The White-Haired Ghost
The next morning, a crowd of physicians descended on Kallen’s room to examine him.
“What the hell is this about?”
Kallen shoved them aside. “Get out. I need to go see my sister.”
The physicians’ eyes widened in shock.
“Pardon, Lord Kallen… what did you just say?”
“I said I’m going to see my sister.”
“This is impossible…”
Kallen frowned. Why were they reacting like this? He had no time to dwell on it. He hurried into the bathroom, intending to wash quickly before going to Canna.
But the moment he looked in the mirror, the world stopped.
“……”
A white-haired young man stared back at him with startled eyes.
“My hair…”
His once-red locks had turned pure white, like fresh snow.
Kallen was stunned. He couldn’t believe it. How could his hair change overnight?
What the hell happened?
He staggered out of the bathroom and came face-to-face with Isabel, who had been waiting for him.
“Brother, have you lost your mind?”
“Isabel.”
“They said you were going to see Sister Canna. What does that even mean?”
Isabel’s face was deathly pale. Kallen couldn’t understand her reaction. What was so strange about wanting to see his sister?
More importantly—
“Isabel, my hair has turned completely white.”
“……Brother.”
“Where did the physicians go? I should call them back. I must have eaten something wrong. For my hair to change like this…”
As he grumbled, Isabel’s shoulders began to tremble. A tear slipped down her cheek.
“Kallen Addis… you really have gone mad.”
“What?”
“Your hair turned white from the shock. The trauma was too much.”
Isabel’s voice cracked as she continued.
“Because Sister Canna is dead.”
“……”
“You watched her commit suicide. That’s why this happened. So please, stop talking nonsense and pull yourself together!”
Like a bolt of lightning, the memories slammed into him.
A night beach. The sound of waves.
And then—
“Huk.”
Kallen sucked in a sharp breath.
Dizziness crashed over him. He staggered, bracing a hand against the wall. Cold sweat soaked his forehead in an instant.
That’s right. His sister had died.
I killed her.
The moment the truth hit, the corners of his eyes burned as if on fire.
Canna had committed suicide.
She had driven a dagger into her own chest and died right before his eyes. His selfishness had pushed her to that end.
He had never once considered her wishes. Her thoughts, her feelings, her position—none of it had mattered compared to his own desires.
This was the result.
His greed had driven her to the edge of the cliff and shoved her over.
And he had lost her. Forever.
“Kallen.”
A voice like a soft breeze brushed his ear.
His blurred vision suddenly cleared, as though light had pierced the darkness.
He slowly lifted his head.
Canna stood leaning against the doorway, smiling at him.
Kallen stared at her in a daze and whispered, “Sister?”
Canna let out a soft giggle, then slipped away from the room with catlike agility.
“Sister!”
Kallen rushed after her. Isabel tried to grab him from behind, but he shook her off.
“Sister, wait!”
At the end of the corridor, Canna was running, her black hair swaying behind her.
Kallen chased desperately.
“Please wait, Sister!”
But Canna didn’t stop. She ran out of the mansion, through the streets, and disappeared into the cathedral.
“Sister!”
Kallen shouted as he pushed through the crowd.
Cruelly, she never looked back. She climbed the cathedral stairs higher and higher until she reached the very top of the spire.
“Sister.”
At the summit, the wind whipped across his cheeks.
Kallen looked down. From this dizzying height, the entire imperial capital spread out beneath him.
Beyond the precarious railing, Canna floated in the empty air.
At the sight, Kallen’s eyes burned with heat. Tears spilled down his face.
“Sister.”
He wept as he spoke.
“Sister, I was wrong.”
Canna said nothing.
Why wouldn’t she answer? If he could just hear her voice one more time, he would do anything.
“I truly made a mistake. Please forgive me.”
Then Canna smiled sweetly. She reached out toward him and whispered.
“Take my hand, Kallen.”
“Sister.”
“You know the coffin I’m lying in, don’t you? It’s so narrow and cold. And it’s so dark I can’t see anything. I’m so lonely and scared. So stay with me. Will you?”
Her words felt like his heart was being torn into pieces.
How terrifying it must be.
How lonely.
The thought of Canna lying alone forever in that dark earth made his chest tighten until he could barely breathe.
“Don’t worry, Sister.”
Yes. He had to stay by her side. He had to hold her hand.
No matter where she went or where she was, he would be there so she would never have to be afraid again.
“I will stay by your side.”
It didn’t matter whether she was dead or alive.
She had been lonely her entire life. He couldn’t abandon her to that same loneliness in death.
“I will remain by your side forever.”
Kallen walked toward her, reaching out. And he confessed.
“I love you.”
At last, their hands met.
Or so he thought.
Countless people witnessed Kallen Addis climbing the spire.
Not long after, something fell with a heavy thud. The ground beneath the tower was soaked in a pool of red blood.
Everyone assumed the blood belonged to Kallen Addis. Yet his body was nowhere to be found.
All manner of speculation and eyewitness accounts flooded the streets.
A few theories rose above the rest.
One claimed that beggars from the streets had stolen the corpse. The clothes he wore were extremely valuable, so they had dragged the body away, stripped it, and dumped it in the river.
“Yes, my friend saw it! A group of beggars stole the clothes and threw the body into the river!”
Another theory said the Black Apostles had appeared and taken the body.
“Isn’t he a descendant of the holy knights? They must want to use his holy power for dangerous experiments.”
And yet another.
Someone claimed to have seen Kallen rise to his feet and stagger away.
“It’s true! I saw it with my own eyes! He was dripping blood from his head and walked off somewhere!”
But that story was too unrealistic and was quickly dismissed. Amid the chaos of conflicting accounts, a funeral was held without a body.
One week after the funeral.
The long-missing Orsini Addis finally returned.
“So you’re back.”
Orsini Addis stepped into the head of house’s office.
Despite disappearing for several weeks, Alexandro didn’t seem particularly surprised. Orsini’s face was gaunt, evidence of whatever he had endured during his absence.
He smiled crookedly.
“Kallen’s dead, isn’t he.”
“For now.”
“Is he really dead? They couldn’t even find a body.”
Alexandro remained silent.
They had mobilized every resource the Addis family possessed, yet they had found no trace of Kallen.
Neither his corpse nor his living body. So there was only one thing left to say.
“If he’s alive, he’ll return one day.”
“Goddamned idiot.”
Alexandro studied Orsini closely. It took him only seconds to notice.
“You can’t use your right arm.”
“……”
Orsini didn’t answer at first. But he knew he couldn’t hide it from the man before him, so he admitted it.
“That’s right.”
Alexandro rose from his seat and approached Orsini, stopping directly in front of him.
Standing this close to his father made Orsini tense unconsciously. He had never been this near to him before.
Alexandro silently lifted Orsini’s right arm and examined it.
Orsini studied him in return. It struck him anew—up close, Alexandro truly looked like a young man the same age as himself.
His smooth skin, powerful build—everything about him radiated the vitality of a man in his twenties.
And then he noticed something else. Alexandro’s height, his frame, the shape of his hands, the veins standing out on his forearms—every detail was astonishingly similar to his own.
They looked so alike they could almost be twins.
“Why?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why can’t you use it?”
Orsini looked away without answering. The aftereffects of the poison that damned witch had given him. It was simple enough, but he had no intention of explaining it.
“Aftereffects of the poison, I see.”
How the hell does he know that?
Orsini glared at him with suspicion before answering curtly.
“I’m ambidextrous. Losing one hand isn’t a big deal.”
“It will be more inconvenient than you think.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s paralyzed from shoulder to fingertip. It’ll flop around uselessly like a string every time you move. Especially when you swing a sword—it’ll get in the way.”
“Goddammit.”
Orsini’s face twisted. In one swift motion, he drew the sword from his waist and brought it down toward his own right arm without hesitation.
He would cut off this useless, damned arm.
But the next instant—
Clang!
Alexandro’s hand shattered the blade.
It happened so fast Orsini’s eyes widened in shock.
“Don’t be so hasty, Orsini.”
His father, who had just performed an impossible feat, casually tossed the broken blade onto the table.
There wasn’t a single scratch on his hand.
“Receive rehabilitation treatment. You never know. You might be able to use it again someday.”
“How would you know that?”
Alexandro’s lips curved upward.
“Experience.”
“……Pardon?”
“With Kallen gone, you will have to take the position of successor.”
At the abrupt change of subject, Orsini frowned. He had expected this from the moment he heard about Kallen.
“Of course you don’t want it. But you won’t be able to avoid it, Orsini.”
Alexandro placed a hand on his son’s shoulder.
“Just as I once did.”