IOHH 1

Have you ever heard the phrase, “Always read the fine print”?

It’s a saying that holds true regardless of time or country. In my opinion, humanity would be better off remembering “Read the contract carefully” more than “Love thy neighbor” from the Bible. If they had, tragedies like this one wouldn’t happen.

To get straight to the point—I got scammed. I signed a ridiculous contract that used my soul as collateral. This all happened because I didn’t pay attention when going over the terms.

The only silver lining? Most people lose their fortune when they’re scammed. I, on the other hand, gained a fortune. A massive hotel sitting on fifty acres of resort property is now mine.

If I ended up with money, isn’t that a win? You might think so.

But no… this is a serious problem.

Because this hotel isn’t staffed by humans.

“Is something wrong, Miss Lindetail? You don’t look well. Oh, right… I suppose you’re not ‘Miss Lindetail’ anymore. You’re the new owner.”

The most unsettling part of all this is the hotel manager standing in front of me. Hair as dark as ebony, eyes deep blue like the ocean depths, and sharp, flawless features. He’s so perfect he looks less like a person and more like a disturbingly well-crafted statue.

He smiled softly, lifting the corners of his mouth.

“If you need anything, just let me know, Madam Owner.”

Need anything? Yeah, I need something alright. I need the owner of this crazy hotel to show their face.

…Wait. That’s me now? Damn it.

This all began just a few days before I became the owner of this bizarre hotel.

Out of the blue, I received a letter from my uncle.

Dear Kaina,

How are you? I’m sorry to reach out so suddenly like this.

If you’re reading this letter, then I’m already gone from this world.

I heard about your parents and younger sibling passing away in the recent accident. I’m sorry I couldn’t be at the funeral. I know you’re already having a hard time, and I hate to add to that.

You’re the rightful heir to the Lindetail family now. I imagine you’re feeling overwhelmed. But there’s one thing I want to tell you—you don’t have to take up the Lindetail legacy if you don’t want to. I’ve always wanted you to live your life on your own terms. That hasn’t changed.

If you decide not to become the next Count of Lindetail and want to walk a different path, I’ll support you. In fact, I’m currently staying at a hotel. I’ve never mentioned this before, but I’m actually the owner of the place. I want to pass it on to you.

I hope you can visit as soon as possible. I’ve written the address at the bottom of this letter.

Address
Hotel Belvedere
12 Haven Court
Linmarsh, Grimsworth, Shetland

P.S. Don’t worry about whether this letter is real. Our capable hotel manager is delivering it himself. He never makes mistakes.

—Uncle Jervis

 

I sat in front of the fireplace, staring at my uncle’s letter. My brain took longer than my eyes to process what I’d read.

So… Uncle Jervis is dead? Just like that?

Thinking I might have misread something, I closed my eyes and slowly reopened them. The fire was still crackling, the letter still clutched in my hands.

“There’s no way he just… died like this.”

My legs gave out, and I collapsed to the floor.

It felt like one long, unending nightmare. No… even worse. A reality too heavy to carry alone.

Three months ago, I lost my parents and little brother in a house fire. I was the only one who made it out of the flames that engulfed our entire mansion.

The elderly maid who helped me dress each morning, the cheerful gardener whose laugh echoed through the estate, the head chef who went out of his way to match my tastes… they’re all gone now—just people of the past.

With the mansion reduced to ashes, I had no choice but to move into our townhouse in the capital. My days became a blur. There was no time to grieve. Funeral arrangements, inheriting the title, settling the estate… The list of responsibilities was endless. I stayed up night after night trying to handle everything.

It was painful, but I made up my mind—I would do whatever I could as the heir of the family for the sake of those who had passed.

“Do you really think you’re fit to be the Lindetail heir?”

“Your whole family died, and you shamelessly survived. God won’t forgive you for that.”

“Unbelievable… you didn’t shed a single tear at the funeral. You really are…”

Even when distant relatives I barely knew tried to snatch everything that remained, I endured it. Because I still had Uncle Jervis—the one family member I could rely on. Just knowing he was out there brought me comfort.

I was fine not receiving a reply to my letters. I could accept that he didn’t show up at the funeral. He was probably busy. Or maybe it took too long to return from overseas. I firmly believed that even if not now, he would come back someday.

But now, the one letter I finally received from him in months was… a farewell.

I stared blankly at the paper in my hands. What if I threw it into the fire? Would everything go back to normal? Maybe this whole “he’s dead” thing was just a lie. Uncle Jervis was always a bit of a jokester—maybe this letter was just another prank.

I slowly walked down the hallway and stared at the front door, half-expecting him to burst through it, laugh loudly, and say something like, “You gullible thing!”

My mind wasn’t ready to accept the truth. It felt like it would explode at any second. I wanted to run away. I had to focus on something—anything—else.

Then I noticed something familiar about the letter.

I ran to my room, dug through my drawers, and pulled out the letters I’d saved from Uncle Jervis. Most had burned with the mansion, but a few survived in the townhouse.

“…Found them. Good thing I kept these.”

Uncle Jervis had left home when I was fifteen and never came back, but he always kept in touch through letters. He said he was traveling the world. Sometimes he’d write from the edge of Shetland, other times from neighboring countries or distant continents. He’d always talk about how he’d take me along someday.

But at some point, his letters started to slow down. In the past year, I’d only received one.

I spread them out across my desk.

Dear Kaina,

Was today full of sunshine for you? I’m staying in a southern country right now. The weather’s so hot that everyone walks around in practically nothing. You could never imagine this in prim and proper Shetland! The beer here took some getting used to, but honestly, it’s better than most wine once you acquire the taste.

(excerpt omitted)

P.S. I drank too much and got scolded by the innkeeper in the morning. If your father—staunch wine lover and all-around respectable gentleman—knew, he’d say I’ve brought shame to the family!

From your drunken pal, Uncle Jervis

 

That letter was from five years ago, not long after he’d first left the estate. He genuinely seemed to be enjoying his travels back then.

Dear Kaina,

Did you remember to dress warmly today? I’m staying in a place called Prima now. Flowers are already blooming here. Not something you’d see in gloomy old Shetland. Apparently, every time it snows, people here make flower crowns as a tradition.

The rose ones are especially popular. I tried making one too. Someone told me it stays on better if you stick a nail in it and hammer it into your head, so I gave it a shot… but the smell of metal was so strong I dropped it without realizing.

Bees started swarming around my flower crown. I panicked and swung a hammer at them—they fell one by one. Poor things. When someone here drops their flower crown, they flip it over, bury it in soil, and eat it as a sign of mourning to avoid bad luck. So I picked up a shovel.

I must be getting old—the shovel felt heavier than usual. Guess it’s time I started watching my health. Don’t worry though, my new friends here are very kind.

P.S. I told them about you, and now they’re dying to meet you. If they show up at the estate, would you welcome them?

Your forever friend, Uncle Jervis

 

That was the letter I received six months ago. Until today’s new letter, it was the most recent one.

Compared to the letter from five years ago, the one from six months ago was… strange. So strange, I couldn’t even tell if he was in his right mind when he wrote it. I sent a letter right away asking about his condition, but I never got a reply.

Something is very, very wrong.

Everything about my situation feels off—the letter I received half a year ago, the news of my uncle’s passing I just heard this afternoon, all of it.

He used to talk now and then about searching for a certain hotel. But to find out he was the owner of one… and while traveling, no less? It’s all far too sudden.

He insisted there’d be no issue with the letter being delivered. But unless I see things for myself, I can’t trust anything.

The next day, I wrote a reply saying I would visit the address in the letter as soon as possible, then hurriedly began packing. Since I might be staying at the hotel for quite some time, I packed generously—enough that the luggage piled up like a mountain.

I left the management of my townhouse in the hands of the usual caretaker and set off alone, without any servants. There simply weren’t enough staff left to look after the estate.

I don’t know if the letter will arrive first or if I will…

After switching to a train partway through the journey and traveling for hours, I finally reached Grimsworth, on the far western edge of Shetland.

Every time I tried to rest on the train, I was plagued by nightmares and couldn’t sleep. From the station, I rode another carriage for several more hours until we arrived at the entrance to Haven Court. The coachman, a local from the area, stopped the carriage in an unfamiliar place.

Thick fog blanketed everything, so dense I couldn’t see even an inch ahead. The coachman opened the door and spoke calmly.

“This is as far as I go, miss. You’ll need to wait here for the carriage from Belvedere to pick you up.”

“…What are you talking about all of a sudden?”

He’s not seriously planning to leave me out here all alone… is he?