Chapter 97
The Count's Secret Maid - Chapter 97
Translation: godsn
"Honestly, I couldn't understand it at first. I just thought it was because he was such a fragile person. But looking back now, I think I had a moment like that too. The first time I met Paula."
Ethan paused for a moment, then suddenly chuckled. His gaze shifted slightly, as if reminiscing about the first time we met.
"I simply thought she was just a new maid, but the moment I realized she wasn't—the relief I felt was indescribable. Ah, Vincent isn't alone anymore. Even if it's just a little, there's someone by his side now. Even if he entertains dark thoughts, there's someone who will stop him with all their might."
His smile deepened.
"It's not because Paula did something special or because she's an extraordinary person. Rather, she probably doesn't realize how much comfort it brought just to have her there, doing nothing but standing by his side."
"......."
"Vincent must have felt the same way."
His eyes, fixed on me again, were brimming with affection.
"If someone reaches out to you in the darkness of despair without any ulterior motives, and if you come to trust that hand—how could you ever forget that memory?"
His softly spoken words felt like an embrace, soothing me. A warmth spread through my body, an illusion so vivid it felt real.
"I... don't understand."
I couldn't comprehend what Ethan was saying. Why me? What about me? My arrival at that mansion was nothing but a coincidence, so why do you speak of being comforted? Why do you look at me with such affection, as if whispering cherished memories?
To become someone unforgettable, someone missed, someone who brings comfort—you must be worthy of it. But I had no such worth.
The moment I began toddling, Father immediately put me to work around the house. Gripping a broom taller than myself with both hands, I stumbled around learning to clean.
One day, I followed Father alone, carrying a towering pile of laundry, only to be abandoned at the washing area. Standing there bewildered, I peeked over the shoulders of the women nearby and tried washing clothes for the first time. My small hands fumbled clumsily, and my efforts were pitiful. When Father saw the sopping pile of laundry, his large hand struck my cheek. "You're only kept around if you're useful, understand?!""Waaah!""Shut your mouth!" Father showed no mercy, even to his own child. I didn't even understand why I was being hit, crying until I eventually passed out. After that, I realized crying only angered him further, so I stopped. "You're useless, so you have to do this if you want to live with us. Got it?" Father whispered, pressing a knife into my tiny hand. The sharp blade terrified me, but he forced me to grip it anyway. That day, I peeled an entire sack of potatoes, cutting my hands over and over. The potatoes I peeled were turned into watery soup, which Father ate alone. "Worthless brat." He often said things like that. Scowling, clicking his tongue, sometimes unleashing merciless violence. To him, an ugly child who wouldn't even fetch a decent price was nothing but a burden.
And when Mother fled alone in the dead of night, not long after giving birth to the youngest, I finally understood.
I'm a person without worth. A useless existence.
Holding onto my younger siblings' hands, the realization sank deep into my bones. Someone like me couldn't possibly have been that for you.
"I don't know if I'm that kind of person."
Even the parents who brought me into this world rejected me. I couldn't save my siblings from death. The one sibling who remained, like my parents, despised me. No one ever cared for me. To be loved by someone—that was something I could never dare to hope for. I couldn't understand Ethan, who spoke as if I were someone precious.
In a daze, I licked my parched lips while staring at him. Ethan said nothing, meeting my gaze with eyes as still and deep as a quiet lake.
Soon, he patted the back of my hand again. Though slow and feeble, his touch was incredibly warm. His long, brown eyes glowed with kindness.
"Paula, don't overthink it. Like I said before, I'm not trying to make things difficult for you. I just... wish the two of you could face each other honestly, even just once. You hid your appearance from Vincent, didn't you? If he's been missing you all this time, that's just too pitiful."
Even though my earlier response must have sounded strange, he didn't comment on it. He simply smiled gently.
"I just had a funny thought—maybe it's fate that we've met again like this."
"......"
"It's just a coincidence."
"You should say, 'I was thinking the same thing.'"
"......"
"Well, to be honest, I don't usually believe in fate either. But right now... I kind of want to."
Suddenly, Ethan leaned his face closer to mine. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then hesitated. Wondering what he was doing, I waited curiously for his words.
"Actually, you see......"
His voice, when it finally came, was heavy. What could he be about to say? Without realizing it, I pricked up my ears and leaned in—
Knock knock.
The sound of someone rapping on the door made me jump. I whirled around to see Vincent leaning against the doorframe—when had it opened?
Huh? When did he get here? How much did he hear? Please, don't tell me he heard everything...? Frozen in confusion, I stared at him, and Vincent calmly surveyed the stiffened Ethan and me before speaking.
"Seems I've interrupted."
Only then did I take in our own positions—hands clasped, faces so close they nearly touched. Anyone would misunderstand.
Flustered, I shot to my feet, and Ethan raised both hands in surrender.
"Don't misunderstand. We were just talking."
"No need to explain."
"If I don't, you will misunderstand."
"Don't."
Despite the firmness in his tone, Vincent's reaction was indifferent. Neither denying nor confirming. He definitely misunderstood.
I opened my mouth to explain, but the moment our eyes met—out of habit, I averted my gaze before I could stop myself. I turned my head so far he couldn't see my face, then immediately regretted it.
Ethan, watching the two of us, let out a low, ominous hum.
"How long have you been here?"
"Just now."
"'Just now'when?"
Had Ethan been worrying the same thing? He pressed for details. Vincent hesitated briefly but answered readily.
"When you were going on about fate."
So he hadn't heard the earlier conversation. I exhaled in secret relief—though what he had heard wasn't exactly reassuring either.
Perhaps because of our past connection, Ethan never treated me stiffly, and I, too, had grown comfortable around him. But that very ease made it impossible to predict when I might slip up. Worse, he sometimes called me by my real name. I'd have to find a chance to beg him to be more careful.
"Did you come to see me?"
"Yeah. I have something to say."
At that, Ethan's expression flickered with surprise before he glanced at me.
"Pau—"
"I'll step outside!"
I cut him off frantically. One more word, and I'd strangle him. Glaring murderously to convey that, I watched as Ethan shut his mouth. Instead, he grabbed my arm and yanked me down. Before I knew it, I was seated on the sofa again.
"Stay here."
"Huh?"
Flustered, I glanced at Vincent. His faintly twisted expression betrayed his discomfort, and unease prickled through me. If this was an important conversation, shouldn't I leave?
But every time I tried to stand, he pulled me back down, leaving me half-rising and half-sitting in an awkward loop. I shot Ethan a look—Stop this—but he pretended not to see.
This is exactly how misunderstandings happen!
I could feel a piercing gaze on me.
"You two seem close."
Vincent plopped down onto the sofa across from us. Having failed to escape my seat, I could only bow my head deeply.
"We're acquainted. As I mentioned before, he used to work at our mansion."
"That seems like an unusually deep connection for mere acquaintances."
"Well, let's say we share some secrets. A cooperative relationship, if you will?"
Ethan's casual remark could easily plant misunderstandings where none existed. Startled, I shot him a glare before noticing Vincent's gaze and bowing my head again. The stares raining down on me burned like hot needles.
"There's some dessert left if you'd like?"
Ethan slid forward a plate with the remaining chocolate cake.
"No thanks."
"It's really sweet—perfect for eating. Here."
As Ethan pushed the plate even closer to Vincent and even poured him tea, Vincent could no longer refuse and picked up the cup.
The teacup clinked against its saucer. That was the only sound. After that, neither Vincent nor Ethan spoke another word. Vincent, who'd claimed to have something to say, just kept chewing his cake, while Ethan silently sipped his tea.
The wind blew through the open window, carrying the sound of rustling leaves, but not a single human voice escaped between them. As if by some unspoken agreement, they didn't even look at each other.
Caught between them, I kept anxiously glancing back and forth.
Now I was certain—that tension I'd felt last time hadn't been my imagination. A heavy atmosphere swirled through the silent room. An uncomfortable air enveloped the two men. I wouldn't call them close friends, but five years ago, they hadn't been like this. Now the suffocating discomfort made me want to scream.
Being stuck between them made me increasingly uneasy too. 'I want to run away.' My butt squirmed restlessly.
"More tea, perhaps?"
Summoning my courage to lighten the stiff atmosphere, I lifted the teapot, but Vincent only gave me a sidelong glance without responding. Frozen stiff, I soon reached the limits of my patience. Was I supposed to pour or not? I wished he'd just say what he had to say and leave, but Vincent kept silently, painstakingly chewing his cake as if determined to analyze every ingredient that had gone into making it.
In the end, I quietly refilled his empty teacup without a word.
Then I tentatively asked Ethan,
"Shall I pour you some more?"
"No, thank you."
His cool refusal made me slump dejectedly.
Silence again. My hand holding the teapot trembled. If I made up an excuse to leave, would they see through the lie? Did they care about me that much? I had no idea what was going on, but if this continued, I'd be the first to lose my mind. I desperately plotted my escape.
"You said you had something to tell me?"
Finally, Ethan broke the ice. Only then did Vincent set down his teacup and look at him.
"Why did you decide to stay here?"
"Where did that come from? I'm just resting here for a few days."
"Give me a real reason."
"You can think of it as a short recuperation."
"Not that."
Ethan's eyes widened.
"What exactly are you asking me to say?"
"I'm asking what you plan to do while you're staying here."
"What exactly do you think I'm going to do?"
"I'm saying it because I think you might do something."
"Do you really think I have some ulterior motive for staying here?"
"Yes."
At Vincent's blunt response, Ethan froze momentarily. But soon he broke into a playful grin.
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm just here to rest."
"Here, of all places."
"Robert is here."
"I truly hope that's the only reason."
There was an inexplicable edge to Vincent's retort. Sensing it, Ethan draped an arm over the back of the sofa and rested his chin on his hand. The tilt of his head suggested displeasure, but his expression remained unreadably blank. Ethan studied Vincent intently.