On the final day of the countdown, Celia came downstairs to find Lucas and Yvonne at the door, preparing to head out. She hesitated for a moment before calling out to him.
“Uncle, I know you’re busy, but could you come back tonight for dinner? Just one meal—just the two of us.”
She wanted to bid him a proper goodbye.
Her eyes were filled with reluctant longing, a quiet plea. But the moment Lucas heard her words, he instinctively assumed it was another attempt at a confession and was ready to refuse.
Before he could speak, Yvonne patted his hand, her tone light and understanding. “It’s fine, I’ll catch up with some friends tonight. It’s been a while. You’re her guardian. Don’t hold grudges with a kid over such trivial matters.”
With her gentle persuasion, Lucas eventually agreed.
Celia got the answer she wanted, yet the ache in her chest only deepened.
She stood silently by the door, watching as they got into the car and drove off, the sound of the engine fading into the distance. Suppressing the wave of emotions churning within her, she turned and went back inside.
She’d heard that when someone passes, their belongings are often cleared away to bring closure. Since it was her last day, she didn’t want to burden Lucas with handling her things. She started sorting through everything she owned, gathering it all to discard.
Her room was filled with traces of Lucas.
From her toiletries to the clothes on her back, everything had been chosen and provided by him.
At first, Lucas hadn’t been so meticulous in caring for her. Most of her daily needs were left to the housekeeper and his assistant.
That changed after one fateful incident: the housekeeper had been neglectful, and his assistant, overwhelmed with work, failed to notice when Celia came down with a fever. She had grown so ill that by the time Lucas returned home, her fever had left her burning up and barely coherent.
The doctor later said that if Lucas hadn’t arrived when he did, her fever might have left her with lasting damage. From that day forward, Lucas handled her care personally, never delegating her well-being to anyone else again.
Shaking herself free from her thoughts, Celia looked around at the belongings she had carefully packed away. A quiet sadness settled over her.
From this moment on, the world would no longer have a place for her.
She cleaned the house meticulously, leaving everything spotless except for the wardrobe, still sealed with tape.
She wondered what Lucas’ reaction would be when he found her body inside. Would he be sad?
With her gone, no one would be there to cling to him, to say things he didn’t want to hear. Surely, without her, Lucas would feel relieved. Maybe even happy.
After tidying the house, Celia turned her attention to preparing what would be her last meal with Lucas.
Cooking wasn’t something she was good at.
Back when she lived with him, they either dined out or Lucas cooked himself. Once, Celia had expressed her desire to learn how to cook, saying she wanted to prepare a meal just for him. But after a mishap where she burned herself with hot oil, Lucas had forbidden her from attempting to cook again.
Still, she had secretly taken lessons, hoping to surprise him. But before she could master the skill, the accident happened, turning her into nothing more than a lingering soul.
Now, at least, she no longer had to worry about being burned by oil.
It took her five long hours, but Celia finally managed to prepare a lavish spread of dishes. Sitting by the dining table, she waited patiently. The food cooled, she reheated it, then waited again. But Lucas never came home.
She sent him messages, but he didn’t reply. She called him once, twice, but each time, the phone went unanswered.
When the call automatically disconnected for the third time, she stared blankly at her phone, only to see a notification pop up on her social media feed. It was a new post from Yvonne.
A sinking feeling gripped her chest as her trembling fingers opened the post.
The image showed two plane tickets. The caption read, “True love is when I say I want to see the snow in Winter Town, he drops everything to take me there.”
The moment Celia read the post, her face went pale. Her hands shook as she dialed Lucas’ number again. This time, he finally answered.
“Did you go to Winter Town with her? You promised me you’d—”
Before she could finish, a woman’s voice interrupted her from the other end. It was Yvonne.
“Celia, did you really think Lucas would go back for you? Stop deluding yourself. The only thing you should be doing now is packing up and leaving Lucas’ house for good.”
With that, Yvonne hung up, not giving Celia a chance to respond.
The beeping tone of the disconnected call lingered in the air, echoing in Celia’s ears. She sat silently for a long while, unmoving, until the clock struck midnight.
With the chime of the hour, she stood, calmly picking up the now-cold dishes from the table. Without hesitation, she dumped everything into the trash.
It was then that a chilling voice, belonging to the King of the Underworld, echoed from above, carrying a cold, otherworldly air.
“Celia Quinn, your seven days are up. Do you regret making this deal with me?”
The grim, icy words seemed to fill every corner of the villa. As they faded, Celia let out a faint, bitter laugh. Her soft voice broke the silence.
“There are disappointments, but no…, I don’t regret the choice.”
She walked to the calendar and tore off the final page of the countdown. Her voice was steady but resolute as she murmured, “Let’s go.”
As soon as the words left her lips, she watched her body begin to fade.
She raised her hand, staring as her transparent fingers began to dissolve, bit by bit. The ethereal glow spread to her arms, legs, and then her entire body.
Piece by piece, she vanished into nothingness.
Just before the end, Celia turned her gaze toward the distance. A faint smile touched her lips, bittersweet and fleeting.
“Goodbye, Uncle.”
This time, the farewell was forever.
