Chapter 25

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 25

Chapter Title: Tea Time with the Count (7)

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"What the hell did you just say?"

A voice suppressing anger flowed out in a menacing tone. I had no words to say even if I had a hundred mouths, so I stayed silent. He let out a short, hollow laugh.

"Heh."

"Now it's all over."

"V-Violet might understand."

"Understand? What kind of understanding? If it were you, could you understand if your fiancé turned into a blind idiot? How the hell do you understand that? If you end up marrying her later, you'll have to wait on your husband hand and foot for the rest of your life."

"......"

It was too spot-on, so I shut my mouth again. I hadn't meant for it to happen, but I'd been the one to fan the flames that led to this mess.

A heavy silence filled the room. Vincent swept a hand over his face, while Ethan seemed lost in thought for a moment. Caught between them, I just watched their expressions carefully.

"I don't even want to look at you. Get out."

"Vincent, calm down."

"You get out too."

Ethan let out a sigh.

"Why are you being so damn stubborn? We need to figure out a solution. Kicking us out right now isn't going to change a thing."

"......"

"No need to overthink it. Just meet her."

Vincent's face twisted as if he'd heard utter nonsense. I nodded in agreement. As their gazes turned to me, Ethan explained calmly.

"Why? It's not that hard. Just pretend to see her like you did before."

"Back then, it wasn't pitch black like now."

"Sure, but you could still make out blurry shapes. You said she looked like a blob of light. And you still managed to talk just fine. You figured out what she wanted, her intentions, everything. She had no idea you couldn't see her. You're good at that—putting on a front like everything's fine."

"So?"

"Let's just act like we did back then."

Ethan clapped his hands together. His beaming smile was as carefree as ever.

"You're joking, right?"

"Honestly, what other choice do we have?"

Ethan shrugged. Vincent narrowed his eyes but didn't argue this time—just sighed. Having no idea what this 'before' Ethan mentioned even meant, I could only glance back and forth between the two of them.

"You did that on purpose just now, didn't you?"

"Yes."

The immediate reply to my whispered question was brazen. Ethan was admitting outright that he'd deliberately exposed my blunder. Had he orchestrated things to flow this way? I wanted to read his intentions, but he was the most inscrutable person I'd met so far. I gave up. Ethan just giggled to himself.

"Now we're both hated. Guess we're a good team, huh, maid?"

No. He was just the type who got his kicks out of tormenting people. Why was everyone picking on me like this? What had I done so wrong? Being a maid was seriously too much.

"Think I'll just beat it."

"Oh, don't say that. I've only just gotten friendly with the maid. I'd be heartbroken."

"Why drag me into it? Count me out."

I shook my head firmly and took a step to the side. Ethan glanced at me, then closed the gap. I stepped aside again, and he followed. I moved once more, and he matched me step for step. Somehow, a pointless game of chase had broken out.

In the end, I stopped first.

"Still, thank you. For stepping in."

Truth be told, if he hadn't spoken up just now, I'd have been shrinking away like a criminal. In that sense, I was grateful. Ethan shrugged casually.

"No problem."

His breezy attitude almost felt like a considerate attempt to ease my guilt. Maybe he was deeper than he let on?

"By the way, maid. Mind if I ask you something?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"Those bangs—are they on purpose?"

He pointed at the hair covering more than half my face. I instinctively grabbed at my bangs. It was all to hide my features.

"Such a pretty face. What a shame."

"You're good at jokes."

"I'm serious."

"Really? For real? Even if it's a lie and I burn those lips with a hot iron?"

His eyes flicked side to side for a moment before he lightly covered his mouth with his hand.

"I meant your inner beauty."

"You just said face."

"The inner part of your face."

"Thanks for the empty compliment."

Scratch that earlier thought. He couldn't get serious to save his life.

I pressed my bangs tighter against my face and bowed my head. Then I approached Vincent, who looked ready. His face was tense—almost like back when he'd been told to take even a single step out of the room.

'Why are you acting like such a coward? Lost your nerve? Has the mighty Count Bellunita shriveled up in this room until his guts are the size of bird droppings?'

'Shut up.'

'That's why I'm saying let's do it. Meet Violet, chat a bit to reassure her, send her on her way. I'll handle the directing, the maid'll prep. You just act. Let's put on a perfect show. What do you say?'

Poking at the other's pride while subtly steering toward his goal—Ethan was a master at wheedling Vincent. And Vincent knew it but didn't push back in the end. His silence was agreement enough.

And that had led to the current situation.

We were in the parlor just down the hall from his room—the stage for our little play. Directing: Ethan. Prep: me. Acting: Vincent.

The script went like this: Vincent would summon Violet here. He'd be seated on the sofa first, waiting. When she arrived and sat opposite him, he'd pull out the prepared lines. Keep the talk short—that was key. Drag it out, and we'd slip up. So after a brief exchange, he'd excuse himself, claiming fatigue, and leave the parlor. I'd whisk him back to his room quick as a flash. Ethan would assist, of course.

"The key is handling your gaze. You have to make her think you're looking right at her."

"I know."

"Don't worry, Master. As long as you match her eyes properly, she'll never suspect you can't see a thing. Even I forget sometimes when you're throwing stuff in a tantrum."

"......"

"No, seriously—how bad were your tantrums that even the maid forgot you're blind? And why throw things? That's dangerous. You're way out of line. Don't go around calling yourself a gentleman."

Ethan tsked his tongue. I shot him a look to cut it out. Vincent groped around him. He looked ready to prove just how ungentlemanly he could be, so I gently took his hand.

"First, let me show you where the teacup is. Keep your back straight and lean your upper body forward a bit—the edge of the table should touch your palm. Like this."

I placed his palm against the table's edge.

"Then spread your fingers, and it'll be right there."

He followed my instructions, spreading his fingers until they brushed the cup. He extended a little more and hooked his finger through the handle. From there, lifting it to his lips flowed smoothly.

"You can grope a little when you touch the table. Just not too obviously."

"A light fingertip graze won't draw attention."

"But don't tap around with just your fingertips. That stands out more."

"A very subtle shift should be fine."

"Which rhythm am I supposed to follow?"

He scowled and set the cup down. The clink of porcelain against saucer grated harshly in my ears. With the situation as tense as it was, everything felt amplified.

I checked the positions of the teacup, vase, and snacks. The vase in the center, and for when he leaned forward, the cup might be better here. Snacks next to the cup—not too far, not too close.

"Now, let's practice eye contact. Maid, over here."

Ethan beckoned me. I approached, puzzled. He sat me on the sofa directly opposite Vincent—perfect for facing him head-on.

"Vincent, look this way."

"Which way?"

"Straight ahead, Master. The sofa's right in front of you. That's where Violet will sit."

He turned his head toward my voice. The direction was roughly right, but his eyes wandered aimlessly. He didn't seem to know where to fix his gaze. I stood abruptly, took his face in my hands, and aligned it properly.

"Like this."

He flinched in surprise at the sudden grab, then furrowed his brow at my voice. Ignoring it, I adjusted his face forward.

"Just look straight ahead like this."

I released him gently. His eyes were still off elsewhere.

"Look over here, please."

As if in response, his emerald eyes blinked, then slowly shifted. Hesitantly, they turned forward until they met mine.

He was looking at me.

My heart thudded down into my stomach.

Meeting his gaze this close up, it really felt like he was seeing me. Those slightly hazy emerald irises gleamed with light, and for a moment, I imagined my reflection captured within them. Caught in the illusion, I unwittingly stepped back.