Chapter 77

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 77

Chapter Title: To You, Whom I Couldn't Erase Even If I Tried to Forget (1)

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Even so, I think Robert is doing well. The nanny who always puts him first is by his side, and Joelly and Vincent are there too. And so am I.

"Just... come visit Robert more often."

"......"

"He lights up every time you come, Master."

Whenever Vincent came to see him, Robert would throw his arms wide open in welcome. He'd rush toward him with a beaming smile, and Vincent would scoop him up with a grin of his own.

Through all those moments, I'd come to realize Vincent truly cared for Robert. Even now, he was worried about him. So I told him what he could do—visit "often," I emphasized.

"And what about you?"

"Pardon?"

"Have you ever felt a longing you just couldn't shake?"

I gave a wry smile.

"Everyone has those invisible longings they can't let go of."

Just like how I couldn't forget this place... or you.

The words left a bitter taste in my mouth, and silence fell once more. Vincent went quiet for a moment. My gaze lingered on the floor. Saying it out loud made me feel a bit embarrassed. Had I rambled too much, dredging up old memories after all this time?

I sneaked a glance at him, and suddenly, he burst out laughing. It was so out of place that I looked up in confusion. He was staring at Robert's door, his hand over his mouth, clearly amused.

"I know."

"......"

"I know all too well."

His brief chuckle drew my eyes right to his face. What could he be thinking of? What memory made him smile so joyfully... yet so sadly?

"I know it too well."

He murmured softly, and the smile vanished from his face in an instant. He stared at me with a dazed expression. I stared back blankly until our eyes met—then I startled and whipped my head away.

"All done eating?"

He held out the empty plate.

"Ah, did it taste good?"

"Not bad."

His words were casual, but he'd cleaned the plate spotless. Even the smushed chocolate cream had been scraped up with his fork. The teacup with honeyed milk was nearly empty too.

I couldn't help but find it funny how he'd steadily polished off the sweets amid it all.

I stifled a laugh as I reached for the plate, but he held on to the edge.

"Um, your hand..."

"You've fed me all this, so grant me one request."

A request?

"Can you tell me about Robert's daily life?"

"The young master's routine?"

"Yes. Just report to me once a day."

"Nothing special happens, really."

"That's exactly what I want to hear about—the ordinary stuff."

I wanted to ask why he was asking me of all people. Hadn't he been displeased with me after that last incident? His opinion of me couldn't be great. Why me?

He caught on to my doubt.

"I asked the nanny too, but she holds back—probably doesn't want me feeling indebted. And she'll be leaving the estate often anyway. With more days where he's on his own, you're better suited to update me on his condition."

"I'm not sure if I should be the one telling you..."

I wasn't sure if it was okay to share what the nanny hadn't. But the man before me was the master of this house. Technically, while I served Robert, it was Vincent who'd hired me.

I hesitated, unsure whose side to take.

"Is there even a need to think it over?"

"But..."

"You've made a huge mistake with me before."

Mistake? As I puzzled over it, he patted his thigh. I followed his hand with my eyes, then quickly looked away.

"Th-that was a misunderstanding."

"You nearly ended my family line."

Vincent looked more serious than ever. It didn't seem like he was asking just because I attended Robert.

"No ill intent. I just don't want him feeling lonely here in this house, even if I can't erase the memories. I don't want to make him dwell on them more."

How could I refuse after that?

"Understood."

He finally released the plate. Then he set the teacup on top—empty as well. He looked quite satisfied with his tea time.

Was dessert the real goal? No wonder he hadn't left. Suspicion rising, I shot sidelong glares at his profile. When Vincent turned, I ducked my head. His sharp instincts were as keen as ever.

"Anything else you're curious about?"

He asked abruptly. As if I have the right to be curious. Irritation bubbled up. I was about to say no when a question I'd been mulling over popped into my head.

"Then... may I ask one thing?"

"What?"

"Are you... thinking of becoming Robert's foster father?"

"What?"

Vincent wasn't the type to easily show favor. I doubted he'd forgotten the time he was blind. Pain like that doesn't fade easily. So it puzzled me how specially he treated Robert. And the two of them looked so affectionate together.

What exactly is their relationship?

Curiosity got the better of me, and I made my own guess.

He gave his answer right away—with the most ridiculous, crumpled expression, like I'd spouted the world's dumbest nonsense.

I could tell without asking that this had further tanked his opinion of me.

As Vincent had said, the nanny started going out often. She seemed incredibly busy with something outside. I smiled and told her not to worry, just go take care of it, since I felt bad leaving Robert alone with her fretting.

What misunderstanding did she cook up? Scary if rumors start flying.

Vincent snapped coldly and left right away. I'd only guessed because they seemed so close, but now I'd just earned his dislike. I called out an apology too late—he didn't look back.

I haven't seen him since. He's been too busy to even show his face. He'd asked for daily updates on Robert, but he never met me in person. A servant came in his stead to ask.

It was less a report and more me rambling through the day's events. But I didn't want to bore the busy servant with details, so one day I suggested writing a letter instead.

Do you know how to write?

A little.

The servant gave me a surprised look.

After that, I wrote letters to hand over. Every other day, the servant would come for one.

[Today, the young master...]

It wasn't much different from the last letter, but I picked up the pen. Elegant script filled the page.

Doing this...

It feels just like back then.

I missed that golden handwriting.

"Whatcha doing?"

Robert peeked his head around the corner. He'd been napping—how long had he been awake?

"You're up?"

"Yeah. Nanny?"

"She went out."

Hearing that, Robert held out both arms. He wanted to be picked up. With more time just the two of us lately, he'd grown attached to me.

I glanced at the thick bandage wrapped around one arm and lifted him into my embrace.

"Does your arm hurt?"

"No."

A few days ago, disaster struck. As usual, I'd gone to Robert's room to tend to him, but he wasn't there. It happened often enough. And I knew right where he'd be. Sure enough, he was near the banister.

But the problem was Robert sitting on the floor, bawling.

Waaah!

Young master!

He clutched one arm, and I panicked. My worst fear had come true.

I called the physician right away. His arm had taken a hard hit—a hairline fracture, but thankfully minor. It was immobilized with a thick bandage.

Soon Joelly arrived, eyeing Robert with deep concern. The nanny joined in, wailing and fussing up a storm.

If you wander off alone again, I'll spank your bottom.

She thought it was a stern scolding.

Vincent arrived late, asking what happened.

How did this happen?

Well...

Joelly and the nanny turned to me too. Given Vincent's vibe, admitting it was the banister would've gotten Robert tossed out on the spot. Robert clung to my skirt, looking glum. After a moment's thought, I spoke.

We were strolling the hall together, and he got so happy he ran ahead and tripped.

It was a lie, and I doubted he'd buy it. He'd probably heard the rough details from the other servants. But luckily, no one mentioned the banister. They just urged me to keep a closer eye on him.

You were trying to climb it, weren't you?

When their attention shifted back to Robert, the nanny sidled up and whispered. I just smiled. Worry creased her face. That's when I realized she knew why he went for the banister.

Thankfully, Robert seemed to have learned his lesson—he'd stayed quietly in his room since.

Robert peered blankly at the letter I'd been writing.

"Me too."

"You have to be careful with your arm."

He nodded. I fetched another chair, set it beside mine, and sat him down. I brought paper and pen from nearby and placed them in his hands.

His tiny hand gripped the pen tight and scribbled on the paper. Humming a little tune, he looked quite content. I sat next to him, pen in hand, and continued my letter.

Glancing over, I saw he wasn't drawing—he was writing letters.

"You're good at that."

"Yeah. I'm good."

"Yes, keep writing nicely."

The fruits of his lessons, perhaps. The letters were crooked, but legible. Watching him, a brilliant idea suddenly struck me.