Maylily - Chapter 8

The house located on the third floor of a gray building at the entrance of the Cryer district offered views of the Fez River and, beyond it, the Aberque district from every window. As Maylily stepped out from the small balcony attached to the bedroom and passed through the door leading to the sitting room, a sound of admiration escaped her lips.

“Wow…”

The sitting room, with lattice windows taking up more than half of one wall, looked almost like a glass greenhouse. The white window molding, framing a watercolor-like view of the sun-drenched Fez River, and the pale sky-blue wallpaper resembling the clear spring sky added a bright warmth to the room.

“This house is too nice for someone living alone. I’m not sure it’s right for me to even unpack here.”

Worried her steps might leave marks on the expensive-looking light gray carpet, Maylily stopped at the entrance and glanced around the room, then looked at David with a sheepish expression.

“Oh, it’s more than fine. As the Count of Everscourt’s sponsored artist, you’re more than entitled to it. Take your time looking around and let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

David guided her with a friendly smile. Only after confirming her shoes were clean did Maylily step onto the carpet.

She had been seeing David quite often lately, as he handled everything related to the sponsorship. Despite his cold-looking appearance, he was a down-to-earth and kind person. Thanks to him, Maylily had been able to accept the Count’s patronage with a bit more ease.

Of course, this house, which stirred her guilt at every glance, was an exception.

“The standard of living of the sponsored reflects the dignity of the sponsor. Whether the arrangement is public or private, the dignity of Count Everscourt must always be upheld.”

Maylily couldn’t refuse the move after David explained it was for the sake of the sponsor’s prestige. It didn’t seem right to let him come and go from a boarding house shared by women, either.

Not even a week after the decision, David had found this house—so grand it was almost burdensome—and brought in workers to move her belongings. It was an impressive display of efficiency.

Maylily’s new home featured a formal layout rarely seen in Cryer. While walking along the carpet’s edge and examining the furnishings, her steps stopped by the window.

Beyond the clear glass, sunlight danced over the gentle flow of the Fez River, creating brilliant ripples. Her gaze followed that dazzling shimmer across the river and landed on the skyline of Aberque, where a tall and grand building stood out among many—Skaard Hotel.

The cold, piercing stare that had looked down at her from the very top of that hotel suddenly flashed in her mind. Shaking her head quickly, Maylily stepped back from the window.

“Mr. Curren, you’ve been so thoughtful that I don’t think I’ll need anything more. Thank you.”

“I tried to prepare as best I could. I hope nothing’s lacking. Also, a housekeeper will come by tomorrow morning. She’s there to help lessen your burden with household chores, so feel free to decide together which days and times she’ll visit. If you need anything else, just let her know.”

A housekeeper. That, too, felt excessive, but then again, this entire sponsorship was beyond her means to begin with. She wasn’t in a position to pick and choose from the Count’s generosity, so Maylily decided it was time to simply adjust to this new life.

“Alright, I’ll do that.”

“Then I’ll take my leave.”

Just as she stepped out of the sitting room to see David off—

“Wait a moment, Mr. Curren!”

Suddenly struck by a thought, Maylily stopped him and went into the dining room. On the table was a paper bag filled with items she had picked up from a nearby grocery store on her way home. She rummaged through it, pulled out an apple, carefully polished it with a handkerchief, and held it out to David.

“You’ve gone through so much trouble for me today. I just wanted to thank you with something.”

David’s expression as he looked down at the apple was somehow a little hard to read.

Does he not like apples? Or… is this too… small?

Embarrassed, Maylily quickly added an explanation, “It’s nearly dinner time, and I thought it’d be nice to serve you a meal, but cooking would take a while… I’m not very good at it.”

“Oh, please don’t misunderstand. I was just wondering whether I deserved to accept this after simply doing my job.”

“If that’s the only reason, would you please accept it? I really want to give it to you.”

“…Alright then. I’ll enjoy it.”

David accepted the apple with a soft smile. The burden of having only received lifted slightly, and a bright smile spread across Maylily’s face, too.

“Thank you. Take care.”

***

Tiny feet the size of a palm hurried across the pale beige carpet laid over a marble floor. The warm midday sunlight pouring in through evenly spaced windows along one wall spilled over the small white tops of those feet.

As the child passed through the childhood voids engraved in the pitch-black oil paintings hung neatly along the opposite wall, his breath gradually rose to his throat. Still, he couldn’t stop. He simply felt as if he mustn’t.

The feet, which had been running down the long corridor, finally came to a halt. Before him stood a pair of grand mahogany double doors intricately carved with a geometric pattern resembling rolling waves. It was the bedroom of the Countess of Everscourt.

When he turned the twin handles and flung the doors wide open, a wave of light crashed in, swallowing his vision in white. The roaring sound of waves and sea breeze tinged with a faint salty scent overwhelmed his senses, then receded, sweeping away the blinding white light.

As his vision cleared, the horizon of the vast ocean came into view, far beyond the open balcony. While he was watching the sea sparkle brilliantly under the midsummer sun—thud. A long black shape dropped from the ceiling and split the center of the horizon.

Exposed bare feet and ankles, limbs hanging limply as if weighted, a black dress like crow’s feathers, a grotesquely twisted neck, disheveled black hair tangled with dust, and a pale, expressionless, gaunt face.

As the wind that billowed the white chiffon curtains at the door like clouds stirred the woman hanging from the ceiling, he suddenly remembered who it was.

Mother!

At the soundless scream, the woman snapped her broken neck upright with a crack and opened her bloodshot eyes wide. The moment their eyes met, drenched in tears of blood, Hugh’s eyelids flew open.

“……”

Waking up in bed, Hugh quietly stared at the empty ceiling in the dark. He no longer screamed or broke out in a cold sweat.

He had opened the mahogany door in his dreams more than hundreds of times.

Some nights, the woman’s tongue stretched down to her chest. Some nights, her head had been cleanly severed and lay rolling on the floor. Other times, blood dripped from the neck suspended by a rope, or her head twisted 180 degrees to show only the back of her skull.

Each time he encountered the woman in her ever-changing forms, Hugh gradually grew numb to the fear. The nightmare that had painted his childhood nights with terror was now just a dream.

The dream had begun about twenty years ago, on the night he first witnessed his mother’s suicide. At the time, Hugh was only five years old. But the incident, which took place in the clear brightness of a midsummer day, remained vividly etched in his memory.

Hailey Skaard was a foolish woman who threw herself into an emotional affair like a moth to a flame. Seduced by Victor Heywood’s flashy charm, she plotted a nighttime escape, betraying her husband and son, and turning the name of Everscourt into a laughingstock.

Her husband and Hugh’s father, William Skaard, issued a manhunt and quickly apprehended her. Then he urged her to preserve her final dignity through death.

It was a fitting end. Hailey Skaard met the end she deserved.

Thus, Hugh’s decision to take revenge on Victor Heywood wasn’t born out of his mother’s death, but out of a desire to avenge the nightmares that ruined his childhood and the disgrace tarnishing the name of Everscourt.

Victor Heywood had steadily descended the staircase of ruin that Hugh had carefully designed over the years. Watching that process had been a considerable delight, but an unquenched thirst still remained.

And then, Maylily Aile.

The name, which surfaced unbidden, stirred his thirst anew.

“Maylily Aile has successfully completed her move. She seems quite pleased with the house.”

And yet, rather than visiting to thank him, she continued avoiding the hotel.

He hadn’t done it expecting gratitude, but it was true that her attitude, as though being forced to accept the sponsorship, left a sour taste.

In the still darkness, Hugh dwelled on the fear-stained look in her eyes and her tears, and the faint thrill that had risen like mist from them. Determined to take those things from her once more, he fell into a shallow sleep. The next evening, Hugh visited Maylily’s home.