Loving a Ghost in a Living Body

Chapter 1: A Servant With No Name

The documents were going to kill him.

Cale stared at the stack of papers on his desk and felt his soul attempting to escape his body through his eyeballs. This was the part of being a noble that no one talked about. The endless, mind-numbing administration that came before the wars and the battles.

He wanted to be a slacker.

He deserved to be a slacker.

Instead, he was reviewing grain distribution protocols at— he glanced at the window— which was probably midday, judging by the sun, which meant he'd been at this since dawn.

‘Hah,’ he let out a long sign for the nth time that day.

Suddenly,

A shadow fell across his desk.

Cale didn't look up. "Leave it anywhere, Ron."

Silence.

A cup appeared at his elbow.

Cale blinked.

Not Ron's weathered knuckles. Not Beacrox's gloved hands. A different hand— slender, pale, with calluses placed oddly for a servant.

The hand retreated before Cale could follow it with his eyes.

He looked at the tea instead.

Cale reached for it automatically, brought it to his lips, expecting the usual sourness that Ron insisted was good for the constitution. 

But—

‘Oh.’

His hand stopped.

His eyes widened slightly.

His entire brain, which had been comfortably fogged by tax documents, suddenly snapped into sharp, crystalline focus.

The tea was sweet.

Not cloying. Not heavy. Just... gentle. Warm honey and something floral he couldn't name. The kind of tea that didn't jolt him awake but instead settled into his bones like a quiet reassurance.

Cale drank it without thinking.

When he looked up, the servant was already gone.

---

It happened again the next day.

And the next.

And the next.

Cale never saw him arrive. The tea would simply be there, appearing at his elbow like magic, always at exactly the moment when Cale's shoulders had started to ache and his eyes had begun to blur. Always sweet. Always perfect. Always gone before Cale could thank him.

He mentioned it to no one.

Not because it was a secret, but because it wasn't important. It was just tea. Just a servant doing his job. There was nothing to mention.

Except.

Except that Cale started noticing when the tea didn't appear. Started waiting for it, just slightly. Started glancing at his door in the late morning, wondering when the cup would appear.

---

"You seem to enjoy that servant's tea, young master."

Cale flinched. "Ron," his voice came out slightly strangled. "I didn't hear you come in."