It was early spring. The snow was slowly melting, but the castle walls were still cold. Northern air, like its people, was slow to warm.

I’m Raes—just one of the ordinary servants in this castle.

But the southern room…

That place is different.

Always quiet. Quieter than an empty tomb.

The man who lives in that room…

His name is Roven.

If I’m being precise, he just sits. By the window.

Some days, he doesn't touch his food at all. Other times, he just stares at the fog on the glass.

Even when he doesn’t speak, his eyes are full of sound.

But not the kind of sound you understand.

No... the kind that's silent.

Scarier than any scream.

I still remember the first time I opened that door.

He was sitting, hands resting on his knees, like a statue. His gaze fixed on the pale light outside the courtyard.

With that long black hair and pale skin, he looked more like a ghost than a man.

And there was something in his eyes I… can’t describe.

Like someone who’s lost something very important.

Not in the room. Not in the castle.

But inside himself.

Everyone says he’s pretending. That the amnesia is an act.

But me... I don’t know.

The way he looks at you when you pass by...

It’s like he truly has no idea who you are.

Or who he is.

Today, while cleaning, I heard a quiet voice.

At first, I thought he was talking to me. But no.

He was talking to himself.

"Who am I...? Why am I here…?"

He said it in that soft tone of his—

not like someone complaining, not even like someone grieving.

Just… asking.

Like he didn’t even expect an answer.

For a moment, I froze.

My hand stiffened on the dust cloth.

He was staring at himself.

Looking into the mirror.

Not out of vanity. Not like nobles do.

But like someone staring at a stranger.

And in that moment, I felt… maybe he really doesn’t remember.

Or maybe he does, and this is all part of the act.

Another mask.

But there’s something...

No mask could create those eyes.

Those eyes hold more than forgetfulness.

They’re full of something lost.

Not just lost in place, but lost in self.

For the first time, I pitied him.

I don’t know why, but in that moment,

I decided to be a little more than just a servant.

To just... watch him a bit longer.

Listen a bit more.

Not to his words.

But to his silence.