
“Bella. If—just if—I was not truly dead… what would you think?”
“…Not dead?”
“Would it be acceptable, then, for me to desire you?”
His voice was low and gentle, soothing her guard, yet beneath it churned an unhidden thirst. With a sigh, he pressed his chin lightly to her hair, as though suppressing his own hunger.
Frozen in confusion, Bella could neither pull away from his warmth nor fully sink into it. Her violet eyes wavered helplessly.
“You said before—you drank the poison in the cup… The poison in the cup…”
Her rambling words cut off abruptly.
The fog in her mind cleared, and a sharp truth rose to the surface.
A high noble poisoned by wine.
Her father who heard that tale.
Count Tressi, who for some reason dug into this small southern village where Baron Osick lived.
Her father’s corruption. His death.
And now—Chei, standing before her.
“Yes. What if it wasn’t poison, but a curse? That I’ve lived a hundred years under its hold?”
“No… it can’t be.”
“Would that mean… I still have a chance?”
So he wasn’t truly dead?
Then what was the being before her?
A ghost?
A monster?
