Chapter 15

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 15

Chapter Title: The Count's Strange Guest (5)

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But I couldn't just say that straight out.

"Good day."

"Unexpected. I thought you'd be devastated."

"You knew that and still threatened me?"

"Did it feel like a threat?"

"Forcing someone to do what they don't want is no different from a threat."

I knew it was impudent, but let's call a spade a spade—that was a threat.

"You're right. It was a threat."

But Ethan brazenly admitted it. What a bad guy.

"I'm a bad guy, yeah."

"......"

He saw right through my thoughts and widened his eyes. I pretended not to notice and kept wiping the window.

"Maid, I'm serious. That's why I came to this mansion. I can't just stand by and watch my friend, Count Bellunita, fall apart any longer. To put it bluntly, he's become useless."

I sighed and turned to him. Ethan continued.

"It might sound cold, but Vincent is in a position where he has no choice but to judge it that way. And this goes beyond Vincent's well-being—it's something I can't tolerate. I don't want to see him like this. We're friends first, but our families' interests are intertwined too."

Ethan smirked slyly. He didn't look like the man who'd just been checking on Vincent's condition and grieving over it. His face was pure villain now. So he'd done it on purpose?

"I hope you'll console Vincent well, maid. Enough to get him out of his room."

"I don't have that kind of power."

"Hmm. From where I'm standing, you seem to have tremendous power."

"You're too kind."

I bowed my head slightly and focused back on the window. Laughter echoed from behind me. I ignored it and got on with my work.

I finished cleaning the floor, put away the tools, checked the time, and headed to the study. To pick a book to read to Vincent today.

Ethan trailed after me doggedly.

Why did he keep following? Was he that bored? Even when I made my discomfort obvious, he didn't care. In the end, he followed me right into the study and glanced around.

"What are you doing here?"

"Picking a book."

"For you to read?"

"To read to the Master."

Ethan's eyes went wide. I headed to the shelf stacked with fairy tales and scanned the titles. Last time I'd cleared out an entire row on purpose, but he'd already finished them all. They were short, so it hadn't taken long.

Fortunately, Vincent had let me read to him. It was one of the changes lately. He no longer dismissed them as boring outright like before, or acted like he hated hearing them. He just listened quietly, occasionally critiquing my pronunciation and breathing.

'Too fast. The listener can't keep up.'

'Oh, sorry.'

'Read each word clearly, one by one, so it sinks in. You have to picture it in your head. Help me visualize the scenes.'

'I'll be careful.'

Reading alone was different from reading aloud to someone else. My eyes raced ahead, painting pictures in my mind as I went. But not him. He had to assemble the pieces from my voice, like fitting a puzzle.

I'd volunteered just because he could handle books, but it wasn't easy. Grabbing fairy tales to tease him had actually been the right call. Even those short stories earned me dozens of corrections.

"You're reading to Vincent?"

"Yes."

"Does Vincent... sit still and listen...?"

"He refused at first, but lately he listens quietly. I've done fairy tales so far, but this time I thought something with more substance."

"......"

It was time to graduate from fairy tales. I was eyeing the shelf above when my cheek started to itch. I turned to find Ethan wearing a weird expression. His face twisted into a teary grin, his mouth twitching.

Then—

"Puhahaha!"

A huge burst of laughter exploded out.

I stared at him, wide-eyed. He clutched his stomach, doubled over in hysterics.

"That, that pride of his—puhp—fairy—kekeke—tales—pukuku."

Ethan hunched over, wheezing hard. He wouldn't stop, even under my baffled stare. I had no idea what struck him so funny, but I shrugged it off and turned away. Ethan was just a weird guy, and weird guys were hard to figure out.

More importantly, I needed a book for Vincent today. I carefully flipped through the thicker ones crammed with text.

"This seems good."

Ethan, his laughter finally dying down, pulled one out and offered it. Looked like an adventure tale. Not too thin, not too thick—perfect for reading to Vincent.

"Vincent loved this one as a kid."

"Oh."

Talking family interests one minute, but friends knew each other best. He clearly knew Vincent's tastes. I bowed in thanks and took the book politely.

"Vincent loves adventure novels. He's devoured them like a madman since childhood, especially tales of far-off lands. Hates romance—calls it boring, won't even glance at it."

"Thank you. I'll keep that in mind when choosing."

"I should be thanking you."

Huh? I looked up, and Ethan smiled—actually warmly, for once. Not that sleazy, come-hither look, but pure relief and simple joy.

"Lucky for him to have someone like you nearby."

What did that mean?

"Reading him fairy tales and all."

Fairy tales? Why? I tilted my head, and he stifled another laugh behind his hand.

"What's your take, maid? Think Vincent can step out of that room?"

"Who am I to fathom the Master's deep heart?"

"Wanna bet?"

It came out of nowhere. A bet? Surprised, I asked, and Ethan pressed on.

"If you get Vincent to take even one step out of his room, I'll grant you a wish."

He stepped closer and held out his hand. I stared blankly at it before shaking my head.

"Mr. Christopher. I don't know why you're telling me this, but as I said before, I have no power. I'm just a mere maid—how could I drag the Master outside?"

To him, that room was his only sanctuary right now. He recoiled at the thought of even one step beyond it. He wouldn't even get out of bed. Sure, he couldn't live like that forever, but expecting it from him now was a stretch.

"That's why it's a bet between you and me."

He snatched my hand and lifted it. He didn't bat an eye at holding a lowly maid's hand—in fact, he gripped it tighter, like he wouldn't let go.

"Please accept. For Vincent's sake."

"Why me?"

"You seem like the easiest mark here?"

What did you call me, you bastard? Irritated, I tried to yank my hand free, but he clamped down harder. The vise-like grip crushed my skin, making my hand go numb. I squinted and glared at him.

"Let go."

"I want to put my hopes on you, maid."

"And if I refuse?"

"I'd rather you didn't. I want to stay on your good side."

Blatant blackmail now. Even as I gaped in disbelief, he just grinned innocently.

"It's a bet, so we need stakes if I win too. Hmm... if I do..."

His eyes rolled sideways in thought, then locked back on me. With that same curved gaze from when he first arrived, he pressed a kiss to the back of my hand.

"You'll have to offer up your neck."

Slash. He mimed cutting my throat. His mischievous grin was chillingly villainous.

Why me? Why me? I was just a maid here to tend the Master.

Ethan laughed merrily at my horrified face. Now his smile felt outright repulsive. Who'd ever called him kind? He just pretended—deep down, inscrutable. Threatening Vincent with exposing his real name after coming all this way, proposing this absurd bet—it made no sense.

Did he want to help Vincent, or did he want my help?

And that confusion carried over to Vincent.

"Master."

Vincent said nothing the whole time I read. Leaning against the wall, listening to my voice, he was especially quiet today. His head hung low, hair hiding his face—I couldn't make out his expression. His slumped shoulders looked utterly drained.

The book I'd brought was wasted. Seeing him so deflated sapped my energy too. I leaned down to peer at his face and called out, "Master?" Still no response.

"Cheer up. There has to be a way."

"......Don't talk nonsense."

He finally reacted. But his voice was so forlorn. It felt unfamiliar. I'd rather he'd yelled or thrown a tantrum like usual. This just tugged at my heartstrings.

"Why's it nonsense? Just show them you're trying."

"How? Show me stumbling around like a fool, groping the floor? Fine, I'll give 'em a show."

"Master."

"It's all fake. You're just making me admit my condition."

He covered his face with both hands. His curled-up body writhed in agony at his own awareness. Sorrow was swallowing him again.

"Don't cry."

"I'm not."

"Your heart is."

"......"

Vincent let out ragged breaths. I worried he'd have another breakdown. He was fragile to shocks, and it gnawed at me every time.

'You'll have to offer up your neck.'

On top of that, Ethan's forced bet hung over me.

In the end, I groaned softly and scanned him from every angle. When I gently tugged his index finger downward, it slipped obediently from his face. His shadowed expression emerged. He wasn't crying, as he said. But that parched look was even more heartbreaking.

"Let's think of a way together."