Chapter 3
The Count's Secret Maid - Chapter 3
Translation: godsn
As Isabella approached the window and drew back the curtains, blocked rays of light flooded the room. When she opened the window completely, a cool breeze rushed in, finally allowing me to catch my breath.
On the opposite side of the window, in a corner untouched by light, stood a single bed. And upon it, a bedsheet rose in a rounded mound. It wasn't until I noticed an arm protruding from beneath the sheet that I realized there was a person underneath.
Isabella moved closer to the bed. The sheet flinched, then slowly retreated further back. Not that there was anywhere left to escape.
"Have you awakened, Master?"
"...... Get out."
A voice thick with anger spilled forth. Isabella pressed her hands together respectfully and continued.
"I shall bring your evening meal. We've prepared something easy to eat, so please finish it all for the sake of your health."
"Get out!"
The rounded figure moved swiftly, grabbing a vase from the bedside table and hurling it. As Isabella tilted her head slightly to the side, the vase grazed past her and shattered against the floor.
My mouth fell open at the shocking scene, but Isabella remained utterly unfazed.
"I shall bring a new vase."
"I don't need it. Don't come back."
"And I've brought the girl who will be serving you from now on."
Isabella gave me a meaningful glance. Still standing frozen by the doorway in shock, I quickly composed my expression and stepped forward to stand beside her.
Up close, the person on the bed was larger than I'd imagined. And unmistakably a grown man—though his face remained completely concealed, the voice I'd just heard and the glimpse of his form left no doubt.
"P-pleased to meet you, Master."
"This girl will be attending to you henceforth. Please inform her of anything you require. She will see to it immediately."
"I look forward to serving you."
I clasped my hands together at my waist and bowed deeply. The only response I received was:
"Scram."
And this time, even more harshly.
My shoulders jerked as I shot a furtive glance up at Isabella. Paying no mind, she continued.
"I shall bring your evening meal now."
She turned toward the door, her footsteps as measured and unchanging as when we'd entered. Even as my heart pounded from the shock, I couldn't help secretly marveling at Isabella's composure. Just as I quickly moved to follow her—
A sudden hand groped across the bedside table, this time finding the knife left on a plate. When I noticed him slowly picking it up, I whirled back around in alarm.
"If you mishandle that, you could die!"
I lunged to grab his wrist. But perhaps in my haste—I failed to watch my footing.
My foot caught on the bedsheet splayed across the floor. As I flailed—Huh? Wha?—my vision flipped. I think my flailing hand grabbed onto something.
Then something came crashing down atop me as I fell backward. Before I could even register the pain of my skull hitting the floor, a heavy weight crushed against my chest. Gak! My tongue lolled out as I squeezed my eyes shut.
"Master!"
At Isabella's urgent cry, I realized the person now pinning me was none other than the master himself—Vincent.
My eyes flew open in shock. A face hovered right before my nose—thick eyebrows, emerald-green eyes beneath them, a straight nose, rough yet full lips... the kind of strikingly handsome face that would make anyone turn for a second look. I found myself gaping unintentionally.
But something felt off. Vincent looked just as startled as I was, his head suddenly swiveling side to side. Those emerald eyes were fixed... on empty space.
Wait—looking closer, even his eye color seemed unusual. They held a faint milky tinge.
His hands reached toward my face. When the tips of his long fingers brushed against the hair covering my cheeks, I startled violently, pushing him away and scrambling backward. Only then did I realize what I'd done.
I quickly assessed Vincent—he had fallen backward and was now frantically groping across the floor. His movements were noticeably desperate.
As I narrowed my eyes at the strangeness of it, Isabella helped Vincent up. His hands fumbled urgently over Isabella as she lifted him, then he staggered slightly as he straightened. Even then, his face kept whipping sharply from side to side.
Almost as if...
"His eyes......"
As if he couldn't see.
The face that had been darting around abruptly froze. Isabella shot me a piercing glare. Only then did I realize my slip of the tongue.
Before my flustered self could say anything, Vincent's expression twisted into something vicious. Almost immediately, he let out a furious roar and began hurling whatever his hands could reach straight at me.
Crash! Thud! Bang! I was utterly defenseless against the indiscriminate assault. I raised my arms in a futile attempt to shield myself when suddenly Isabella—who had somehow appeared beside me—grabbed my forearm and yanked me upright. She showed no surprise whatsoever, as if this were routine, while I alone gasped in shock and hurried after her.
Only after we exited the room and Isabella shut the door did the commotion cease. I clutched at my pounding heart. My usually steady pulse was racing wildly.
"His Lordship is extremely sensitive. Be more careful from now on. Especially with your words."
"...... Yes."
At my reply, Isabella turned away without another word. Watching her retreating figure, I sighed deeply. A foreboding sense that my future here wouldn't be smooth settled over me.
And that day concluded with the meal I'd carefully carried in being overturned by Vincent's hands. My room was right next to Vincent's. Normally, servants' quarters were on separate floors from their masters', but I was to stay in the adjacent room to be available whenever summoned. Damn it all.
Still, for the first time in my life, I fell asleep under clean blankets on a plush bed. Though strange noises occasionally woke me, it was overall the most comfortable sleep I'd ever had.
The next day, after dressing properly and bringing in breakfast, I got a faceful of pillow—but that's another story. * Vincent Bellunita.
That man was to be my master from now on.
The only child of the illustrious Count and Countess Bellunita, he had drawn admiration since childhood for his refined looks and demonstrated extraordinary intellect across multiple disciplines. Moreover, the Count and Countess were famously devoted to each other—by all appearances, they were the picture of a blissful, harmonious family that anyone would envy.
Then an unexpected accident took the Count and Countess from this world, leaving young Vincent Bellunita to inherit the household alone. Though society buzzed with doubts about one so young bearing such responsibility, Vincent defied expectations and led the family with distinction. Under his stewardship, the family's prestige only grew.......
That was the happy past.
Then tragedy struck.
It happened during a royal banquet. What had been proceeding smoothly turned into chaos when a man charged at Vincent with a blade. The attacker was one of Bellunita's own attendants. Fortunately, Vincent's guards were nearby, and his physical injuries proved minor—but the strange poison the assassin sprayed into his eyes became the real problem.
At first, it was just mild irritation, they said. Then his vision gradually clouded until shapes became indistinguishable, until finally, all light extinguished and darkness descended.
Blindness.
From that moment on, Vincent Bellunita became a recluse in his chambers—or so the story went. Officially, Count Vincent Bellunita was convalescing from injuries sustained at the banquet.
Rumors circulated that since the assassin was a servant of the Bellunita household, Vincent might have been involved in the incident, but the gossip soon died down. Before long, it was discovered that the assassin had merely been wearing the Bellunita household's servant uniform—he wasn't actually one of their servants. However, the assassin's true identity and motives remained a mystery to the end.
In the end, Vincent lost his sight, and that fact was a secret known only to a few close confidants—not even the mansion's servants were aware. That was why I alone had to attend to him. And in secret, at that.
Confidentiality. That was one of the conditions I had to abide by to work as a servant here. I was never to disclose anything that happened within these walls. I nodded and signed the contract, which implicitly included my agreement to the consequences should I ever break that silence.
Either way, it didn't matter to me. I just resolved to do my best. But I soon realized that serving Vincent was far, far, far, far more difficult than I had anticipated.
"Take it all away!"
Crash! And just like that, the twelfth plate met its end. I exhaled a quiet sigh as I stared at the shattered remains. The moment I knelt to gather the broken shards, glasses and silverware went tumbling to the floor next.
"Get out!"
Wrapped tightly in his sheets, his outburst made him look no different from a bristling cat—one that had its guard up, glaring as if to say, How dare you try to tame me?
There used to be a stray cat that often lingered outside Uncle Mark's bakery. Among them was one that grew visibly thinner each time I saw it, and feeling sorry for it, I was the only one who secretly tore off pieces of bread to feed it. At first, the wary cat kept its distance, but one day, it slowly approached, took the bread, and ate. Later, it even began purring and rubbing its face against my hand.
But Vincent was nothing like that cat. He was far too large—a full-grown adult. I gathered the broken pieces and tableware onto a tray, then looked at him.
"I'll bring another serving."
"I don't need it. Just get out."
"If there's anything you'd like to eat, please let me know. I'll ask the chef to prepare it."
"I just need you gone."
"Then I'll leave it here for you."
"I said I don't want it!"
Vincent snarled, curling in on himself. I didn't respond, only sweeping my gaze over him from head to toe. His hair was a tangled mess, his clothes loose and stained, looking filthy. Even the sheet beneath him had yellowed slightly—who knew when it had last been changed?
"The sheets need changing too. And your clothes. A quick bath would do you good. I'll prepare the water."
"Get out! I said get out!"
Aaah! A rough, grating shout erupted. It was loud enough to ring in my ears. Yelling like that every day, it was no wonder his voice was hoarse. Yet the venom in it never faded. If anything, it seemed to grow more poisonous by the day.
I suppressed the frustration that flared up multiple times a day. So this is how easy I've had it until now? I shook my head, already exhausted, and took a deep breath.
I was used to the foul tempers of the upper class. No—it wasn't just the upper class. Most of the people who had employed me had been like this. Because I was poor, because I was a woman, I'd endured every kind of scorn and humiliation. The household of this demon's spawn was no different.
I had survived it all. Don't look down on me just because I'm poor!
"I'll bring another serving. Please wait."
Without looking back, I left the room.
The moment the door closed, thud!—something hit it. A pillow, most likely. I exhaled deeply, imagining the object from the sound. For no reason at all, I stomped my shoe against the floor a few times as I walked away.