But for some reason, all I wanted to do was comfort him.

“There is no debt,” I said.

“You want nothing from me?”

I couldn’t answer that. Not with a general yes or no. Money, but he was already paying me. Food and shelter, mine. I could ask for more chocolates, but those didn’t mean anything. Just a response for the sake of responding.

He was asking something deeper. Something he could personally give, that would equal the life I’d given him. In that way, it was a far scarier question than what it seemed. A question I could never answer, even if I knew what to say.

“Well, if you have no requests…” Magnus stepped back and opened his drawer, taking out a small wooden box. He took out a wad of bills, not even bothering to count it before holding it out to me.

“No,” I said, stepping back. “I didn’t save you to be rewarded.”

“Call it a bonus for a job well done.”

“U-um…” It was stupid, really, for me not to take it. I had six cents to my name, and here I was refusing money on principle. It felt strange to acknowledge the money in front of him, but I only had to look at the different-colored bills to count it. It was more than I made in a week. There had to be a mistake. “I haven’t been paid my weekly salary yet. We could just say you paid me early.”

“For God’s sake, take it,” he said with a heavy sigh. “You’ll be paid your salary tomorrow, as agreed upon in the contract. Besides, I’m sure you could find something better to do with this than I could.”

Even touching the money felt shameful. He was paying me for the wrong reasons—I couldn’t stand the idea of being paid for doing the right thing. But at the same time, refusing such a generous gift was extremely rude. I hid the rolled bills in my fist. “Thank you … I should let you go to bed,” I added quickly, just as Magnus was about to speak, and stepped back toward the door.

“I can’t let you leave my room bleeding. What kind of host would that make me?” His voice was quiet, hopeful enough that all I did was nod. And then he went into his private bathroom. I heard a cabinet open, some things being shifted, and then he came back with a bottle of clear liquid.

He was in my space again, but I didn’t try to leave. My heart was pounding, but not from fear or adrenaline. His gaze was so direct, penetrating. It seemed impossible that his eyes were always downcast when guests were around, that maybe, secretly, he was scared to know people. Because now he was nearly pinning me with just a look, only a hint of shyness in his brown eyes.