I, Viretta, Am Going to Hunt a Dragon-Chapter 49
<Chapter 49>
“Hmm, that’s true.”
“Well said. Even with golden friendships, alone time is important.”
“Ah, it’s been a while since I could sleep comfortably.”
Yet, Moslin’s sly jab was lost on the innocent younger ones.
Only Saffron, already jaded by life, scowled darkly at Moslin, his expression full of disdain.
‘Filthy adult…’
Moslin, pierced by Saffron’s silent accusation, whipped around sharply. The man leading them, sensing the tension, bowed nervously as he opened the inn’s door.
“You seem like fine folks. I’m glad you’re willing to sleep in such a humble place.”
“Of course. After all, we’re destined to become battle-hardened heroes,” Viretta replied with mock pride.
Though “battle-hardened heroes” was an exaggeration, finding a place to sleep here wasn’t.
Saffron, a slave, would sleep anywhere he was told, even in a stable. Ranken, the eldest son of a poor family, had few luxuries in life.
Even Viretta, a merchant’s daughter, was no stranger to hardship after years of traveling. And Iola had experienced the battlefield firsthand.
For them, as long as a roof kept out the rain and walls blocked the wind, it was good enough.
Moslin, too, had endured plenty in her youth, including the hardships of war. But time had made her picky about where she laid her head.
“Hmph. Still, you’re brave to agree to sleep here,” Moslin remarked, tapping her cane on the ground as she walked.
“Oh, naturally. Just because I was raised in a wealthy… uh, household doesn’t mean I can’t handle rough living. And my companions here are seasoned veterans in their own right.”
“They’re really not,” Moslin muttered.
“Ha! That’s my knight—so humble!” Viretta laughed.
“No, seriously, that’s not what I meant. This place—it’s a converted hospital ward, isn’t it?”
Moslin struck the wall with her cane. The narrow hallway, though cramped, was made of solid earth and stone.
“It’s sturdier than wooden houses. It was designed to prevent patients from escaping, after all. This is typical for isolation wards on the city outskirts.”
“So what?”
“Don’t you get it? This used to be a ward for the insane. Right?”
In those days, anyone exhibiting unusual behavior was labeled mad and confined to such facilities on the outskirts of cities, ostensibly for humanitarian reasons.
The sturdy, narrow wards were built with stone to ensure patients couldn’t escape.
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To Moslin’s eyes, this inn matched the description perfectly.
“Your insight is impressive. Spot on,” the innkeeper chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yes, it was a ward once. But that’s ancient history. Ha-ha!”
He hesitated, then added, “Of course, no refunds.”
“...Does it really matter that it was a ward? Diseases don’t linger in buildings. A bold woman like me isn’t afraid of such trivialities,” Viretta said, tilting her head.
Moslin gave her an odd look.
“Oh, so you’re not afraid of ghosts? Truly fearless.”
“Ghosts?”
The mention made Ranken and Viretta’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Places like this, former wards for the insane, are infamous for being haunted. And with all the grudges I’ve made, sleeping here always guarantees nightmares.”
“What?”
“What?”
“What?”
“That’s why this place is so cheap, even in these times. You could easily charge three times as much otherwise.”
With so many people unable to find even a roof over their heads, rooms with walls and a ceiling were highly valuable.
Moslin, having seen her fair share of bustling festival towns and refugee-filled regions, understood market trends better than anyone here.
For a place this cheap and empty, there had to be a catch.
“No merchant would sleep in a haunted inn. They’d rather cram themselves into a warehouse to avoid bad omens,” she continued.
The innkeeper chuckled awkwardly at the group’s tense silence.
“Your insight is remarkable… But still, no refunds.”
With that, he bowed and scurried away.
The small, windowless room had a barred gap in the door.
Hay covered a wooden box, and a blanket was spread to resemble a bed. But no matter how you stretched out, the space felt suffocatingly narrow.
For someone like Viretta, the room was uncomfortable enough. For Iola or Ranken, it would be even worse.
Still, the walls and door were unnervingly solid—this place had been designed to hold the insane, after all.
“Haha… Ghosts, really?” Viretta muttered, sitting on the makeshift bed and hugging her knees.
Moslin’s ominous comments before they had all entered their rooms lingered in her mind:
“Insane asylums often held people who weren’t mad at all—losers in power struggles or family feuds, condemned as insane and locked away. Some regained their sanity, but their anger and despair made them ideal candidates for becoming vengeful ghosts.”
“Most people sleep together in such places. But tonight, you’re on your own. Be brave.”
Viretta sighed and rubbed her temples.
“You could’ve mentioned all this earlier! And Iola and Ranken, why didn’t you warn me sooner?!” she shouted, calling Moslin by the term hyungnim—a term for older women, rarely used by non-family.
Moslin, preferring to be called unni or noona, had given up correcting her. Viretta insisted the age gap made hyungnim more appropriate, oblivious to Moslin’s discomfort.
“Seriously! It’s not like I’d run away just because you told me! I don’t scare easily, but still!” Viretta groaned, rolling back and forth on the narrow bed.
The limited space allowed her only half-turns before she hit the wall. Undeterred, she kept bumping into it as if protesting her confinement.
“Creeeak…”
“...?!”
A strange sound, like a pipe or a bird, echoed from beyond the wall.
“It’s just an owl. Or a nightjar. Maybe…”
“Creeeak… Help me… Creeeak…”
“...”
The faint flicker of a small candle was the only light in the room.
The sound of wooden bars creaking added an eerie edge.
“Haha… Birds cry in strange ways these days,” Viretta muttered nervously.
“Help me… I’m here… Creak…”
“...”
The voice was too distinct to be mistaken for a bird.
Still, Viretta stubbornly clung to reason.
“Well, cats in heat sound like crying babies, so… nothing to worry about!”
“Save me… Save meee…”
Viretta burst into song, lying flat on the bed.
“When Mommy goes to the island… To gather oysters…”
The strange sounds seemed louder now, but Viretta’s solution was simple: drown them out.
If ghosts existed, they wouldn’t stand a chance against her singing.
“BANG, BANG, BANG!”
Heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway.
“Viretta!”
As the steps grew closer and louder, they culminated in a familiar voice yelling her name and slamming her door open.
“Will you stop talking to yourself?! I can’t sleep because of you!”
It seemed Viretta’s muttering had carried into the next room.
Ranken stormed in, launching himself at Viretta, pinning her down on her bed.
“What the—! Ranken! How can you even be sure it’s me?!” Viretta protested, coughing under his weight.
“I’d recognize your voice anywhere! Now stop talking nonsense!”
“How unexpectedly romantic! My hero, my salvation!”
“Why are you blushing?!”
With a scowl, Ranken yanked the blanket off her, leaving Viretta bright red in both embarrassment and indignation.
