Soul Food

The next evening, Irena Wald arrived after the sun had completely set.

Uncle Bernard said she had walked all the way from the hotel to the mansion alone, wearing nothing but a black cloak and without a carriage or attendants.

Her eyes, ringed by dark circles, were sunk deep beneath her pitch-black hair, and her skin was pale.

She must have been incredibly beautiful once, but honestly, it was difficult to tell whether she was beautiful or not now.

She wasn't deliberately trying to be intimidating, and she was quiet and polite, but every time I looked at her, I felt as though my skin were prickling.

‘Wow, her expression is unbelievably terrifying.’

As soon as she stepped inside the entrance, the candles shook violently.

I saw it, but pretended not to.

A head chef sometimes had to fear the guests more than ghosts.

Ghosts didn't complain about their meals. (Though if one complained despite getting a free meal, killing it again would be perfectly reasonable.) Guests, however, were beings who could evaluate a meal at any time...