Chapter 96
The Count's Secret Maid - Chapter 96
Translation: godsn
As soon as we returned to the room, I fixed the back of Ethan's hair. The thought of him walking around like that all this time made me unable to stop laughing the entire time I was tidying it. When my laughter continued, Ethan—a rare sight—scowled and shot me a look.
After neatly arranging the back of his hair, Ethan once again invited me to tea time. After some hesitation, I readily agreed this time. Seeing his happy, smiling face made me feel oddly guilty for having been so stiff with him before.
And so we drank tea and ate desserts together. Once we entered the room and were no longer under the scrutiny of others, he relaxed completely in an instant. His previously rigid gait softened, and his stiffly upright posture became slightly slouched. Sitting on the sofa, his face looked at ease, as if all his sharp thorns had been plucked out.
I poured more tea into his empty cup and scooped up cake with a fork. The sweetness was delicious. I offered some to Ethan as well, but he didn't seem to like sweets much—after a few bites, he just kept drinking tea. So the desserts all ended up being mine.
Ethan sat on the sofa, almost lounging, as he sipped his tea. With his eyes closed, savoring the tea's aroma, his body gradually leaned further back. It looked like he was about to fall asleep again.
The teacup in his hand wobbled precariously. I was about to scold him for being careless but changed my mind. If he fell asleep like this, at least I wouldn't have to deal with him following me around.
Chewing my cake carefully so as not to disturb him, I watched his completely relaxed figure when a sudden curiosity struck me.
"Lord Ethan."
"......"
"Yes."
His reply came a beat too late, as if he had been abruptly pulled from the verge of sleep.
"Why on earth were you following me around all day?"
It didn't make sense to me that someone who usually holed up in his room to avoid attention would chase after me just because he found it amusing to watch me. Honestly, I wasn't that entertaining to begin with.
At my question, Ethan slowly lifted his eyelids. He blinked a few times before lazily turning his gaze toward me. The corners of his eyes curved warmly.
"I was bored."
"Just because you were bored? Is that really the only reason?"
"I already told you—I wanted to get closer to you."
"That doesn't sound like a proper reason to me."
"Why not? You've been avoiding me ever since we last talked."
His words struck a nerve, and I could feel my face stiffen.
I had been avoiding him a little since the day he brought up that bet. As someone serving him, I couldn't completely avoid seeing him, but every time he tried to strike up a conversation, I pretended to be busy and slipped away.
I was afraid he'd say something awkward again. Though I was happy to see him, I'd felt burdened ever since he mentioned the bet and started teasing me. And somehow, he'd noticed exactly how I felt.
"Honestly, I was hurt. You acted like you couldn't stand being around me."
"That wasn't my intention."
"So you were avoiding me."
"......"
"Don't be like that. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Paula. That's the truth."
Even as he said that, I still found myself in an awkward position. The extended probation period was one thing, but I also felt uneasy about having seemingly caught Vincent's attention in another way. And frankly, I wasn't entirely sure if Ethan—who knew who I really was—would actually keep his word and behave himself.
But seeing his genuinely hurt expression, I couldn't bring myself to argue further.
"......"
"I'm sorry."
"I wasn't asking for an apology."
Ethan scratched the back of his neck, looking slightly flustered before letting out a bitter laugh.
"So, what are you going to do now?"
"What would you like me to do?"
At this point, I couldn't even be bothered to answer that question, and I had nothing else to keep me busy. So when I threw it back at him, Ethan—who had been sipping his tea with a troubled expression—lifted himself from the sofa. The teacup clattered as he set it down carelessly, and then, to my surprise, he plopped down right beside me.
I flinched, shifting my hips away instinctively. The sudden closeness made my guard shoot up. Watching me, Ethan grinned.
"I'd like to continue our conversation like this."
"What kind of conversation would you like to have?"
"Oh, this and that? For instance... about the bet."
There it was again. I shook my head firmly, my face twisted in exasperation.
"I don't want to talk about that."
"Why not? It sounds fun."
"It's not fun for me."
"Still, think about it. Whether Vincent has forgotten Paula or still remembers her."
His words, sharp and heavy, stabbed at my chest. I exhaled a sigh.
"I think he's forgotten."
"So your stance hasn't changed."
"No."
"Why are you so sure?"
"Because there's no reason for him to remember."
I've said it before—it wasn't a good memory, nor was it something worth remembering. Even if he did remember me, that wouldn't automatically mean we had to meet. The desire to keep my identity hidden from him remained strong. Despite somehow ending up talking to him, that feeling hadn't changed at all.
"It wasn't even that kind of memory. Even if he does remember, I still don't want to meet him. That hasn't changed."
"And what about you, Paula?"
"...... Yes."
I couldn't answer right away. Ethan's sharp gaze bore into me. He'd caught my lie.
"Why are you so harsh on yourself?"
"Because it's the truth. I'm not someone special enough for him to remember."
"Paula, how many people in this world have clear-cut reasons for remembering and missing someone? Even if it's not special, you can still be a precious memory to someone."
"Ethan, I was just... in the right place at the right time."
I've wondered before—what if I had met Vincent sooner? Before he gave up on life, before he shut himself away waiting for death, back when he still had hope despite losing his sight. We would never have had the relationship we did.
I would have just been another servant tending to him, and he wouldn't have spared me a second glance. No—I wouldn't have even ended up in that mansion in the first place.
All of it was just coincidence. I happened to catch the eye of an old gentleman visiting the village, followed him to the mansion, and met a man who had lost his sight and fallen into despair. Then, for a brief time, I became his maid and shared fleeting memories with him.
Every single circumstance began with sheer coincidence. It wasn't some grand destiny.
"I just happened to be there when the Master was struggling with life, exhausted from all the hollow comforts. All I did was serve him faithfully—I wasn't even good with words, so I couldn't offer him the gentle reassurances others might have. Even if it hadn't been me, he would have left that room eventually. I didn't do anything special."
As I spoke, I gave a bitter smile.
"So your words, Ethan, are far too generous."
There was no way the time we spent together could have been a precious memory to Vincent.
A breeze drifted in through the open window, sweeping over Ethan and me as if to soothe my restless heart. Somewhere in the distance, cheerful chatter floated in, but the tranquility felt foreign to me.
Ethan stared at me intently without saying a word.
"Does Paula see us as extraordinary people?"
"I can't say no."
Even if it sounded like I was belittling myself, there was no helping it. That's just how social hierarchy works. I know their lives aren't always happy, but that doesn't put us on equal footing. It's simply true that people like me are different from them.
But Ethan quietly shook his head.
"You're wrong. We're not as extraordinary as Paula thinks. We too get hurt by someone's sharp words, and find comfort in being held. We know well how fragile faith can be—thinner and more trivial than tissue paper—and sometimes life becomes so painful we wish for death. We live lives no different or more special than yours."
"......"
"And we don't only remember things that are special. Don't be so hard on yourself. At the very least, I know Paula is a good person."
"What exactly are you seeing in me to say such things?"
I genuinely wondered. What part of me could possibly make you say that?
"Well, you call Lucas a kind person."
"Because it's true."
"But Lucas was such a coward."
"Please don't say that."
"Paula. That Ann saw a terrible truth yet closed her eyes and turned away out of fear. Then she dragged Vincent into it, burdened by guilt. Do you pity Lucas? Even though she's the one who made Vincent that way?"
"Ethan!"
I didn't understand why the conversation had veered there. I didn't want to hear such things. She's already gone. Whatever mistakes she made in life, I had no desire to criticize her after death.
When I glared fiercely, as if to tell him to stop, Ethan tugged at the corner of his mouth as though he understood my feelings.
"Are you angry?"
"Yes, I'm angry. Never—never say such things again."
"Will you get angry if I do?"
"Yes, I will."
"Paula, at me?"
"Yes. How dare I get angry at Ethan."
"Would you even spank my bottom?"
No, not that far. I paused briefly. Ethan chuckled.
"You know what? I'm glad Paula called him a kind person. I'm grateful to you for remembering him that way."
"......"
"By making Lucas into a kind person—that's how I know you're a good person."
He gently cupped the back of my hand. Then he patted my trembling hand, as if saying thank you. Though his touch felt awkward, I didn't pull away.
"But I... still don't understand."
I shook my head in rebuttal. No matter how much I thought about it, I wasn't someone who deserved such words. I couldn't comprehend or accept what he was saying.
His brown eyes gazing at me held a tender light. As if he'd expected this response, yet understood all the same. It was a look of affectionate consideration.
"Paula. Sometimes, people find salvation in the most trivial things."
"......"
"Lucas did."
For a moment, my breath caught.
"He nurtured his heart through the letters you exchanged. Isn't it funny? Not even knowing the other's face, developing affection over just a few exchanged letters. Anyone hearing it would say it's absurd. But Lucas told me—when he felt so lost he didn't know where to go, as if he were alone in a pitch-black world, a single line from a letter made him feel like it was telling him he wasn't alone."
"......"
"Do you understand? The feeling of being saved from despair."
Something jagged seemed to scrape at my throat. I swallowed dryly, but the scratching sensation remained. Now it rose to prick at the corners of my eyes.