Troll

⁦⁠♡⁩ TL: Khadija SK

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When Jin-ah was young, she once drew a family tree during a school class.

Jin-ah could finish it very quickly because it only consisted of her father, her mother, and herself.

Bored, Jin-ah looked at her friends’ family trees and came home with a question.

⟨Don’t I have grandparents?⟩

Her parents uncomfortably laughed.

Her mother mentioned having a maternal mother who had passed away long ago, and there were no other relatives.

Then, she gave a name that was hard to write down.

⟨Guire?⟩

After several failed attempts, her mom gave up, saying:

⟨Call her whatever you like; she’s been gone for a long time anyway.⟩

But her father was different.

After a thoughtful pause, he smiled bitterly and replied:

⟨Your grandfather remarried a long time ago, and your grandmother lives in Scotland.⟩

⟨Why don’t we go to see her then?⟩

Other children often talked about visiting their grandparents’ houses at the end of the term.

The country house seemed like something from a fairytale, with endless rolling hills, crystal-clear lochs for swimming, and the kitchen always smelling delicious after a swim.

Jin-ah couldn’t wait to return to London and brag about her grandmother to her friends.

Unlike Jin-ah, whose eyes sparkled with curiosity, her father looked more troubled.

⟨That… Grandma doesn’t like meeting people. Her house is very remote, with nothing entertaining, and Dad never went there except once when I was very young. We never got to go inside because Dad lived in a house in Edinburgh, and he visited her on the weekdays.⟩

Jin-ah didn’t understand why her father wasn’t allowed in the house of his mother.

‘Maybe my dad and grandma don’t get along?’

That would make sense.

Eventually, Jin-ah learned her grandmother’s name and didn’t ask any more questions that day.

Instead, she was told that her father hadn’t talked about his family in a long time, that he had a sister when he was younger, but she died of an illness, and that Jin-ah’s grandfather and grandmother divorced after that.

Frida Troll.

It was a name she finally recognized, but Jin-ah never thought much more about it after that.

Jin-ah never heard her grandmother’s name again from her father’s side, and they never contacted her.

When he died, there was no contact from her grandmother’s side either.

So Jin-ah assumed that her grandmother was either long gone, or that the connection was truly severed…

* * *

“What do you mean, I have an inheritance? But I’ve never met this woman before?”

Jin-ah sat across from the lawyer in a small neighborhood café.

She didn’t like the glowering café owner’s interest in her, but she had nowhere else to go.

“Maybe, but you’re still Frida Troll’s granddaughter.”

“But I haven’t heard from her before, so why would she suddenly….”

“Because Frida Troll died a week ago.”

“She died?”

“Yes. She died a week ago, and we came to you because we were informed that, according to her will, the flag on her mansion was still flying in the morning.”

“The mansion? The flag?”

The more Jin-ah listened, the more puzzled she became.

The lawyer lifted his glasses and began to explain.

Frida Troll lived in a mansion deep in the Scottish Highlands, built in the middle of nowhere.

Until a few years ago, she had an old servant, but after the servant died, she no longer kept anyone in the house.

It wasn’t that she didn’t have money to pay another servant; she just never let anyone into the house but herself.

Once a month, she instructed a contractor hired through the trust company to leave food and necessities at the entrance of the mansion.

When the trust company had asked her to think about repairing the house or relocating due to concern for her health, she had flatly refused, saying that she would die there, and if they made any more such suggestions, she would change companies.

She had been so adamant that they couldn’t do anything about it.

Besides, Frida Troll was a major client, entrusting them with a very large sum of money.

Once a year, Frida had demanded a visit from someone from the trust company in the nearest town, and that was it: she would receive a report on her estate from her staff and lawyers, then return home.

It hadn’t been a very long trip, but she had been impatient, as if she had left something important at home.

Fast forward a decade, and this year it had been clear that her health had deteriorated.

She hadn’t been walking well, and her complexion hadn’t been looking good. It had been clear that her days were numbered.

“I want to make a will.”

The lawyer had immediately written down her words.

Every night starting from the day after, she would hang a white flag on the second-floor window of the mansion and take it down in the morning.

Employees of the trust company would have to check the flag every day from the furthest distance they could see the mansion.

And if the flag continues to fly without any further change, or if it is not seen, they shall judge that Frida Troll is dead, and shall deliver her will to her granddaughter, Jean-Antoine Troll, within a week from that day.

“And today is the day that the white flag hanging outside has not been taken down for a week. This morning, a copy of the will arrived with a call from the firm.”

The lawyer held the copy out in front of her.

The will was simpler than she expected.

 

 

[First, on Frida Troll’s death, £400,000 of the investments held in a trust company are to be inherited by Jean-Antoine Troll.

The taxes and other consultancy fees incurred will be paid from the remainder of the trust.

Second, the trust company will manage the remainder of the trust and pay her £2,000 per month.]

 

 

Having read that far, Jin-ah covered her mouth with her hand.

The film version of inheriting an inheritance from someone you never knew existed was actually happening.

In Jin-ah’s case, she was aware of her grandmother’s existence, but she never really knew anything about her.

It hadn’t been since she drew a family tree as a child, so psychologically, it was like her grandmother truly never existed.

“This… is real, right? It’s not some kind of scam, is it?”

Jin-ah asked in a low voice, avoiding the eyes of the café owner, who was becoming more interested.

“If you have any doubts, you can search for my company. I’m sure my face and name will be on the homepage.”

“Uh, well, I’ll just check it out then; I’ve never really thought about this before so…”

Jin-ah knew it was rude, but she couldn’t help it.

This was nothing short of lottery-winning luck, and her suspicions were justified.

As it turns out, the man in front of her was an executive at the trust company, and he’s a vice president!

“You’re higher up than I thought.”

Jin-ah said it jokingly, but the lawyer replied businesslike, his expression still grim.

“That’s how important Mrs. Frida Troll’s work is.”

“My grandmother must have been an important client.”

“Yes, she was. She invested a large portion of our start-up funds, and to be honest, you’re only seeing a fraction of what she entrusted to us.”

Jin-ah was in disbelief.

Her grandmother was that rich?

As Jin-ah’s mouth dropped open, the lawyer pointed to the copy of the will again.

“Number three is important. Please read it carefully.”

At those words, Jin-ah’s gaze returned to the will.

 

 

[Third, Jean-Antoine Troll shall be the sole owner of Kno Dearg Manor and shall refuse entry to anyone else.

If anyone breaks this rule and enters the manor, the monthly payments will immediately cease, and any inheritance that has already been paid will be recovered.]

 

 

“Kno Dearg Manor?”

“That is the name of the mansion where the Lady lived. It is located in the southwest of the Cairngorms National Park, north of Edinburgh. The nearest town is seven miles from the mansion, and the surrounding area is nothing but heathland and small lochs.”

The lawyer held out a photograph for Jin-ah to check out.

It was a very old photograph, even black and white.

The smudged pen writing beneath it read 7 July 1951.

“You don’t have any recent photos?”

“No. Mrs Frida Troll didn’t allow any photographs to be taken of the mansion after she inherited it in ’51, so this is the only one we have.”

“But don’t you have any photographs of it from afar, or…?”

“No, the lady has forbidden it.”

Frowning at the clipped words, Jin-ah turned her attention to the photograph.

There was a large mansion in the corner of a hilly wilderness.

The photograph must have been taken on a foggy day because every inch of the mansion was blurry, and there wasn’t a single person in sight.

And just beyond the window…

The moment she looked at the window in the corner of the mansion, Jin-ah jumped to her feet and backed away from it with an unexplained sense of dread.

The chair Jin-ah was sitting on fell over with a loud crash.

Everyone in the café turned to see what was going on, but she stared at the photograph, unable to apologize for the noise.

Through the window, she saw something…

Something flickering.

But it’s a photograph. There’s no way you can see something like that…

The lawyer shoved the photograph back into the folder with a nonchalant attitude, as if he knew this would happen, and then said dryly.

“What will you do, Miss Jean-Antoine Troll?”

The lawyer’s hand tapped the center of the will, where it said £400,000 and £2,000 a month.

 

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T.N: The lawyer is sus 👀