Chapter 60.1

Chapter 60.1

“Don’t say it like that.”

Ara looked up at him, her face tight with reproach.

“When you say I’m special, you don’t mean it that way.”

The towel in her hand twisted under her grip. Water squeezed free, cold droplets soaking through her shirt and chilling her chest.

“You mean I’m special because I’m the human woman who signed a contract with the goblin king. Because I’m shameless enough to live here as a housekeeper. That’s not what I want it to mean.”

Tears brimmed and spilled at last, running hot down her cheeks.

How pathetic must she look, falling for scraps of kindness, whining as if she’d been wronged for being shaken by them.

If it were her, she wouldn’t want to stay near someone like that either. She wouldn’t want to offer any more kindness, any more favor.

‘His Majesty gave up on expecting anything from humans long ago.’

Ara bit her lip hard, recalling Cheong-seon’s words.

‘So prove him wrong, Ara. Turn the impossible into a miracle.’

She’d wanted to.

Even if it started with a contract, she’d wanted to grow closer, to be someone he could trust, to see that radiant smile more often.

But it was over. At best, she could hope not to have the contract torn up.

The weight of that reality pressed down heavier than ever. Ara sniffled, cursing her own foolishness.

“Do as you please.”

The fever must have spiked again, feeding her delirium. Otherwise, why would her mind conjure words like that?

“However you mistake it, however you twist it-”

There was no way a goblin king, who had lived for centuries, couldn’t understand the nuance of what she’d said.

And yet his low voice came, steady and certain.

“I s- till think you’re special.”

Not a false hope. A real one.

Ara blinked rapidly, tears pooling until her sight blurred. She hurried to clear it, to find him, but Seok-kyung had already stepped back, his broad shoulders half-turned away.

“You’ll need another dose around midnight. I’ll leave it here. Take it when it’s time.”

Clink. He set the small pill bottle down on the bedside table.

“We’ll talk more about the demon tomorrow.”

His tall shadow turned toward her once more. Before she could read his expression, he leaned down suddenly, his hand darting toward her chest.

Startled, Ara flinched and squeezed her eyes shut. His grip trembled against her collarbone.

And then, with a sigh heavy enough to shake the floor, he pulled away the towel clenched in her hand.

“Rest. I’ll have Seol-do come check your fever later.”

Click. The door closed with a light sound.

Only her own breathing filled the silence. Ara finally opened her eyes. Her face, already flushed with fever, now burned like fire.

‘Brilliant. Just brilliant. What a hopeless, pathetic mess you are.’

***

Seok-kyung strode out of the room, his long steps carrying him swiftly across the living room. He went straight to the shared bathroom on the first floor, locking the door firmly behind him the moment he stepped inside.

“Haa…”

The sigh he let out was quiet, careful not to betray his presence, yet it piled heavy at his feet like winter snow. Only then did the chains of tension strangling his body all day begin to loosen.

He set the basin and damp towel into the sink. With a rush, water spilled from the tap.

He stared blankly at the stream, then as if compelled, cupped it in his palms and splashed it over his face. The shock of the cold brought his senses back, just a little.

Too much energy spent on something trivial. He’d stayed calm when even his predecessor ascended to the heavens, but at the sight of one human girl collapsing, he’d panicked like a fool.

Thank goodness no other goblins had been around. If even one had seen, he’d have been their laughingstock for months.

‘I’m not like that with Suho.’

If anyone had realized how relieved those words had made him, they would’ve teased him for a year.

‘Relieved? What relief?’

His face twisted, and he jerked his head up.

The mirror showed him a sour, unsightly expression. His already pale face looked even whiter under the harsh light, his irritation radiating like a stormcloud.

But no, that was only natural. Just a rational judgment that his contract partner had no business being tangled up with something dangerous.

He abandoned the excuse halfway. With a dull splash, the towel slumped into the water.

‘When you do things like this, I can’t help but feel like I’m someone special to you.’

Too unfair. Saying something like that, with that face, on the verge of tears. How was he supposed to withstand it?