Chapter 84

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 84

Chapter Title: To You, Whom I Couldn't Erase Even If I Tried to Forget (8)

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“The Master?”

“Yeah. That guy acts all high and mighty on the outside, putting on airs like he's so superior, but deep down he's a total scaredy-cat—super timid. He's got walls up everywhere, always on guard. He's constantly fretting that someone might hurt him, and he never forgives a betrayer. He'll hunt them down and drag their name through the mud, no matter what. But nobody really knows that side of him. He's a master at making himself look polished on the surface.”

Suddenly hit with this barrage of criticism, I blinked in surprise. That Vincent was timid and fearful... well, I knew that all too well. He wasn't just a little scared—he was downright cowardly! Memories flooded back of enduring his temper in the past and coaxing him out of his room, stirring a deep sense of camaraderie. I wanted to nod along.

“So be careful with him too. Mess with him the wrong way, and you're in big trouble.”

“Ah... yes. I'll be careful.”

Her serious tone, like she was whispering some grave secret, had me nodding unconsciously. Joelle chuckled softly. Her face was as radiant as ever, like it was haloed in light.

But was it my imagination? There seemed to be an odd pressure in her smile. Had Vincent been badmouthing me?

Then a sudden question popped into my head.

“But why is that fun for you?”

Joelle burst into laughter at my words.

“Because that guy's antics are hilarious.”

I had no idea what was so funny about it. But Joelle wouldn't stop laughing. She looked thoroughly entertained. Swallowing my bubbling curiosity, I awkwardly lifted the corners of my mouth to mimic her. Haha.

After finishing up with Joelle and heading back to my room, I found Robert—who should have been asleep—standing in front of the door.

“Young Master? What are you doing out here?”

Was he waiting for me because he hadn't seen me? My heart warmed at the sweet thought, but my steps slowed as a doubt crept in. Or was he trying to sneak off to the stables again?

Robert hadn't tried going to the stables lately. Not since he'd gotten a reply to his letter, to be exact. Before that, he'd begged to go or even attempted secret escapes, but over the past few days, he'd stayed quietly in his room. He seemed happy cherishing the letter from his mother, unfolding and rereading it multiple times.

But contrary to expectations, he hadn't sent another letter back. He just kept reading and rereading his mother's, no longer moping about missing her.

‘Mommy loves Robert. She misses you so, so much. She'll come visit for sure, so wait just a little longer. Robert's a good boy, so he'll hold on, right? Robert loves Mommy lots and lots too.’

The child beamed innocently, waving his little arms in a circle to show just how much he missed her. That bright face somehow eased my worries instead. The nanny, hearing those words, looked relieved yet teary-eyed. She must have felt the same as I did.

I wished he'd grow up a bit more patiently. The little young master, whom I'd once dismissed as just a bratty kid, was now wearing a surprisingly mature expression. Watching him like that, I swallowed a bittersweet pang.

But Robert's eyes sparkled with hope as he fiddled with the letter. It was a welcome change.

The nanny tucked the letter into a small pouch and tied it around Robert's wrist, just in case he lost it. Robert went around with the pouch on one wrist and a wooden horse figurine in the other hand. He no longer threw things or threw tantrums over nothing.

As I approached, Robert wouldn't even meet my eyes, mumbling shyly. He really wasn't heading to the stables, was he? Suspicion welled up.

“Um...”

“Yes?”

“Over there...”

Robert twisted his body and tapped the floor with his tiptoes. His hesitant demeanor puzzled me. His big eyes, roaming the floor, suddenly fixed on me. He chewed his lip, then flapped one hand. I took another step closer, bending down to meet his gaze at eye level.

Then a small hand grabbed my collar and pulled. Something soft touched my cheek.

Mwah.

“Thank you.”

And Robert bolted back into his room.

The door clicked shut, but I stayed there, awkwardly half-bent, unable to straighten up. My mind went blank. The suspicions I'd harbored moments ago vanished into the distance.

I touched my cheek with my hand. The warmth lingered vividly.

“Haha.”

The corners of my mouth crept upward. Then I spaced out again.

An unexpected memory had been born.

Rain had started falling late last night. The drops pounding the window grew fiercer, and by morning, thunder and lightning cracked overhead. The deafening roar that seemed to split the sky made little Robert tremble. Terrified it might strike him, he huddled under the covers, crying that he was scared, and I exhausted myself soothing him.

By the time Robert finally fell asleep, darkness had reclaimed the sky. The fierce wind and rain still battered the windows mercilessly.

Rattle-rattle—whoooosh— the sounds echoing through the room were eerie. Like screams. Robert whimpered in his sleep, probably hearing it. I patted his back and pulled the sheet up to his chin.

Taking over for the nanny, who'd been run ragged all day, I decided to stay by Robert's side tonight. She insisted she was fine, but after barely sleeping the night before while comforting him, I worried about her. I'd barely convinced her to rest and sent her back to her room.

The lamps placed around the room flickered precariously. The window rattled noisily, as if its hinges might give way.

The wind was ferocious. Worried, I started to sit up, but before I could, the window lost its battle and flew open with a bang.

All the lamps snuffed out at once. Darkness flooded the room. I yanked the sheet over Robert's head and jumped up.

“Ugh.”

No time to panic—the gale slapped my face. I couldn't open my eyes. First things first, close that window. I shielded my face with one arm and stepped forward. The intensifying wind whipped the curtains, pushing me back. Each step was a struggle as I stretched out my free hand desperately.

Nearing the window, I groped through the storm for the frame. The warped window banged against the wall in the wind. I grabbed it, trying to fit it back into the frame. The gusts nearly toppled me several times.

After wrestling it shut, the room was already a mess. At least the glass hadn't shattered—that was a miracle.

The hinge that held the window had broken, of course. The wind made it rattle like it might burst open again.

No quick fix, so I wrapped it with the curtain—but it sprang back. Puzzled, I scanned around and spotted a nearby dresser. I dragged it over and placed it in front of the curtained window.

It blocked half, but barely. Still uneasy, I shoved everything heavy in the room into the dresser drawers, then pulled other furniture in front. The window still rattled, but the dresser held it shut, thankfully.

Only then did I catch my breath and survey the room. It was pitch black, not even moonlight filtering in. The lamps being out was bad enough, but one had shattered in the wind. I found a surviving one, but the matches were soaked.

Sighing, I went to Robert. Gently lifting his small body under the sheet, I carried him out. I couldn't leave him in a room where another gust might strike. Instead, I took him to the next room and laid him on the sofa.

He slept soundly, not even frowning at the commotion. Exhausted from a sleepless night of thunder, no doubt. The sheet wrapped around him served as a sturdy shield. But without light, he might wake up terrified and cry. Should I call the nanny? No, thinking of her dragging her tired body over, I changed my mind.

Just for a moment, he'll be fine alone, right?

After a brief hesitation, I stood from the sofa. With all lamps broken, I needed candles at least. Feeling my way out, the hallway was deathly quiet. Thankfully, not as dark as the room—moonlight lit the path.

I walked steadily down the hall. A distant whoooosh grew louder with each step, soon surrounding me. The emptiness heightened my tension, dry-swallowing. My footsteps mixed with the creepy noises amid swaying tree shadows on the walls.

‘Sh-should I sing something?’

I hummed to shake off the fear, but it only scared me more.

Legs trembling, I reached the stairs. Then, far down the hall, a hazy glow appeared. I thought I'd imagined it—no one should be wandering at this hour.

But the light sharpened. No, it was approaching me.

I froze. Footsteps thudded from the glow—thud, thud. Terror surged; I gulped repeatedly, clutching my lamp tighter, ready to swing and run if needed.

As I braced, the light stopped right in front of me. Peering past the bright beam, my eyes widened at the face.

“Master?”

Why was Vincent here at this hour?

“You...”

He looked shocked too, clearly not expecting anyone. Flustered, I lowered the hand gripping my lamp. Staring blankly at him, his emerald eyes followed to my lamp, then he frowned.

“What are you doing here?”

“The window flew open, letting wind gust in and shatter the lamps. The intact ones had their flames blown out, and the matches got wet. I came down to relight one and grab candles as replacements.”

Showing him the lamp, his brow furrowed deeper.

“The window? Robert's room?”

“Yes. The hinge broke, so I covered it with the curtain and dragged a nearby dresser to block it temporarily. But it was still risky, so I moved the young master to the next room. He's exhausted from tossing and turning all day because of the thunder, but thankfully sleeping soundly without waking.”

“The nanny?”

“She hasn't slept a wink since last night soothing him. She's resting in her room now. I didn't tell her on purpose.”

I quickly added, fearing he'd scold her. If he insisted on waking her, I couldn't stop him, but I hoped not. Fortunately, he relaxed without a word.

But why was Vincent here? After the ink incident, he'd stayed away from the estate again, making my worries seem unfounded.

Puzzled by his sudden appearance, he tilted his lamp toward me slightly.

“Here.”

“Pardon?”

“The lamp.”

The lamp? Oh, right. I hurriedly lifted the glass cover. He did the same with his, touching the lit wick to mine. With a crackle, the flame transferred. Another glow joined, illuminating the surroundings.

I bowed my head.

“Thank you.”

Carefully replacing the cover, I twisted the side screw to adjust the flame's strength.

“Where are the candles?”

“In the kitchen. Ah, over there.”

Before I finished, Vincent turned. Realizing where he was headed, I startled and hurried after him.