Chapter 94

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 94

Chapter Title: Still That Strange Guest (8)

-----------------------------------------------------------------

"You need to have lunch."

"I'll eat later."

"It would be best if you ate it while it's still ready."

"Just leave it anywhere. I'll eat it in a bit."

He absolutely didn't look like he'd eat it in a bit. He seemed ready to starve straight through until dinner.

I pulled the sheet off a few more times and tussled with him, but eventually gave up. I had no intention of forcing him awake when he clearly didn't want to. As soon as I let go of the sheet, Ethan quickly shifted to the opposite side of the bed. I shrugged and glanced around the room.

The room was surprisingly tidy. When Ethan's unplanned stay came up, Audrey had brought the maids and hurriedly prepared a room for him. They'd removed the dust cloths from the furniture, replaced the curtains and sheets with fresh ones, and given it a thorough cleaning to ready it for a guest. Ethan had stayed there without a single complaint. Though with his eyes closed all day, he probably didn't have time to complain.

I wandered around the room, taking it all in, then looked back down at Ethan. The lump that had fled to the far side of the bed to avoid me hadn't budged. It felt strangely familiar somehow. An unexpected remnant from the past made me chuckle softly.

"Mr. Ethan. You could die sleeping like that."

"...I won't die."

"I know a story about someone who died in their sleep. Want to hear it?"

I recounted in detail the tale of a promising young man who vanished for days, prompting villagers to check on him—only to find him dead in his sleep. Of course, he'd actually died from overwork, but I skipped that part.

The story had come from old colleagues I'd worked with back then. There was talk that he'd been so exhausted he could barely breathe, that he'd been staggering around, that he'd had some preexisting condition—but no one was all that shocked by his death. It was all too common.

As I started describing the man's death pose in vivid detail, the round lump squirmed again. Ethan peeked out, his face unusually scrunched in a frown.

"What did you tell me to do?"

"I said it would be good if you washed up and had some food."

I pointed to the lunch tray on the table. From the looks of him, he'd skip lunch again today, so I'd brought it separately. Ethan glanced at it and nodded reluctantly with a sour expression.

I beamed and tugged at the sheet wrapped tightly around him. If I didn't get it off quick, he'd change his mind and burrow back in.

But then I realized the body slowly emerging was naked, and I froze.

"Bring me some water. I'm just gonna wash up lightly."

"Ah, got it."

I hid my fluster and headed to the bathroom for washing water. I filled a basin and checked the temperature. It was freezing cold, but I used it anyway.

When I returned with the wash water, Ethan was sitting up on the bed just as I'd left him, blinking dazedly. His blank face suggested he was shaking off sleep.

I set the basin on the nightstand and handed him the towel I'd brought. In his half-asleep daze, he scooped water and splashed his face—then his eyes flew wide open. Seeing his shoulders tremble finely, I swallowed a secret laugh. This was payback for all the trouble he'd caused me.

Once the cold water chased away his drowsiness, he even managed to finish his meal without issue.

"What now?"

"Do something other than sleep. Like a walk."

"I don't really want to leave the room..."

Ethan crawled back into bed and grumbled softly into the pillow. I stacked the empty dishes neatly and straightened up.

"Then read a book."

"I don't feel like looking at letters either."

"Fine, lie there and stare out the window."

I grabbed the cleaned dishes and turned firmly toward the door. Down in the kitchen, I returned the empties and gathered various cleaning tools. Today, I'd clean the rooms. Since Ethan didn't welcome other servants, his room cleaning fell to me. I'd been unable to do a proper job before because he slept till late at night. Now that he was awake, it was my chance.

Back in the room, Ethan had collapsed onto the bed again. His wide, unfocused eyes suggested he'd dozed off. I gave him a pitiful look, then rolled up my sleeves.

"I'm going to clean. Mind stepping aside for a bit?"

"I'm fine. Just do it."

"The dust could be bad for your health."

"It's okay."

Ethan rubbed his face into the pillow and shook his head. He showed zero intention of leaving. Fine then—I started cleaning without nagging.

I flung open all the windows and first beat out the carpet on the floor. I folded the shaken-out rug to one side, climbed a small ladder to swap the curtains for new ones, then went to the bed. I shoved him aside—he lay there like he was nailed down—and changed the bedspread and pillowcases.

I tried for the sheet too, but he had it wrapped around him. Facing Ethan, who was bundled up tight in it, I paused. He stared blankly at me.

Should I ask for it?

As I pondered, he spotted the fresh sheet in my hands, and a flicker of annoyance crossed his face. His grip on the old one screamed he wasn't letting go. I shrugged and tossed the new sheet onto the bed. Suit yourself.

I folded the used bedspread and pillowcases next to the rug. Then I cleaned the fireplace, grabbed a broom, and swept the floor. I scrubbed every corner meticulously with a mop.

Admiring the gleaming floor, I polished until my arms ached—then felt eyes on my back.

Ethan had clambered up to sit on the bed, watching me blankly. I'd thought he'd nod off again after a glance, but no—he lounged diagonally, sat up, and now propped his chin openly staring. And then...

"What're you putting on that?"

"It's floor polish to make it shine."

"Hmm, interesting."

From some point on, he peppered me with questions: What's that? How's that work? I finished by wiping the window dust and relaying the carpet, then moved to the bathroom to scrub the tub. By then, he'd dragged over a chair to watch.

I ignored his gaze as best I could, rinsed the tub foam with water, scrubbed it off, and stood. I stretched my stiff body this way and that, then surveyed the tidied room. That should do it. The freshly cleaned space looked satisfyingly spotless.

I dried my wet feet with a towel, slipped on my shoes, and smoothed my rumpled clothes. I scanned the room once more, gathered the cleaning tools and laundry pile, and turned to go. Ethan, who'd been watching me, spoke up.

"What now?"

"Cleaning's done, so I'm heading out."

He fell silent for a moment, then suddenly sat up. The sheet around him slipped down slowly. I turned away on instinct, but thought, Don't I need to help him dress? and started to turn back. Before I could, he grabbed my shoulder and shoved me out the door.

"Wait a sec."

"Y-Yes?"

Flustered, I spun around—the door was already shut. I'd been unceremoniously booted out. He asks for my help, then kicks me out? Baffled, but I waited obediently anyway.

After a boring stretch of time, Ethan emerged. Gone was the bedhead slob from moments ago; he was impeccably dressed now, hair neatly combed back to perfection.

He handed me the sheet he'd been buried under the whole time. I took it reflexively and scanned him up and down.

"Going out?"

"No."

He looked ready for anything but staying in. Or maybe he'd changed his mind about that walk. Didn't matter to me—I shrugged and turned away.

As I walked the hall, footsteps followed. They trailed me all the way down the back stairs to the basement.

At first, I figured we were just headed the same way. But when he followed me underground, something felt off. Servants climbing the stairs spotted Ethan behind me and shot glances. I stopped and whirled around urgently. Ethan, who'd been looking around, paused and gazed back slowly.

"You can't follow me down here."

"Got it."

His meek reply came easily. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously and descended again. Whether he understood or not, he didn't follow this time.

I sorted the cleaning tools and handed the laundry to the laundry maid.

"I'd like fresh ones ahead of time, if possible."

"Oh, we haven't even gathered the ones out to dry yet."

The laundry maid looked troubled and asked me to wait, turning away. She stood before two baskets of laundry. The load looked too much for one person. As she hefted one and reached for the rest, I stepped up.

"Let me help."

She waved it off as I went for the other basket. I smiled gently and lifted it anyway. She hesitated, mumbling about being short-staffed today, then accepted my help.

I followed the leading laundry maid up the stairs. She headed straight for the back door, and as I trailed her...

"All done now?"

Suddenly, someone popped out beside us.

Both the laundry maid and I jumped back in shock. I clutched my chest. Twisting my neck stiffly, there was Ethan.

No way, why was he still here...? He'd jumped out from the corner toward the back door. I thought he'd gone for a walk since he wasn't there when we climbed the stairs. Had he been waiting here?

"Uh, um, uh?"

The laundry maid, locking eyes with Ethan, fidgeted in panic. I glanced at her, then shot Ethan a look asking why he was still hanging around. He'd been staring blankly at her across from him, but caught my gaze, turned, and smiled faintly with his eyes.

"Where you headed?"

"Hanging laundry... Didn't you say you were going for a walk?"

"Never said that."

His firm denial threw me off this time. True, he hadn't. So he really had been waiting for me? Absurd—but then a servant approaching spotted Ethan and froze. I changed my mind. We needed to get out of here first.

I asked the stiff laundry maid where to go. She shuffled forward like cracking ice. As I stepped after her, Ethan tailed me again.

What the heck. Suddenly, we had an unintended parade: laundry maid, me, Ethan in a row. She noticed him following and kept glancing back.