Chapter 76

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 76

Chapter Title: The Count I Met Again (6)

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Yes, I screwed up.

Right after the disaster that day, I begged Vincent for my life.

"I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry."

"Do you even know what you've done?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. It's all my fault."

"Helping you twice must mean I should just kill you and accept your apologies. Or is that how you treat people who help you?"

"......"

That sharp tongue of his hadn't changed. But it was my fault, so I had nothing to say, no matter how many mouths I grew. I silently took his criticism. Vincent looked like he had more to say, but he seemed unable to put the horror of it into words and swallowed his anger instead. Meanwhile, Joelie had been chuckling cluelessly from the side.

"I-it's, f-fine, pfft, Vin-cent, khk. Y-you don't have to, heh, accept the physician's diagnosis."

"Shut your mouth."

"Puhaha!"

But Joelie kept laughing without backing down, and Vincent's piercing gaze turned back to me. My head drooped low. I tried to subtly hide behind Joni, but he stepped aside. I shot him a pleading look not to dodge, but Joni was firm.

"You have to deal with this yourself."

Damn him. In the end, I had to endure the dizzying moment alone.

That day, I seriously considered running away again.

He visited Robert every single time he came here, so more awkward situations followed. His displeased glances soon turned to outright ignoring me. Whenever Joelie teasingly brought up the incident, I'd break out in cold sweat in secret.

Alicia, another witness to the horror, seemed conflicted about whether to envy the situation or not.

Even thinking back on that day now made my face heat up. I worried I'd be punished, but for the sake of his reputation, he took no action. Luckily, I'd kicked his thigh next to the spot between his legs, not directly there, so I avoided the worst. Still, I could guess how he'd branded me in his mind.

This time, I avoided him for entirely different reasons.

"Ah......"

It happened when I entered the room with Robert's dessert. Someone was inside. A grown man holding the child in his arms. Even from the back, I knew who it was right away.

As I froze in surprise, Vincent noticed me too and turned around. When his gaze met mine, I instinctively bowed my head. Out of habit, I fiddled with my bangs. Caught off guard by his unexpected appearance, I glanced up briefly, and he recognized me with a frown. Seeing his displeased face made me tense up for no reason.

He raised a finger to his lips toward my stiff form.

"Shh."

Shh? Oh, shh. Shh. I mimicked him, pressing my finger to my lips clumsily and nodding. Vincent looked away and gently patted Robert's back with his large hand.

"M-Mother......"

A voice thick with tears leaked out softly. Up close, Robert's face was puffy from crying. He was crying again. His longing for his mother was intense. He often whimpered like this when sleepy. I was starting to wonder what kind of person Robert's mother was.

Vincent gently stroked Robert's hair. A relaxed, careful, yet familiar gesture. Robert, who had been fussing a bit, soon breathed evenly again.

A brilliant beam of light poured in through the large window in the wall. Vincent's short golden hair, messily tousled over his shoulders, sparkled in the sunlight. Robert rubbed his chubby cheeks with a whine. Vincent casually adjusted his hold.

The two of them shimmered in the light.

They actually suited each other pretty well?

"Why are you staring like that?"

Vincent turned and scowled.

"N-no, it's nothing."

I quickly looked down and bowed deeply.

Soon, only the child's even breathing filled the room. Vincent laid the fully asleep Robert on the bed and left the room.

I'd been standing there holding the silver plate of dessert until then. I glanced at the sleeping Robert and headed out. I tiptoed lightly, quietly closing the door behind me.

"You."

My forgotten ordeal returned.

Seeing those fierce eyes, I instinctively lifted the silver plate to shield my face.

"W-would you like some?"

Even I knew it was a ridiculous thing to say.

"What?"

He seemed baffled too.

"I brought it for the young master, but he's asleep now. If you don't eat it, it'll melt. Once it melts, it won't taste good, and it'll be a waste. If, if it's okay with you, if you like sweets...... No, even if you don't, well, um......"

I rambled on, and my words turned nonsensical. What was I even trying to say?

My voice trailed off gradually, but he said nothing more. An awkward silence hung in the air.

I was at a loss for how to end this when suddenly the silver plate felt lighter. Looking down, I saw him leaning against the nearby window. In his hand was the dessert I'd brought for Robert.

It was a chocolate cake. He cut off a chunk with a fork and popped it into his mouth. He chewed steadily. No scolding about my out-of-left-field comment. He started eating the cake like he really enjoyed it.

A small laugh bubbled up. It wasn't just his attitude; his face lit up after the first bite. He pretended otherwise, but it clearly suited his taste. His expression was sullen, but he looked subtly satisfied. He still loved sweets, it seemed.

"Have some tea too."

Worried the cake alone might choke him, I poured from the teacup I'd brought. But what children drank wasn't brewed tea leaves—it was milk with honey. Seeing the milky liquid made me flustered again. He stared at the milky drink silently, then took the cup I offered and downed the milk.

"Sweet."

"It has honey in it."

"Perfect for a kid's taste."

And the man before me was included in that kid's taste. He drank the super-sweet milk without complaint.

I held the silver plate, gauging his mood, then quietly stood beside him. He didn't tell me to scram. He didn't even glance my way, as if he had no interest.

Silence lingered in the empty hallway with just the two of us. It was quiet. But not uncomfortable. Maybe because old memories overlapped with the sight of him enjoying the sweets.

"What was your name again?"

"Pardon?"

"Your name."

"Ah, I told you last time too. Don't you remember?"

"Last time?"

His voice sharpened. I shook my head quickly—that wasn't the "last time" I meant.

That day, when he snarled at me asking who I was, I couldn't answer and just gauged his mood. Joelie, who had been laughing happily, finally said it was okay to go, letting me escape.

"B-before that, I greeted you."

"......"

"I met you twice and greeted you both times."

"Do I have to remember every single one?"

There was clear sarcasm, but I was surprised for a different reason. He acted like he truly didn't remember meeting me those two times.

Usually, people said my face was unforgettable. They grimaced, saying it was so plain, the total opposite of Alicia's, making it stick in their minds even more.

I'd thought he was shocked by my face too.

"You really don't remember?"

"You don't stand out."

"Are you talking about me?"

"Who else is here besides you?"

His reply was cold. Ever since that problematic day, he'd shown his feelings toward me plainly. Irritation before, annoyance now.

But I was genuinely puzzled. Was he pretending on purpose?

No, the emerald eyes staring sullenly held indifference. I realized then. He simply had no interest in me. Enough to forget the face of a servant he'd seen twice.

It felt strange. Should I feel bitter at the rudeness of meeting someone and forgetting them, or grateful he wasn't treating me like something special?

Still, considering the previous incident, the way he went along with my awkward dessert offer without making it embarrassing was his own kind of consideration. And yet, how prickly could he be?

Time had passed, but he hadn't changed.

"Ann...... or something."

But what came from his mouth wasn't my name. I hesitated to answer. I'd told him twice, but now I didn't want to. It wasn't my real name anyway, but I couldn't say no, so I chose silence.

"I'll remember it."

Didn't sound like a good kind of remembering.

I glanced at him enjoying the rest of the cake. His emerald eyes gleamed clearly, and his calm face showed no trace of distress. His sight was truly restored now. Even after checking multiple times, it amazed me every time.

Feeling my repeated glances, he frowned slightly. Like he was saying, look away. I quickly stared at the floor.

"Is the nanny out?"

"Yes. She went to her family home early this morning. She goes out occasionally for some reason and returns to her family."

"Often?"

"Lately, yes."

"How's Robert? Any inconveniences in his daily life?"

"No. He's doing well."

"Still missing his mother a lot?"

I'd been answering promptly but paused. Had he overheard my conversation with Robert then? I nodded a bit late.

"He doesn't show it much."

"Because showing it changes nothing."

Familiar words. I'd heard the same from the nanny before.

In truth, Robert didn't complain much about missing his mother. When with the nanny, he chattered a lot but never let it show. Last time, after getting scolded by the nanny for wandering into the woods, he explained why he'd done it. Even that he missed his mother.

The nanny had smiled bitterly.

"He doesn't show it well. Even if he did, he can't see her, so he holds back."

When younger, he'd whined a lot. But since whining didn't get him what he wanted, it gradually lessened.

He just misses her quietly. Whining would seem more childish. But that child was a noble too. Living in the strict noble society. Maybe Robert was more mature than I thought.

"If he says he misses her, please listen a lot."

The nanny had asked me that.

"Still...... he's doing well."

"Hmm. If he were, he wouldn't climb on the railing and peer outside."

He knew about that too. He cared about Robert more than I'd thought.

"What do you think?"

"About what?"

"Is there a way for Robert not to miss his mother?"

I rolled my eyes for a moment. It wasn't a question I could answer easily.

But I knew the answer.

"Is there someone you miss?"

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

"It must be the same depth."

"......"

The depth of longing comes from the depth of love. Robert loves his mother deeply. So there's no way to forget it. You can distract him temporarily elsewhere, but complete forgetting is impossible.

"If it were easy to forget, he wouldn't miss her in the first place."

And you can't force it.

That's what emotions are. Even if they're not all good, even if you don't want them, you can't just discard what's lodged in your heart. That's why they're complicated, bothersome, and painful.

"Just because it's not visible doesn't make it lighter."

He was right. Not showing it doesn't mean it's not there. Just like no one knows the effort it takes for his short legs to climb that railing, no one can gauge the longing Robert hides. The feelings kept tightly bottled might even run deeper.

Not everything is what meets the eye.