Chapter 13

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 13

Chapter Title: The Count's Strange Guest (3)

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“Why not?”

“Only designated servants are allowed into the annex. Even they can only enter their assigned areas during specific times. If anyone steps out of those time slots or if an undesignated servant sets foot there, their head rolls right off.”

I had no idea. Sure, I hadn't seen any other servants there except for a few, but I never imagined access was so strictly restricted. Was it because of Vincent's condition...? I hadn't received any warnings about places I couldn't enter. Probably because I was one of his personal attendants.

“That's a shame, though.”

Lenika smacked her lips, genuinely disappointed.

“If you'd like to send a letter, just let me know. I'll deliver it for you.”

“Ahaha. Thanks.”

I parted ways with Lenika and headed down to the dining hall for breakfast.

Servants weren't supposed to use it, but no one ever did anyway. Vincent never left his room, so he took his meals there, and aside from him, there wasn't anyone who'd come. Actually, I wasn't even sure if there were other people in this mansion. I'd never properly seen any. That mystery had just been solved, though.

In any case, there was no one to scold me, so I used it freely.

But today, someone was there. A guest who had arrived early in the morning.

“Oh, sorry.”

“It's fine. Sit down.”

He glanced at the potato in my hand and gestured to the seat across from him. But I couldn't do that. Eating at the same table as a guest? If Isabella saw, she'd have my head. Besides, I needed some time alone. Being around that temperamental master drained my energy, even if just for a short while.

I bowed at the waist.

“No, please enjoy your meal.”

“Don't go. I was already feeling awkward eating alone. It'd make me happy if you joined me.”

But the guest was being persistent. I firmly shook my head. For my own sake.

“I couldn't possibly. And please, just call me casually.”

“I'm the type who always shows respect to women.”

Ethan smiled warmly and gestured to the seat again. What a fine attitude. I nodded in light admiration, then shook my head side to side.

“It's fine. I'll be going now.”

“You're going to leave me here alone?”

“Pardon?”

“Making me eat all by myself like this, so lonely. Ah, this won't do. Knowing I have to eat alone, the food won't even go down. I can't eat.”

Finally, he set down his utensils. He made no effort to hide his disappointment.

“I've lost my appetite now.”

His whiny mutter did the trick, and I meekly sat across from him. Only then did Ethan smile in satisfaction and pick up his spoon again to sip his soup. What a sly one. He and Vincent were total opposites—how they even became friends was beyond me.

I peeled my potato and took a bite. The potatoes here were delicious. But with this uncomfortable company, I couldn't tell if it was going in through my mouth or my nose.

“Eating together makes the food taste different.”

“Is that so.”

I gave a vague reply while keeping an eye on the door. What if Isabella or some other servant I'd never seen came in? Or maybe the cook would pass by. It had always been so quiet before.

Eating with my nerves on edge only made my stomach churn more.

“How's Vincent? He seemed pretty angry.”

“He wasn't particularly angry.”

“But he threw something.”

“He does that often.”

“Really? Must be dangerous around him a lot.”

Yes, thanks to him, I get hurt plenty. Still, compared to his initial outrages, he'd been milder lately. For some reason, his outbursts had decreased. That didn't mean he stopped throwing things—they just went from three times to two, from hard objects to softer ones.

As I stuffed a potato into my mouth, a sudden silence hung in the air. His words trailed off awkwardly, so I shifted my gaze from the door to him. Ethan was hesitating, his mouth opening and closing.

Wondering what was up, I stared at him, and he continued.

“Do you know about it too, miss? I mean, Vincent's current condition.”

“...”

I immediately shut my mouth and swallowed the lumpy potato chunk. From his tense gaze, I realized what he meant by “Vincent's current condition.” I'd been hired specifically to attend to a blind master, after all.

Ethan knew about Vincent's state too. I wasn't sure about his intentions in asking, or if I should pretend to know, so I stayed silent for now.

Taking my silence as affirmation, Ethan gave a bitter smile.

“I've been hearing rumors lately that the Bellunita family has been quietly hiring servants. Weird talk going around about how bad the master must be for people to keep quitting.”

I nodded unconsciously while listening. Cruel master? Spot on. Then I caught myself.

I glanced at Ethan, who grinned mischievously.

“Vincent must give you a hard time.”

“No, he treats me kindly.”

“You said he throws things often.”

“Did I? That was a slip of the tongue. Sorry.”

“Oh my, defending your master like that. You're truly a good person.”

“...”

I just buried my nose in the potato and kept quiet. But he propped his chin up and stared at me.

“How did you get hired? Did you come on your own?”

“The butler hired me.”

Strictly speaking, I was sold here, but I didn't add that detail. Ethan nodded as if he knew who the butler was.

“Vincent can be so stubborn, you know? Once he digs in his heels, no one can stop him.”

“...”

Don't fall for it. It's a trap.

“And if you go against his wishes, he makes it so obvious he hates it. Furrows his brow, hardens his face. Even when he's being quiet, he flips your insides once in a while.”

“...”

Don't bite. Let it slide.

“What's that commoner saying? Stubborn? Stubborn as... dung? Something like that.”

“Stubborn as a mule.”

“Yes, that's it. Perfect fit, right?”

I couldn't deny that, so I affirmed with silence. Ethan chuckled.

“But those were good times...”

The smile faded from his face, leaving only bitterness. He looked out the window. White clouds drifted lazily across the blue sky.

“You might not believe it, but he wasn't always like this. He couldn't leave the mansion, but he handled work, took walks in the garden now and then, and smiled a lot.”

I already knew that. I couldn't picture Vincent working or strolling the garden. Smiling? Even harder. The Vincent Bellunita I knew was a man huddled under his bedsheets, trembling in fear. Terrified of eating, of taking a step on the floor, even of breathing—that was all of him I knew.

“A few months ago, replies to my letters suddenly stopped. He ignored my calls, refused to meet anyone I sent. I got worried about his condition and came unannounced. Now I understand why.”

I had nothing to say to his bitter smile. No easy words of comfort. It wasn't a simple matter. Besides, I wasn't good with words. I didn't expect a mere maid's consolation to ease his worries.

So this was my way of showing sincerity.

“Don't worry too much. The master is trying his best.”

His puzzled gaze met mine. I finished off the last of my potato and continued.

“He was suddenly thrown into darkness. How scary must that be? It must feel like being left alone in the world. If it were me, I'd want to die. Not knowing who to trust or who to fear.”

Even if someone swung a fist at him, he couldn't dodge. He couldn't see. What others dismissed as trivial terrified him. And if they stabbed with a knife? He couldn't run.

Death approaching right before his eyes, and he wouldn't even know.

How horrifying.

Vincent trembling from nightmares last night came to mind. He'd called his life a failure, fighting that terror. What would I do? The conclusion was the same. I'd probably be holed up shaking too.

“But the master didn't die. He flinches in terror if someone tries to touch him, but he's still trying to live. He's fighting.”

Of course, he didn't want death. He hated being touched, refused meals, never went out—curled up in bed, waiting for death. That's how it seemed to me.

But back when he could still manage daily life despite blindness, he must have struggled to survive. Even now, he could bite his tongue and end it. But he didn't. He wanted to live. That alone was a huge effort in my book.

“Instead of empty comforts, just cheer him on in your heart. Sometimes silence is better than words. You're not his master, Mr. Christopher. Saying you understand someone else's pain is nonsense. How could anyone truly know? They haven't lived it.”

I'm just me. Vincent had said something similar before. I agreed. Claiming to understand another's pain was like a dog barking. I couldn't become Vincent. Unless I went blind in some freak accident, any comfort from me would just feel like more pain to him. The same went for the man before me.

“Wait for him. So he can win.”

“...”

Silence fell for a moment. No response. I cleared the potato peels and dusted my hands. When I finally looked up in confusion, Ethan was staring at me with a strange expression.

Why's he looking at me like that? Did I say something wrong?

“What's wrong?”

“You're quite...”

Quite? Quite what?

“Honest.”

“Pardon?”

“Coldly decisive, maybe? Or firm. You don't seem like it at first glance, but you're kinder than you let on.”

Was that a compliment or a complaint? His cryptic words made me furrow my brows. Ethan paused thoughtfully, then continued.

“But I can't just wait around forever. I have something to pass on.”

“If it's important, I can deliver it for you.”

“That's tempting, but it might carry more weight if you give it directly.”

He smiled and gently refused.

“Which is why I'd like to go into his room.”

“You can only enter if the master allows it.”

“Can't you make it happen somehow?”