Chapter 11

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 11

Chapter Title: The Count Family's Strange Guest (1)

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The Bellunita count's family receives a lot of letters. Some are from unknown senders, but most inquire about Vincent's well-being. Banquet and party invitations arrive fairly often, too.

But the master never replies to any of them. In fact, even when the letters are delivered to him, he doesn't bother checking them. So the servants usually handle them before they even reach his hands.

Among those persistently arriving letters, one name stood out in particular.

[Violet]

A woman's name...?

Letters from her arrive every other day, but they never make it to Vincent either.

Isabella ordered me to keep those letters separately. Is she someone special who needs extra care? If so, why not deliver them to him? Since Vincent never reads them, no replies go out either. Still, the letters from this 'Violet' person kept piling up neatly in my desk drawer.

And another one that caught my eye.

[Are you there?]

...?

I found it by chance while clearing out the ashes from the fireplace. On a half-burned scrap of paper, golden lettering remained. When I held it up to the sunlight, the elegant, beautiful script sparkled.

After that, more letters with the same message arrived.

[How have you been?]

It was written in beautiful script on a high-quality envelope with a crisp texture. The strange part was that the paper inside was blank—nothing written on it. Maybe she wrote directly on the envelope in case he didn't open it?

Even so, the letters with that golden script arrived without fail every day. Of course, no replies were sent. Vincent never even checks them.

Then one day, on Isabella's orders, I wrote a reply to one of those letters. She told me to keep it simple, but I pondered carefully before picking up the pen.

[I'm doing well.]

But after sending the reply, the letters suddenly stopped. I worried that maybe I'd written something wrong, but I was too busy attending to the master and soon forgot about it. The letters came back to mind only when an unexpected reply arrived.

Still in that elegant golden script. This time, it was written on the paper inside the envelope, not the envelope itself.

[The weather here's nice.]

And? The inexplicable content puzzled me, but what stood out even more was the last character, where the ink had slightly smudged. Looking closer, there were water stains here and there on the envelope. Like tears.

Was she so overjoyed that she cried while writing the reply? No way.

I was curious, but Isabella said there was no need to reply this time, so I didn't send one. Then the letters started coming every day again without fail—the exact same content. It felt like she was stubbornly demanding a reply.

In the end, I had to write another reply on Isabella's command. I hesitated, about to write something casual like before. The smudged water stains on the paper came to mind. For some reason, it felt wrong to write with the same attitude as last time, so I paused and gazed out the window. Just then, I noticed buds sprouting on the tree branches. I moved my pen.

[Buds are starting to sprout on the bare branches here.]

After that, replies came again, and when I sent one back, another arrived. Before I knew it, I was exchanging letters with some unknown person. The content was still nothing special. No more water stains after the first reply.

[Doing well again today.]

It was on one such day, when this peculiar routine had become part of my life.

The day I stretched and greeted a refreshing morning, worrying about the exhausting day ahead thanks to the master's foul mood. As always, I changed clothes, tied my messy hair back tightly into one bundle, and opened the door.

"Vincent—!"

But an unfamiliar voice rang out.

Right next door, in front of the master's room, stood a man I'd never seen before. A tall man in a top hat, knocking on the door and calling Vincent's name pleadingly.

"Vincent! Open the door!"

I was staring curiously at the man who kept knocking despite no response from inside when he sensed my gaze and turned. Spotting me, he widened his brown eyes.

A moment of mutual scrutiny followed. The stranger and I openly sized each other up from head to toe, both wondering who the other was.

The man finished his assessment first.

"Ah, the new maid who just arrived?"

New maid—that phrase triggered my response, and I bowed at once. It had become instinct lately.

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Paula."

Greetings last until the other person acknowledges them. If they're not a fellow servant, you don't straighten up before they respond. Remembering that, I waited for his reply.

"Ahh."

The man sighed shortly and approached me. In my downcast view of the floor, the tips of his shiny shoes appeared. Then he took one of my hands, which I'd been holding in front of me.

Startled, I looked up. He had one hand behind his back, slightly bowed, and placed a light kiss on the back of my hand.

"Pleased to meet you, miss."

A pleasant baritone voice. As our eyes met with his head slightly raised, he smiled, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Ethan Christopher."

"Uh... yes..."

I answered dumbly, still collecting my wits.

His movements as he straightened and released my hand were gracefully efficient, without a hint of excess. Even after his hand left, mine hovered in the air. The back of my hand burned where his warmth had touched.

"Vincent's locked the door. Can you open it?"

"Ah..."

Snapping to my senses, I lowered my hand and headed to the door, absently rubbing the back of it.

Very rarely, Vincent's door would be locked. I'd wondered how he did it, but it turned out pulling one of the many cords hanging by his bedside wall activated wires connected to the door, locking it.

The cords snaked along the walls in various directions. At first, I hadn't noticed because the room was so dim and I was busy attending him, but lately, as I'd gotten a proper look around, I'd figured it out. The cord he'd pulled to lock the door stretched all the way from the wall to the door itself.

When I first saw it, I couldn't believe my eyes even as I watched. Vincent explained it was a precaution against danger when he was alone. The first time I saw him use it, I asked all sorts of questions out of fascination, but he didn't answer, so I lost interest. The other cords on the wall are probably for the same reason. But he uses them differently.

Isabella had given me an emergency keyring for such occasions. The annex was practically my domain, so she told me to keep it handy. That's how I opened his door when it was locked.

I rummaged in my apron pocket and pulled out the emergency keys. As I unlocked it and turned the knob, I realized I hadn't asked this Ethan Christopher what his relationship to Vincent was.

"Ah, um, the master and you..."

At that moment, something whooshed past the opening gap. Followed by the crash of shattering glass! My unfinished words scattered.

Ethan whipped his head toward the sound and gasped in shock. I confirmed the source too. A glass bottle had smashed against the wall. From experience, I could guess who'd thrown it.

Sure enough, a chilling voice emanated from the dark room.

"Close the door."

Truly, dangerously so.

I grimaced slightly and glanced at Ethan. He was still staring at the broken bottle, myriad thoughts flickering across his stunned face.

First time experiencing that foul temper? No wonder he's shocked. Shaking my head, I stepped inside, only for something else to fly and hit the wall. A glass this time. I'd left it for him to drink water from, and now it was collateral in his tantrum.

I closed the door first. To keep the man outside safe.

"There's a young gentleman at the door."

"Tell him to leave."

"Who is he?"

Come to think of it, how did this man know Vincent was in the annex? Visitors usually went to the main mansion, assuming that's where he was.

Due to circumstances, greeting guests at the main mansion for Vincent staying in the annex was the butler's duty. When he wasn't around, Isabella stepped in.

Yet this man had come straight to the annex—to his door, no less.

"None of your business. Send him away."

"Master."

"You leave too."

Why was he in such a nasty mood again?

Then came a knock on the door.

"Vincent."

It was Ethan's voice. He sounded somewhat calmer now.

I immediately checked on Vincent. He'd already closed his eyes. Pretending to sleep, maybe.

"Vincent, let me see your face. It's been so long. Don't you miss me?"

"......"

"I missed you."

What was this atmosphere? Something oddly intimate between the two men...

"Don't get the wrong idea."

"I didn't."

"I can tell what you're thinking just from your breathing."

"I said I didn't."

I turned haughtily to prepare his meal, then realized I hadn't brought breakfast. Come to think of it, no wash water or fresh clothes either... I'd forgotten amid the unexpected commotion.

"I'll bring your meal."

"Not hungry."

"Please wait."

"I said I'm not hungry!"

Ignoring Vincent's shout, I opened the door. I faced the man who'd been knocking so earnestly. He peered straight inside. I quickly shut it again, blocking his view.

"Sorry. The master says he doesn't want to see you."

"Oh dear, I really wanted to meet. I have something to tell him!"

The latter part wasn't for me. Still, no reply came.

Ethan's shoulders slumped dejectedly. Forcing a smile on his disappointed face, he said,

"I'll be staying a few days."

A guest had arrived at the count's family.

"It's been a while. Isabella."

"Indeed it has. Mr. Ethan."

Ethan, entering the drawing room, greeted Isabella warmly. She took his top hat with a familiar nod. Their closeness suggested he was no ordinary guest.