Working at a Haunted Mansion Chapter 9

Lily acted as naturally as she could.

“No, sir. You’re absolutely right. I would’ve thought the same in your position. I sincerely apologize.”

Amid the awkward atmosphere, they began tidying up in silence.

The butler, brought in by the soldier, was told to repair the cracked bookshelf and the ink-splattered desk. Scattered documents were gathered and matched back into order.

The rest of the day went smoothly. Lily didn’t chat, nor did she ask about the translator again. She even pretended not to notice the ghost still keeping a careful eye on her.

Her earnest devotion to the Duke’s resurrection had shifted into a single, focused thought—How can I leave here safely?

The moment she stepped out of the office, she made up her mind to go see the head maid.

Though she kept up her usual behavior, the ghost seemed to sense something was off and watched her more closely.

Just as she grabbed the side door’s handle, he asked her gently:

[You’ll be here tomorrow too, right?]

“Yes, Your Grace. Of course.”

[I want to apologize again for Wolfram’s words. But I didn’t feel that way at all. You’re someone within my circle of trust, and I know how hard you’ve worked. I’ll make sure your dedication is repaid. Please believe me.]

Lily noticed how soft his tone had become—like a brother speaking to a younger sister. The tenderness in his voice was more like a plea.

The problem was… she just couldn’t believe him.

“Yes. I believe you, Your Grace.”

Lily lied with a smile.

That evening, she followed through on her plan and went to the head maid, saying she’d like to take the day after tomorrow off, using the vacation time she’d been promised.

Her reason? The chaos earlier had left her so shaken, she needed time to recover both physically and mentally.

She gave up on handing in her resignation—it would likely just get her scolded. Instead, she intended to take the vacation… and never come back.

Truthfully, she wanted to leave tomorrow morning. But she still had one last thing to do: meet with the Duke.

There was something she needed to give him.

Lily had gone to the seamstress maid and, under the pretense of needing something for the office, requested fabric, stuffing, a sewing kit—and a small bell. She planned to make a ball with the bell inside.

Even though she didn’t trust the Duke’s words, she still pitied him.

He had no one to talk to but her, and unless he went into a rage, he couldn’t express himself properly. Even if she left, she hoped to ease at least a little of that frustration.

Making the cloth ball turned out to be much harder than expected. With great effort, she finally finished a soft rattle ball that a small child might play with.

Since candles were a luxury she couldn’t afford, Lily worked as quickly as possible before the sun set. By the end, it had gotten so dark that her stitches were especially crooked.

‘Well… it’s good enough.’

She looked away from reality and held the ball in her hands.

It was soft, about the size of two fists put together. It gave a gentle jingle whenever it was shaken.

Lily set the ball down and stretched. Her guilt felt a bit lighter.

At the very least, with this ball, the Duke would be able to answer yes or no. He wouldn’t be completely cut off. That thought gave her a little comfort.

 

 

 

****

 

 

 

The next day, when the Duke saw the ball in the office, he looked… bewildered.

[A gift? For me?]

“Yes.”

Lily placed the ball on the center of the floor.

“With this, even after I return to my quarters, you’ll still be able to communicate simple things with the aide. It’s made of fabric, so it won’t break or shatter. Well, unless you apply too much force—it could burst. But try it once.”

[Try what?]

“Try pushing the ball with energy. Just enough to make it roll.”

He still seemed to not quite get it. Lily explained further.

“Don’t go overboard—think of it more like a little ‘ah-choo’ sneeze, not a big ‘AACHOO!’ If you get what I mean. Just imagine you’re annoyed by a pesky fly and try channeling that kind of irritation.”

The Duke looked from her to the ball and back again, then chuckled softly.

[Alright, I’ll give it a try.]

He closed his eyes and went still for a few seconds. A cold shiver ran down Lily’s spine. Suddenly, she was afraid.

“Wait!”

She hurriedly called to him. He opened his eyes and looked at her, as if to ask what was wrong.

“Just—don’t get too mad, okay? Like I said, if it’s too strong, the ball could burst or nearby things might break…”

[Got it, got it.]

The Duke made a motion like he was patting her shoulder. Then he closed his eyes again and focused.

After a few seconds, the corners of his lips twitched. What exactly was he remembering to get so riled up?

The ball still wasn’t shaking. Lily shifted her gaze between the Duke and the floor, eagerly awaiting the success of the ball’s debut.

And then—she heard something unbelievable.

[Pfft.]

…Pfft?

[Pwahaha!]

The ghost burst out laughing, loud enough to shake the estate. Pretending to wipe tears from eyes that no longer existed, he said,

[How could I possibly get mad at a ball like this? Especially when you’re staring at me so earnestly like that? And ‘pesky fly’? Haha! I’ve thought this for a while, but you really are…]

Seeing Lily’s dumbfounded face, the Duke didn’t even finish his sentence and just laughed again. He looked genuinely delighted.

Just then, the door opened and Wolfram stepped in. He looked between Lily and the lone ball on the floor and asked,

“What are you doing? And what is that?”

Lily had a sinking feeling that the whole thing was a failure—but she kept her composure and explained.

“This is a tool for His Grace to communicate with you when I’m not in the office. There’s a bell inside, so it makes noise. For example, if you ask if he’s here, he could signal by rolling the ball once for ‘yes’ and twice for ‘no.’ That kind of thing.”

[Pfftt.]

The Duke was on the verge of bursting out laughing again. Lily’s face turned red with embarrassment.

“If it’s not needed, I’ll just take it back.”

Her voice trembled. She bent down to pick up the ball—but the Duke quickly reached out and placed a hand on top of it.

[I can’t let that happen. It’s already my property now.]

His slightly curved eyes sparkled with amusement.

[Thank you for the gift.]

Lily held back the urge to scoff. It’s the last time—I’ll let it slide, she told herself.

 

 

 

 

****

 

 

Aidan Kashimir stood in the office.

As the sun slowly set, the room gradually sank into darkness. Wrapped in faint shadows, the Duke quietly gazed down at the floor.

A ball made of plain beige linen.

He’d had to coax the sulking maid quite a bit to stop her from taking it back with her.

He had thought there would be no more laughter after that.

But the chattering voice of the maid lingered like an echo in the air. Aidan couldn’t help it—he smiled again, just a little.

A Duke and a maid.

The day he picked up that ball, they would go back to their rightful places, living lives that never mixed—like oil and water.

Aidan closed his eyes and recalled the moment earlier that day, when the maid had entered the manor.

Tension clung to her tightly pressed lips, and the tray she carried covered in cloth was clearly different from usual. She hadn’t brought her cleaning tools and had climbed the stairs more hurriedly than normal.

When he asked what was inside, she dodged the question. The faint jingle of a bell only stirred his curiosity more.

It wasn’t until she entered the office that she uncovered the cloth and spoke.

“It’s a gift!”

She didn’t have some special enhancement to her vocal cords, but her words bounced like raindrops falling on a leaf.

The sudden gift made Aidan question whether it might be his birthday.

The object she held out with trembling hands was, honestly, pitiful. A simple, lumpy ball with crooked stitches on plain fabric—was that really something worthy of being presented to a Duke?

Born heir to the Kashimir, Aidan had received toys made of melted gold and dolls with gemstone eyes sewn onto embroidered silk—even before he could walk.

Yet in its own way, this was undoubtedly the rarest gift he’d ever received in his life.

Aidan looked down at the ball again.

“With this, even after I return to my quarters, Your Grace will be able to communicate simple things with the aide.”

The maid had introduced it with such confidence, but Aidan was certain it wouldn’t work. How could he possibly become angry enough to move that thing?

If he happened to recall her tightly shut eyes mimicking a sneeze, or her pricked finger dotted with tiny red marks from sewing the fabric…

He’d rather let Wolfram continue not knowing about his presence than waste his energy trying to move the ball.

Aidan was discerning when it came to judging people. And yet, after spending just one week together, he found himself holding Lily Dienta in surprisingly high regard.

Today’s gift had solidified that impression.

No, perhaps it was more accurate to say that Lily Dienta had crossed some internal line within him.

Because Lily Dienta never bothered to hide her true feelings, he could see right through her.

Her wide, round eyes held not a trace of pettiness. Like a squirrel trying to imitate a bull, she might act clumsily fierce one moment and be distracted by something else the next.

Aidan found her fascinating and that fascination soon turned into amusement and genuine delight.