Chapter 16
The Count's Secret Maid - Chapter 16
Translation: godsn
"I told you it's impossible."
"But there must be some way."
Even as I wondered what could possibly work, no concrete ideas came to mind. Show me you're making an effort, he'd said. But what exactly does making an effort even look like? Such a difficult phrase.
Does it mean showing him that I'm eating well, sleeping well, or even—good heavens—defecating properly? No, even if I am making an effort, if he doesn't perceive it as such, then it doesn't count as showing effort, does it? So then I have to demonstrate effort in a way he can understand... It felt like playing word games.
"There isn't. Unless my eyes could see."
"Your eyes... Ah!"
I clapped my hands together. Why hadn't I thought of it sooner? There was such a simple solution. No—hadn't he already given me the answer himself?
"Then that should work."
"What?"
Vincent's expression was one of utter disbelief. I met his gaze with a bright smile.
"I can't. It's impossible."
"You can. Here, give me your hand."
I stretched my hand out as far as I could to reach him. But he didn't move. I urged him again. Come on. Then, hesitantly, he extended his hand—only to flinch the moment his fingertips brushed against mine.
After several attempts, his hand finally settled into my palm. Afraid he might pull away again, I clasped it tightly.
"It's alright. I'll hold onto you firmly."
Ethan had spoken of showing effort. I wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but I decided to keep it simple. I took a hint from what he'd said when he made the bet in the study: If the maid can get Vincent to take even a single step out of his room, I'll grant you one wish. So what he wanted to see was that, wasn't it? Then I just had to show him—Vincent walking out of his room on his own, without anyone's support, just as he used to when he could still see.
Of course, it wouldn't be easy.
That was why I was coaxing and encouraging Vincent like this now.
I took a step back. He didn't move. I took another step back, but he only leaned forward slightly without stepping out. I retreated once more. Then, lowering his gaze, he finally stepped down from the bed.
Thud. The sound of his foot touching the floor was like the trumpet of an angel.
"Slowly. Try taking one step at a time, like a baby learning to walk."
"Don't exaggerate."
Even as he said that, the way he took that single step looked almost solemn.
After a brief hesitation, Vincent set his expression and took a step forward. I matched him by stepping back, moving any obstacles out of his path as we went.
"Yes, you're doing well."
"I didn't injure my legs."
"Still."
Step by hesitant step, he gradually picked up pace until he was striding forward confidently. I guided him toward the door, glancing back occasionally. His steady steps soon brought us right to the threshold.
"See? It's not so hard, is it?"
"Don't treat me like a child."
So stubborn. I could tell he was scared.
His grip on my hand was so tight it was almost numb. But I knew how much courage it had taken for him to walk this far. His room was enormous, and the distance from the bed to the door was considerable. To me, it was nothing, but to him, it must have felt like an eternity.
"You did well."
"You think I'd be satisfied with just this and turn back?"
"You will."
Though I wasn't entirely confident. At my answer, Vincent made an extremely displeased face before reluctantly turning around. But then he stopped dead in his tracks, unmoving. Wondering why, I looked at him—his expression was that of someone who didn't know which way to go.
"This way, my lord."
Even as I took his hand to guide him, he wouldn't move.
"What's wrong?"
"I can't do it."
"But you were doing so well earlier."
"That was because you were holding my hand. Look at me now—without you, I can't even walk."
The confidence had drained from his face. He looked like a lost child. Though he was taller than me and an extraordinary man, to my eyes, he appeared as fragile as a little boy.
That's how unstable his condition must be.
"My lord. I somewhat agree with what Mr. Christopher said. You can't stay like this forever. I was hired knowing full well about your condition from the start, but do you think the other servants will never find out? What about the people who already know you?"
Words spread even before you can grasp them. If a servant working in the main mansion secretly entered the annex and happened to see Vincent, or if one of the annex servants let something slip outside, rumors would spread in an instant. And then people would try to find out whether those rumors were true or not.
"There will come a time when everyone learns of your condition, my lord. Will you still stay locked in your room even then?"
"...... Fine. I get it, so stop nagging."
"As long as you understand, that's enough."
"You talk too much for a maid."
He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. I took his hand and led him back to the bed. Then, I guided him to walk to the door again.
After repeating this two or three more times, Vincent seemed to be getting the hang of it. His steps carried a bit more confidence. So this time, I changed the approach.
"From now on, I'll let go of your hand midway."
"What?"
"Don't overthink it. Even if I let go, all you have to do is keep walking forward."
I turned his stiffened body toward a position where he could reach the door just by walking straight. Then, I took his hand again and led him forward. His footsteps fell heavier than before.
"I can't do it."
"Yes, you can. Now, shall I let go?"
"Wait. Don't let go yet."
He resisted quickly. I took a step back, glancing behind me. When we were halfway across the room, I asked again.
"How about now?"
"Not yet."
So I walked a little farther before asking once more.
"What about now?"
"Not yet."
Just how long was he going to keep saying "not yet"? We were nearly at the door.
"I'm letting go now."
"Wait—"
As I loosened my grip to pull away, he suddenly seized my hand. I glanced back and spoke.
"I'm letting go."
"Wai—!"
Heartlessly, I slipped my hand from his and quickly stepped back.
Immediately, his footsteps halted. His trembling eyes darted around wildly. His hands followed, groping the air. Realizing I was no longer beside him, his face stiffened with tension.
I had told him to just keep walking forward, but he soon lost his bearings, flailing helplessly. I took two loud steps back.
"Over here, my lord."
"Where—where are you?"
"Here. Follow the sound of my voice."
He turned his head toward my voice. But he still wouldn't move easily.
"You can just walk straight toward me, Master."
"I can't."
"You haven't even taken a single step yet."
"I can't do it."
"You can. It's not like your legs are injured."
I stretched both hands out toward him as he approached. He still hesitated. Just one step—why couldn't he muster the courage for something so simple?
The wait was long. Vincent couldn't bring himself to move easily. He moistened his dry lips with his tongue, still wavering.
I waited patiently for him. For him to gather the courage to take that one step, and to gain confidence from it. This was something he had to overcome on his own.
"Don't worry. If you stumble, I'll catch you."
I braced my legs firmly, ready to dash forward at any moment.
Vincent remained silent. The longer he hesitated, the more restless I grew. I worried he might truly give up and say he couldn't do it.
But then, in that moment, he took a step.
And then another, and another. He began slowly making his way toward me. I deliberately stepped back, stomping my feet loudly against the floor—thud, thud—to guide him.
"Yes, you're doing well."
I widened my steps as I walked backward and soon stood just outside the door. He followed the sound of my footsteps, carefully making his way forward.
I stretched both hands out as far as I could, leaning forward so I could reach him instantly if needed. My eyes were fixed solely on him.
Soon, he too reached the doorway, walking cautiously.
Now, only one step remained.
"The door is right in front of you."
He reached out toward me. His large upper body leaned forward, and I mirrored him, extending my own. But in that instant, his foot caught on an object he hadn't cleared away, and he slipped.
His body swayed unsteadily. Without thinking, I took a step forward to steady him—but then, he suddenly lifted his head. His sharp emerald eyes locked straight ahead, as if he knew exactly where I was, reaching for me.
Don't move.
It felt like he was saying that. I stopped my foot mid-step.
Swiftly, he planted his other foot and regained his balance. Then, with another unsteady step, he walked forward. His large hand stretched out toward me again, and I reached out with both hands in return. His body brushed past the doorway as he approached.
I pulled him into a tight embrace.
"Master!"
The moment he fell into my arms, his knees buckled. Barely managing to catch his collapsing body, I stumbled back and sat hard on the floor, my nose bumping against his shoulder. A loud thud! followed, and a sharp pain shot through my backside.
But the pain was quickly forgotten. The warmth filling my arms came first.
"Haah, haah..."
His ragged breaths echoed in my ear. Sweat dampened the nape of his neck. His hands clutched my back, and I could feel the tremors in his grip, the tension in his body. Only then did I realize—he had walked out of the room all on his own.
A surge of emotion welled up. My nose stung, and I sniffled before patting his back.
"You did well. You really did well."
I whispered the words soothingly, over and over. Vincent buried his face in my shoulder, quietly catching his breath. His golden hair tickled my cheek, poking at it insistently. The sensation was itchy, but I rubbed my cheek against his hair instead. I understood what he must be feeling right now—I couldn't bring myself to move.
And so, we stayed like that for a long while, sitting on the floor.