Chapter 89
The Count's Secret Maid - Chapter 89
Translation: godsn
"Don't dislike him too much. He's just overly wary because he's deeply lonely."
"Yes. I don't dislike him."
"Really?"
"...... Maybe a little?"
At my answer, Ethan burst into laughter. He laughed so heartily he clutched his stomach. Propping my chin on my hand, I coldly watched Ethan's mirth.
"You left one out. This occasional honesty is part of Paula's charm too."
"I'll pass on that kind of charm."
"Haha. It's okay to scold him sometimes. Discipline is necessary too. The nanny is so distressed by Robert that she's too busy placating him even when he's being stubborn—someone needs to reprimand him properly."
"Thank you for the kind advice."
Then I'll discipline him thoroughly. If anyone complains, I'll say you gave me permission. Nodding with this thought in mind, Ethan laughed again.
"You've met Joelli too, right? Well, living here, you'd have to eventually."
"Yes. But what is her relationship with the master?"
It had been on my mind this whole time. With Robert, I understood—he was Violet's son. And I was relieved Vincent hadn't severed ties with Violet. But Joelli's identity still puzzled me.
Wait, she called Robert her nephew. Then with Violet...
"You didn't know?"
"Huh? Know what?"
"...... Ah, now that I think of it, you might not have realized."
"Excuse me?"
His incomprehensible words made me tilt my head in confusion. Ethan groaned softly before whispering in a hushed tone.
"This is truly a secret—I'm only telling you, Paula. You must never reveal it to anyone. Understood?"
"Oh, yes."
"She's the princess."
"Yes, the princess....... Wait, what?!"
This time, I was shocked for entirely different reasons. As I gaped in astonishment again, Ethan scratched his head and asked if I really hadn't known. By now, his question felt almost meaningless.
"Joelli and Violet have been close since childhood. Though she's royalty, she never treated people based on status. That's why they've maintained their friendship all this time."
"Th-then, could it be the one from the newspapers?"
"You saw it, huh? That's right. There was an article about her engagement to Vincent."
"So it's true?"
"Ah, not really. They just let the rumor spread."
I truly hadn't known. The faces in the newspaper photo were too small to make out their features clearly. And the princess in the picture had looked so elegant, so dignified... Who could have imagined she'd be living like this in the Forest Mansion?
"H-how did she end up here?"
"It's a long story, but... for the sake of her true life?"
"What does that mean?"
"Sometimes people need a place to breathe."
His words made no sense. Unable to comprehend, I frowned. My expression seemed to amuse him, because Ethan burst into laughter again. But since he didn't elaborate further, I guessed he didn't want to share the details.
"She called Young Master Robert her nephew, so is she related to Lady Violet?"
"They're relatives. Violet may not seem it, but she's royalty too."
"I didn't know that."
Suddenly, Violet seemed different in my eyes.
"Anything else you're curious about?"
Ethan asked once his laughter had subsided somewhat. I pondered carefully. What else was I curious about... As I repeated his question to myself, one thing came to mind. Perhaps it was what I'd most wanted to ask since the moment I met him.
Watching his cheerful expression, I hesitated before parting my lips.
"Um, Lord Ethan."
"Yes?"
"When you saw Lord Vincent again... his eyes could see."
I swallowed dryly. Ethan paused, then slowly nodded, as if urging me to continue.
"I was so worried, but he seemed much stronger now, living a healthy life. And his eyes... they looked like they could see perfectly."
"But..."
"But... the moment I saw him like that, I had a question."
Even after speaking this far, my breath felt strangely tight. A heaviness pressed against my chest. I licked my parched lips with my tongue. As if to give me courage, Ethan waited calmly for my next words.
Several times I parted my lips, but ultimately couldn't spit out the question swirling in my mouth. Ethan, noticing my hesitation, gave me a kind smile. He seemed to know what I wanted to ask. No—he was permitting it.
It's okay, go ahead and ask.
Ethan truly hadn't changed. A man who kept his own feelings tightly locked away while sharply piercing through others' hearts. That's why being with him felt uncomfortable.
This time too, he had uncovered what lay hidden in my heart. The question I'd most wanted to ask upon meeting him, yet couldn't easily bring myself to voice.
After working my lips soundlessly, I finally managed one sentence:
"What happened to Lucas?"
At last, I'd asked after his wellbeing.
"I wondered when you'd ask."
"......"
"May I ask why seeing Vincent made you think of Lucas?"
"Because Lucas had..."
Back then, I'd thought it was just excessive teasing. But the moment I saw Vincent again, I realized—it had been the truth. Perhaps part of me had wanted to believe I'd misheard. Though I'd been angry at his joking attitude, another part of me had been relieved. Relieved it was just a joke.
A kind person.
That's why he was a bad person.
"He said... he wanted to give Vincent his own world."
The moment those words left my mouth, a sob rose. Remembering Lucas always made my chest ache. My heart constricted and sorrow rose to my throat until I felt I might suffocate. That's why I avoided thinking of him. Knowing yet pretending not to know, imagining he was living well somewhere while turning away. Trying to forget the unease lodged in one corner of my heart. Even knowing full well that no amount of trying could erase it, I still prioritized my own selfish desires.
Lucas must be living happily—happier than anyone.
Because he had to be.
Now Ethan was giving me the answer about him. His brown eyes, tinged with sorrow, consoled me. Not wanting to see that face any longer, I buried mine in both hands. Fearing he might tell me to look up, I bent forward until my hands touched my knees.
"Paula."
"...... Yes."
"Lucas didn't hesitate. Nor did he regret it."
"Was there... was there really no other way?"
"Who knows. Had we waited, perhaps another method might have appeared. A way for both Lucas to live and Vincent to step back into the world. But there was no time left. Lucas' s condition worsened daily. His frail constitution since childhood was part of why it deteriorated."
"......"
"It was what Lucas wanted. Since it was that boy's own choice, I wanted to respect it."
Ethan's voice was composed. But I knew—knew all too well—how much anguish he must have endured to be able to say this. Who could possibly rejoice when their younger brother chooses to abandon his own life? Especially for the sake of his friend.
Both Lucas and Vincent had their own circumstances. Caught between them, Ethan had made his choice—and had to bear the consequences of that decision himself.
How much agony and suffering must he have endured before finally respecting and accepting Lucas' s choice? Only now did I understand the meaning behind what he'd told me.
The Count who survived by devouring his own blood relative. That was his truth. A truth too cruel to bear.
The image of his face—unusually stiff, devoid of smiles—rose before me. That uncharacteristic expression was the shell of Ethan who had borne everything that remained. The face that smiled at me might have been more tear-streaked than my own. I knew his habit of overcoming sorrow with lightheartedness.
Tears fell drop by drop. The sobs I'd tried to contain by biting my lips finally escaped. These were the second tears I'd shed since coming here.
The first time was for Lucas.
Now, it was for Ethan.
And for another man who had no choice but to accept this reality.
Because this was all I could do.
"Paula. Will you remember him? No matter how painful it gets, will you promise not to forget? Will you keep your memories of Lucas close to your heart?"
Would it even be right for me to?
Would it be right for me—the one who abandoned him at the end and ran away alone—to do that?
Would it be right for me—the one who fled and then shamelessly tried to forget everything—to remember him?
As if he had read my thoughts, Ethan patted my shoulder gently. As if to say, Yes, it would.
"Remember him. I want you to remember him, Paula."
"Hng... O-okay... I won't forget... I won't..."
"Thank you."
I shook my head violently—No, don't thank me. But he only continued to pat my shoulder, his touch careful and tender as he soothed me.
I lifted my head slightly. As I lowered my hands, Ethan's eyes widened before turning mischievous. My face, streaked with tears and snot, must have looked ridiculous.
Ethan pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to me. Instead of taking it, I reached out and ruffled his hair lightly.
What kind of days had Ethan endured, left alone so suddenly?
Vincent had shut himself away in his room after losing his sight, but Ethan wouldn't have done that. He, who assessed situations more coldly than anyone, must have kept moving forward without pause. He wouldn't have looked back, even if grief had tried to drag him down. Just as I had done, he must have done the same.
And that made my heart ache even more.
"You've been through so much."
"......"
"You held on so well."
The smile faded from Ethan's face as he listened quietly. I gave him a small, comforting smile in return, not bothering to hide my tear-streaked, snot-covered face—now even more of a mess. I wanted to cry for him, since he likely hadn't been able to weep freely all this time.
"Thank you for enduring."
"......"
"Don't say things like that."
"Thank you for staying alive."
"......"
"Thank you."
Finally, Ethan's face twisted. I wanted to break down the walls he had built, layer upon layer, and let the emotions trapped inside spill out.
Ethan covered his face with one hand. I gently ruffled his hair again.
But he didn't cry. After a moment, he steadied his breathing and quickly regained control. The sturdy walls had only cracked slightly—they hadn't collapsed. I knew this was how he protected himself. There were no tearstains on his face, just a faint redness in his eyes.
Ethan wrapped his hand around my wrist, still resting on his head, and lowered it.
"You haven't changed at all, Paula."
"Well, except for the bangs."
"That was quite the shock."
"But how did you recognize my face so quickly?"
"Did you think I wouldn't recognize you just because of the bangs?"
"Actually... yeah."
"I told you—I saw your face before."
Did he?
When I couldn't recall, Ethan pouted. I burst out laughing, and he quickly un-pouted, letting out a chuckle of his own.
We masked sorrow with laughter. Because we couldn't afford to dwell in grief, we laughed lightly, trying to shake it off. It wouldn't make the pain disappear, but perhaps, if we tucked it away deep inside, it would fade over time—so that when we took it out again, the sorrow would feel lighter.
Still, I was glad I could share this sadness with him.
"The last time I saw you, I hoped we wouldn't meet again."
He spoke as if recalling the day I left the mansion. I had felt the same. Just as the beginning had been rough, so too was the end. I hadn't expected to see him again—and if I did, I imagined it would be from afar, or a fleeting encounter on the street.
But here we were now, reunited.
"It really is good to see you again."
He smiled warmly. I grinned back, as if to say, I feel the same.