Chapter 56
The Count's Secret Maid - Chapter 56
Translation: godsn
"You could call it cold-hearted, but it's the truth. Though it may not have been his intention from the start, the reason Vincent confided his secrets to you, Miss Maid, was likely because he thought he could just kill you if you ever spoke of them. The others probably felt the same way. Innocent Violet might not have had such thoughts, but at the very least, I did."
"......"
"Are you disappointed?"
"No."
Though sudden, it wasn't a particularly surprising revelation. In a way, I might have already known. I had been sold for gold coins from the very beginning. Having lived a life where death lurked around every corner, I never expected safety just because I now resided in a luxurious mansion.
Secrets must remain buried.
See nothing, hear nothing, speak nothing.
Unnecessary curiosity only invites disaster.
I had repeated that to myself countless times. Keeping my mouth shut was the only way to earn even a single extra day of survival. I had seen too many people disappear because they let their tongues slip. So I kept my mouth shut, and at times, I had to gamble my life by showing my true feelings. Every word and action I directed at them was a life-or-death gamble.
And that remained true even now.
"Are you going to kill me?"
"What do you think?"
"I think you will."
I answered calmly and honestly. At my words, Ethan simply laughed.
Silence lingered in the carriage. Though our eyes met, neither of us could easily break the quiet. Perhaps it was the weight of the situation, or perhaps it was the raw sincerity he had just revealed—either way, we studied each other carefully, choosing our words with caution.
Then, Ethan was the first to avert his gaze. He tilted his head slightly and let out a sigh, as though debating something.
"I agonized over whether to tell you or not, but since this might be the last chance, I suppose it's better you know. It'd be a shame if the truth never reached you. He's a bit naive, you see—no sense of tact. Honestly, it's frustrating."
"Huh?"
His abrupt words lightened the tense atmosphere. I stared at him in bewilderment, and he chuckled in amusement before shaking his head.
"Lucas has been frail since childhood. His frequent fits made it impossible for him to even dream of going outside. He mostly stayed confined to his room, and feeling sorry for him, we often wrote him letters. Writing replies to those letters was how Lucas staved off his boredom."
"......"
"Then, one day, he started mixing colors into the ink and sending his replies back in those hues. Violet received purple, I got red, and Vincent—gold."
As I listened to his words, I couldn't suppress the trembling in my heart. A long-held curiosity seemed to finally unveil its truth. As that truth spilled from Ethan's lips, my gaze wavered uncontrollably. Noticing my reaction, his smile turned mischievous.
"After meeting Vincent—who had been out of contact—and returning to the mansion, Lucas asked me about you, Miss Maid. Remember when you asked me what color ink I used? That came to mind, so I asked him on a whim, and he admitted he'd been sending letters there. When I pressed him about why he never mentioned it, he said someone else had been writing the replies for him."
"......"
"I knew exactly who it was."
Letters arrived frequently at the Bellunita Mansion. Among them, the ones that had caught my eye—the letters written in golden ink—the ones I had personally replied to under Isabella's orders... The sender of those letters was—
"I used to tell Lucas about you often. Even though they were trivial stories, he would listen with such delight. Now... I think I understand why. With Vincent hiding away in the mansion too, he must have been left alone, trembling with anxiety. Those replies must have been a great comfort to him."
The golden letters had intrigued me. But the letters themselves held no real significance. I had merely written formulaic responses tailored to his messages—I'm doing well, the weather is nice, thank you—and he had read those brief words with such joy.
So you knew who I was from the very beginning.
"Lucas liked you very much."
"I know."
"......"
"I know it well."
I buried my face in both hands. My tightly pressed lips trembled.
Now, I understood everything. The kindness he had shown me from the very first moment we met. The way he had followed me around, trying to strike up conversations, the reason he had clung to me in fear, the sincerity behind his plea to abandon everything and run away—'Why don't we just run away together?'—only now did I truly grasp the courage behind those words.
Tears streamed down uncontrollably. I couldn't contain the sorrow. Not a single memory surfaced. Whenever I thought of that day, all I could do was tremble in terror. That was why I couldn't bring myself to ask Vincent the question I now blurted out to Ethan.
"Lu—Lucas... Lucas, how did he...?"
"He said you needed time to prepare your heart."
At last, the dam broke, and I sobbed.
If I had run away with Lucas back then, would anything have changed? If I had taken his trembling hand and fled together, would things be different now? If I hadn't left him bleeding and run away alone—but in the end, I hadn't been able to answer a single one of his words.
No more words followed. The silence was painful. Clutching my chest, I poured out the grief that Ethan couldn't even shed tears for.
After a while, the carriage stopped. Ethan opened the door and patted my shoulder. I wiped my tears, grabbed my bag, and stepped out.
But—
"Where is this?"
It wasn't the mansion. Though we were still in the woods, the outline of a village was visible below. It wasn't the village beneath Bellunita Mansion that I had visited with Lucas before. This was an unfamiliar place.
I turned to look at Ethan.
"You weren't planning to kill me after all."
My face was still flushed from crying as I snapped at him. At my expression, Ethan suddenly laughed, his round eyes softening with warmth.
"Of course not. I really was on my way to see Vincent."
"I was trying to run away."
"......"
"The master said he would send me to Nobelle's Villa because if the culprit found out I was at the scene, I'd be in danger. Just the other day, I was attacked by a stranger and nearly killed. So today, I was rushing to the villa when I heard the butler had sent someone to... deal with me. I suppose he was worried the master would act for the sake of a mere maid. That's why I was running. I want to live."
I calmly explained the situation. It didn't make sense that Ethan, who had been threatening me just moments ago, was suddenly showing such kindness. Did he have another motive? I watched him warily, but Ethan listened attentively, his smile and warmth unwavering.
"Miss Maid. You were merely a single page in this long, old story. There's no reason for you to get involved in this matter. You don't need to sacrifice yourself. Forget everything that happened here and go your own way."
"......"
"Don't worry about this place. It's something we've anticipated for a long time. Both Vincent and I have prepared extensively—now we just need to wrap things up."
Ethan spoke as if comforting me. Unlike the troubled expression I'd seen days ago, he now seemed strangely unburdened. Even though it couldn't possibly be that simple, he took it lightly—that was just like him.
"Are you sure it'll be alright? I know... quite a lot."
"Hmm. Were you planning to tell someone?"
I immediately shook my head. Ethan smiled as if he'd expected that and stepped closer. Then he held out his hand.
"Young miss, you're the one who saved my friend. You comforted my younger brother who had withdrawn into himself, and you helped us reunite. I won't forget that kindness. Ever."
When I hesitated, uncertain, he took my hand in both of his.
"I never properly called you by name. I knew it, yet I never said it."
"......"
"Paula."
His brown eyes met mine directly.
"I wish you happiness."
I squeezed his hands in return. Ethan shook them up and down vigorously. When I looked up at him again, he gave me a warm smile. I knew—no, even someone like me who couldn't be part of their story knew—how difficult the trials ahead would be for him, for all of them.
Yet here he was, comforting me. Not hesitating to tell me to forget everything and live on.
"Lord Ethan."
"Will you call me Ethan now?"
At his teasing smile, I swallowed back tears and grinned widely.
"Lord Ethan."
"Yes?"
"I'll wish for it too."
"......"
"For everyone's happiness."
At that, Ethan smiled brightly too. Our tightly clasped hands fell apart, and I turned away. Gripping my bag with both hands, I steadied my breath and ran forward. Once again, I ran with all my might.
My world had never been beautiful. It was a life corroded by poverty, where children were sold for money, where even the bare minimum of human conscience was lost. In those cracks, only sorrow bloomed. There was nothing that wasn't bitterly cruel.
But here, for the first time, I realized—
That life could be beautiful.
That moments shared with others could be joyful.
That there were people who would wish for my happiness too.
That it was alright to live.
Now I truly felt the end approaching. Once I left this place, I would no longer belong to that world. I'd never see them again.
I thought of the ending of a book I'd loved.
Of the protagonist leaving everything behind to depart alone.
"Ah... This is the end."
At that moment, Vincent came to mind. The man who must believe I left well, who would remain alone waiting for the day we'd meet again. 'I'll bring you back to my side. Without fail.' My vision blurred. I didn't stop the tears. We'll never meet again. Not even by chance on the road. Will he look for me? Will he come for me? We didn't even say proper goodbyes. But that was fine. I didn't want farewells.
I wished for everyone's happiness. But most fervently, I wished for his. That Vincent's life would be filled with nothing but happiness. That the man left alone wouldn't hide in his room again. That he would move forward. That he wouldn't face danger again. That he could love the world once more.
And that someday, far in the future, I might see him again—even from afar.
That was what I wished for so desperately.
The darkness swallowed my small figure.
Let the secrets remain secrets.
And so, the mysterious maid of the Count's household was swallowed by the darkness, vanishing forever.