Chapter 32

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 32

Chapter Title: The Count's Circumstances (2)

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"Come to think of it, I haven't heard much about you."

"I have nothing to say about that."

"You chatter on endlessly about everything else without me even asking."

"I'm not too bright, so I don't remember things well."

The empty plate spun round and round. That sound filled the space between us.

"Your second sibling must miss you a lot."

"......"

The plate, which had been spinning round and round and round, suddenly shuddered to a halt with a faint rattle. Silence crashed in. I couldn't pull back my hand from where it rested on the plate. Breadcrumbs from the empty dish scattered messily across the table, dirtying it. Just like my heart.

"No. They won't miss me."

"Why not?"

"They went to a good place. They don't live with me anymore."

I looked up at the sky outside the window. The clear, pristine sky was truly beautiful. My siblings were all up there. They had escaped the hell that devilish child had torn apart and were living happily in that place now.

And they must resent me for it.

"They must have married into a good family."

Ah, is that how it sounded? But I didn't bother correcting him.

"Yes. It's a good place."

"Your other siblings too?"

"Yes. Well, except the third one. Father doted on them."

Doted on them too much, in fact—that was the problem. Then I thought of the house in Pilton. We hadn't exchanged any news since I left. I hadn't gone back to visit. I wondered how they were faring in that house without me, but I quickly dismissed the thought. It was pointless concern.

"What about your mother?"

"She's gone."

I didn't know if she was dead or alive, so it was as good as gone. After that answer, I didn't want to talk about family anymore. If he asked more, I planned to clear the table and leave, but he didn't press and simply looked out the window again.

"I suppose. No need to miss them."

His casual words sounded like he knew something. My heart stabbed sharply. Stop it. Don't poke at me anymore. I wanted to scream.

"......How about you, Master? Do you miss them?"

On a spiteful whim, I struck back. I knew his parents had passed in an unfortunate accident, yet I prodded the wound anyway. I expected him to be displeased, but his reply was unexpected.

"No."

"Why not?"

"No need. We'll meet again when I die, so why miss them? Grief should be brief. I don't want regrets either. If I'm going to drown in those emotions and miss what's ahead, better to discard them. They're useless."

"......"

His words were brutally cold, but I understood. Because I'd done the same.

My siblings' deaths. The grief, longing, regrets, and guilt that poured from it. But I had no time to wallow. I had to survive day by day, and those feelings were no help at all. The value of my life was determined by usefulness. Those emotions made me useless. So I carved them out instead of holding on. And then life felt livable.

Was his life the same?

A sudden sense of kinship welled up.

"I told you. This isn't a place for dreams."

'Then think about it. It's not a suitable place for vain dreams.'

Yeah, he'd said that. Back then, I thought he was just prickly and spiteful, spouting barbs, so I brushed it off. But looking back now, it seemed like advice born from experience.

"Still, isn't there at least one vain dream you'd like to have?"

I got curious. What wish would a man who gave such arid answers have? He pondered my question for a moment, then spat out a heavy reply.

"To see."

That answer quenched my curiosity.

"What about you? Any vain dream you'd chase?"

"For me, it's living a long, long time. It'd be nice if I suffered a bit less, but since my life's just scraping by wherever my feet take me, I don't dream too big."

"Then stay here forever. At least you won't suffer out in the world."

"You gonna let me stay that long?"

He said something so unlike him—praiseworthy, even—that I teased back playfully. When I first came here, he yelled at me to get out and threw things. Now he said things like this. It was touching.

"I permit it."

"For real? No take-backs later?"

"No take-backs. Stay as long as you like."

He took another sip of tea. I wondered if I should get it in writing.

"I'll protect you."

The teacup clinked against the saucer. A breeze blew in. His hair tie fluttered wildly in his hand, struggling to escape. He wound it around his finger, lifted it slightly, and pressed it to his lips.

As if kissing it.

"It's mine, so I'll protect it."

"......"

"Promise me."

His emerald eyes curved round. The hair tie slipped from his gently open palm, fluttering around. It brushed my cheek, touched my hand, and dangled at my neck. My gaze stayed fixed on Vincent.

My heart pounded. A foreign sensation surged, making me curl my fingers.

"So stay by my side. For a long, long time."

His firm voice bound me. The white tie, imprinted with his body heat, rubbed against my skin, leaving a burn. The man sitting straight before me stole even my gaze.

"No answer? Am I not trustworthy enough?"

"No...... No. That's not it."

"Denying it three times? Sounds like that's exactly what you think."

"Not at all."

"Four times. It's confirmed."

"......"

"Try believing me anyway. I'm trying to believe in you."

I opened my mouth, closed it, opened it again, closed it. Meeting the emotion in those long, curved eyes made my chest itch. Something inside kept pounding. It was racing toward the man before me.

"Since I lost my sight, my other senses sharpened. When dealing with people, I gauge them by breath, voice tremors, gestures, movements, noises, smells—touching and feeling to guess. It's like playing pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey every moment. Right now, I'm guessing about you."

His fingertips reached toward me. I widened my eyes.

"You go quiet when embarrassed. You're probably mouth agape right now. Moved."

"......Wrong. Not at all."

I closed my mouth. Even knowing he couldn't see, I shook my head. He chuckled softly at my reply.

"Is that so? Now I'm curious. What face are you making? It'd be nice if I could see you now. I'd know exactly what you're thinking."

"You'd regret it if you saw."

"Too beautiful?"

"Beautiful enough to go blind."

He snorted at that. Cocky. Yet he kept laughing. His laughing face was pleasant. Even handsome. Thanks to regular meals, he'd put on weight, and the pitiful look from before had faded.

He was definitely changing.

It made me proud yet sad. I had to stay the same; he had to change. Every time I saw him transform, I felt our relationship anew. So I avoided thinking about the unfamiliar emotion budding in my heart.

Instinct told me.

It was no good feeling for me.

It was just past noon when Isabella came to the annex. Her expression looked urgent as she grabbed my arm—where I stood blankly—and dragged me straight to my room.

"Paula. Go out with Master right now."

"Pardon?"

"Get ready immediately. I'll tell Master myself."

She handed me the coat she'd brought. I took it reflexively, flustered.

"Uh, where are we supposed to go?"

"Anywhere. As far as possible, but not too far. Somewhere safe. You're allowed to come back late."

With that, Isabella headed straight for Vincent's room. I started to follow but first untied my apron. My only outing dress was the one I'd worn when I first arrived, so I changed into that, draped the coat over, and left the room.

Just then, Vincent emerged from the next room, dressed for outings. He'd changed hastily too—his clothes were a bit disheveled. Anxious Isabella trailed behind him.

I wanted to ask what was going on, but he tapped his cane on the floor and said to me,

"Shall we go for a walk?"

His calm tone made me nod unconsciously.

Holding his hand, we headed to the forest we'd visited before. A walk didn't offer many options here. Isabella said somewhere safe, and the only safe place I knew was Bellunita land. Besides, he couldn't go where people gathered.

The forest was quiet. The chirping of birds eased the tension a bit.

"What on earth is this about?"

"Who knows."

I glanced back; unlike me, he seemed utterly serene. His face unchanged, he scanned the woods this way and that. Pointless since he couldn't see. Yet the hand I held trembled at the fingertips. He was pretending to be calm.

Vincent seemed to know the reason for this sudden outing. What could it be? I narrowed my eyes at him, but lately he'd grown adept at hiding his feelings. A far cry from his hypersensitive, prickly days.

I was curious but decided not to ask. There must be a reason he wasn't telling me.

"I don't know where to go. She said somewhere far."

"We go."

"Didn't you avoid going out after running into Lady Violet last time? And how far? We'd have to head toward the main estate."

"We can."

"How?"

Suddenly, he pulled my hand and strode ahead. I followed. He veered not toward the path but the thickets. No hesitation, even blind to what lay ahead.

Deeper in, the grass grew dense, hindering steps. Unmaintained branches jutted dangerously, nearly scratching me. Midway, I took the lead, parting the brush to help him walk. He groped each tree as he went, meticulously feeling the surrounding trunks as if searching for something.

After trudging through for a while, parting the brush revealed a space. A circular clearing ringed by trees. An iron door stood there, overgrown with foliage that hid it unless parted. A path lay beyond the door.

I hadn't known such a place existed. Amazed, I looked around.

"Wow. A door here? I had no idea."

"We can reach the village this way."

It felt like an adventure. So exciting. I peered around the cramped space, then at the path visible outside the door. Gently pushing the iron door, it creaked open. A chain on the handle made it seem locked, but it wasn't.

"What's it for?"

"An escape route for emergencies, they say."

"It's rusted."

"Hasn't been used in ages."

Too fascinating—I kept peering down the path outside. It was a path, but overgrown weeds obscured the way. Less walking a path, more sucked into the brush.

"Like a secret door. Step out, and a new world awaits. With wondrous creatures, fairies, companions for adventures."

"I've thought it since last time—you read too many books."

He shook his head. I shrugged. So what? Imagination is free.