Chapter 86

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 86

Chapter Title: To You, Whom I Couldn't Erase Even If I Tried (10)

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I screamed and tumbled backward. A sharp pain shot through my hip and fingertips. It hurt! When I lifted my palm, the skin was torn open—sliced somehow—and soaked in blood.

Utterly bewildered by the situation, I stared back and forth between my slashed palm and him. Vincent's face, illuminated by the moonlight, was flushed red. He was covering his mouth with one hand, clearly struggling to figure out what the hell was going on, just like me. I'd never seen him this flustered before.

"You... you were being too... so..."

"Pardon?"

His stammering voice couldn't even form a complete sentence. His emerald eyes, clouded with confusion, darted around helplessly. Seeing him so thrown off strangely calmed me down instead.

"Let's just calm down first."

"Waaah!"

At that moment, a wail echoed through. It was Robert's voice. He'd finally woken up.

Oh no. Panicking, I turned toward the room where Robert was. Worried he'd be scared, I started to scramble to my feet—when suddenly something yanked me back. Hesitating, I looked down to see Vincent gripping my wrist. Like he was desperately holding onto someone about to leave.

I widened my eyes and glanced his way. He followed my gaze downward, then startled and let go. I was the one embarrassed, but he seemed even more shocked. Even in the moonlight, his face was vividly crimson.

"I-it's just... it was so dark..."

"...Pardon?"

What did the darkness have to do with grabbing me? But he showed no sign of explaining, flailing even more frantically than before. Was there something he wanted to say? As I furrowed my brow wondering, Robert's cries exploded louder again.

Vincent snapped his head up and looked toward Robert's room. Then he glanced back at me, lips twitching a few times before he finally managed one sentence.

"Stay with Robert."

"Ah, okay."

I'd assumed he'd come with me, but he stood and bolted the opposite way. Bolted was more like it—his steps were so quick, he vanished down the hall in seconds. I heard distant thuds, like he'd bumped into something. And he hadn't even grabbed a lamp.

Even if he had, it wouldn't have helped much. His lamp lay shattered on the floor. Lamps really seemed to break a lot tonight. Thinking it was all because of the thunder and lightning, I glanced out the window—only to find the rain had stopped, leaving everything eerily quiet.

I examined my stinging palm and sighed. Must've cut it on the broken lamp shards. What the heck was all this? But before I could process it, I turned back. First things first—I had to soothe Robert, crying alone.

That bizarre night passed, and morning broke. After calming Robert's sobs, I collapsed on the sofa and passed out instantly. When I woke, it was already lunchtime.

"You're awake?"

Right on cue, the nanny opened the door and came in. Come to think of it, I hadn't handled Robert's breakfast. Flustered, I sat up, but she told me to lie back down.

"Sorry. I had no idea you'd been up all night."

"It's fine. How's the young master?"

"He finished breakfast and is sleeping in another room. The original one has window damage, so it's under repair. The rain's stopped now."

"That's a relief. Sorry for oversleeping."

"No worries. You worked hard."

She patted my shoulder. I smiled awkwardly and rubbed my crusty eyes. She said to sleep more, but I shook my head and got off the sofa.

It was spacious enough, but curling up to sleep left my whole body aching. As I stretched my arms with a yawn, the nanny gasped in shock.

"Oh my! Ann! Are you hurt?"

"Huh?"

Her words made me check myself—and I jolted. I'd slept in my apron, and dark stains blotched the white fabric. What...? Up close, it was blood. Now I noticed dried blood on both hands too.

"Heavens! What happened?"

"Uh, well..."

Flustered, I inspected my torn hands—then felt stings in my knees and thighs. Guess I'd hurt those too without realizing. Where did I even get cut?

Fragments of last night resurfaced. After Vincent left, cleanup was on me. I soothed and resettled a startled Robert, then stepped into the hall.

The corridor was a wreck—windows shattered. Wood splinters on the floor suggested a plank had flown in and smashed the glass. The storm's force hit home. Luckily, the lamp oil was low; a spark could've turned it into a real disaster.

As I cleared the glass shards, Robert woke crying again. I rushed to finish up and head back to him.

"The wind was so fierce all night, it broke the hallway windows. Must've gotten hurt then."

"Oh dear. Which windows?"

"Mid-corridor."

I gave a quick rundown of the night—skipping the Vincent part. The nanny nodded without suspicion.

"Rest here till dinner. I'll handle the rest."

"Got it."

I left the rest to her and headed out.

Dragging my weary body down the hall, a servant rushed past. His urgent back drew a blank stare from me—then more followed, all disheveled.

Wondering what was up, I spotted Johnny approaching from afar. His state was no better—covered in dust.

"What happened to you?"

"You first—what happened to you?"

Johnny halted, grimaced, and scanned me top to bottom. Only then did I recall my own mess.

"You okay? Looks serious." I waved it off—nothing major—and asked about him. He patted my clothes, sending dust puffing up. I grimaced and stepped back.

"A branch crashed through, punching a hole in the central stairs hallway ceiling. Been chaos calling all hands since morning to fix it."

"The ceiling? Big hole?"

"Pretty big. Patching it quick, but it might give again. Boards are loose up there—watch out passing by."

That explained the sprinting. I'd sensed the predawn wind was bad, but not this bad. Oh, and our windows were gone too. No wonder the nanny hadn't questioned me.

"Heard some windows broke too."

"Yeah, opposite wing."

"Last time a wall cracked... This place is falling apart everywhere. It's in rough shape."

Johnny scratched his head wearily, exhaustion etched on his face.

This mansion wasn't well-maintained. Even mild winds rattled windows loose.

Cleaning happened daily but prioritized high-traffic areas; others got sporadic deep cleans, letting dust pile up. With few servants and no proper training for outsiders, perfect upkeep seemed impossible.

"There's this abandoned shed at the attic's far end? A maid passing by opened the door on impulse and got swarmed by bugs. Infested, apparently."

"Yikes."

"This place is really rundown. Feels like they're forcing decrepit stuff into use."

Johnny sighed deeply, said he had to go, and trudged off heavily. He was on window duty. I watched him go with pity, then continued down the hall.

Passing the central stairs, servants clustered, anxiously eyeing the ceiling.

A massive hole gaped in the center. Shards rained down with rainwater. Glimpses of workers inside. Everyone looked cursed by this mess. The floor was slick with puddles.

I tiptoed past to my room. Alicia, lounging on the bed during break, gaped at me.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Third time hearing that. Must look awful. Needed a wash and bandages, but exhaustion pinned me down.

"Some stuff went down."

"What stuff?"

"Dunno. Tired."

I shuffled to the bed and flopped. Despite sleep, drowsiness crashed over. Blinking heavy lids, I rubbed my face into the pillow. Alicia tsked behind me.

"Heard the master stopped by at dawn. See him?"

"...Dunno."

"Did you or didn't you?"

"Didn't."

I mumbled, curling up. She shook my shoulder, pressing—really? Too annoying to answer, I rolled toward the wall. Realizing I was done, she huffed and turned away. Finally, I closed my heavy eyelids.

Dawn's events flickered by. Shock made memories hazy already? Thunder felt like it'd stolen them. Alone in pitch black, I'd lost it. Maybe fainted briefly. Came to hugging him—total madness.

His flustered, flushed face resurfaced. Stammering Vincent seemed genuinely shocked.

Why'd he stay so meek in my arms, though? Forgot to ask. Did I cling? Embarrassment surged. Ugh, how weird did I look? Suppressing a scream urge, I squeezed my eyes shut. Just sleep.

My fingers brushed the wrist he'd grabbed. His warmth long gone, yet it burned strangely.

Fiddling with it, I drifted into deep sleep. First nightmare-free night here.

After that, I didn't cross paths with Vincent directly. He rarely visited the mansion now; when he did for Robert, he avoided my gaze. Letters came via servants, but he stopped asking about Robert personally. Spoke only to the nanny. Like he was dodging me.

I should avoid him, but him steering clear felt weird—good or bad? At least no more ink grilling.

Time flew. Hand wounds healed, ceiling hole patched—peace returned.

One day, with mere days left in my disguise, guests arrived at the Bellunita estate.

Another reunion.