Chapter 17
The Count's Secret Maid - Chapter 17
Translation: godsn
After that, it was practice, practice, and more practice. Vincent, who had initially cowered in fear, began walking with confident strides at some point. As he kept walking, he seemed to become aware of his surroundings.
However, walking alone still wasn't easy. Despite his initial success, he couldn't make it to the door by himself afterward. He kept stumbling along the way.
The problem was that each time he fell, he lost his confidence. Sometimes he would flinch and curl up in terror, and other times he would remain frozen for a long time with his hands pressed against the floor.
Where did that fear-stricken gaze come from? Whenever frightened, he would crawl across the floor to his bed and pull the sheets over himself, as if trying to hide.
"...... Someone's here."
"There's no one here but you and me, Master."
"Don't lie. Every time this happens, someone's been there. They tried to kill me."
The past had left deep scars on him. Only then did I begin to understand why he had shut himself away in his room. It wasn't walking that he feared—it was stepping outside. The terror that someone might rush at him to kill him the moment he left consumed him every second. The way he kept hiding under the sheets was likely his way of protecting himself.
"Master, how about thinking of it this way? Right now, you're on an adventure. Through pitch-black darkness. You don't know what lies ahead or what might appear. So yes, it's terrifying, but if you stay still, you'll be trapped in that darkness forever."
"......"
"Adventures always require courage, don't they? Now is the time to summon that courage. Don't worry. By your side, there's a voice only you can hear. It can be your companion, your friend, your family—it can be anything. Even if you can't see it, you're not alone."
"But what if they kill me...?"
"Trust me. That would never happen. That's why I'm here."
I took his trembling hands in mine and embraced his hunched form. I wanted to help him find his courage.
"You don't seem very reliable..."
If only he wouldn't say such prickly things.
Still, thankfully, Vincent soon regained his composure. He even began to grow confident in walking alone. Now, he could make it to the door without stumbling. Though his steps were unsteady as he waved his hands through the air, I was proud of him for not giving up.
"Just watch quietly."
"Just don't fall, please."
Then, I gently patted his back in reassurance.
"All done."
I untied the cloth wrapped around him and gathered the cut strands of hair. Vincent touched his now-shortened locks. It was just a light trim, but it turned out better than expected. Neat, wasn't it? Of course, it would have been better to call a professional barber for a proper cut, but given his condition, that wasn't feasible—so I had taken the liberty of doing it myself.
"Was this really necessary?"
"It looks clean and nice."
Now that his hair was cut, his appearance stood out even more. He must have been quite popular with women. The effort had been worth it.
"Bring me clothes."
"Ah, if you mean sleepwear, here—"
"Outdoor clothes."
His words took me by surprise. But he didn't take them back. For the first time since arriving here, I opened a different drawer. Shirts, vests, coats, trousers, ties, shoes... Where were the shoes?
Rummaging around the room, I gathered the clothes and handed them to him. Vincent took off his sleepwear and began putting on each piece, one by one.
Now perfectly dressed, he was the very image of Count Vincent Bellunita. So this is what a noble looks like. Just the change in attire had completely transformed his aura. Though a bit gaunt, he still cut quite a figure.
"Cane."
As I stood there staring blankly, he extended his hand. Cane? Collecting myself, I scanned the room again before finding and handing it to him. He stood motionless, gripping it tightly. Likely preparing to walk with its support. At any rate, he was ready.
We stepped outside and closed the door. Moments later, Ethan approached.
"Where's Vincent?"
"Waiting inside."
"Did you practice a lot?"
Ethan's eyes gleamed mischievously, as if he knew exactly what kind of "practice" Vincent and I had done. What an infuriating man.
"The weather's lovely. Perfect for going out."
"It is."
"Buds are sprouting on the branches."
"Huh?"
When I frowned in confusion, he merely laughed. That annoyingly familiar smile of his somehow caught my eye—no, it felt like something important was dawning on me.
Meanwhile, Ethan had reached the door. But he hesitated, unable to easily turn the knob. His tense profile was visible, betraying the turmoil within. I waited until he finally opened it.
"I'm worried. What if nothing's changed?"
"See for yourself."
"I will."
Steeling himself, he flung the door open. The solemnity on his face gradually gave way to astonishment. Watching his reaction, I peered inside as well.
As planned, Vincent stood in the center of the room, his cane planted firmly on the floor.
Ethan blinked rapidly.
"Vincent?"
At Ethan's call, Vincent lifted his head. His expression was rigid. Outwardly, he seemed composed, but I could see the tension hidden beneath.
Vincent gripped his cane and began walking toward us.
We'd practiced this countless times. Before leaving the room, I'd even positioned him to face the door. All he had to do was walk. I feared he might stumble from nerves, but thankfully, Vincent strode forward steadily.
In no time, he reached the doorway. And finally, he stepped out. Ethan, who hadn't even blinked while watching, spread his arms in moved admiration.
"Vincent!"
His voice trembled with emotion.
Just as I thought his reaction was unexpectedly intense—Vincent suddenly raised his hand. In it was the cane. Taking another step forward, he swung it straight at Ethan.
It happened in an instant.
Ethan ducked in shock, and I gaped, stunned. The cane, missing its target, sliced through the air before smashing into the hallway window.
Crash! The sound of shattering glass echoed. Horrified, I checked the window—the glass where the cane had struck was now in splinters. Shards tumbled down in a brittle rain. Over that violent scene, a chilling voice rang out.
"Threaten me like that again, and you're dead."
Though Vincent's gaze was fixed straight ahead, it might as well have been aimed at Ethan, who was still cowering below. Ethan lowered the arms shielding his face and looked up at him.
"...... I'm your friend."
"And that's why you threatened me?"
"......"
Struck speechless, Ethan shut his mouth. Vincent released the cane's handle and turned away. Only then did Ethan straighten up, staring at the shattered window. After a dazed pause, he snapped back to his senses and hurried after Vincent—prompting Vincent to whirl back around.
"Get out. Now."
With those final words, the door slammed shut. I was utterly dumbfounded by Vincent's actions—personally shutting the door to kick Ethan out.
Ethan silently stared at the closed door.
"He seems really angry."
"That goes without saying."
I pulled the cane out from where it was embedded in the window. Wait—was this why he'd asked for a cane in the first place? As I worried over what to do with the shattered glass, laughter suddenly reached my ears. Tracing the sound, I saw Ethan chuckling to himself. He must have finally lost his mind.
"That's right. That's the Vincent I know."
Definitely insane.
I shook my head at the sight of him grinning from ear to ear. With his face lit up, Ethan knocked firmly on the closed door.
"Vincent, can I come in?"
Again, there was no response, but Ethan pushed the door open anyway. Vincent stood barely a step away from the doorway, his expression clearly asking why Ethan hadn't left yet.
"Don't look at me like that. I have something to deliver."
Ethan reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out, extending it toward Vincent. A letter. He pressed it into Vincent's hand.
"It's from Violet."
Violet! At the mention of that familiar name, my gaze immediately snapped to the letter in Vincent's hand. He too looked down at the envelope now in his grasp.
"You never reply to Violet's letters either. She's been so worried. She kept insisting on coming to see you, but I managed to talk her down by promising to deliver this letter personally."
"How is she doing?"
"Just fine. In good health."
"That's a relief."
Vincent didn't open the letter. He simply held it for a moment before turning away. With practiced ease, he made his way back to the bed and sat down. Ethan followed close behind.
"I promised her I'd bring back a reply, so write one for me, will you?"
"No."
"I can't give up that easily. Ah, Miss Maid. Could you fetch some paper and a pen, please?"
Ethan turned to me as he spoke. I glanced at Vincent's displeased expression. Though I was curious about who this Violet might be, seeing Vincent's sour face made me hesitate to ask. In the end, I simply bowed and left the room.
That day, Ethan stubbornly managed to extract a reply to the letter.
Late at night, sleep wouldn't come. Wanting some fresh air, I left my room. But then I noticed a light approaching from down the hallway. It was Ethan, holding a lamp.
"Why aren't you asleep?"
"Shouldn't I be asking you that, Lord Ethan?"
"I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd take a walk."
"Neither could I."
I considered going outside the annex, but laziness won out. Instead, I placed the lamp I was carrying on the windowsill and opened the window. A cool breeze blew in, making the flame flicker. As I absently watched it, Ethan came to stand beside me.
"You're angry with me."
"Me?"
"You gave me advice, and I ignored it."
So he knew, yet still went through with it. Well, even so, he had no reason to apologize. It was only natural for those of higher status to disregard the words of their subordinates.
"You don't need to apologize. It's fine."
At my response, Ethan scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.
"I'm a real piece of work, aren't I?"
"I can't exactly deny that."
Ethan laughed at that. I found myself laughing too.
The brief laughter soon faded, leaving silence to settle over the hallway. The gloomy atmosphere made me hunch my shoulders slightly.