Ebony Castle

“Originally, I just went out to attach the antlers, but it turned into a walk.”Looking at the snow in his hands, he laughed helplessly.“Thanks to that, I’m quite hungry now. Is the party all set?”His gaze traveled from the dining table and Jean’s face, finally landing on Doha. Doha, still tangled in Ulysses’ fur, locked eyes with Tristan. His gaze briefly lingered on the red sweater Doha was wearing.“The tree looks beautiful.”He spoke softly, maintaining eye contact.“It must have been hard to decorate.”“…It’s nothing.”Thinking about how Tristan Locke might view it made the tree Doha had spent two days on seem awkward and clumsy. The Christmas stockings made from old socks and the meringue snowmen with drawn faces all felt childish. Doha averted his eyes and straightened Ulysses’ crooked reindeer antlers.Whether it was the unfamiliar cream sweater or the tousled hair wet from the snow, the man who sat naturally in the chair pulled out by the secretary looked strangely different. His handsome face, nodding at Jean’s indication toward the turkey, didn’t show any trace of the fatigue Doha had seen last night.***Outside, the snowstorm continued to rage, but the party inside the warmly lit dining room carried on.Doha ate the turkey Jean had sliced, foie gras, and the other dishes, finishing with a dessert plate and a slice of Christmas cake. After a few glasses of mulled wine, his body was pleasantly warm. Even though there were only five people, the dining table felt full and lively.The secretary, who had initially looked uncomfortable, also started to smile at Hazel’s stories about her youngest sibling after a few glasses of wine. Ulysses, sitting beside various chairs, received bites of turkey with his pleading eyes and eventually lay down next to Tristan’s chair, his reindeer antlers slightly askew. A familiar Christmas carol played in the background, signaling that the music had come full circle.“Alright.”Once everyone’s plates were mostly empty, Jean clapped his hands.“If you’ve all finished eating, let’s move on to opening the presents!”Jean’s face was flushed with excitement, his cheeks glowing from the warmth and cheer of the celebration. Doha, sipping his now lukewarm mulled wine, suddenly felt wide awake. Jean, undeterred, stretched his arms out.“Scott, can you bring the presents from under the tree?”“…Jean.”There was no stopping him. Seeing everyone’s attention shift to the tree, Doha covered his face with one hand.A few dishes were stacked, and in the space created on the table, six boxes, all wrapped in the same wrapping paper, were laid out. Tristan, with a slight smile playing at the corner of his eyes, picked up one of the boxes.“There are no names on these?”“…No. I’ll hand them out.”Resigned, Doha stood up. He first handed a box to Tristan, then distributed the others to Jean, Hazel, and the secretary. Thankfully, it seemed like they wouldn’t be opening them one by one while everyone watched. Doha took the remaining two boxes and set them on his lap, petting Ulysses’ ears awkwardly while the sound of wrapping paper tearing filled the room.Jean, who had eagerly torn through the wrapping paper and balled it up, was the first to inspect his gift. He pulled out small containers from the box one by one.“Oh! This is herbs? And what’s this? There’s so much!”“They’re a blend of herbs and spices. A series developed by several fine dining chefs recently. I figured you hadn’t tried it yet, Jean.”At least he could explain this. Repeating what the shopkeeper had told him, Jean’s eyes sparkled with excitement.“That’s great! It’s been hard to keep up with trends here. Thanks, Eden. I’ll make good use of it.”Jean reached out his arm and gave Doha a hearty hug. Even as he patted Doha’s shoulder, he was already engrossed in reading the label on the herb container, making Doha feel like the purchase had been worth it despite the cost. Feeling relieved, Doha looked up to find everyone else staring at him.Doha avoided the gazes of Tristan and the secretary, who were holding identical cookie sets, and reached out to help Hazel, who was pulling a scarf out of her box.“I asked your younger sibling for advice. They suggested getting you something like clothes.”“That was over ten years ago, but thank you, Eden. It’s lovely. I didn’t prepare anything in return….”“It’s fine. I received cookies from your sibling and enjoyed the cake too.”“I’ll put it to good use.”Doha watched as Hazel carefully wrapped the purple wool scarf around her neck and inadvertently looked up. He made eye contact with the secretary across the table.“I’m sorry I didn’t prepare anything either, Eden. Thank you for the cookies.”The secretary spoke politely.“…No problem.”At this point, Doha was almost afraid to turn his head, sensing the subtle heat of a gaze on the side of his face. When he slowly turned, Tristan’s clear gray eyes were calmly observing him.“Thank you, Eden.”“…It’s nothing.”Tristan neatly folded the wrapping paper and asked curiously.“But what’s that on your lap?”“…Oh, this is for Ulysses, and this is for the gardener. Could you pass it on later?”“It looks about the same size as my box.”Well, the contents were the same, so that made sense. To avoid the situation, Doha handed Ulysses’ gift over to Tristan.“It’s a large dog toy.”It seemed likely that Ulysses’ room was already piled high with toys, but Doha had carefully chosen this one after repeatedly asking the shopkeeper for advice.Tristan peeled off the tape cleanly, revealing a colorful rubber bone-shaped toy. The sound of the plastic wrapping being removed caught Ulysses’ attention, and he half-rose, his floppy ears twitching slightly.“Would you like to give it to him yourself, Eden?”The toy was passed back to Doha. Unsure of what to expect, Doha held the colorful bone out. After sniffing it a few times, Ulysses quickly grabbed it from his hand. Taking a few steps back to the tree, he curled up and began to gnaw on the toy contentedly.“Thank you for the gift, Eden.”Jean, who seemed a bit drunk, pulled up a chair and slung his arm over Doha’s shoulder. The thick scent of cinnamon and citrus from the vin chaud filled the air.“This year, with Eden here as a guest, we even have a party like this. Christmas should always be like this…”“…Jean.”Doha lightly shook his shoulder, worried that any moment now Jean would loudly proclaim something like “People who don’t know how to enjoy life!” right in front of Tristan and the others. Jean muttered a few words in French and then leaned his head back against the chair, closing his eyes.When Doha turned his head, his gaze met Tristan’s. At this point, both Tristan and the secretary, who had never wanted such a grand party in the first place, had patiently endured it. And now that the host, Jean, had dozed off, it seemed like they would soon extinguish the candles in the dining room and retire to their rooms.Doha expected Tristan to say something to that effect, but instead, Tristan quietly suggested, “Shall we move?”***When Doha shook Jean awake, he stubbornly refused to go to bed first. He and Hazel decided to take a break and went down to the kitchen to fetch some tea. Doha followed Tristan and the secretary to a game room on the same floor. Despite the name, which suggested it should contain something like a pool table, the room was sparsely furnished with old furniture and a table with a marble chessboard. The soft sound of carols continued to drift from the speaker they had brought along from the dining room.After lighting the fireplace, the secretary returned to the chess table, accepting a glass of whiskey offered by Tristan.“Shall we have a game, for old times’ sake?” he asked Tristan, before turning to Doha, seated on the sofa, and remembering his presence. “Eden, do you play chess?”“No.”Doha sipped from the whiskey glass Tristan had given him and stroked Ulysses, who was tugging at the toy bone in his mouth. The dog let out a playful growl and shook his head to keep the toy from being pulled away, his floppy ears bouncing and his sharp teeth occasionally peeking out from beneath his tongue.The secretary pressed again, “What about checkers?”“Yes, when I was a child.”“The rules of chess are somewhat similar. How about watching a game and then challenging the winner?”Doha, not particularly in the mood to think hard, nevertheless pulled up a chair beside the chessboard. Tristan retrieved two small velvet pouches from an antique wooden box, spilling the finely carved pieces into his delicate palm. Doha recognized their shapes from the few times he had seen chess before.“This is the king,” the secretary explained, holding up a white piece handed to him by Tristan. “If your king is attacked and has nowhere to run, it’s checkmate, meaning you’ve lost.”“Got it.”“This is the knight, bishop, rook, and pawn. Each type moves differently, but you’ll pick it up by watching the game.”The secretary placed the sixteen white pieces on his side of the board. Doha watched Tristan’s pale, elegant fingers place the black pieces in the center of each square.Not long after the game began, Hazel and Jean re-entered the room.“Chess again?” Jean remarked, sounding bored, as if this was a game he’d seen many times before. He and Hazel set down the tray they had brought, which held a large teapot, cups, reheated vin chaud, and a metal bowl full of small, bumpy sweet potatoes—likely harvested from the garden. Jean showed the contents of the bowl to Doha.“Do you think this is enough? Or do we need more?”“…I think it’s more than enough.”“You’ve never had sweet potatoes cooked in a fireplace, have you? Once they’re done, you’ll end up eating them all.”The cylindrical object next to Jean was a roll of aluminum foil from the kitchen. Soon, shiny foil-wrapped sweet potatoes were tossed into the fireplace one by one. Jean dusted off his hands after burying them in the ash.“Let’s wait twenty minutes.”Meanwhile, Hazel had taken a seat farther away with a cup of tea, observing the chess game closely. Doha, momentarily distracted by the sweet potatoes, returned to his seat.The game had progressed quite a bit. Several pieces now occupied the center of the board, and Doha caught a glimpse of Tristan’s profile, deep in thought as he studied the board. His pale, quiet face seemed isolated in a calm, untouched by the cheerful carols filling the room.Finally, Tristan reached out with his free hand, removed a white piece, and moved one of his own into its place. Without looking at Doha, his low voice asked, “Eden, do you know what chess pieces are made of?”“What? No, I don’t.”“The white pieces are made of ivory.”He placed the pawn he had just captured into Doha’s hand. The smoothly carved piece felt heavy and cold.The secretary, still absorbed in the game, adjusted his round glasses and frowned. Tristan picked up a black piece and placed it gently in Doha’s other hand.“And the black pieces are made of ebony.”Ivory and ebony, like the keys of a piano. The familiar feel and weight brought back memories.Before Doha realized it, he was clutching the pieces tightly. Thoughts of the piano he’d left behind in his flat in London suddenly came flooding back. He missed it the way one might long for a lover left behind—his fingers and even his feet, as if resting on the pedals, ached with the longing for it.The game on the board grew increasingly tense. Hazel tilted her head, intensely focused on the action, while Jean dozed off, only half paying attention. Doha absentmindedly petted Ulysses, who lay beneath the chair. His tipsy head made it difficult to fully grasp the game, so he simply watched in a daze as Tristan’s white fingers and the black ebony pieces traced long, elegant paths across the board.Eventually, the secretary, who had been visibly struggling for a while, was cornered and finally tipped over his king in resignation. With a soft sigh, he leaned back in his chair.“You were ruthless today.”“Practice more,” Tristan replied calmly as he swept the remaining pieces into the velvet pouch. Once the board was clear, he extended his hand toward Doha.“…Ah.”Doha realized he was still holding the two pawns and placed them gently into Tristan’s outstretched hand.“Did you enjoy watching?” Tristan asked, meeting his gaze.Doha opened his mouth to offer a polite lie but ended up answering honestly instead.“I had trouble following.”“Who were you rooting for?”He asked curiously, leaning toward Doha with his elbow resting on the board. Still slightly tipsy, Doha stared blankly at Tristan Locke and suddenly thought that if they could extract his eyes and sell them as jewels, some collector somewhere would surely pay a fortune.“I think I was rooting for Mr. Locke. Probably.”After answering, his eyes narrowed.“Not the most convincing answer.”There was a loud rustling sound. Jean, who had been dozing in the chair earlier, woke up and rushed over to pull the sweet potatoes from the fireplace. Excited by the sudden movement, Ulysses got up and ran over to the hearth.“I must’ve dozed off! It’s probably been over thirty minutes; what should we do?”Steam rose from the ashes and the charred foil. As Jean stirred the ashes to unearth the sweet potatoes, the secretary pulled the eager Ulysses away, and Hazel swiftly approached with a tray in hand. Jean peeled back a corner of the foil from one sweet potato and sighed in relief.“Only the outer edges are burnt. If we’d left them a little longer, they’d have been inedible.”He plopped the tray full of sweet potatoes onto the empty chess table. When he split one open, its golden inside gleamed, and the sweet scent of roasted sweet potatoes wafted through the air.“See? Perfectly cooked, right?”Jean grinned. He had been right earlier. Now that they were cooked, Doha wanted to try some too.“Please wait a moment, CEO.”The secretary spoke politely to Tristan, intending to peel the sweet potatoes for him. But Tristan’s hand stopped him.“It’s a holiday. Act like a free man today.”“…I’m always a free man. There’s no slavery in England, CEO.”“Jean, go ahead and eat first.”“Yes!”Jean replied enthusiastically but only peeled the sweet potatoes a bit more without actually eating.Tristan’s pale fingers selected a particularly fine sweet potato from the tray. With practiced ease, he peeled the foil and skin, removed the burnt parts, and rewrapped the bottom in the foil to make a neat handle. His movements were calm and unhurried, like someone who had done this many times before.Doha hadn’t noticed Tristan’s hand had paused, as he was looking down at Ulysses, who was eyeing the sweet potatoes. When he turned his head, Tristan was silently looking at him. The sweet potato, peeled and ready to eat, was held out in front of him.“Eat.”He said.“Be careful; it’s hot.”“…Thank you.”Doha looked up at him, still a bit dazed. Throughout his life, people had often told him to take care of his hands, but no one had ever stopped him from peeling a sweet potato.He was just about to reach out to take the sweet potato handle when—Bang!Ulysses sprang to his feet.Jean, about to take a bite of his sweet potato, froze. He slowly stood and turned off the carols. Sudden silence filled the room.“…Just now, from downstairs—”Crash!The faint sound of glass breaking interrupted Hazel’s words. Doha suddenly remembered the weather outside. It was impossible for a thief to have come through the heavy snowstorm. Could it have been a wild animal, like a bear from the forest?“CEO—”The secretary stood up. Tristan sighed lightly, rose from his seat, and picked up a poker from beside the fireplace.His eyes briefly flicked to Doha. With dry lips, Doha unconsciously spoke.“Mr. Locke.”“I’m here.”His steely gray eyes were sharp and clear, with no hint of drowsiness—an expression Doha had never seen before.Bang!The loud sound echoed again, and this time, Doha could clearly tell where it was coming from—the foyer right at the bottom of the stairs.Without looking back, Tristan opened the door in one swift motion. The secretary and Jean followed him into the dark hallway.“Hold onto the dog.”Jean turned back and mouthed the words. Hazel quickly stood up to restrain the growling Ulysses. The door closed behind them, and no more sounds came from downstairs.Doha’s heart was pounding loudly in his chest. He recalled Tristan’s pale hand gripping the poker, and the cold, calm look on his face. The dead silence was broken by the distant sound of someone shouting downstairs, then it stopped.Grrr.In the quiet that followed, Ulysses finally sat down, his tail slowly calming as well. Soon, quick footsteps approached, and there was a knock on the door.“Eden, Hazel! It’s okay.”It was Jean’s voice.“Nothing to worry about. I’m coming in; don’t be alarmed!”After a brief pause, Jean opened the door and stepped inside. He was holding the long turkey carving knife from the dining room.“Are you alright?”Noticing their stares, Jean quickly placed the knife down on the tray and said,“It was nothing serious. Mark had a bit too much to drink… Oh, don’t let go of Ulysses yet. There’s broken glass in the foyer, so it’s dangerous.”Voices drifted up from downstairs through the open door. Hazel clicked her tongue in irritation.“Did you say Mark? That man, really—”“Hazel!”“Keep hold of him.”She handed Ulysses to Jean and left the room. Jean awkwardly looked at the dog, then up at Doha.“Eden, if you’re curious, why don’t you go downstairs? You could meet Mark too… It’s not an ideal situation, but still. Just make sure to close the door.”“…Alright.”Doha numbly reached for the door. He stepped slowly down the dark hallway, toward the voices coming from downstairs where Hazel’s voice could be heard.The stairs creaked. The cold air from the foyer touched Doha’s flushed cheeks, heated by the alcohol and the warmth of the fireplace. He stopped when he saw the secretary standing with his back to him at the bottom of the last step.“…Mr. Eden.”The secretary, realizing late, leaned against the wall and greeted him. Before his hands met the wall, Doha caught a fleeting glimpse of a gun glinting darkly in the dim light of the foyer.The secretary met Doha’s gaze with tightly pressed lips.“Please, go ahead.”“…Alright.”Doha finally turned his head to take in the view of the foyer from the stairs.The first thing he saw was Tristan standing near the front door. The light from the landing cast shadows across his face. Glancing briefly at Doha with an expression devoid of humor, he gave a slight nod toward the floor.Following his gaze, Doha turned his head. Amidst the sharp shards of glass and splintered chair debris in the messy foyer, a man lay sprawled out on the ground.It was a face he’d never seen before. The large gardener was dressed in a worn, ragged down jacket and torn jeans. His beard, wild and untamed, covered his face, which was flushed red from intoxication. His unkempt hair spread messily on the floor.Hazel stood next to him, looking down, but her words seemed to fall on deaf ears. Every time the man blinked, his bloodshot eyes gleamed, and saliva trickled from his lips as he muttered incoherently.“I… I came for the party. Had a drink at home first…”His tone was twisted, as if he’d been talking to a wall for a long time.“I heard there was a Christmas party…”“The invitation was to join us for dinner,” Hazel replied.Tristan’s voice was calm, without any fluctuation.“Not to arrive in a drunken state.”“I’m sorry, CEO…”The man bowed his head repeatedly, still lying down, in a pathetic display of submission. As if trying to explain, he waved his arm in the air before his head thudded back against the floor.“I knocked, but no one answered… I didn’t mean to cause a disturbance. I’m really sorry…”“Eden, just a moment.”Doha, unable to take his eyes off the man, turned in surprise. Jean was standing a step above him on the stairs. Stepping aside, Jean lightly tapped the secretary’s shoulder and gestured toward the man.“Let’s take Mark home.”“…CEO, Eden, you two should rest first.”The secretary and Jean descended into the foyer. They donned gloves and carefully stepped over the shards of glass, crossing the room to lift the gardener by the arms. The man’s head lolled onto the secretary’s shoulder as he muttered unintelligibly. Supporting him under the arms, they half-carried him toward the door leading to the garden. The gun that had been in the secretary’s hand was now nowhere to be seen.Once the door shut behind them, the house fell into an almost eerie silence. Hazel let out a deep sigh and tiptoed carefully over the glass shards in her fur slippers.“Mr. Eden. Are you alright?” she asked, looking up at him.“Your face is very pale.”“…I’m fine.”Doha hadn’t even realized he was gripping the stair railing. As he loosened his grip, his fingers ached, tingling as blood rushed back into them. The image of the gardener’s face seemed seared into his mind, and his stomach churned as if the remnants of his intoxication surged back all at once.“Eden.”A voice cut through the air like a sharp blade. Doha raised his head blankly to see Tristan Locke standing just below him on the stairs.“Go on up. Hazel will clean up here.”“…Alright.”“Where’s Ulysses?”“In the game room…”“Leave him there. Hazel will let him out once she’s done.”Tristan placed a hand gently on Doha’s back. Even through his clothes, Doha could feel the warmth of his touch as they slowly climbed the stairs together. The pounding in his chest gradually calmed down.Below, the sound of Hazel sweeping up glass echoed. The mansion, which had been filled with carols and candlelight just an hour ago, was now sunk in a chaotic darkness. As if reading Doha’s thoughts, Tristan spoke with a wry smile.“Well, this Christmas has crash-landed.”“…There’s still a lot to clean up in the game room and dining room.”“Don’t worry about it. Jean will take care of it tomorrow.”Ahead, the door to the guest room came into view. Doha stopped, prompting Tristan to stop as well, looking down at him. Under the dim hallway light, his face had returned to its usual, languid state.“Rest well.”“…Yes, you too.”It seemed strange to him that he had hesitated over such a simple goodbye. As Doha turned to grab the cold door handle, Tristan’s voice came from behind him, almost as if it had been an afterthought.“You were probably startled. Do you think you’ll be able to sleep alone tonight?”“……”Doha paused, his hand on the door, before answering a beat too late.“I’ll be fine. I’m not a child.”“You never know. You might have a nightmare.”His tone was teasing, but with a touch of genuine concern.Doha rarely had dreams, and there was no reason for him to have nightmares over something as trivial as the gardener showing up downstairs. Yet, for some reason, he found himself unable to respond right away, hesitating.Tristan Locke reached out and gently took hold of Doha’s wrist, guiding him away from the door and toward the stairs leading to the third floor.“Come on. The guest room bed is rather uncomfortable, after all.”“…Alright.”The warmth from the mulled wine had evaporated, leaving Doha’s body trembling slightly from the cold. His mind felt tangled and confused. Doha stopped thinking and climbed the stairs obediently, like a child following wherever he was led.