Chapter 14
The Count's Secret Maid - Chapter 14
Translation: godsn
"That won't do."
I was the most powerless person in this place. If we were to consider social standing, I'd be at the very bottom of the hierarchy.
"Shall I speak to Lady Isabella about it?"
"She takes Vincent's side. I've already asked several times and been refused every time."
"I could inquire with the master again."
"No."
He waved his hand dismissively. Though he sighed, his face looked considerably more lively than before.
"If I knock a hundred times, he might open the door at least once."
"You're quite persistent."
"I have to try. That's how my friend keeps trying too."
Then he suddenly flashed a grin. His smile, fresher than a spring day, sent an eerie shiver down my spine. His gaze felt sticky. What's this? Why's he like that? I unconsciously rubbed my arms.
"It would certainly be more convenient if the maid took a liking to me."
"May I say this in advance? I would refuse."
And even if those hundred knocks became a thousand, the closed door would never open.
"You're not sleeping here, are you?"
I was startled to find a hunched figure sitting in front of Vincent's door. It was indeed yesterday's uninvited guest. But why was he here like this when we'd shown him to a guest room?
"Hmm, is it morning already?"
"Yes. What exactly are you doing here?"
"I thought if I knocked all night, he'd open the door out of anger. Seems I was mistaken."
Watching Ethan yawn and stretch nonchalantly left me speechless. Had he really stayed up all night trying to get Vincent to open his door? Right now? He'd have been better off wresting the key ring from me and forcing it open.
"Shall I open it for you?"
I rummaged through my apron pocket as I asked. Ethan's eyes widened.
"You said no yesterday."
"I'll incur his displeasure, but he already dislikes me anyway. A little more hatred won't change anything."
"I can't let you go through such hardship."
Another refusal. It sounded considerate, but I wasn't so sure.
"But you can't just keep camping outside his door like this. Who knows how many days or months it might take for that door to open? As you know, the master can be quite stubborn."
At my words, Ethan seemed to ponder for a moment before shaking his head.
"I'll try a little longer."
"If you insist."
I withdrew my hand from the pocket and turned away. Behind me, the sound of knocking echoed. I shook my head in exasperation. He'd probably only come to his senses when his fists were swollen and bruised. That door wouldn't open no matter how much he pleaded.
But it seemed Ethan had realized that truth rather quickly.
When I went up with Vincent's lunch, Ethan spoke to me with an embarrassed expression.
"I suppose I'll have to ask after all."
"Of course."
I walked past him and inserted the key into the firmly shut door.
"Will he be very angry?"
"Stand by the doorway. Don't come in."
I couldn't say no.
With a click, the door opened. Instantly, a musty stench assaulted my nose. Strange—why did it smell particularly foul today? Wrinkling my nose, I went straight to the window and drew back the curtains. Bright shafts of light illuminated the dark room. Opening the window, a gentle breeze wafted in and subdued the foul odor.
Ethan stood obediently by the doorway as I'd instructed. I approached Vincent.
"Master. It's time for your lunch."
"...... Go."
His voice was hoarse. Too hoarse to blame on sleepiness alone?
"Master?"
"......"
He wasn't one to respond much, but something felt off. When I drew closer and pulled back the sheets, his face was drenched in sweat. And the pillow was soaked with vomit.
"Master!"
Even when I patted his cheek to rouse him, he wouldn't open his eyes. His condition was abnormal. Startled, I turned toward the doorway to see Ethan immediately pivot on his heel. The sound of his hurried footsteps echoed urgently down the hallway.
Soon after, the physician arrived. His shirt was misbuttoned, his trousers wrinkled, and he hadn't even properly put on his shoes. The crooked glasses perched on his nose showed just how hastily he'd come.
"He has indigestion."
"Pardon?"
"I heard he'd recently started eating a little more, but it seems he overdid it. Suddenly consuming more food than usual is even worse for his body. He must have been suffering all night."
No, how much could he have eaten? He skipped breakfast this morning. He refused to move from bed, saying he didn't want to eat, so I had no choice but to skip it—and now he's suffering from indigestion? Yesterday evening, he barely ate half his rice porridge, so I forced him to eat a little more, and now his body's reacting terribly to that small amount.
"Really... how fragile."
"His body has grown extremely weak. You must be careful."
"...... Yes."
In the end, I got scolded by the physician. As I bowed to see him off after the examination, I secretly sighed. To get reprimanded even when trying to feed him properly—honestly.
After seeing the physician out, I returned to the room to find Ethan sitting by the bed. His gaze remained fixed on Vincent, never wavering. But Vincent said nothing. Though he clearly knew who was beside him, he didn't so much as glance at Ethan.
"Why has he gotten so thin?"
After a long silence, Ethan murmured with a sigh.
"Even thinner than the last time I saw him... You should take better care of his health..."
Ethan buried his face in his hands, his head bowing deeply. What would the late Count think if he saw you like this... His muttered words carried a helpless frustration, as if he didn't know what to do.
But Vincent remained cold.
"Leave."
Ethan, who had been steadying his breath, lifted his head again. Vincent's gaze remained fixed on the ceiling.
"Vincent. Stop this. Come outside. I'll help you."
"And what exactly do you think you can do?"
"Anything. Whatever I can."
"Then can you make my eyes see again?"
"......"
"Can't do it? Then stop spouting nonsense and get out."
How merciless. The conversation was laced with blade-sharp hostility, laid bare without restraint. Standing behind them, holding my breath as I listened, I clicked my tongue inwardly. Despite Ethan's concern, Vincent's attitude toward him was razor-sharp, as if his entire body were bristling with thorns—leaving the other with nothing but wounds.
But Ethan didn't back down easily.
"How long do you plan to keep this up? Rumors are spreading. They say Count Bellunita isn't just recovering from injuries sustained at the party—that something's wrong with him, and he's hiding it."
"......."
"You can't live like this forever."
"What are you suggesting?"
"It's time to reveal the truth."
"So you're telling me to die."
"Vincent."
"If word gets out that Count Bellunita has gone blind and can't even see in front of him, the next assassin won't be some stranger—it'll be the one who did this to me, coming to finish the job with their own blade."
Vincent scoffed. Ethan shook his head.
"Whoever did this to you already knows your condition."
"......"
Vincent's face, which had been twisted in a derisive sneer at the sharp remark, stiffened. His sharply narrowed eyes still pointed toward the ceiling, but their focus might as well have been piercing straight through Ethan.
Yet he offered no rebuttal. It was as good as admitting he agreed with the statement to some degree.
Silence flowed between them again. Their misaligned gazes refused to meet easily. Vincent pressed his lips together—a clear sign he no longer wished to continue the conversation.
This was meaningless time wasted.
Ethan seemed to realize it too, releasing a deep sigh.
"Vincent. I... if you insist on remaining like this, I intend to publicly disclose your condition."
At the shocking declaration, Vincent's head whipped around. His widened eyes brimmed with horror. I was no different—forgetting my role as an unhearing observer, I stared at Ethan in astonishment.
"Have you lost your mind?"
"Perhaps."
"Ethan!"
Vincent snarled violently. Yet Ethan didn't back down. What followed was a voice so calm it sent chills down my spine.
"Vincent. You're my precious friend, and I refuse to let that friend continue like this. This isn't something we can conceal forever—we must prepare for what lies ahead. You know that too, don't you? If you know and still choose this, it's nothing more than childish stubbornness."
"......"
"I will drag you out of this place by any means necessary, even if it puts you in danger. Because staying like this is poison to you. And no, I won't consider your wishes in the process."
"Stop spouting nonsense."
"Whether my words are nonsense or not, time will tell."
Ethan abruptly rose from his seat. Vincent didn't so much as twitch. He seemed too shocked to even breathe properly, his hands clutching the sheets trembling violently. I worried he might have another attack.
"Choose. Convince me otherwise, or don't."
"......"
A resolute silence followed his ultimatum. Vincent didn't answer easily. He simply glared at Ethan with ferocious intensity, and Ethan met that gaze without flinching. For a moment, it looked as if sparks might fly between them.
With the guest's arrival, my workload doubled. After attending to Vincent, I headed to the guest chambers—changing pillowcases, bed linens, and sheets before cleaning. Though the mansion's rooms were routinely maintained by housemaids to preserve cleanliness, unused spaces inevitably gathered dust in unseen corners.
I started by wiping the grimy windows first. Ethan watched me intently the entire time.
"How is Vincent?"
As I rubbed the window dry with a cloth, I glanced at him briefly before answering.
"If you're curious, why not visit him yourself?"
"I'd be grateful if the maid told me instead."
His grin was infuriating. I sighed.
Despite my advice being rendered meaningless by the day's events—after turning everything upside down, Ethan had left the room. Watching him depart with that resolute attitude, declaring he wouldn't back down this time, left me speechless.
'Show me. Show me you're trying. Prove to me it's okay to leave you like this—that I can rest easy.'
'you' re stubborn, but I have no patience. I'll give you two days.'
Vincent's fists trembled violently. Blind as he was, he couldn't even attempt to stop his friend from leaving the bed. Instead, he had another attack. I rushed to him, pressing the breathing device to his mouth. The pitiful sight of him gasping for air through the wheezing device was heartbreaking. His pride had surely suffered a deep wound.