Chapter 19

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 19

Chapter Title: Tea Time with the Count (1)

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My hands and feet were swollen from the biting cold. I rubbed my flushed cheeks to fend off the chill. When I finally made it home, huddled against the wind, Father greeted me. That devil of a man.

I never knew why he beat me. I'd grown used to the blows without reason. Curling up was the only resistance I could muster. Sometimes my younger siblings would try to intervene and take the hits instead.

But Alicia would just glance over on those days and look away. She was the only one among my siblings who never got hit. Father doted on her, pampering that pretty face so it wouldn't even get a scratch. All so he could sell her off for the highest price someday. Alicia didn't know, of course. That's why she could carry herself with such pride.

Then, one by one, the people who used to hold my hands vanished. That's when I learned to endure the pain and sorrow with quiet resolve. No more tears needed. Realizing that about myself woke me from the nightmare. And once awake, I couldn't drift back to sleep.

I curled up in a corner, leaning my head against the wall. That's when the familiar groans started. I closed my eyes, letting that faint sound fill my ears.

Beyond that thin wall, he was fighting too. Those sounds comforted me. He might get angry if he knew, but sometimes I'd wake from nightmares and listen to his groans. I'd rub my flushed cheeks against the cold wall, let tears fall to push back the fear, and remind myself I wasn't alone.

"S-So you're saying the Christopher family did this to the Master?"

"Yes."

"Does Lord Christopher know?"

"Ethan doesn't know. Or rather, it's better if he still doesn't."

I asked what that meant. I was so shocked I stammered, but he seemed utterly nonchalant about it.

"It's just a guess. No certainty. That's why he asked me—to find out if his family really did this to him."

"And you gave him an answer?"

"I didn't ask. I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not in good shape myself."

I was speechless.

"He might look like this, but he's kind to those close to him. He couldn't bring himself to poke at my wounds when I'm blind and terrified."

Only then did his avoidance of Ethan make sense. But at the same time, a question arose. How do you know all this?

"Why not tell Lord Christopher yourself?"

"No reason I should."

Vincent lifted his eyelids. His murky emerald eyes stared blankly ahead, resolute despite their haze.

"Some secrets need to stay buried."

"......"

The conversation ended there. He fell silent, and I didn't press further. A warning echoed in my mind: don't ask anymore. After that, I never brought it up again, and he never elaborated.

But that didn't make it any less frightening. Every night, closing my eyes and hunching my shoulders, I felt the terrifying weight pressing down on me with my whole body.

Secrets must stay buried.

Pretend you saw nothing, heard nothing. Never speak a word of it.

Recalling the conditions for working here as a servant, I threw myself into attending the Master as usual.

"Master, time to get up."

The round lump on the bed squirmed. But it didn't emerge. He was sensitive to presences—he must have noticed me enter ages ago. Frowning, I pulled back the sheet.

"You need to eat."

His face appeared, twisted in full complaint. It was drenched in sweat. He'd had a nightmare last night, it seemed, and suffered through the whole night.

"You've sweated a lot—best to wash up first."

The musty smell that used to fill the room was gone now, and the scattered objects on the floor had dwindled. Light filtering into the once pitch-black room had become as routine as the daily chores. Lately, he'd been eating well and managing a semblance of a routine. But he was still uncooperative and wary about anyone touching him.

"Out."

He clutched the edge of the sheet I'd taken. I gripped mine tighter, holding firm.

"I've drawn the bath."

When I first arrived, bathing him was unthinkable. But after our odd power struggles and the changes since, I could now at least insist he wash.

"Please, just leave."

Vincent let out a deep sigh. Irritation laced his tug on the sheet. He seemed in a foul mood today.

"I'll help you over."

"Like last time?"

"Th-That was... I'll check the water temperature."

I fled to the bathroom. I had no defense for dropping him in the tub last time.

I dipped my hand in the water to test it, lingered a moment, then stepped out. Approaching Vincent, who lay blankly on the bed, I touched his body cautiously. He stirred. Ignoring the familiar reaction, I lifted his limp arm over my shoulder and pulled. He rose, stepping down from the bed.

Despite his sharp words, he was docile today. I got him to the tub easier than expected.

I placed his hand on the tub's edge; he groped along it. As I hurried to unbutton his shirt for an easy wash, he stopped my hand.

"I'll do it. Out."

"Really?"

Surprised by his unexpected compliance, I watched as he nodded and slowly undressed. I stared blankly until he dropped his shirt on the floor, fully unbuttoned. Snapping to, I quickly bent to pick up his pajama top. He paused mid-motion to remove his pants.

"Keep standing there, and I'll flip the whole thing over."

"Understood."

Tsk. I clicked my tongue softly, straightening up. Hearing it, Vincent's face darkened. Looking ready to snap, I set his change of clothes on the floor and bolted from the bathroom.

I deliberately stomped around outside—thud, thud—then slowed my steps to a stop. Soon, the sound of water splashing came. He'd entered the tub.

What got into him? I figured he'd flip it two or three times.

Amazed by his docility but focusing on tasks, I cleaned the room while he bathed.

As always, I tidied the mess, changed the bedsheets and pillowcases. Then dusted corners, swept the floor, wiped furniture. Satisfied with the clean room, I headed to the bathroom.

Vincent had finished bathing and was dressing. I grabbed a towel from the nearby drawer and dried his dripping hair, rubbing briskly. He accepted it quietly again.

"Fresh sheets on the bed. You can go now."

Once his hair was mostly dry, I took his arm and guided him. I led him slowly to the bed and sat him down. That's when I noticed his shirt buttons were misaligned.

So that's why it looked well-dressed. I chuckled softly, rebuttoning from the bottom up.

"Eat."

"Pardon? Oh, right. Breakfast. I'll prepare it."

I hurried to the door, fetched the silver tray, hesitated briefly, then knelt before him, tray on my lap. I scooped porridge and held it to his mouth. Vincent ate obediently.

He'd choked once before, but now he finished most of it. Delighted by the progress, I watched happily as he ate. He polished off the bowl clean today. Maybe next time, food with small lumps would be fine.

After his medicine, Vincent lay on the fresh bed, pulling the sheet to his chin and turning toward the wall.

"Sleep."

"Yes, I'll wake you for lunch."

Gathering laundry and empty dishes, I left the room satisfied.

"The Master's been eating well lately."

"Yes, cleaned his plate today."

I showed the empty bowl to the cook, who teared up in感動. A kitchen maid helping him joined in gleefully.

"Think we can try rice grains now."

"Something hearty tomorrow!"

I nodded enthusiastically and left the kitchen. Outside the annex, I waited for Lenika.

But she wasn't alone today. Isabella was with her.

"The Master's condition seems much improved lately."

"Yes, eating well, bathing himself now. He still throws things and snaps sometimes, but far less than before. He even got out of bed and walked a bit last time."

I whispered the last part so only Isabella could hear. I mentioned he'd stepped outside briefly too. Her surprised face came to mind. No big reaction as usual, but her raised brows showed her shock—I'd learned that much.

"Impressive progress. You've worked hard. Please keep it up."

"Yes."

After the brief talk with Isabella, I approached Lenika. She took my laundry basket and handed over one with fresh sheets and clothes. We exchanged greetings, and I reentered the annex.

The Master was in a good mood today, so I had unexpected free time. Our usual tussles always ate up the hours. After a full day of battles with him, I'd be too exhausted for sightseeing. So today was my first real look around the annex.

It was mostly tidy inside. I'd heard maids from the main house cleaned at set times. Isabella had told me early on that I could focus solely on the Master—no other worries.

My cleaning area was just his room. I stayed in the adjacent one, and my outings were limited to the kitchen for meals or the back door for laundry.

So this is it. Tilting my head back, I marveled at the dizzyingly high ceiling and vast interior that would take all day to explore. Everything was new and wondrous—my first time in a place like this.

I climbed the grand central staircase, examining each framed portrait on the wall.