My five ghostly husbands-Chapter 302 Milo… are you sick?

He quickly followed her, catching up just in time as a few villagers noticed them slipping toward the front. Whispers stirred among the crowd. Some of the ghosts frowned, clearly annoyed that two strangers were pushing forward when everyone else was quietly standing in line, waiting, listening.

"Who are they?"

"Why are outsiders so bold?"

"They don’t even belong here..."

Ruby heard them but didn’t stop. Her footsteps stayed calm and her posture straight. She wasn’t trying to be rude—she just knew if she didn’t act now, she might miss the chance to speak to someone important.

Julian gently tugged her sleeve. "Wife, people are staring..."

"I know," she murmured back. "But if I wait for everyone to agree, I’ll never get anything done."

He sighed, then smiled slightly. "You’re really brave, you know that?"

She didn’t answer but kept moving ahead until she spotted someone who looked like a leader—a tall witch with strange dark red markings on her face and a silver staff in her hand. Her energy felt steady and strong.

Ruby paused, gathering her courage.

This was the moment she had to speak carefully... but not too early.

Because one wrong word and they’d be thrown out again.

****

Karl slurped his soup loudly, then leaned over the table with a grin. "What do you think wife will bring us?" he asked Milo with childlike curiosity, eyes sparkling with hope. "Maybe matching robes? Or those cute snacks she once got?"

Milo slammed his spoon down. "Wife will bring you something only if you behave!! I’ll tell her you’ve been playing that fish game all day!" His cheeks puffed with frustration, clearly at the end of his patience.

Karl blinked. "Hey! That fish game helps my reflexes—"

"Reflexes for what? Escaping from work?" Milo shot back, crossing his arms with a huff.

Adrian, who had been quietly eating, finally looked up, eyes narrowing. "Karl. How many times do I have to tell you—play less. Help more. You don’t do anything but sit around, and now you’re making us worry too." His voice was calm but firm, filled with authority.

Karl shrank in his seat, lips pressed together as he poked his bread with a finger.

"I was just asking a question," he muttered like a sulking child. "Why’s everyone biting me..."

"Because you don’t do anything!" Milo shot back, cheeks puffed angrily. "I cook! I clean! I do all the laundry—and you just lie in bed or stare at your phone like it’s your job!"

Adrian, who had been calmly eating his food with a neutral face, finally spoke. "Karl," he said, voice low and firm, "how many times do I have to tell you? Play less. Help more. You don’t lift a finger, and now you’re making Milo tired too. You need to be responsible."

Karl huffed and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "I do wash the dishes sometimes..."

"Once!" Milo snapped, pointing at him. "And you broke a bowl that time!"

Karl groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Why is everyone attacking me? I just said I missed wife, that’s all..."

Adrian sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "We all miss her, Karl. But missing her doesn’t mean you get to slack off. This house runs because all three of us do our part. You can’t expect everything to stay okay if you’re not helping."

Karl looked down at his half-finished bowl of soup, poking at it quietly for a moment..

"Alright," Karl said softly, his voice losing its usual playful edge as he looked at Adrian, who sat quietly rubbing his temple. Milo too looked drained, his energy clearly worn out from holding the house together while Ruby was away. Karl felt something tighten in his chest—guilt.

After dinner, instead of disappearing into his bed or reaching for his phone, Karl stood up without a word and began gathering the dishes. Milo blinked in surprise but said nothing, only giving a small smile of relief. As they carried the dishes to the kitchen, Karl glanced at Milo and noticed the sweat forming on his forehead.

"Hey... are you okay?" Karl asked, his brows knitting together as he watched Milo’s face go pale, then flushed. Milo’s breathing grew uneven, and he bent his neck slightly, trying to stretch it.

"I’m okay... Just a little tired," Milo said, forcing a grin as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Maybe the heat..."

Karl didn’t buy it.

"...Alright," he said slowly, but his eyes stayed fixed on Milo. As they started washing the dishes together, Karl noticed Milo gripping the edge of the counter tightly when he thought Karl wasn’t looking. And once, just once, Milo bit his lip so hard it left a faint red mark.

Karl stayed quiet, but inside his chest something shifted. He didn’t like this.

Why did Milo look like he was trying to hide the pain?

Why did his smile feel forced?

Why did he not say anything earlier?

As Karl scrubbed the dishes, he kept glancing sideways, watching every twitch of Milo’s fingers, the little wince that crossed his face now and then.

Something was wrong.

He didn’t know what but something was definitely wrong.

Finally, after washing the last dish and placing it carefully on the rack, Karl couldn’t hold it in anymore. His chest ached as he watched Milo quietly wipe his hands, his movements slower than usual, his face still pale. Without thinking, Karl reached out and grabbed Milo’s hands tightly in his own.

"Milo... are you sick?" Karl asked, his voice trembling. The fear in his heart was clear. He hadn’t forgotten the last time Milo had collapsed because of Wife....

But Milo blinked in surprise, then quickly shook his head. "Brother Karl! I’m not sick," he said quickly, his voice soft but firm. "I just... I wasn’t used to doing all the work, that’s all. I used to do half and Jules did the rest, but now that he’s not here, I have to manage everything, so I just feel a bit tired..."

Karl stared at him, heart heavy, guilt washing over him like a storm. He remembered all the times he played games, lazed around, pretended not to hear Milo’s soft voice asking for help. And now Milo looked exhausted, hiding pain behind a smile.

—To be continued...🪄

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