Chapter 31

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 31

Chapter Title: The Count's Circumstances (1)

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I've recently come into contact with the people around him, and I've realized his life isn't nearly as smooth as I imagined. What you see isn't everything. At least, not in Vincent's world. His blinded path wouldn't be any easier even if he could see.

Violet continued visiting the mansion frequently after that. Sometimes Ethan tagged along. Perhaps because we'd become confidants sharing a secret, they no longer hesitated like before. Their visits felt burdensome at first, but before I knew it, I'd grown accustomed to them—and now, they even brought me a certain joy.

And that man, Lucas. I still couldn't fathom his intentions when he told me he'd blinded Vincent. Afterward, he'd smile at me every time he saw me, acting as if nothing had happened. Even when he finally left, his words remained an enigma.

Vincent's demeanor toward Lucas stayed as calm and composed as ever. So, was it really not him? What did Vincent know? And Ethan—what did he know? My immature mind couldn't make sense of their tangled relationships at all.

Well. What could a mere maid like me possibly understand? How could I presume to judge their lives?

I've simply gained a bit more insight into Vincent's tendency to suspect people, keep his guard up, and shut them out. But that doesn't mean I can do anything about it. Even sensing some strange undercurrent of tension in their dynamic wasn't grounds for me to interfere. All I need to do is my job well.

Unnecessary curiosity only invites trouble.

I reminded myself once more of the reason I'd been hired.

You're so pretty, I'm sending you away.

The golden letters on the envelope cradled a dried flower. Its white petals turned translucent in the sunlight. I shook it gently before slipping it into my favorite book. Then I gazed at the clear sky.

The mansion felt quiet after so long. Those boisterous days already seemed like a dream.

"It's quiet, isn't it."

"Yeah."

Today, I decided to read the book I'd set aside for a while. The spot was by the window in his room. Perhaps the incident during our private tea time had left a lingering nightmare, because he'd shut himself away in here again. Rather than drag him out, I'd set up a seat by the wide-open window.

"It's a little lonely with how quiet it is."

"Not at all. I prefer being alone."

"You're so dry."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

His retort carried a note of leisure. His serene face turned toward the window. I watched Vincent like that. What are you thinking right now? The question had started popping into my head unbidden lately. I'd assumed he was just ill-tempered from going blind, but only recently had I realized how little I truly knew of his inner thoughts.

Pretending otherwise didn't stop my curiosity.

What on earth are you thinking?

"There's a sweet smell lingering."

"Sweet smell? Ah, I brought pound cake for dessert today."

I suddenly remembered the cake I'd overlooked. After clearing his empty meal dishes, the chef had presented the pound cake as dessert.

'You've loved sweets since you were little.'

The cook's wrinkled face lit up with joy. I tilted my head at the yellow loaf under the transparent cover.

"Pound cake?"

He showed rare interest. His quick reaction caught me off guard.

"Do you like sweets?"

"A little."

As he spoke, his hand groped around deftly. Thanks to his recent practice, the movements were fairly natural—but they couldn't fool my eyes. He really does like sweets. A salty-faced man with a sweet tooth; it was unexpected.

I lifted the transparent cover, placed a pre-sliced piece on a small plate, and handed it to him. When I pressed the fork into his hand, he felt along the plate's edge before stabbing into the cake.

But the awkwardly pierced piece slipped right off the tines. Unaware the fork was empty, Vincent popped it into his mouth, smacking his lips in confusion. He lowered it again, fumbling blindly—not toward the plate. At this rate, it'd take him half the day, so I simply placed the cake in his hand.

He seemed to grimace faintly, but he popped it into his mouth right away. He chewed with evident relish; it looked utterly delicious. He polished off the piece in no time and reached out for more. I handed him another slice, and he ate it obediently.

Watching him sparked my own curiosity. I sneaked a piece for myself. The sweetness hit my tongue like a jolt. It was really sweet—overly so. But delicious. I'd never tasted anything quite like it.

There's bread like this in the world. Marveling silently at the chef's skill, I pilfered slice after slice behind Vincent's back. With the two of us at it, the plate holding the small pound cake emptied in moments.

"It's fluttering."

"Pardon?"

As I snuck the last piece into my mouth, he tapped the windowsill. Ah—I patted the back of my head. The long ribbon was whipping against it in the breeze. Faint sound, but apparently clear enough for him.

"The ribbon tying my hair is a bit long; it must've bumped the sill."

"Not your usual one?"

"No, it's different. Lady Violet gave it to me as a gift."

A few days earlier, Violet had handed me a ribbon-wrapped box as a present. Inside was a snowy-white hair ribbon with rounded edges and delicate floral embroidery at the ends. Silky to the touch—it screamed luxury. I'd tried refusing, saying I couldn't accept something so fine, but she insisted, pressing it into my hand.

'When Paula made that bouquet before, I remembered you using a ribbon. Your advice gave me the courage. It's a thank-you gift—please take it without fuss.'

I'd gotten a little flower bouquet from her then too. The one I'd placed in a vase withered after a few days, but this was a keepsake that'd last. And her kind face held an oddly firm edge. After thanking her profusely, she'd even tied it into my hair herself—as if sensing my plan to stash it away unused.

"Lucky you."

"It is nice, but it's also a burden. It's so pretty; I don't know if it suits me."

My first time with something so expensive and feminine—I hesitated even to touch it. It doesn't match me at all. Embarrassed, I fiddled with the ribbon needlessly before letting go, afraid I'd wear it out.

Vincent then caught the wind-whipped end in his grasp. He stretched out fully, exploring its shape with his fingers.

Suddenly, mid-fondle, he offered his verdict.

"It'll suit you well."

"No..."

I started to protest—it was too pretty for me—but stopped. Imagining the impertinent maid in his head, I swallowed my words.

"It'll make your beauty shine."

"Where'd you hear that?"

"Violet mentions it often."

He delivered it like a practiced quip. I let out a short laugh and wiped my hands on my apron. My heart gave a sharp twinge. I didn't want to linger on this topic.

He groped for the cake plate, puzzlement crossing his face.

"Why's it empty already?"

"I'll finish the book."

Feigning ignorance, I opened the paused volume. He cocked his head, then sipped his tea instead. I glanced at him sidelong and read on. My voice flowed smoothly enough.

"You're getting good at it."

"Thank you."

Praise always lifts the spirits. Beaming, I read through to the end.

"You must really love books."

"Ah, does it seem that way?"

"You read with such delight every time. Like you're over the moon and don't know what to do with yourself."

"Yes, I do. Did I ever tell you I worked in a bookstore as a kid?"

"You did. The day you first offered to read to me."

"Right. The owner mentioned back then how the bookstore had turned its child into some kind of delusional maniac—remember that?"

"Hard to say. I do recall you pretending to care out of your own selfish whims and forcing this whole thing on me."

"You've got quite the memory."

I teased if he remembered hurling objects at me and yelling to get out. He shot back that he remembered me stuffing food down his throat. When I prodded about the time he reeked from not bathing, he countered with me tossing him into the tub.

I burst out laughing.

"I'm honored you remember all our little moments."

He grinned back at me.

"The honor's mine."

Awkward chuckles echoed briefly.

"The owner said he never reads anymore. So, what do you think? Nice to read again, right?"

"Perhaps. If you put more life into it, it'd be even better."

"Pity I only have one voice."

"Keep practicing. Who knows—another side of you might emerge."

"Thanks for the advice."

Our laughter rang out louder than before.

"It'd be nicer if you didn't sneak the cake like a thieving rat."

"......"

My upturned lips sagged. Bastard. How'd he know?

"How much did I even take... We could've shared... Stingy..."

Muttering under my breath, I buried my face in the book—only the last page left. He gave no sign of having heard, staring out the window. A soft breeze stirred. His hand still toyed with the ribbon's edge swaying in the wind.

"Do you like this kind of life?"

"What do you mean?"

I peeked at him over the book. He still faced the window.

"I'm asking if you're content holing up in this mansion, tending to me."

"......Why do you ask?"

"I haven't heard you mention family. People usually miss home in a strange place like this. Homesickness, and all."

Family. Long-buried feelings welled up. I tamped them down.

I rolled my eyes, set the book aside. Out of habit, I quirked my lips up—then down. No need here. With his blindness, I could drop the mask. No hiding my face.

Playing it cool was simple. I'd done it a thousand times.

"Yes. I'm content."

"Don't you want to go home?"

"Not really."

"Why?"

Why? Family doesn't mean you have to miss them. Nightly nightmares of that tormenting demon flashed in my mind.

"No reason to go back."

"......"

He turned toward me. Dodging his sightless gaze, I fiddled with the crumb-strewn empty plate. Next time, ask for something even sweeter, I thought, shoving the memories aside.

"You mentioned sisters."

"Yes."

"How many?"

"Four. Five with me."

"You're the eldest?"

"Yes."

I spun the plate idly, answering curtly. Unwelcome territory—I didn't want to dwell. Eager to wrap it up, I stuck to bare replies, no elaboration.

"You talked about a younger one before. Second-born?"

"Yes, that's right. But why ask?"

Embarrassing, I added with a forced smile. He propped his chin, facing me. His other hand still toyed with my ribbon.