Servant | Taekook English version

Page 3: Opera

[Zella Day- Jerome]

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"... curiosity is an uneasy, immoral passion ..." - Carmilla, Sheridan Le Fanu

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Near the town of Brasov there is a house; The name of this place, where the townspeople goose bumps and put their worst nightmares and their most horrible mirages, is Bran castle. From a distance, this castle with black stones so terrible that no one would even want to live in it is a home, a home to an interesting family full of secrets.

On the other hand, I am a foot-man with his simple, worthless blood compared to the noble blood that has barely filled his third day in this home, enough to keep the noses of the household in the air. Thousands of thanks to my little troubles, I had not dealt with another makeshift nightmare on the night of the third day, where I spent safe and sound alongside the tough guys. In my small room with a low ceiling, I woke up tonight to the timbre of a completely different sound instead of the bell tone.

The words of a familiar poem leaking into my room from a deep-voiced man's rough tone sneaked through my ears, and in this bed where I lay on my back, my hands under my head made me watch the empty ceiling. As my eyes were examining the cracks in the ceiling, I was thinking about what I had done after leaving Count Jeon's room last night. Along with Mr. Jung, he helped other servants with the task of cleaning the dining room, and it was worth it, even though my currently aching muscles annoyed me.

Count Jeon hadn't summoned me overnight. When I asked Mr. Jung curiously about what might happen, he mentioned that he might not have called me because he was going to write until morning. According to what is said; Count Jeon loved to write as much as he loved to read, and even if he did not have time, he was always scribbling aside. With that in mind, one might think he had a great passion for writing. Of course, it would not be appropriate to disturb him in such a situation. After all, as Mr. Jung said, I was a subordinate.

However, as the minutes passed, in this bed I was lying in, I felt as if I was put alive in a coffin, my lids were nailed, and then I was rubbed under the ground and covered like a blanket. My despair was so terrifying that even if I shouted, told me that I was still alive, nobody could hear me, they kept throwing the earth on me with shovels. This desperation was fueled by one of last night's faint memories.

After talking to Mr. Jung, I was asked to throw out the trash after the meal I had with the servants, and to do this I used the back door of the large kitchen. Even though the famous rain is constantly pouring onto the earth, taking an umbrella with me was an inconvenient waste of time. That's why I walked out the door, pulling the bags. I have never seen the back of the castle, like many places in this house. That's why I was looking for my way in ignorance.

The heavy rain and the darkness of the night were playing against me, I couldn't see anything properly. In a few minutes I was both soaked and sure I was lost. It was easy to believe that I was lost, even if I took only a few steps. It was as if I had dropped meters away. My complex was awakened suddenly. Still, I studied my environment without breaking my temper and took a deep breath before moving to return.

I was also hurt by the hard object hitting my foot and I dropped the sachets on the floor without noticing. I must have struck a sensitive part of my foot that the intensity of the pain climbed onto my knee in a wave, and I was surprised where to hold my foot, as the lightning flashing and then the thunder and the enthusiastic rain floated through my hair and wet my face. Sometimes when I hit my elbow somewhere I would feel it up to my hand. It was that kind of blow.