Episode 8 : He was calling.
1762 Words
I stumbled back, heart racing like I’d just seen a ghost. My hands turned ice-cold, and I could already feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead.
Without thinking, I dropped into a squat and started picking up the broken pieces of the bowl and plate I just shattered. My fingers trembled, and I hissed when a shard sliced across my finger. But I ignored the sting—pain was the least of my worries right now.
Because Ryoushin was standing right there.
And I had no idea what he was going to do.
I froze when a hand—warm and surprisingly gentle—wrapped around my wrist. My heart practically did a backflip.
“Leave it,” he said coldly.
I swallowed hard. He was way too close. I wasn’t used to him being this near. Towering over me, but leaning forward just enough that when I looked up—
Boom. His face was right there.
Our eyes locked, and my breath hitched. His eyes were intense. Deep. Way too deep. Like he could see everything I was trying to hide.
I instantly looked away, pulling my hand out of his grip. I bowed my head, dropping back to the floor with shaky knees and fake tears ready to roll.
“I—I’m so sorry, sir,” I stammered. “I promise it won’t happen again.”
He let out a sharp tsk, and his voice came down like a hammer. “How many rules have you broken on your very first day, Ms. Castillo?”
Crap. Let’s see… First, the handkerchief thing. Second, I nearly walked into that room with the black curtain. Third, I went to a restricted area. And now, I’ve gone and shattered dinnerware like an i***t.
I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand and peeked up at him. “F-Four?”
“You sound proud of that,” he said flatly, straightening up.
I clasped my hands together like I was about to start praying. “Sir, please. Just give me another chance. I swear—”
“Call me Master,” he cut in, voice like ice.
I winced. Ugh. This again.
“M-Master,” I mumbled through gritted teeth, “I promise I’ll do my job right next time.”
“There won’t be a next time, Ms. Castillo,” he said firmly.
Panic surged through me. He turned, ready to walk away—and I acted without thinking. I reached out, desperate to stop him, but because I was still on my knees, my hand didn’t catch his arm like I intended.
Nope. I grabbed his shorts.
And they came right off.
I blinked.
He blinked.
We both stared in shock—me at his toned legs and the fact that he was now standing in nothing but briefs, and him like he was about to murder me on the spot.
“WHAT. THE. HELL?!”
His voice boomed so loud it echoed off the walls, making me flinch hard.
“Oh my god—I didn’t mean to! I swear!” I panicked, throwing the shorts back at him like it would fix anything.
He just stood there, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring, eyes practically shooting lasers. I tried so hard not to look directly at his briefs.
Spoiler: I failed.
They were gray.
Fitted.
God help me.
“I—I didn’t mean to grab—” I stammered, eyes glued to the floor like it could swallow me whole. “I was trying to stop you from leaving!”
I knew I was toast. Fired. Dead. Probably both.
And honestly? At that point, death didn’t sound half as embarrassing as this.
"You are not allowed to step foot in his room again, Amelia. And as punishment, you won’t be receiving your salary on the fifteenth. Be thankful he didn’t fire you on the spot."
Miss Pen’s words kept echoing in my head like a broken record, even hours after she said them.
After everything that happened earlier, Ryoushin had me escorted out of the room and called for Miss Pen immediately. She scolded me so hard I thought my ears would fall off, and then locked me in my room until the seamstress arrived with my uniform. Even after I got it, I chose to stay inside. I was way too embarrassed to be seen roaming around this house.
News traveled fast inside this mansion, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the walls themselves knew what happened by now.
When dinner came around, I forced myself to show up. No one asked questions about what happened, but I could feel their glances—quick, suspicious, silent. I ate as fast as I could and excused myself right after, telling Miss Pen I’d head straight back to my room.
Now here I was, still lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling like it had the answers to my ruined dignity.
What Miss Pen didn’t know was that I didn’t just break a few dishes earlier.
Nope.
I accidentally stripped Ryoushin.
Yeah. That happened.
She thought the worst part was the shattered plate and bowl. But the truth? I pulled his shorts down by mistake. That’s why he was so furious. That’s why I wanted to bury myself six feet under.
I grabbed my pillow and hugged it tight, rolling around on the bed like a possessed burrito. My legs kicked at the air in frustration as the image of his backside kept flashing in my head.
Firm. Pale. Way too smooth for my sanity.
And that gray Calvin Klein brief? Burned into my memory like a curse.
“Amara, stop thinking about his butt!” I groaned, slapping my own cheeks and covering my face with the pillow.
I screamed into it until my voice cracked, then flopped back and sighed dramatically. That’s when Lorenzo’s phone lit up on the table beside me.
It rang.
He was calling.
I hesitated for a moment, cleared my throat, then picked it up and answered.
“Hello?”
[Amelia, thank God. I was starting to think you’d blocked me.]
His voice was light, relieved. Too relieved.
“Sorry… I’ve just been super busy with work,” I lied smoothly. In reality, I was dodging him on purpose.
[How’s the job going?]
Oh, you know. Almost got fired for undressing the boss. All good.
“G-Great. Totally fine. I’ve been doing well,” I forced a small laugh, trying not to sound fake. I’d been faking so long, I was basically a professional at this point.
[That’s good. And how are you?]
“I’m okay,” I said quickly.
There was a brief pause on the line.
[I’ll let you go then. Just wanted to check on you.]
“O-Okay. Thanks. Bye.”
I hung up as soon as the dial tone came through and placed the phone back on the table. A sigh escaped me as I stared at the clock on the wall. 9 p.m. I still had one hour before curfew.
Good enough to grab water.
I stepped out of my room and into the quiet hallway. Not a single soul in sight. I padded down the corridor and headed straight for the fridge. Still no one around—not in the hall, not in the lounge. Maybe they were busy doing their own tasks.
I opened the fridge, grabbed a bottled water, cracked the cap open, and took a few long gulps.
Then I heard it.
“Wasn’t today supposed to be Master’s wedding?”
“That’s what I heard. But he hasn’t left his room all day.”
My eyes drifted toward two maids whispering in the corner, baskets full of curtains and linens in their arms. Their voices stopped the second they noticed me.
They scurried off toward the laundry area without another word.
I tossed the empty bottle into the trash, wiping my lips with the back of my hand, but my mind was stuck on what I’d just overheard.
A wedding?
Today?
Was it just coincidence that today was also supposed to be my wedding day?
I couldn’t help but wonder. Lorenzo had mentioned it on the phone days ago. He knew my father. He mentioned something about a marriage. And earlier, Ryoushin had said my last name, clearly annoyed, and muttered something about my dad pressuring him.
My curiosity itched.
I wanted answers, but no one here was exactly on casual-speaking terms with the Master. Miss Pen? She was too loyal. No way she’d say anything.
Still… I couldn’t shake the feeling.
I left the servant’s hallway and walked toward the living room, sinking down onto one of the white sofas. My eyes flicked toward the door across the room.
It was slightly open.
The same room I’d been in earlier.
I stood slowly, eyes scanning the area. No one in sight.
I told myself I’d just close the door. That’s all.
Just… close it.
Next thing I knew, I was leaning forward, peeking through the small opening.
Like before, the room was dim, lit only by candles. Ryoushin sat on a recliner, facing a single desk. He wore glasses and was reading something—papers, maybe.
Then he stood up.
I froze.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt.
I couldn’t look away. The soft orange glow made his already chiseled body look like it was carved from fire. My eyes trailed to the tattoo on his arm. It wasn’t just on his bicep—it climbed from the top of his shoulder all the way down to his hand, like a vine with thorns. Just like the one etched onto the hallway wall near his room.
“Amelia.”
I jumped so hard I almost dislocated something.
Spinning around, I saw Miss Pen standing behind me, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.
“M-Miss Pen,” I stammered.
“It’s almost curfew. What are you doing out here?”
I gave a nervous laugh. “I noticed the door was open. I was just gonna close it.”
“Go back to your quarters, Amelia,” she said firmly.
I nodded and rushed off without another word.
I had no idea if she saw me peeking. I didn’t know how long she’d been standing there.
But as I glanced back once more near the hallway, I saw her.
Still standing.
Still watching.
Hands clasped behind her back, posture straight, eyes locked on me like she already knew everything.
I looked away and walked faster, heading straight for the safety of my room.
- Writer
