609 years ago...
"Hey. Aren't you getting bored?"
"Hm?"
"I mean, you're always here. In this dark and quiet place. Aren't you feeling bored?"
"Why, I have everything I need in this cozy corner."
"You call this a corner?"
I never understood. This companion of mine always grumbles whenever he visits. He only comes around once every hundred years.
"This is no corner! You should step out sometime! How about exploring beyond these walls?"
"There's no need for that. I've grown fond of this place. And I'm hardly bored, unlike you."
Then, with a frustrated grumble, he moves closer, cupping my cheek as I stare back at him. This tall man, keeper of the key to this realm. I wonder, how did he come to possess such a key?
"Look at you! So gloomy! As if you've never tasted joy!"
His words irk me; he treats me as if I'm fragile. I sigh inwardly.
Every day, he nags.
"Look at these books! They're scattered!"
"Look at your toys! Can't you organize them for once?"
"What are you eating?! How could you stomach that?"
I can't help but feel annoyed with him sometimes.
"So, when will you depart?" I ask, devoid of emotion.
"Leave? You're eager for me to go? Won't you miss my company?"
"No."
I reply curtly, returning to my book. Surely there's a reason for his prolonged stay. Has he shirked his duties? Or committed some offense in the outside world?
"What brings you here this time? Why linger in this place?" I inquire.
He doesn't answer immediately, his head bowed, clearly troubled.
"If you won't tell me—" I begin, but then he speaks up.
"I'm getting married soon."
"Marriage? Is that what you're fleeing from? Pathetic."
I hiss, turning back to my book.
"It may seem so. In fact, this will be our last meeting."
I'm taken aback. What does he mean? Can't he return whenever he pleases, with the key in hand?
"But you've existed for nearly six centuries. All thanks to me—"
"I know I owe you, but I've found my answer to immortality."
He smiles, while I scowl.
"If you sever your ties to this place, you'll meet your end... eventually." I try to dissuade him. Why? Do I not resent him deeply?
"That's a risk I'm willing to take. I'll live as a mortal man, with my beloved wife."
So, I'm insignificant to him? Just a distraction?
"I see. Well, isn't that splendid? You're finally freeing yourself from my burden. Go on, do as you please."
"You're cruel! Couldn't you at least say you'll miss me? Aren't we friends?"
I avert my gaze. Friends don't abandon each other. I've waited for him every century. I clench my fist, returning the book to its shelf.
"We were never friends. Our pact ends now; you shall not return here."
And with those words, I vanish from sight.
After that declaration, I never saw him again. Regret gnaws at me; the silence of this place grows ever deeper.
----
I found myself seated at my customary study desk, the worn wood smooth beneath my fingertips. Leaning forward, I watched the sands of the hourglass cascade down, each grain a reminder of the passing moments.
"It should be around this time. He would visit me." Today marked the 699th year, on the brink of reaching the monumental 700th, yet the door to my sanctuary remained firmly shut.
As the last grains of sand sifted through the narrow neck of the hourglass, I glanced up expectantly at the door, anticipation tingling in my veins. But silence enveloped me; no footsteps approached, no hand reached for the latch.
"He said I should go out, fix the bookshelf..." I sighed, my gaze drifting towards the rows of books lining the shelves, their spines askew, their pages whispering tales of ages past. "I've been meaning to fix that shelf... I even attempted to eat some proper food, but..."
Why wasn't he coming?
I'm doing as he instructed, following his every command in the hope of fleeting companionship.
This feeling... This ache...
"I'm lonely."
The words hung heavy in the air, a lament for the solitude that had become my constant companion.
With a heavy heart, I realized I was waiting in vain. No one would open that door. No one would—
Suddenly, the stillness shattered as the door creaked open, hinges protesting the movement. With a start, I snapped to attention, straightening in my chair, my gaze fixed on the threshold.
"Ha! Did your wife leave you? Is that why you're here? Well, I don't blame her; you've always been a nuisance, but for you, I would still accept—" My words faltered, caught in my throat, as my eyes locked onto the figure in the doorway.
Speechless, I stared, mouth agape. "Who are you?"
A young girl stood before me, a vision of youth and vitality amidst the shadows of my secluded chamber. Her golden locks cascaded over her shoulders in a radiant halo, her dress adorned with hues of crimson and gold. Her eyes, wide with wonder, met mine, reflecting the astonishment that mirrored my own.
"I... thought this was one of my father's locked rooms. Is there a living ghost in here?" she asked, her voice tinged with a hint of awe.
"Ghost? Are you referring to me?" I replied, a faint edge of amusement creeping into my tone at her fanciful notion.
She nodded, a radiant smile gracing her lips, her eyes alight with curiosity and intrigue.
"How did you get here? Father?" I asked, laden with uncertainty and curiosity.
"Pleasure to make your acquaintance. Oh, you're as delightful as a white rabbit," she remarked casually, her gaze drifting past me to the plush toy perched on the shelf.
"Rabbit?"
"Yes, just like the stuffed toy behind you," she replied, her tone light and airy, as if the notion of a living ghost was nothing out of the ordinary.
"I'm... Augustina," she introduced herself, her voice soft yet filled with an undeniable sense of presence and grace.