The Count's Secret Maid - Chapter 76

Translation: godsn

Yes, I messed up.

Right after the disastrous incident, I begged Vincent to spare my life.

"I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry."

"Do you even know what you've done?"

"Yes. I apologize. It's entirely my fault."

"So you'd kill someone after helping them twice and just say sorry, huh? Or is that how you treat people who help you?"

"......"

That mouth of his hasn't changed a bit. But since it was my mistake, even if I had ten mouths, I had no right to argue—so I silently endured his scolding. Vincent seemed to have more to say, but he couldn't bring himself to put that catastrophe into words and seemed to be swallowing his anger. Meanwhile, Joelli had been laughing obliviously since earlier.

"I-It's f-fine, pfft—Vincent, snrk. D-Don't you need to get a d-doctor's opinion first? Keuk."

"Shut your mouth."

"Pfft—HAHA!"

But Joelli kept laughing uncontrollably, and Vincent's murderous gaze shifted back to me. My head drooped low. I subtly tried to hide behind Johnny's back, but he sidestepped to avoid me. I shot him a pleading look, begging him not to abandon me, but Johnny was firm.

"You deal with it yourself."

What a jerk. In the end, I had to endure that terrifying moment alone.

That day, I seriously considered running away again.

Since he always visited Robert whenever he came here, several more uncomfortable situations followed. The displeased glances directed at me soon turned into outright indifference. Occasionally, Joelli would jokingly bring up that disaster, making me break into a cold sweat.

Alicia, the other witness to the catastrophe, looked conflicted, as if she couldn't decide whether to be jealous or not.

Even now, remembering that day makes my face burn. I thought I'd be punished, but whether for the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sake of his dignity or not, he took no action against me. Thankfully, I hadn't kicked him there but rather the side of his thigh, so disaster was avoided—but it was obvious what kind of impression I must have left on him.

This time, I avoided him for entirely different reasons.

"Ah......"

It happened when I was bringing Robert's dessert to his room. Someone was already inside—an adult man holding the child in his arms. Even from the back, I immediately recognized who it was.

As I froze in surprise, Vincent noticed me and turned around. The moment his gaze landed on me, I instinctively bowed my head, habitually fiddling with my bangs. Flustered by his unexpected appearance, I peeked up briefly—only to see him frown in recognition. The sight of his displeased face made me inexplicably nervous.

Stiff as a board, I watched as he raised a finger to his lips.

"Shh."

Shh? Ah—shh. Shh. I mimicked him, clumsily pressing a finger to my lips before nodding awkwardly. Vincent averted his gaze and patted Robert's back with his large hand.

"Mama..."

A voice thick with tears murmured softly. Up close, Robert's face was puffy—he must have been crying. Again. His longing for his mother was intense. He often cried like this when sleepy. I couldn't help but wonder just what kind of person Robert's mother was.

Vincent gently stroked Robert's head—slow, careful, yet familiar motions. After a moment of fussing, Robert let out a steady breath.

Bright beams of light streamed in through the large window, casting a glow over Vincent's disheveled, short blond hair. Robert mumbled and rubbed his chubby cheeks. Vincent adjusted his hold with practiced ease.

Their figures swayed gently in the sunlight.

They... actually look good together?

"Why are you staring like that?"

Vincent, who had turned to look back at me, frowned.

"No, no, it's nothing."

I immediately lowered my gaze and bowed slightly.

Before long, only the child's steady breathing echoed through the room. After laying the now soundly asleep Robert in bed, Vincent stepped out of the room.

I, who had been standing there holding the silver dessert plate all this while, stole one last glance at the sleeping Robert before quietly making my exit. Treading softly, I gently closed the door behind me.

"You."

The hardship I'd momentarily forgotten came crashing back.

When I met those murderous eyes, I instinctively raised the silver plate to shield my face without thinking.

"W-would you like some?"

Even to my own ears, the question sounded absurd.

"What?"

He seemed equally baffled.

"I brought this for the Young Master, but since he's asleep now... If we don't eat this, it'll melt. And melted desserts lose their flavor, which would be such a waste. S-so if you don't mind, if you like sweets... No, even if you don't, I mean, that is to say, uh..."

As I rambled on, my words grew increasingly incoherent. What was I even trying to say?

Though my voice gradually trailed off, he remained silent. An awkward atmosphere settled between us.

As I floundered, unsure how to salvage the situation, the silver plate suddenly felt lighter in my hands. Glancing down, I saw him leaning against the nearby windowsill, already holding the dessert meant for Robert.

It was a chocolate cake. He broke off a piece of the dark cake with a fork and popped it into his mouth. Chewing thoughtfully. There was no sudden outburst asking what nonsense I was spouting. He simply began eating the cake with genuine enjoyment.

I nearly laughed. It wasn't just his attitude—the moment he took that first bite, his face seemed to come alive. Though he pretended otherwise, it clearly suited his taste. His expression remained stern yet oddly satisfied. Apparently, his sweet tooth hadn't changed.

"Would you like some tea too?"

Thinking the cake might be too dry, I poured tea from the set I'd brought. But what the child drank wasn't proper tea—it was honey-sweetened milk. The sight of the creamy white milk made me fluster again. As we both stared at the milky drink, he wordlessly took the teacup from me and downed the milk.

"Sweet."

"It has honey in it."

"Perfect for a child's palate."

The "child's palate" apparently included the man before me, who drank the saccharine milk with evident relish.

Holding the silver plate, I cautiously edged closer until I stood beside him. He didn't tell me to leave. Didn't even glance my way, as if I were beneath his notice.

Silence swirled through the hallway where only we two remained. Quiet. Yet not uncomfortable. Perhaps because watching him enjoy the sweets overlapped with old memories.

"What was your name again?"

"Pardon?"

"Your name."

"Ah, I told you last time, but perhaps you don't remember..."

"Last time?"

His voice turned dangerous. I quickly shook my head to clarify it wasn't that last time.

That day, when he'd demanded to know who I was with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠such ferocity, I'd been too terrified to answer, only watching ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠him warily. It was only when Joelli, who'd been laughing merrily, gave me permission to leave that I could escape.

"W-well, I'd introduced myself before that..."

"......"

"We'd met twice when I gave my greetings."

"Am I supposed to remember every single one?"

Though his tone was unmistakably sarcastic, what surprised me was something else entirely. He genuinely seemed to have no memory of our two previous encounters.

Normally, people say they can't forget my face once they've seen it. That I'm so plain—the complete opposite of Alicia—that it makes me more memorable. They usually grimace when they say it.

I'd thought he'd been equally startled when he saw my face too.

"You... don't remember?"

"You didn't stand out."

"Are you talking about me?"

"Who else is here besides you?"

His returning voice was icy. Ever since that incident, he'd made his feelings toward me clear. His usual irritation now laced with outright annoyance.

But I was genuinely puzzled. Was he pretending not to know?

No—the indifference in those dull emerald eyes was real. Only then did I understand. He truly had no interest in me. Enough to immediately forget the face of a servant he'd seen twice.

I wasn't sure how to feel. Should I be bitter about the rudeness of forgetting someone after meeting them, or grateful for not being treated as anything special?

Even so, considering what happened last time, Vincent's willingness to humor my awkward dessert invitation must have been his own way of showing consideration. And yet, he could be so prickly—just how prickly could one person be?

Time had passed, but he hadn't changed at all.

"Ann... Was that it?"

But what came from his lips ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wasn't my name. I hesitated to answer. I had told him my name twice already, yet now, for some reason, I didn't feel like responding. Even though it wasn't my real name, I couldn't bring myself to say so and chose silence instead.

"I'll remember it."

Somehow, I doubted he meant that in a good way.

I stole a glance at him as he enjoyed the rest of the cake. His emerald eyes shimmered with clarity, and his serene face showed no trace of suffering. He really can see now. No matter how many times I confirmed it, it still felt surreal every time I looked at him.

Perhaps sensing my repeated glances, he subtly frowned—as if telling me to look away. I quickly averted my gaze to the floor.

"Is Nanny out?"

"Yes. She left for the main house early this morning. She often goes out for some reason, frequently visiting the main house."

"Is it a regular occurrence?"

"Lately, yes."

"And Robert? Is he managing without any difficulties?"

"Yes. He's doing well."

"Does he still ask for his mother often?"

I, who had been answering promptly, faltered. Had he overheard my conversation with Robert that day? After a slight delay, I nodded.

"He doesn't show it much, though."

"Because showing it wouldn't change anything."

It was a familiar phrase. I'd heard it from Nanny before.

Truthfully, Robert wasn't the type to openly whine about missing his mother. Though he chattered away when he was with Nanny, he never let those feelings show. After the incident in the woods, when Nanny scolded him, he explained why he had acted that way—even admitting how much he missed his mother.

Nanny had smiled bitterly then. 'That's because he doesn't show it. He doesn't because nothing would change even if he did.' When he was younger, he used to throw tantrums often. But since they never got him what he wanted, those displays gradually faded.

Just say you miss her. Throwing a tantrum would have been more childish. But even that little boy was a noble. He lived under the strictness of noble society. Maybe Robert was more mature than I thought. 'If he says he misses her, listen to him.' That was what Nanny had asked of me.

"Still... he's doing fine."

"Hmph. If he were really fine, he wouldn't be climbing the iron horse statue to look outside."

So he knew about that too. He was more attentive to Robert than I'd assumed.

"What do you think?"

"About what?"

"Do you think there's any way Robert could stop missing his mother?"

I rolled my eyes briefly. It wasn't a question I could answer easily.

But I knew the answer.

"Is there someone you miss, my lord?"

"...... Why do you ask?"

"Because the depth would be the same."

"......"

The depth of longing stems from affection. Robert loves his mother deeply. So there's no way to make him forget. You might distract him for a while, but completely erasing it is impossible.

"If it were something he could forget easily, he wouldn't have missed her in the first place."

It wasn't something that could be forced, either.

That's just how emotions are. Even if they aren't entirely pleasant, even if you never wanted them, you can't just discard what's carved into your heart. That's why they're complicated, troublesome, and painful.

"Just because it's unseen doesn't mean it's light."

He was right. Not showing it doesn't mean the longing isn't there. Just as no one knows the struggle of a child with short legs straining to climb the iron horse statue, no one can truly measure the depth of Robert's hidden yearning. If anything, emotions buried deep might run even deeper.

Because not everything is visible to the eye.