The Count's Secret Maid - Chapter 74

Translation: godsn

I slightly bowed my head to hide my face. Never had I regretted more the absence of bangs that could conceal my features. If I'd known this would happen, I shouldn't have cut them. Regret surged through me. Trying not to show my flustered state, I moved forward.

When I stood opposite Joelli, she handed me a floral ornament. Then she pushed Alicia, who had been standing beside her, backward.

"Ann, quickly. We don't have time."

"Ah, yes. Understood."

After glancing briefly at Alicia, I positioned myself behind Joelli. First, I combed through her tangled golden locks with a brush to smooth them, then twisted and pinned them up in various places. Between the twists, I secured small pins to hold the hairstyle in place before finally inserting the floral ornament at the very top.

Joelli examined her reflection in the mirror and smiled in satisfaction.

"I told you Ann has skillful hands."

"Thank you."

I bowed silently and stepped back. Joelli twirled once to inspect herself before turning to Vincent.

"How is it?"

"......"

"I asked how it looks."

"Not bad."

Though his tone remained indifferent, this time Joelli smiled contentedly as she admired her reflection again. I kept my gaze fixed on the floor. I desperately wished for this moment to pass quickly. As I turned my head slightly to the side, my eyes abruptly met Vincent's. Startled, I quickly lowered them again, but the eye contact had already happened.

"Oh, I haven't introduced Ann yet."

Of all times, Joelli chose that moment to interject.

"This is the servant attending to Robert. She's assisting Nanny. Ah, she and the maid who serves me are sisters. They don't look much alike, do they?"

Sisters? I heard the question in his voice. I could feel his gaze on me. My right cheek burned. Even without looking, I knew Alicia was glaring at me with displeasure.

But now that attention was on me, I couldn't pretend otherwise. Hesitantly, I turned my body and immediately bent at the waist. That wasn't enough—I even lowered my head deeply.

"...... Pleased to meet you. My name is Ann."

Even uttering those words made me tremble. My slightly parted lips quivered. I secretly swallowed dryly, trying to calm my pounding heart. I spoke as slowly and clearly as possible to keep my voice from shaking. A light introduction—just enough, like anyone would give.

The gaze fixed on the crown of my head stung. No response came. His demeanor felt stiff, but perhaps that was only natural. I smiled bitterly and waited calmly for him to acknowledge the greeting.

"Not our first meeting."

In an instant, my heart plummeted. My mind became a chaotic mess, my emotions laid bare. When I hesitantly raised my eyes—which I had kept slightly lowered—I saw emerald eyes staring straight at me.

I opened and closed my mouth several times before finally pressing my lips together. I wanted to ask what he meant, but I couldn't bring myself to speak.

Did he recognize me?

Did he remember me?

His eyes, now free of their dull haze, gleamed with vivid clarity. Those emerald orbs slowly swept over me. Though I kept my head bowed, my troublesome bangs were gone—perhaps he could see my ugly face clearly now. The realization made me fight the urge to flee.

But I don't want to avoid this.

If he truly recognizes me...

"Ugly."

...Ugly?

"I believe Robert called you that."

"......?"

He murmured thoughtfully, as if recalling something. I puzzled over what he meant. Then it hit me. The surge of emotion that had nearly brought me to tears shattered completely.

"I saw you coming out of the forest with Robert. Probably."

"The... forest?"

Nanny's sharp gaze immediately shot toward me. This time, my heart trembled for a different reason. Nanny, I've done everything wrong.

The usually composed nanny was now burning with fury—though only where Robert was concerned. As I kept stealing glances at Nanny's reaction, I accidentally locked eyes with Vincent again. I'd already raised my head halfway, meaning my face was now fully exposed to him. I'd missed my chance to lower it.

When he saw my face, his eyes widened. Then his gaze shifted toward Alicia before returning to me.

I instantly understood what his look—and the brief contortion of his face—meant.

"You don't resemble them much."

"......"

Then he turned his head to look at Joelli.

"Wrap it up and come out. I'll be waiting outside."

"Understood."

After hearing Joelli's response, Vincent glanced at the still-sleeping Robert. He brushed the boy's golden hair once before rising from the sofa. Then he exited the room with the same composed steps he'd entered with. His retreating figure, which never once looked back, disappeared as the door closed behind him.

Thud.

—Even after the door closed, my gaze remained fixed on it. Vincent's words echoed in my ears as I tried to decipher their meaning. 'You don't resemble them much.' 'The sisters look nothing alike.' 'you' re utterly hideous.' Phrases I'd heard before came flooding back one after another.

Shame burned across my face.

'You owe your life to that face of yours.'

It was something a village woman had said to me as I was carrying a basket of freshly laundered clothes. Since there was only one river in the village, the women would gather there to wash clothes while gossiping about this and that. As a result, our family affairs—and everyone else's—were impossible to hide.

But her sudden ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠remark made my mind slow to process. Not understanding what she meant, I simply looked up at her. The woman clicked her tongue sympathetically, arms crossed. 'If not for that face, you wouldn't even be breathing right now. You'd have been sold off like your sisters or beaten to death. If anything, being born with that face was a blessing in disguise.'

'......'

'That's what you call divine favor.'

As I listened, my eyes rolled. I pondered what exactly she considered a "blessing." But no matter how much I thought about it, no answer came—only a long trail of questions.

'Why?'

'Huh?'

'Why is that a blessing? Why should I consider being born like this fortunate? Just because I survived in place of my sisters, does that make it divine favor?'

It was genuine curiosity. I couldn't fathom why my appearance should be considered a stroke of luck. Could living under a demon's thumb truly be called a blessing? I really wanted to know—if she truly believed that.

The woman faltered. Behind her, the other women who'd been watching averted their eyes, gauging the situation. My gaze flickered toward them before returning to the woman before me.

'This isn't a blessing. It's a tragedy.'

My life is nothing but tragedy. As I said this, I raised the only visible corner of my mouth. The stifling bangs that obscured my vision were the product of that very tragedy.

This was no blessing—far from it. But I gave up. Struggling against something that could never change was pointless. That was my life. Nothing about me could change because nothing around me ever did. There were even times I wondered if death might have been a happier ending.

I'd told Vincent to be brave, but I myself had never mustered that courage. I hadn't even considered it.

So when I saw a grown man—a noble count, no less—cowering in terror on his bed, I pitied him wholeheartedly. Someone more wretched than myself. When he behaved as if I were his only lifeline, it made me feel good in a way. That there was someone who needed me. It almost gave me a sense of pride.

Vincent reminded me of Second Sister. Not in personality or appearance, but in that precarious fragility—the way it made me want to protect him, just as I had with her.

That's why I was glad when he clung to me as I attended to him. I truly wanted to help. Even when I was running away, the wish I made for his eternal happiness was sincere.

But he wasn't Second Sister. He didn't need my concern. Though he had lost his sight, he was still a noble in the end. My existence had been meaningless from the start. Perhaps he never even needed my help. Only now did I realize that.

And the self I had forgotten, too.

Splash—

Water splashed across my face and dripped down. The droplets that fell were murky black. The sour stench of stagnant water rose from my soaked clothes in an instant.

"Oh my, I'm so sorry!"

A housemaid rushed over, flustered, apologizing that she hadn't seen me there. But it was I who had suddenly stepped into her path as she was tossing out the water. I told her it was fine and rubbed my stinging eyes with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the back of my hand. Then, when my bangs were pushed back, I quickly lowered my head again.

"Are you all right?"

"Y-Yes, I'm fine."

Leaving the bewildered maid behind, I hurried away. The filth clinging to me didn't feel like it was just from the dirty water. The sour stench of the stagnant water seemed indistinguishable from my own body odor. With every step I took, droplets fell, leaving traces behind. A maid scrubbing the hallway wrinkled her nose. I kept my head down and quickened my pace.

The emotions that had sprouted since my reunion with Vincent only grew stronger.

When we met again, he was startled by my face. He tried not to show it, but I caught that fleeting moment. Bewilderment. It was the same expression I had always seen on the faces of those who looked at me. The fragile hope of "what if" shattered into pieces, and even the joy of reunion twisted into regret. I want to hide.

What if he realized I was the maid who once attended to him? Would he be angry that I disappeared? Happy to see me? Or just disappointed? No—he probably wouldn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠even recognize me. The arrogant, shameless maid in his memories couldn't possibly be this ugly wretch.

In the end, I was nothing but a shameful existence to Vincent.

I returned to my room and washed myself. Even after scrubbing away the filthy water, the discomfort lingered. It still felt like the stench clung to me. No matter how much I washed, I felt dirty. I kept scrubbing until my skin peeled, stinging sharply. When I touched the back of my neck, my fingers came away smeared with blood.

"If only I were a lizard."

Then I could shed this skin and emerge beautiful. Cast off this wretched shell and stand before that man with confidence in a new form.

But I'm human. I can't molt. Unless I die, the shape of "me" will never ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠change. Stop this. You promised not to think like this.

Shedding tears and drowning in sorrow is easy. But accepting it and moving forward is hard. Because sorrow doesn't come just once. It sneaks up suddenly, stabbing at you, dragging you into despair. If you crumble under it, that's the end.

I steadied my breath and doused myself in cold water. Forcing my wavering heart back under control.