Chapter 23

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 23

Chapter Title: Tea Time with the Count (5)

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“Isabella, how has Vincent been lately? Ethan won't tell me a thing. He looked okay when I saw him just now, but...”

“His condition has improved greatly.”

“Oh! That's a relief. Such a relief.”

Violet let out a sigh of relief. I looked at her curiously. I'd heard she didn't know about Vincent's condition, but apparently not?

As if reading my mind, Ethan explained in a quiet voice.

“Violet thinks Vincent suffered a major injury and is recuperating. We've told her there were several similar incidents after that, and the wounds were so deep they didn't heal well, leaving aftereffects that he's still struggling with.”

“And what is your relationship with him, Lord Christopher?”

“We're friends. The three of us have known each other since childhood.”

That explained why he came along. I nodded and gazed at her delicate face, which seemed full of longing.

“Could I see Vincent's face?”

“I'm sorry, Lady Violet.”

“Ah...”

Her bright face clouded over with disappointment.

“When will I be able to see Vincent properly?”

“The Master is doing this out of concern for you, Lady Violet. He doesn't want to worry his fiancée by showing her his suffering. Please understand his feelings.”

“I know. I know that very well. But still...”

Her gloomy voice trailed off. She clenched both hands in her lap, her face twisting as if she might cry. It was etched with worry for her fiancé.

“But still, but still...”

Suddenly, her gaze fixed on me.

“Paula, this is my earnest plea!”

She stood abruptly and grabbed both my hands. The sudden closeness left me flustered. I darted my eyes around.

“Tell Vincent I want to see him—tightly, so tightly, really, really want to see him. That I'm fine with whatever he looks like, so please let me at least see his face?”

“Pardon? Uh, yes?”

My head whipped side to side in confusion. Behind me, Isabella was calmly sipping her tea, while beside us, Ethan munched on a snack. I glanced back and forth between them. Then it hit me. The two of them, with their calm faces, had no intention of helping me.

The violet eyes before me sparkled brightly. Bewildered by the gleam, I hesitated before reluctantly nodding.

“Master.”

Even the creak of the opening door didn't stir him. Despite my approaching footsteps, he showed no reaction. The rounded shape lying facing the wall was utterly still. Was it my imagination, or did I sense a faint murderous aura from him?

“Master. Are you asleep?”

“...”

“Lady Violet insisted I relay this message exactly: 'I want to see you, tightly, so tightly, really, really want to see you. I'm fine with whatever you look like, so please let me at least see your face.' That's it.”

He still didn't react. I recalled how his face had gone pale upon hearing his fiancée had come. While I hemmed and hawed, Ethan suddenly stepped into the room.

“H-Hey, Vincent.”

A pillow flew at Ethan's face. Vincent had sat up and was glaring at the door.

“Get out.”

Ethan picked up the pillow, grumbling.

“Don't get mad. I had no choice.”

“You said if I just replied to the letters, she wouldn't come.”

“I thought so. But Violet suddenly insisted on coming here and bolted out. I tried to stop her, even the nanny did, but no use. You know how she is—once she sets her mind, she follows through. That's why I told you to reply to those letters promptly.”

As Ethan grumbled, Vincent grabbed a cup from the bedside table. Seeing it, Ethan shut his mouth and quickly ducked behind my back. I gave him a pitiful look.

“Maid, that was so cool just now. I was moved. So moved that I just stood there watching as you grabbed Vincent's hand tightly and ran off. Run, Master! Ugh, so cool.”

“Don't.”

I knew full well how rude my actions had been without him needing to say it. A mere maid grabbing her master's hand and fleeing—what an embarrassment. My flushed face burned; I hid it completely behind my bangs.

“Why? It was so cool, maid.”

“I said don't.”

“Don't be shy. I nearly fell for you right there.”

“Enough.”

Vincent set the cup down and snapped at Ethan. Ethan fell silent. With the chatter gone, a heavy tension filled the room. Vincent ran a hand over his face. Hah. He looked wretched as he let out a deep sigh.

While observing his state, I continued with the rest.

“Lady Violet said she'll wait in the garden.”

“Convince her nicely... and send her back.”

“She won't go. She seems dead set on it.”

“You, out.”

Vincent waved me off dismissively, as if he didn't want to hear more, and lay back down. I glanced at him before pushing Ethan's back. No one could comfort him right now. Ethan left the room with a reluctant, wistful expression.

The moment I closed the door, a sigh escaped me. Ethan seemed lost in thought for a moment. Seeing him reminded me of my conversations with Vincent, but the immediate issue came first.

“What are you going to do now?”

“Maid, I'm the aggrieved one here. I really didn't know.”

Ethan looked genuinely indignant. I shot him a skeptical glance.

“What now?”

“First, let's try soothing Violet. She seems strong-willed, but she's soft and straightforward inside. If we sweet-talk her right, she'll go back. That's how it's always been.”

“And if she still won't?”

“Then, uh... we'll have to think about it.”

In other words, no plan at all.

Ethan and I headed to the garden side by side. Violet knelt before a bed bursting with purple flowers, her soft, slender fingers brushing a bud.

“Violet.”

Her gaze turned from the flowers to us. Her face lit up instantly, then her eyes quickly scanned around. I knew who she was looking for without asking.

“Where's Vincent?”

“He won't see you.”

“...I see.”

She looked crestfallen. When she glanced at me slyly, I shook my head.

“I pleaded with him several times, but he said to tell you to go back.”

“Yes. I figured as much. ...It's okay. Thank you for passing on the message.”

Despite the obvious disappointment, Violet tried not to show it. Instead, she smiled warmly at me, as if comforting me. She was such a kind soul.

She turned back to the purple flowerbed. I looked down at her.

“Ethan, if you're free, could you help me? I want to make a bouquet. It'd be nice to put it in Vincent's room.”

An angel! For a man who doesn't reply to letters properly and refuses visits, to make a bouquet for him—her heart truly is angelic.

As I admired her inwardly, she plucked a flower. Her arms filled with colorful blooms. Ethan agreed, rolled up his sleeves, and crouched beside her. But he snapped flowers so half-heartedly. I frowned slightly before joining in.

“You can't snap them like that.”

“Huh?”

“Snap from the end like this. Keep the stem as long as possible so it's easier to trim neatly later. Scissors are cleaner, though.”

I demonstrated gracefully on a purple flower while explaining to Ethan. Their eyes turned to me.

“These flowers are nice, but just big buds make it look cluttered. Mixing in small ones makes it prettier. Like these over here.”

I plucked a few mistflowers and arranged them around the purple ones I'd just picked. A small but decent bouquet took shape. I handed it to Violet, and her eyes sparkled.

“My goodness, you're so good at this. So pretty!”

“Y-You're too kind.”

Violet admired the bouquet in wonder, while Ethan clapped beside her. I never expected praise for just one bouquet.

Where I lived was a small village with occasional events. They were rare, but grand when they happened. People set up stalls on the streets selling food and goods.

Selling bouquets like this brought in decent money, so flower vendors had women make them as side work. It was mostly women's work, but I was one who never missed out.

The money from Uncle Mark's bakery wasn't enough to live on. Blame the third sibling's extravagance and Father's vices. The third enjoyed luxuries on my earnings, while Father quit tenant farming early and drowned in gambling and drink.

So I handled all the housework and earning alone—side jobs were a must. Making bouquets was easy as a result. Even simple bouquet-making had competition. The flashier and less sloppy, the higher the price. Luckily, mine were quite popular.

Flustered by the attention, Violet cradled the bouquet preciously, turning it this way and that.

“Pretty. So pretty.”

My neck shrank further under her enchanted gaze.

“How do you make them so well?”

“You're too kind.”

“No! Paula, you must have great dexterity. I'm jealous.”

Violet pouted again, burying her face in the flowers. My eyes widened.

“Truthfully, I'm not good with crafts. I tried learning all sorts from childhood, but no talent. Even my tutor gave up.”

“Yeah, you're hopeless at that stuff.”

Ethan chimed in thoughtlessly. Violet's eyes flashed, and she punched his side. The strike was so fast, I barely saw it. I stared blankly as Ethan clutched his side and groaned.

“I'm a terribly lacking fiancée to Vincent. That's why he won't see me. Because I'm not reliable...”

I tore my gaze from Ethan and studied her. Her worried face crumpled into a pout. Unsure how to comfort her, I hesitated—then a crunching sound rang out. In an instant, the purple bouquet in her hand was cruelly crushed.

What had I just seen? Thinking it a hallucination, I rubbed my eyes, but the mangled bouquet remained.

“That jerk.”

The curse bursting from her lovely lips made me wonder if I'd misheard. I poked my ear. Hmm. Must be exhaustion from tending the Master lately.