Chapter 93
The Count's Secret Maid - Chapter 93
Translation: godsn
I turned my head to observe Ethan. He was facing Vincent with a faint smile, but his expression seemed bittersweet.
"Do as you please. I won't force you."
"......."
"If you don't want to believe me, then don't."
Just like before, Ethan brushed off Vincent's words as if making a lighthearted joke. Vincent pressed his lips together. The tightly sealed corners of his mouth seemed to voice his displeasure.
A brief silence fell. Though it was only a short moment, the atmosphere grew so heavy that it felt unbearably long.
I glanced back and forth between the two of them. Vincent looked as though he had much to say, yet the words wouldn't come easily, while Ethan, though not avoiding his gaze, seemed oddly uncomfortable. What is this? What's going on...? Despite their outwardly unremarkable appearances, I sensed a strange tension between them.
Soon after, a sigh reached my ears. Vincent furrowed his brow and pressed a hand against his forehead.
"Fine. You have no reason to lie. I must have misunderstood."
His voice, somehow weary, dug into my ears.
Having finished what he came to say, Vincent turned to leave immediately. I hastily reached out to stop him.
"Ah, wait!"
But in my hurry, I ended up grabbing his wrist. Vincent froze in place. I flinched and let go, stepping back once more.
His gaze returned to me. My back instinctively bent into a deeper bow.
"What is it?"
"Um, I—I was just wondering if you were all right after last time."
Because he had ignored me, I hadn't been able to ask properly about that day. I wanted to know if he had recovered—if he was doing better now than when he had been in such a poor state.
Or if he had been injured anywhere. I cut my hand—could he have hurt himself somewhere too? He looked fine on the outside, but what if there was a hidden wound?
If I didn't ask now, I might never get another chance. Summoning my courage, I spoke up. But there was no response. Is he trying to remember when 'last time' was? I was about to clarify when—
"I'm fine."
A light reply followed.
Then, the sound of footsteps grew distant. Straightening my back, I watched Vincent's retreating figure. When I turned to look at Ethan again, his smile had vanished, lost in thought. My eyes darted between the two of them.
"Vincent."
Suddenly, Ethan called out to him again. I thought Vincent wouldn't turn back, but he stopped in his tracks and slightly twisted his upper body toward us.
His face was expressionless, but I could sense the complicated emotions hidden beneath.
"It's late, but... it was good to see you again after so long."
"......."
The affectionate voice hung in the air. Still, Vincent showed no reaction. After a moment of blankly staring, he turned away again. The sound of his retreating footsteps was just as heavy as before. Ethan, perhaps not expecting a response, soon turned to me with a playful grin.
"Looks like you owe me another favor."
"Yes. Thank you for your help."
Though I politely thanked him aloud, my mind lingered on what had just transpired between Ethan and Vincent.
If I wasn't mistaken, something had happened between them. The tension I had sensed before still lingered—no, it was even thicker now.
Still, I didn't press further. I wanted to ask, but Ethan's playful demeanor seemed to silently tell me not to.
"Earlier, the mood seemed tense, but now it doesn't seem so bad? Did something happen between the two of you?"
"Ah, I ran into the master in the hallway late one night not too long ago. There was a bit of an incident then."
I gave a vague explanation, figuring the details would only complicate things.
"It was nighttime... I suppose that makes sense."
To my surprise, Ethan simply nodded, though I had expected him to press for more.
"If Vincent meant colored ink, was it the kind Lucas used for his letters? I've seen it before—that white liquid they add pigment to. Right?"
Was that how it worked? The ink I received was already colored.
"Where did you get it?"
"An acquaintance procured it for me. Said they borrowed it through a mutual contact."
"Hmm. I see."
Ethan spoke as if it were nothing. I found it a little odd, but then again, perhaps the ink I received had already been tinted. Still, there was a bigger issue.
"But why did you say that? That I used to work for your family?"
"If you're going to lie, you might as well make it airtight."
"Huh?"
"Life needs its trials and tribulations, don't you think?"
What kind of nonsense is this?
"I've been thinking about what you said last time. You hoped Vincent wouldn't find out, didn't you? Well, I'll respect Paula's wishes. Let's deceive him thoroughly—perfectly."
"What are you scheming?"
"I intend to help things go exactly as Paula wants."
"......"
"Why?"
"Can't I help?"
"It doesn't seem like your intentions are good. You even told me not to do this before. Your words now contradict what you said earlier."
"Well, Paula and I are in a mutually beneficial arrangement. Remember that proposal?"
I let out a dry laugh. Remember? It was a spur-of-the-moment suggestion, born from the crisis of an unexpected guest barging in—an attempt to secure an ally. I never actually expected him to accept. And yet, he remained unchanged. I thought he might have softened, but no, he was still as troublesome as ever. If he genuinely meant to help, I'd be grateful, but...
A stifled chuckle escaped me. As if on cue, Ethan's grin widened.
"You're curious, aren't you?"
"About what?"
"Which version will hold true."
In that instant, a chill ran down my spine, as if icy water had been poured over me. My smile dropped. The haze in my mind sharpened into focus. The moment I recognized the glint in his cheerfully curved eyes, I realized—I had walked right into my own trap.
It had already begun.
His and my little game.
Damn it!
When I opened the door and stepped inside, Alicia rushed at me. She grabbed my arm, yanked me forward, and forced me onto the bed. I sighed at the predictable reaction.
"What's your problem?"
"How do you know that man?"
"Who?"
"Count Christopher! That man! I heard he's friends with the master!"
So she'd heard that much. How was I supposed to explain this? Laying it all out would be tedious, but if I didn't answer, she'd badger me relentlessly.
"Just... circumstances led to it."
"How? How do you know him? Wait—was the mansion you worked at before his? Was he your former master?...No, that can't be. You said you ran away because you fell out of favor."
"Why are you bringing that up now?"
"Why? When else would you have had the chance to get close to a nobleman?!"
It was a sharp observation. If I had any connection to nobility, it would have had to be from back then. From the way Ethan treated me, Alicia must have sensed some familiarity.
"Tell me! Am I right or not?!"
She pressed for an answer. I hesitated before finally parting my lips.
"No."
"No?"
"Yeah. I didn't work there."
I almost lied and said yes, but I didn't want to drag Ethan into trouble, so I answered honestly. The intensity in Alicia's eyes told me that lying would only invite disaster. Still, I didn't elaborate.
But Alicia's expression seemed oddly relieved upon hearing my answer. Why is she reacting like that? Puzzled, I frowned and studied her face. Seemingly oblivious to my reaction, Alicia turned away from me and muttered under her breath.
"Figures."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing. Mind your own business!"
She's the one who asked first, and now she's getting annoyed for no reason.
"Though I thought you'd want to leave this place as soon as possible. Seeing how quickly you decided to stay when they extended your probationary period."
"That's not it. There are circumstances."
"Hmph! Yeah, right. You scheming little minx."
Why on earth should I be called a scheming little minx?
"Then how do you know that man?"
"I don't know."
"What? Hey!"
I no longer wanted to engage with Alicia. I flopped onto the bed face-up and pulled the sheets over my head. Alicia stomped around, spewing harsh words, but I shut my ears and closed my eyes. In situations like this, ignoring her was the best course of action.
Eventually, the original probationary period ended, and most of the people who had come here with me left the mansion. Only a few of us remained, including Alicia and me, whose probation periods had been extended.
Just as many had arrived together, they left in droves. The emptied mansion was soon refilled with new faces. Seeing those with strikingly good looks from afar reminded me of when I first arrived here. Though it hadn't been that long ago, it felt like a distant memory. Come to think of it, why do they hire staff in this manner? The reason remained as murky as ever.
After observing the excited faces of those anticipating new experiences in their future living quarters, I turned away. With each step I took, the sound of my footsteps grew heavier, thudding with discontent.
Climbing the stairs, I stopped before the first door at the top and let out a sigh.
I prayed fervently—over and over—that Ethan wouldn't do anything. With my probationary period extended against my wishes, I desperately wanted to live quietly.
But an uneasy feeling crept over me, as though that hope would never come true—as if I were already ensnared in a trap Ethan had laid. Before I knew it, I had fallen into the role of dutifully attending to his needs.
Standing before the door, which somehow felt heavier than usual, I exhaled deeply. I knocked twice, but there was no response. I knocked again, but still, silence. So I simply opened the door and stepped inside, only to find the room deathly quiet.
After a quick glance around, I set the meal I'd brought on the table. Then I threw open the curtains that had been tightly drawn to block the sunlight. As I turned, a rounded shape on the bed squirmed away from the sudden flood of light. It was well past morning, yet Ethan was still sprawled across the bed, having skipped breakfast entirely.
"Time to wake up. It's already lunchtime."
For someone who claimed he'd only stay here for a few days, he was turning into quite the sloth.
Ever since deciding to stay at this mansion, Ethan had done nothing but sleep. Like a man who hadn't slept in days, he barely ate, drifting in and out of sleep—over and over, endlessly. I thought he'd come here to rest, but judging by his state, it seemed more like he'd come to hibernate in the middle of a belated winter.
I tugged at the sheets, but he gripped them tightly, refusing to let go.
"Get up."
"Mmm... Just a little longer..."
"How much longer?"
"Five minutes... no, ten?"
"How about using that time to wash up, change, and have your meal? It would be a far more productive use of your time."
"I'll make that productive use happen... in twenty minutes."
His requested time had just doubled.
"Just get up now."
"I'm on leave. I deserve more sleep."
"Then go for a walk."
"Hmm... maybe..."
Uncharacteristically, he was being childish. He rolled onto his other side, determined not to let me take the sheets. Snorting, I yanked them with all my might. The rounded shape rolled slightly, revealing a tousled mop of brown hair—though his face remained buried in the sheets.