Chapter 2 Chapter 1 — A Grave First Impression

Thalia Rivers — POV

I stood in the middle of the common room, staring at the chair as though it might suddenly offer a reasonable explanation for moving itself.

Naturally, it didn't.

After several uncomfortable seconds, I rubbed my forehead and let out a sigh.

"Wonderful. Three days here, and I'm already losing my mind."

Perhaps I'd moved it myself while cleaning. I'd been working since morning, and my aching arms were a rather unpleasant reminder that I wasn't accustomed to maintaining an entire three-story building alone.

It wasn't impossible that exhaustion had affected my memory.

Although setting six places at the dining table and then forgetting about them seemed a little excessive.

I pushed the chair beneath the table and began collecting the dishes, determined not to waste another minute worrying about furniture.

There was no point preparing dinner for imaginary customers when I hadn't even figured out how to attract real ones.

Besides, if a thief had somehow entered the building, I hoped they'd take one look at my unpaid bills and leave me something out of pity.

By the time I'd returned the plates to the kitchen, I was thoroughly exhausted.

I settled behind the reception counter and reached for the paperwork I'd abandoned earlier, only to notice a folded letter beneath one of the old account books.

Grandmother's letter.

My expression softened as I picked it up.

The paper had already begun creasing from how often I'd unfolded it over the past few days. I knew most of its contents by heart, but whenever the work became overwhelming, I found myself reading it again.

She'd left instructions about the inn, explained where certain documents were kept, and encouraged me not to give up simply because things became difficult.

Then there was the part I still found rather strange.

Please take good care of the residents, Thalia.

I read the sentence again before glancing toward the empty dining room.

"Well, Grandmother, I'd love to," I murmured, smiling faintly. "But I need some residents first."

That was just like her.

Grandmother had always been unusually concerned about the people who visited the inn. She remembered their favorite meals, worried when anyone traveled during bad weather, and occasionally allowed struggling guests to stay without paying.

I'd thought she was far too generous when I was younger.

Now that I was responsible for keeping the establishment running, I was beginning to understand just how expensive generosity could be.

Still, I missed her.

I missed sitting beside the fireplace while she told me stories about enchanted forests and peculiar travelers. I missed the smell of the bread she used to prepare every morning and the way she'd insist that I eat properly before going outside.

Most of all, I missed having someone who seemed genuinely happy whenever I came through the door.

I'd spent so many years working in the capital, always promising that I'd visit when things became less demanding.

There had always been another shift to cover, another expense to worry about, or some other reason to postpone the journey.

I'd kept telling myself there would be time later.

If I'd known how little time we had left, I would have made different choices.

I lowered the letter and looked around the common room.

It was difficult to imagine now, but the inn had once been a lively place.

When I was little, travelers would gather around the fireplace, exchanging stories over warm meals while Grandmother moved between the tables.

Sometimes I'd sit on the staircase and listen until she caught me staying up past bedtime. She'd scold me, of course, but somehow I'd always end up with something sweet from the kitchen afterward.

The memory brought a small smile to my face.

Perhaps the inn wasn't much to look at anymore, but it hadn't always been this way.

And maybe it didn't have to remain like this.

I carefully folded the letter and placed it beside the accounts.

"Fine, Grandmother. Three days isn't enough to give up."

Tomorrow, I'd finish preparing the remaining guest rooms and visit the village to ask about repairing the roof. Once the worst problems were handled, I could begin advertising the establishment to travelers using the nearby road.

Surely someone would appreciate a comfortable bed and a warm meal.

Assuming, of course, that I learned how to prepare a decent meal.

A rumble of thunder interrupted my thoughts, drawing my attention toward the windows.

Rain had begun falling outside, striking the glass in uneven bursts while the wind rattled the old wooden frames.

"Lovely," I muttered as I watched the road disappear beneath the gathering darkness.

At least the weather had waited until evening.

I gathered the remaining papers and placed them inside the drawer beneath the counter, deciding that I'd accomplished enough for one day.

My arms ached from cleaning, my back hurt from moving furniture, and I was fairly certain I'd inhaled enough dust to last me a lifetime.

All I wanted now was a warm bath and a comfortable bed, preferably one that didn't creak whenever I moved.

Taking my lantern, I headed toward the staircase, only to remember that I'd added more wood to the fireplace earlier.

I'd better check it before going upstairs.

With another tired sigh, I turned around and walked back toward the common room.

"One last thing, and then I'm going straight to—"

I stopped so abruptly that I nearly dropped the lantern.

There was someone standing beside the fireplace.

"Shit!"

The curse escaped before I could stop myself, and I staggered backward, clutching my chest as I stared at the unexpected visitor.

Was everyone determined to frighten me to death today?

An elderly woman stood beside the fire, apparently warming her hands. She wore a long, old-fashioned dress with delicate embroidery around the sleeves, and a shawl rested neatly over her shoulders.

Her silver hair had been gathered into a bun, and judging by how comfortably she stood there, she seemed perfectly content.

Which was considerably more than I could say for myself.

For several seconds, I could only stare at her.

How had she gotten inside?

I'd checked the front door earlier, and it had been locked. Perhaps I'd forgotten to secure the kitchen entrance after bringing in supplies that afternoon.

Either way, it wasn't reassuring that someone could wander into my establishment without my noticing.

Then another thought occurred to me.

Wait a moment.

Could she be a customer?

An actual customer?

I straightened immediately, suddenly remembering that shouting curses at potential guests probably wasn't the best way to encourage repeat business.

Good heavens. My first paying customer might have arrived, and I'd welcomed her by nearly dropping a lantern.

What an excellent first impression.

I hurriedly adjusted my dress and attempted to arrange my expression into something more welcoming.

"Good evening, ma'am," I greeted, taking a few steps toward her. "I'm terribly sorry about that. You startled me."

The woman remained facing the fireplace, apparently unaware that anyone was speaking to her.

I cleared my throat and tried again. "Excuse me, ma'am. Are you all right?"

At the sound of my voice, she turned her head.

Her eyes settled on me, and almost immediately, her expression changed.

The woman stared as though she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing. Her eyebrows rose, and her lips parted slightly, leaving me wondering whether there was something wrong with my appearance.

"Ma'am?" I tried again.

She blinked before taking a small step toward me.

"You're speaking to me?"

I hesitated, rather confused by the question.

"Well, yes. Is there something wrong?"

"To me?" she repeated, bringing a hand to her chest.

I glanced around the room before returning my attention to her.

Unless another elderly woman had somehow appeared beside the fireplace, I wasn't entirely sure who else she thought I might be addressing.

"Of course," I answered carefully. "Were you looking for accommodation?"

"Oh, my goodness!"

Her astonishment was beginning to concern me.

Perhaps she had difficulty hearing, or maybe she'd simply become confused after traveling in the rain. I'd encountered elderly visitors like that when I occasionally helped Grandmother serve guests.

Trying not to make her uncomfortable, I softened my voice.

"Would you like a room for the night? I'm afraid some of them aren't ready yet, but I'm sure I can find somewhere comfortable for you."

Instead of answering, the woman began smiling.

It was a wide, delighted smile, the kind someone might wear after receiving unexpectedly wonderful news.

"Oh, this is extraordinary!"

I shifted awkwardly, wondering whether I'd said something particularly amusing.

"I'm sorry?"

She looked me up and down before letting out a soft laugh.

"My dear, can you really see me?"

I frowned. "Of course I can see you."

For some reason, that only seemed to delight her further.

"Oh! You really can!"

I stared at her, wondering whether this was some strange village custom I'd forgotten about during my years in the capital.

Why was she so surprised that someone could see her?

Before I could think of a reasonable explanation, the woman began approaching me with an expression of absolute delight.

"Ma'am, wait—"

The dining table stood between us, and I expected her to walk around it.

Instead, she continued forward.

Straight through the solid wood.

My eyes widened in horror as her body passed through the table as though it wasn't there.

"W-What the hell?!"

I stumbled backward, barely able to believe what I'd just witnessed, but the woman continued approaching, apparently unaware that she'd done anything unusual.

"Oh, this is wonderful!" she exclaimed, smiling even wider.

My legs suddenly felt rather weak.

I tried taking another step backward, but my knees gave way before I could reach the nearest chair.

As the room tilted around me, the last thing I saw was the elderly woman's delighted face coming closer.

Then everything went black.