Chapter 95
The Count's Secret Maid - Chapter 95
Translation: godsn
As I stepped into the backyard of the mansion, rows of laundry hanging on the clotheslines came into view. The laundress was setting down a basket beside the clothes rack and began gathering the dried laundry. Though she frowned again when I joined in to help, it wasn't particularly difficult work, so I pretended not to notice and assisted. It would have been much easier if not for the man beside me.
I sighed at the persistent presence shadowing my every step. The laundress, who had initially tried to stop me, was now cautiously keeping her distance after reading Ethan's mood.
"Didn't you say you didn't want to leave your room?"
"You told me to do something other than sleep."
"That didn't mean you should follow me around."
"Watching you is quite entertaining."
I turned my frosty gaze toward Ethan, who was stuck to my side like glue.
"Why on earth are you doing this?"
"Because I want to get closer to Paula?"
I took a startled step backward.
"That kind of joke isn't funny."
"Oh dear, I wasn't joking."
"Don't you have anything better to do?"
"Nope."
His shameless reply left me speechless. Hadn't he said he was busy last time? Maybe I'd misheard. But the way he stood there blankly staring at me, he truly seemed like someone with nothing to do.
I shook my head as if looking at the most pitiful person in the world, but Ethan kept watching me undeterred by my reaction. At one point he asked, "Need any help?" which made me recoil in alarm as I firmly told him not to touch anything.
After helping gather the laundry and receiving fresh linens, we returned inside the mansion.
"What are you going to do next?"
Ethan trailed behind as he asked, but I didn't answer. Yet his questioning continued—while I organized what I'd brought to his room, replaced his drinking water, swept and mopped the hallway outside his chamber, and refilled the coal in the stove.
What's worse, he didn't just follow me continuously—he'd disappear suddenly while shadowing me, then pop out unexpectedly from somewhere to resume trailing behind. Thanks to this, I had to clutch my chest in surprise multiple times.
Having this tail-like presence constantly attached to me was so burdensome it was driving me mad.
After a quick meal, with time to spare, I went to see Robert. Ever since Ethan had designated me as his attendant, I'd been serving both Robert and Ethan simultaneously.
My service to Robert had originally been an auxiliary role supporting Nanny anyway, and perhaps because her duties had concluded, Nanny had recently stopped going out and remained constantly by Robert's side. As a result, the time I needed to focus on Robert had decreased. Naturally, I no longer wrote the reports about Robert that I used to send.
Still, I visited Robert's room whenever I had time. Today, Robert was taking a late nap, so only Nanny greeted me warmly. But when she noticed Ethan standing behind me, her eyes widened in surprise. 'Have you two grown quite close?' she asked outright, clearly amazed. It was indeed a bizarre sight. If we kept this up, I wouldn't be able to avoid someone's nagging.
Finally, I reached my limit.
"Just go take a walk!"
"Shall we go together?"
He proposed it as if he'd been waiting for this. For a moment I was tempted, but I shook my head.
"Servants can't leave the mansion grounds without permission."
"We can just go nearby."
"I'd rather not cause unnecessary commotion."
"Then keep working busily. I'll just watch."
At this rate, it seemed he'd keep following and watching me until I went to bed.
"So what are you going to do now?"
Just hearing that question again was tiresome. After brief hesitation, I spoke.
"I need to prepare dessert for the person I serve."
"Robert?"
"......"
He didn't answer and instead turned back toward the rear staircase. As Ethan looked like he might follow me again, I firmly instructed him not to follow under any circumstances, saying I'd return shortly, then descended to the kitchen. I immediately sought out the chef to request dessert and prepared tea for us both.
Balancing a thick chocolate cake, cookies, a teapot, and teacups on a silver tray, I climbed the stairs. Passing by Ethan who was eyeing what I carried, I continued upward.
"Robert would like this."
"It's for Lord Ethan."
"......"
"If I give you this, will you stop following me?"
After a brief silence, Ethan responded in a quiet voice.
"Am I making you uncomfortable?"
"Yes."
"Bear with it."
"......"
Honestly, this man.
"Please return to your room now and go back to sleep. Sleep as much as you want. I absolutely won't disturb you."
"Hmm. I'm not really in the mood to sleep right now."
"Just how long do you plan to keep following me around?"
"Until I get bored?"
An involuntary deep sigh escaped me. This conversation was going nowhere. Thinking I should just deliver the tray to his room and make my escape, I quickened my pace. I desperately wanted my freedom back.
I hurried up the stairs and walked down the corridor. The footsteps following behind me gradually sped up too.
"Shall we eat that together?"
"I'm fine."
"Come on, let's share."
"I must decline."
"Paula."
An unwelcome call reached my ears. I told you not to call my name! I stopped walking and swiftly turned toward Ethan.
At that moment, the door to Ethan's left suddenly swung open, and two maids exiting the room collided with him.
With short screams, both maids lost their balance and tumbled to the floor. Each had been carrying a vase—one shattered upon impact with the ground, while the other soaked Ethan's left pant leg before rolling away. Flowers from the vases scattered everywhere.
Standing about five steps away, I fortunately avoided the disaster of dropping my tray.
"W-we're sorry! So terribly sorry!"
One maid, recognizing Ethan, panicked and prostrated herself on the wet floor formed by the spilled water, repeatedly bowing her head while endlessly apologizing.
The other maid stiffened upon seeing Ethan, then slowly followed her companion's example in prostrating herself. Her hunched body trembled violently.
"P-please, m-mercy..."
"W-we beg for your c-clemency..."
It was nothing serious. A minor accident, completely understandable. Yet the maids trembled in fear, bowing their heads as if they'd committed some grave offense against Ethan.
Why? Puzzled, I studied them before turning my gaze to Ethan. He was looking down at his soaked pant leg.
"Spare our lives!"
A desperate cry burst forth. The other maid echoed it identically. " Spare us! Please don't take our lives! Please! Please!" It was practically a scream. The outburst startled me, but the person hearing it showed no reaction at all, his expression utterly blank.
Seeing that completely humorless face, I understood why they were trembling. The man standing there now wasn't the cheerful, perpetually playful man—he was Count Christopher. With his rigid expression, imposing presence, and immaculate appearance, he embodied the terrifying figure from those cruel rumors. Though this was a minor mistake, the maids trembled because they faced a nobleman who wouldn't hesitate to kill even his own blood relatives.
Ethan glanced down briefly at the maids trembling in prostration before taking a step forward. Flowers were crushed beneath his feet, but he paid no mind as he approached me. I stared blankly at his advancing figure.
"Let's go."
Ethan spat out just those two words and walked past me. Only then did I snap out of my daze and follow after him, keeping a step or two behind. As I did, I glanced back—the maids were still staring in our direction. Their faces, twisted with fear, were directed at Ethan, and the sight felt strangely unfamiliar.
Perhaps realizing that their sudden mistake had passed without consequence, one of the maids began to sob. Another embraced her, patting her back, their expressions like those of people who had narrowly escaped death.
I turned my head to look at Ethan. He must have heard the crying, yet he showed no reaction. He didn't even glance back.
My eyes swept over him from head to toe. Even upon second glance, his appearance was immaculate. His hair, slicked back with pomade, was flawlessly neat—not a single strand out of place. Except for the back of his head, just below where his hands couldn't easily reach, where tufts of hair stuck out stubbornly.
Seeing that, the tension inside me abruptly dissolved. I'd thought his grooming was impeccable—what was this? An unexpected sloppiness that threatened to make laughter burst through my clenched teeth. Had he been walking around like this the whole time? If anyone had noticed, they must've wondered what on earth was going on. He probably had no idea himself.
If the maids had seen the back of his head earlier, would they have been so terrified? If they'd been a little more composed, if they'd looked closely, wouldn't they have noticed his disheveled state? Couldn't they have realized he wasn't someone to fear? But overwhelming terror has a way of blinding people.
Come to think of it, whenever I'd crossed paths with the servants, they'd often flinched or frozen in place upon seeing me—or rather, seeing him behind me. Some would bow deeply, desperately avoiding eye contact. Without exception, fear was etched across their faces. Ah, so that's why. I hadn't realized it before—how sharp the air around him was, how everyone watched him with dread.
Someone as perceptive as him must have noticed, of course. Maybe it had been like this from the moment he first arrived at the mansion. Was that why he'd holed up in his room, doing nothing but sleep? He'd chosen me to attend to him, and the other servants hadn't welcomed him. That's why I was the only one who entered his room.
His chamber must have been the only place where he could let his guard down. The moment he stepped outside, he had to become Count Christopher again, subjected to the scrutiny of others. He hadn't done anything, yet people cowered before him out of sheer terror.
Maybe being able to sleep comfortably was the true "rest" he'd spoken of.
Ethan remained silent as we walked down the corridor. He didn't display the playful demeanor from earlier, nor did he initiate conversation. His gait was stiff, the air around him slightly heavier. But I, the only one who had noticed his dishevelment, glanced around before murmuring in a low voice:
"Lord Ethan, your hair is sticking out at the back."
Though my voice was quiet, it was loud enough for Ethan to hear. As if confirming this, his steps faltered for an instant. A hand immediately flew up, fingers fumbling awkwardly over the back of his head. Watching him, I calmly added, A little more to the side.
His pace quickened. Following behind him, I stifled the laughter threatening to spill out—my own small act of consideration toward his embarrassment. Though, admittedly, that consideration didn't last long before the laughter finally broke free.