Chapter 8: Pure heart fades

Ghyna guided me to my new room. The house felt so quiet—no footsteps, no voices. Maybe everyone was out. I could only follow her in silence, while Ascella had already left us earlier.

“Why does such a big house feel so empty?” I wondered, disturbed by the silence that dominated this place.

We passed through a room lined with chairs and tables, then entered a hallway. On the inner wall hung several framed photos, while the outer side was filled with windows that let the light in, casting reflections on the floor. Through the glass, I could see a fence and a row of other houses in the distance—some similar, others of different sizes. For some reason, that view only made me feel even more out of place.

I was too caught up in the scenery outside to realize we had arrived at a staircase leading to the upper floor. Ghyna went up first, and I followed behind her.

One, two, three… each step felt heavier than the last. The higher we went, the slower my steps became. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen—finally, we reached the top. There, I saw Ghyna glance left and right, as if checking something. The floor only had two directions: right and left.

She eventually chose to go right, and I followed just as before. The hallway above was as long as the one below, except here there were many closed doors along the walls. We passed the first two doors before stopping at the third. Ghyna opened it and stepped into the dark room, while I waited outside.

She seemed to know exactly where to go. Reaching the faintly lit corner, she grabbed a piece of cloth and gently pulled it aside. Instantly, bright light poured in, illuminating the entire room.

At last, I could see it clearly—a room larger than my old one. There was a bed, a wardrobe with a mirror, and a table with a chair. Between the table and the wardrobe stood a window covered by that glowing cloth, which turned out to be a curtain.

“From now on, this will be your room,” said Ghyna, glancing at me as if waiting for my reaction.

“Is there anything you don’t like? Or does the room not suit your taste?” she asked carefully.

I looked around. The room felt foreign, yet warm. For a moment, her tone reminded me of how Ceryn often spoke.

“No, I really like it,” I quickly replied, stepping toward the window. “It’s spacious… and from here, I can see a beautiful view.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” said Ghyna with a relieved smile.

I touched the wooden table beside the bed, feeling its smooth surface. “It’s also very clean here. Seems like it’s well taken care of.”

“Of course,” Ghyna replied proudly. “Madam Sevilla always insists that this room be kept in good condition.”

As we were talking, the sound of heavy footsteps approached, followed by the scrape of something being dragged along the floor. The door opened, revealing Ascella with a weary face. Her hair was slightly messy, her breathing uneven, and her hands gripped a large suitcase that seemed to almost drag her along.

Seeing this, Ghyna immediately rushed over without a word. She took the suitcase from Ascella, dragged it inside, and lifted it onto the bed with one swift motion.

“Miss Ascella, you should have asked for my help instead of forcing yourself like this,” said Ghyna while pulling a chair toward her.

As soon as the chair was in front of her, Ascella sat down without protest. Her face was pale, sweat glistened on her temples, and her breathing was still labored. Her shoulders rose and fell as if she had been carrying a great burden.

“It’s fine… I just need a bit of rest,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper.

“In that case, I’ll bring you some water,” replied Ghyna before hurrying out of my room.

I watched Ascella leaning back in the chair. Though she looked a little calmer, the exhaustion was still clear on her face.

“Thank you for bringing my suitcase,” I said quietly.

Ascella only gave me a brief glance before lowering her gaze again without answering. Silence filled the room once more.

I took a moment to rest, sitting down while gazing out the window. From here, I could see the horse stable behind the house. It had four stalls, each occupied by a horse.

Uncle Grats must have already returned the horses. Thinking of that, my mind drifted to my mother. I grew curious… perhaps Ascella knew something. I should ask her about it.

“Sister Ascella,” I called softly, glancing at her. “Mother… and Uncle Grats, where are they now?”

“About Aunt Fyna… that…” Ascella’s voice weakened, her eyes wavering. She seemed to be searching for the right words, yet none came out.

Seeing her hesitation made my chest tighten. A heavy feeling crept up slowly, pressing against me. Ever since I entered this house, everyone’s smiles had felt forced—their emotions flat, as if hiding something.

The more I thought about it, the clearer it became that all the pieces formed a single, terrifying conclusion—the same truth Ascella seemed desperate to hide.

“Sinhart!”

I froze. What should I do after this? When the truth finally came out, what kind of face was I supposed to show? I wanted to be strong, but helplessness swallowed me whole. If that time truly came… if it really arrived—

“HEY! SINHART!”

Ascella’s shout echoed right beside my ear. Instinctively, I covered both ears, wincing in surprise.

“What’s wrong with you, huh?!” she demanded sharply, her brows furrowed.

I just lowered my head, realizing I had drifted too far into my thoughts, almost forgetting she was right in front of me.

“What happened?!”

Ghyna burst into the room, carrying a tray with a teapot and cups that rattled with each hurried step. Her eyes immediately darted to Ascella, her breathing quickened.

“That shout just now… it came from you, Miss Ascella, didn’t it?” she asked cautiously, as if confirming her fear.

“Ah, sorry, Ghyna. I startled you, didn’t I?” replied Ascella with a faint smile that looked more like an attempt to calm herself.

Ghyna placed the tray on the nearest table. Her hands trembled slightly as she poured hot water into a cup. Steam rose gently, blending with the cool morning air and bringing a bit of warmth to the room.

Once the cup was full, Ghyna handed it to Ascella.

“Thank you, Ghyna,” said Ascella softly before taking a sip of the warm water.

“You’re welcome, Miss Ascella,” replied Ghyna politely. Then she turned to me with a bright look.

“Young Master Sinhart, how about we take a tour around the house?” she suggested.

Before I could answer, Ascella—who had been calm all this time—suddenly interrupted.

“Ghyna, you’ve been calling me formally since this morning. What’s going on? That’s not like you,” she said, her tone soft but firm.

Ghyna lowered her head slightly. “I’m sorry, Miss Ascella. It’s part of the training Madam Sevilla assigned to me.”

Hearing that, Ascella paused for a moment. “Grandmother told you to, huh? Well then… at least call me normally when she’s not around,” she said, refilling her glass.

For a brief moment, I felt that Ghyna and Ascella shared a close bond. Were they friends? Probably. I hoped I could have a connection like that someday too—though my friendship with Ceryn, Nyra, and Tyerven wasn’t quite like theirs yet.

Maybe if I acted more like Ascella, and got closer to Ghyna, I could understand what friendship really meant. If so, the first step would be letting her call me the same way she called Ascella.

“Ghyna, you can call me like you call Ascella too!” I said firmly, my body trembling slightly. A nervous feeling welled up in me—one I hadn’t felt in a long time, like when I first met Ceryn.

“Eh…” Ghyna froze, looking surprised by my sudden words.

“But… my training—” she hesitated.

Ascella was about to speak but stopped for a second when she saw me. “You can, can’t you, Ghyna? As long as Grandmother isn’t here, you can call him that,” she said with a small smile.

"Alright then... Ascella, Sinhart," replied Ghyna hesitantly.

It felt like Ascella understood me. Besides, my curiosity about my grandmother grew stronger. Ascella rarely spoke much about her, and that only deepened the mystery. This curiosity made me forget about everything else.

“Well then, Sinhart still doesn’t remember the parts of this house yet—” said Ascella, pausing for a moment before continuing. Without realizing it, she glanced at me briefly before saying, “Ghyna, could you help him?”

Without hesitation, Ghyna grabbed my hand. “Of course! Ever since Madam Sevilla brought me here, I’ve memorized every part of this house. I even know how many windows there are!” she said with enthusiasm, leading me out of the room toward the first floor.

We left Ascella alone in my room, passing through the hallway, descending the stairs, and walking down a long corridor until we reached a room I had seen before—back when I first entered the house with Ghyna.

As soon as we stepped inside, the first thing I noticed was the spaciousness. A long wooden table, about two by one retem in size, stood in the center, surrounded by chairs as if waiting for people to gather around it. Near the wall, a glass cabinet displayed rows of silver plates and cups gleaming faintly in the sunlight that streamed through the tall windows. Beside it stood a small table with drawers, topped with a pot of fresh flowers—the petals moved slightly from the breeze slipping through the door gap.

But what drew my attention most was a large framed photograph on the wall—a black-and-white image of a man I didn’t recognize. Ghyna briefly explained that he was Sega Sevilla, the man who played a key role during the Radice Incident and the elder brother of my grandmother, Regina Sevilla. My eyes lingered on that photo for a long time, as if authority and calm radiated from his faint smile, even though it was only a still portrait.

We continued deeper through the corridor and arrived in a smaller family room. The atmosphere here felt different—warmer, yet with a faint trace of sorrow. The chairs and tables were arranged modestly, not as grand as in the main hall. On a small table in the corner stood a framed family photo of Chris, Grats, and a beautiful dark-haired woman—whom Ghyna said was Ascella’s mother.

Next to it was another frame with two boys in it—one was clearly Uncle Grats as a child, but the other was someone I didn’t recognize. I tried asking Ghyna, but she didn’t know who the other boy was either.

By the wall stood a tall bookshelf filled with books from top to bottom. A faint scent of old paper lingered as I drew near. There was also a fireplace long extinguished, with bits of charred wood still inside, leaving behind the faint smell of ash. Then

The hallway led us into the dining room, a place that instantly revealed how large the Sevilla family must have been. A long wooden table stood in the center, surrounded by ten chairs. The number made me feel small, as if this place had once been filled with laughter and conversation. In the glass cupboard, dishes, glasses, forks, and knives were neatly arranged—rarely used, yet spotless. Candles stood in the center of the table, new and unlit, adding a quiet coldness to a room that should have felt warm. I stared at that table for a long time, imagining a family meal once shared in this house.

The tour of the first floor ended in a wide hall with a grand staircase at its center, reaching toward the upper floor. The stair area was almost as large as the main hall, giving the impression that it was the heart of the house. On both sides of the staircase were doors to other rooms—old wooden ones, firmly shut. From here, there was also access to a simpler kitchen: a wooden table, stove, shelves filled with cooking tools, and another door that opened to the backyard. Everything looked clean and well-kept.

Then, we went up the staircase to the second floor.

After climbing the sturdy main stairs, we arrived in a spacious landing. The area had two large doors facing each other—one on the right, one on the left—and each led to long corridors. Ghyna paused briefly in front of the middle doors, explaining that the double-doored room was the Sevilla Family Library—about the same size as the main hall and filled with towering bookshelves.

However, we didn’t enter this time. Instead, Ghyna led me down the left corridor, saying that the right one led to other rooms—including my new room earlier. The left hallway felt quieter, dimly lit despite the small windows along the wall. It ended at a large door that looked as though it hadn’t been opened in years.

“This is Lord Sega Sevilla’s room,” said Ghyna softly, pushing it open. The old hinges creaked gently, and before us lay a room heavy with memories.

Inside stood a large bed, still neatly made despite years of disuse. The walls were simple, with an old photo of Sega Sevilla and his wife Riana Butleyne hanging in the center—both of whom, Ghyna explained, had long passed away. In the corner was a wardrobe, empty and clean, as though everything inside had been cleared out long ago.

The bedside drawer caught my attention. On top of it sat a framed family photo—Chris, Fyna, Grandmother, Grats, and Ascella’s mother—all smiling together. But when I curiously pulled open one of the tightly shut drawers, I found another photo inside, unframed and torn on the left side. The remaining half showed a young Ascella, her bright eyes filled with joy, though half the image was gone. I quickly placed it back before Ghyna noticed.

She went on to explain that this room once belonged to my parents before they moved, and that another old wardrobe in the corner had been locked for years—untouched since then.

Without realizing it, we had spent quite a long time exploring every part of the house. When Ghyna finished her explanations, we stepped out of the room. I hadn’t expected that this moment would mark my first meeting with him. There was something different—no smile, no warmth in his gaze or manner toward me. He was nothing like the man I had just seen in the photograph inside Sega Sevilla’s room.

—

Does anyone actually read this, if so I thank you for reading this.