Chapter 13
The Count's Secret Maid - Chapter 13
Translation: godsn
"Why is that?"
"Only designated servants are permitted to enter the annex. Even then, they can only access their assigned areas during specific time slots. If anyone enters outside their allotted time or an unauthorized servant sets foot in the annex, they'll lose their head on the spot."
I had no idea. While I'd noticed only a few servants around, I never realized access was so strictly controlled. Was it because of Vincent's condition...? Come to think of it, I hadn't been given any restrictions about where I could go. Perhaps it's because I'm his personal attendant.
"That's a shame."
Lenika genuinely seemed disappointed as she pursed her lips.
"If you'd like to send a letter, just let me know. I'll deliver it for you."
"Ahaha. Thank you."
After parting with Lenika, I headed down to the dining room for breakfast.
Technically, servants aren't supposed to use it, but no one else was using the space anyway. Vincent refuses to leave his room, taking all his meals there, and there's practically no one else who would come. Actually, I'm not even sure if there are other people in this mansion—I've never properly seen anyone. Though that mystery was just solved earlier.
At any rate, with no one to scold me, I'd been using the dining room freely.
But today, there was someone there. A guest who'd arrived early in the morning.
"Oh, I apologize."
"No need. Have a seat."
Noticing the potato in my hand, he gestured to the seat across from him. But that was impossible. Sharing a meal with a guest? Mistress Isabella would have a fit if she saw. Besides, I needed some time alone. Being with that impossible master of mine drains my energy like a leaky bucket, even for short periods.
I bowed slightly at the waist.
"No, thank you. Please enjoy your meal."
"Don't go. I was already feeling awkward dining alone—I'd be delighted if the maid would join me."
But the guest was being persistent. I shook my head firmly—for my own sake.
"That wouldn't be proper. And please, just call me maid."
"It's my principle to always show courtesy to women."
Ethan smiled warmly and gestured to the opposite seat again. What a noble sentiment. I quietly admired his manners while shaking my head side to side.
"It's quite alright. I should be going now."
"Are you really going to abandon me here alone?"
"Pardon?"
"Leaving me to eat all by my lonesome like this. Ah, I can't bear it. The thought of eating alone—I can't even bring myself to put food in my mouth. I simply can't eat."
He dramatically set down his utensils, making no effort to hide his crestfallen expression.
"My appetite's completely gone."
At his whining protest, I finally relented and sat primly across from him. Only then did Ethan smile contentedly and pick up his spoon to resume eating his soup. What a smooth talker. He and Vincent are such polar opposites—I can't fathom how they became friends.
I peeled my potato and took a bite. Even the potatoes here are delicious. Though with such uncomfortable company, I couldn't tell if I was putting the food in my mouth or up my nose.
"The food tastes different when shared with company."
"Is that so?"
I answered distractedly while keeping an eye on the door. I was worried Mistress Isabella—or other servants I'd never seen but who apparently existed here—might walk in. Or perhaps the cook passing by might enter. This place that usually showed no signs of life.
Eating while this tense only made my stomach feel heavier.
"How is Vincent? He seemed quite angry earlier."
"He wasn't particularly upset."
"But he threw things."
"He does that often."
"Does he? That sounds dangerous."
"Yes, thanks to that, there are many injuries. Still, when I think back to the atrocities he committed at first, he's been relatively tame lately. There must have been some change in his temperament—the frequency of his tantrums has decreased somewhat. Not that he's stopped throwing things, mind you. It's just that three times became two, and hard objects were replaced with softer ones."
As I stuffed the potato into my mouth, a sudden silence hovered between us. When the conversation awkwardly cut off, I shifted my gaze from the door to him. Ethan was hesitating, his lips twitching slightly.
Wondering why, I stared at him blankly until he finally spoke again.
"Do you know about it too? I mean... Vincent's current condition."
"......"
I immediately closed my mouth and swallowed the lump of dry potato with a gulp. From the tension in his eyes, I realized what he meant by "Vincent's current condition." After all, I was hired from the start to serve a blind master.
Ethan knew about Vincent's condition too. I wasn't sure why he was asking when he already knew, and I hesitated over whether to pretend ignorance or not, so I remained silent.
Perhaps interpreting my silence as confirmation, Ethan smiled bitterly.
"Lately, there have been frequent whispers about the Bellunita Count Family secretly hiring new servants. There are even strange rumors circulating—about how tyrannical the master must be for people to keep quitting."
Listening to him, I found myself nodding unconsciously. Tyrannical? Well, he wasn't wrong. Then I caught myself.
Glancing at Ethan, I saw him grinning mischievously.
"Vincent must torment you quite a bit, hm?"
"Not at all. He treats me very kindly."
"But you said he throws things often."
"Did I say that? That was a slip of the tongue. My apologies."
"Oh my, defending such a master too. You really are a kind soul."
"......"
I just shut my mouth and buried my nose in the potato. But he propped his chin on his hand and kept staring at me.
"How were you hired? Did you come here yourself?"
"The butler hired me."
Strictly speaking, I was sold off, but I didn't bother adding that detail. Ethan nodded as if he knew who the butler here was.
"Vincent has his stubborn moments, doesn't he? Once he digs his heels in, no one can talk him out of it."
"......"
Don't fall for it. That's a trap.
"And if you go against his opinion, he makes it so obvious how much he dislikes it. Frowning, hardening his expression. He might seem composed, but he'll flip your world upside down at least once."
"......"
Don't take the bait. Just let it go.
"What do commoners call it again? Stubborn as a... mule? Or was it something else?"
"Stubborn as a mule's ass."
"That's it. Perfect, isn't it?"
I couldn't even argue with that, so I silently nodded. Ethan chuckled.
"But still... those were better days."
His laughter faded, leaving only bitterness on his face. He looked out the window, where white clouds drifted lazily across the blue sky.
"You might not believe it, but he wasn't like this at first. He couldn't leave the mansion, but he still handled his duties, took occasional strolls in the garden, and even smiled often."
I had heard about that. Though I couldn't imagine Vincent strolling in the garden or attending to his duties. Smiling? That was even more unimaginable. The Vincent Bellunita I knew was a man curled up in the sheets of his bed, trembling in fear. The image of him afraid to eat, afraid to take a single step on the floor—even afraid to breathe—was all I had ever seen of him.
"A few months ago, his replies to letters suddenly stopped. He wouldn't answer calls, wouldn't meet anyone sent to see him. Given his condition, I was worried, so I came without warning. Now I understand why it was like that."
I had nothing to say to his bitter smile. Words of comfort didn't come easily either. This wasn't a simple matter. Besides, I wasn't eloquent to begin with. I didn't expect some measly comfort from a mere maid could lessen his worries.
So this was my own way of showing sincerity.
"Don't worry too much. The master is trying his best."
His puzzled gaze landed on me. I took another bite of the remaining potato and continued.
"He was suddenly plunged into darkness, after all. How terrifying must that be? It must feel like being left alone in the world. If it were me, I'd want to die. Not knowing who to trust, who to be wary of..."
Not to mention, even if someone swung a fist at him, he couldn't dodge it. Because he couldn't see. Things that meant nothing to others became sources of terror for him. Worse still, even if someone stabbed him with a knife, he couldn't run away.
To have death looming before you and not even know it—
How horrifying must that be?
The image of Vincent trembling from nightmares last night resurfaced. The man who claimed his life was a failure was fighting against that terror. I wondered—what if it were me? The conclusion was the same. I, too, would have holed up somewhere, shaking in fear.
"But the master didn't die. He's so afraid that he convulses when someone tries to touch him, yet he's still trying to live. He's fighting."
Of course, it wasn't that he didn't wish for death. Vincent, who hated being touched, refused meals, never stepped outside, and only curled up on his bed, was waiting for death. At least, that's how it seemed to me.
But back when he had first lost his sight and tried to maintain his usual routine, he must have struggled to survive. Even now, he could bite his tongue and die if he wanted. But he didn't. That meant he still had the will to live. Just that alone—I thought it was a tremendous effort.
"Rather than empty words of comfort, just... cheer for him in your heart. Sometimes silence is better than consolation. You're not the master, after all, Count Christopher. To say you understand another's pain is a lie. How could anyone else know my suffering? They're not going through it with me."
In the end, I am only myself. Vincent had said something similar before. I agreed. Claiming to understand another's pain was nothing but nonsense. I could never become Vincent. Unless I suffered an accident and lost my sight, any comfort I offered would only feel like agony to him. The same went for the man before me now.
"Just wait. So the master can win."
"......"
Silence lingered for a moment. No reply came. Even as I finished the potato peel and brushed off my hands, Ethan said nothing. Finally, when I raised my head in puzzlement, Ethan was staring at me with an odd expression.
Why is he looking at me like that? Did I say something wrong?
"What's the matter?"
"You're quite..."
Quite... what?
"...honest."
"Huh?"
"Should I say cold? Or perhaps resolute? You don't seem like it at first glance, but you're kinder than I thought."
Was that praise or criticism? Unable to make sense of his words, I furrowed my brows. Ethan seemed to ponder for a moment before speaking again.
"Still, I can't just wait forever. There's something I need to deliver."
"If it's important, shall I pass it along for you?"
"That would be fine, but I think it'd be more effective if I delivered it myself."
He smiled faintly, gently refusing.
"In that case, I'd like to enter the room."
"You'll need the master's permission for that."
"Is there no way with your help, Miss Maid?"