After a while, the two sat beneath the tall oak tree, shaded by its wide branches as a soft spring breeze rustled through the leaves.
Their conversation was slow and awkward.
The red-haired girl struggled with her English, carefully stringing together words with broken grammar and quiet pauses.
But Markara didn't mind.
He nodded patiently, smiling when she got stuck.
And when words failed her completely, she used gestures—pointing, miming, even drawing simple shapes in the dirt with her finger.
And somehow, Markara understood her.
He was always quick to learn, and right now, his curiosity was wide awake.
She fascinated him.
Red hair, green eyes, soft voice…
She looked like she had stepped out of a storybook—like someone from an old European folktale.
He hesitated for a second, then asked her the question that had been on his mind.
"Where do you live, by the way?"
He even repeated the question with a gesture—one hand shaped like a little roof, the other pointing around.
The girl looked at him quietly for a moment.
Then, with a small smile, she turned her head…
And pointed.
To the garden.
Markara blinked.
He followed her finger, expecting to see a building, a door, maybe even a small cottage.
But there was nothing.
Just the vegetable rows, fruit trees, soft patches of wildflowers… and the old stone well in the center.
"Wait… you live here? In the garden?" he asked slowly.
The girl didn't speak, just smiled.
A gentle, innocent smile, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
"Stop joking, I will asked Elizabeth then !"
Markara raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out if she was messing with him.
"Come on, stop joking," he said with a half-laugh. "If you're gonna be mysterious, at least give me a hint. I'll just ask Elizabeth later."
He folded his arms with a playful grin.
"You know, a girl your age shouldn't be hanging around alone like this," he said casually, his tone light. "You must live nearby, right?"
The red-haired girl didn't flinch.
But then a rustling sound came from behind him.
Markara turned.
An older man stepped into the garden, carrying a set of gardening tools over one shoulder. He looked to be in his fifties, wearing a faded school staff uniform and a wide brimmed hat that shadowed most of his weathered face.
He gave the man a polite nod and a small bow.
"Konnichiwa (Good day!)" he said softly, offering a simple greeting in Japanese.
The man returned the nod with a quiet grunt and went about his work, barely giving him a second glance.
Markara turned back to the girl but she was gone.
The spot under the tree was empty. No trace and sound.
"...huh ?"
He blinked and rubbed his eyes, scanning the area.
Then he looked around once more—beneath the tree, behind the well, along the stone path.
Still nothing.
"Am I… imagining things ?" He muttered, his brows furrowing.
"Or did I seriously just hallucinate all that?"
He started at the empty spot where she had been sitting trying to make sense of it.
She had been there. Right there, he spoke to her.
His mind raced to find a logical explanation.
Then, suddenly, a memory surfaced.
He remembered one evening back at the church, when Sister Vatey told the kids a scary story to get them to sleep early.
A woman in a white dress.
Seen near the old bell tower at her previous church.
A ghost, she'd said, with long black hair and empty eyes, who only appeared at night.
It was meant to be a joke, just something to spook the orphans a little.
Markara swallowed.
".. Ghost ?!"
As someone who never believed in anything supernatural or superstitious, Markara always relied on science and logic to explain the world.
But even so, a chill crept up his spine just a little.
He rubbed his arms and shook his head.
"It's nothing, I'm just tired or probably homesick too," he thought to himself.
He let out a shaky breath, forcing a laugh.
"Yeah … maybe I'm just overtiered. Maybe a jet lag"
He gave the tree one last look before returning to the dorm.
"I better freshen up with a cold shower and do some reading."
He ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the lingering chill.
"Who would believe there was a ghost right ?"
He laughed again but it didn't sound that convincing.
==============
"How was your walk, Master ?"
The moment Markara opened the dorm's door, he was greeted by the gentle voice of Elizabeth.
She paused in the hallway, her arms full of freshly folded blankets. Her maid uniform was as neat as ever, and her expression held that same soft, doll-like smile.
Markara blinked, a little surprise.
"Oh, it was … nice," he replied, scratching the back of his neck with an awkward smile.
But even as the words left his mouth, his mind was still in the garden.
He was curious but then a cautious thought crept in.
'What if i ask Elizabeth about her .. and she laughs'
'What if she thinks I imagined a ghost that never existed?'
From his point of view, it sounded ridiculous.
He didn't even believe in that kind of thing.
But the image of the red-haired girl… it just wouldn't leave his mind.
Markara took a slow breath,still standing at the entrance.
"Umm… Elizabeth?" he asked, his voice a little hesitant.
She turned to him immediately, still holding a stack of folded blankets in her arms, yet not a single drop of sweat on her brow. Always calm. Always composed.
Her gaze met his gently.
"Yes, Master?" she asked, her usual polite smile still in place.
"Can I… ask you something?"
There was a small pause.
Elizabeth tilted her head slightly.
"Have you ever seen a girl with red hair … wearing a white gown … in the garden?"
His voice was quiet, careful, like he was afraid of how ridiculous it might sound.
Elizabeth didn't respond right away.
She blinked at him, eyes unreadable.
"...Oh—" she finally began.
But before she could say more, Markara quickly waved his hand and forced a laugh.
"Ahh—never mind!" he said, chuckling nervously. "It must've just been my imagination, hehe…"
He scratched the back of his head, trying to play it off like it was no big deal.
Elizabeth paused, then she tilted her head and spoke in the same calm, measured tone as always.
"Master… you must have met Iris. The nymph."
Markara blinked.
Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face.
"I knew it!" he muttered, pumping his fist like he'd just won the lottery.
"So it wasn't a ghost after all! I'm not crazy!"
But just as quickly as the relief came… it faded.
His smile twitched.
"Wait... nymph?"
He paused, staring blankly at the hallway wall.
"What the hell is a nymph?"