Chapter 99
The Count's Secret Maid - Chapter 99
Translation: godsn
Ethan slumped back onto the bed. His face looked as if he might burst into tears at any moment, yet in the end, he neither shed tears nor poured out his sorrow. He was still terribly inept at expressing himself honestly.
Seeing him close his eyes, I left the room. After carefully shutting the door and turning around, I froze. Vincent was leaning against the wall.
I stood there blinking in surprise when Vincent turned his head toward me. Though his face bore no particular expression, it was clear he had many questions. I immediately bowed my head.
I expected him to speak to me right away, but when I glanced up again, Vincent was staring straight ahead—not at me.
Here was yet another person woefully unskilled at honest expression.
After hesitating, I quietly stepped closer to Vincent. I couldn't just walk past him when he was standing like this.
A brief silence passed. Vincent didn't look at me, and I kept my gaze fixed on the floor. Just as the silence was becoming unbearable, the words I'd been waiting for abruptly spilled from his lips.
"How is he?"
Even asking was such a struggle. Still, he must have been worried, since he was inquiring about Ethan's condition. I didn't know what words had been exchanged between them in that room, but one thing was certain—it hadn't been an affectionate conversation.
I was about to say he was fine but stopped short. The memory of Ethan's contorted face suddenly made a petty resentment well up inside me.
"He cried buckets."
"......"
Almost immediately, I regretted the unnecessary remark.
"That was a joke."
Vincent stared at me, bewildered.
"What are you doing?"
"...... I thought you should know."
"Know what?"
"He didn't shed any tears. But from what I could see, it looked like he was crying inside. Bawling his eyes out, even."
"......"
Just what kind of relationship did Ethan and Vincent have now? Ethan had been sparing with his words, but I could tell the awkwardness between them wasn't born of simple emotions. It wasn't something that could be neatly defined—resentment, blame, guilt, or the like. Something far deeper and more complex was tangled between them.
To Ethan, Vincent must be both a precious friend and someone he felt guilty toward. Especially because of what happened with Lucas. But what about Vincent?
"After composing himself, he's resting now."
I calmly answered what he'd been wondering about. For some reason, his dissatisfied gaze lingered on me for a long time. Pretending not to notice, I bowed my head even deeper and stared fixedly at the floor.
"Did he say anything else?"
"He said you were very precious to each other—that there's no one else like you."
"That's an exaggeration."
The rebuttal came instantly. Admittedly, I had embellished a little.
"I heard you had a terrible fight."
"Did Ethan say that?"
"Yes. He said that's why you grew distant."
"...... Anything else?"
"Nothing more."
I held back, afraid that if I said more, he might grow suspicious of how much a mere servant like me knew. Vincent didn't press further.
Another uncomfortable silence stretched between us.
What had Vincent been feeling while waiting for me to come out? I understood all too well how treasuring someone could make you more cautious. That was likely why he couldn't bring himself to pour out all his emotions. Hiding even his true feelings, afraid they might wound the other person.
To Vincent, Ethan was both a precious friend and someone he resented—and at the same time, someone he felt guilty toward. I could vaguely grasp the complexity of his emotions.
Even now, he remained leaning against the wall without leaving. Though silent, it seemed he still had more to say.
I hesitated for a moment before finally parting my lips.
"Forgive me if this is presumptuous, but if I may offer one piece of advice—don't suppress your emotions too much. I worry that even your other feelings might grow dull."
His gaze shifted toward me again.
"And bottling things up will make you ill. Even if it risks hurting the other person, if you truly need to be honest, then you should speak your mind."
There must have been so much between them, so many emotions left unresolved. They should have addressed things as they came, but from what Ethan had said, it didn't seem like they'd even had a proper conversation.
In fact, hadn't I just witnessed it myself? That same dynamic had likely persisted for the past five years.
It pained me so much that I dared to speak out of turn. If they wanted to mend their relationship, one of them had to be the first to bare their heart.
"That almost sounds like you're telling me to pick a fight."
"That wouldn't be so bad, either."
Of course, speaking openly didn't guarantee a good outcome. It could wound the other person, or even lead to a heated argument.
But if they truly cared for each other, then even if the truth hurt, they would eventually come to understand the feelings behind it.
"So what if you raise your voices and argue? You're friends, aren't you?"
I believed they would recognize each other's sincerity.
Then, a sudden thought slipped out before I could stop it.
"Or if it comes to it, you could always settle things with your fists."
"With our fists?"
He repeated the words as if they were unfamiliar.
"Yes. Violence is bad, of course, but I've heard it can sometimes be a way to clear the air."
I didn't fully understand it myself, but I'd often seen men who had fought like they'd never see each other again, only to act perfectly fine the next day as if nothing had happened. Even with bloody noses and bruised faces, they'd say they'd finally vented all their pent-up frustrations. Since Ethan and Vincent were men like that, I wondered if the same method might work for them.
"With our fists, huh..."
Vincent murmured the words softly, turning them over in his mind.
Maybe I'd said something unnecessary. Surely he wasn't actually considering it? An uneasy feeling crept over me, and I quickly added, "Not to the point of drawing blood—just enough to leave a bruise or two, maybe?" Then, just as swiftly, I backtracked, saying that talking things out would probably be best. But Vincent, for some reason, seemed to half-listen to my follow-up.
As Vincent grew quiet, lost in thought, silence settled over the hallway again. I blinked, staring at the floor before occasionally lifting my head to gauge his reaction.
Had I upset him? He might think I was being insolent. I'd crossed a thickly drawn line between us.
His expression gradually darkened, and my stomach twisted with unease.
But contrary to my expectations, a sudden laugh escaped him.
"That's unexpected."
"Huh?"
"I thought you'd say something like, 'Make up quickly' or 'Resolve it calmly through conversation.' That's what people usually say in these situations."
His words left me bewildered.
"Why would I say that?"
Why would I ever say something like that? I hadn't even offered those kinds of words in Ethan's room earlier. I hadn't comforted him.
At that moment, I had been an outsider, absent from their pain. I could understand the wound, but I couldn't share in the suffering. Advice and comfort were things only someone who had endured the same pain could give. Words spoken without knowing the depth of another's agony were nothing but arrogance—no different from inflicting fresh wounds.
"I don't know the details between the two of you. I don't know what hardships you've endured or what scars you carry because of them. I wouldn't dare presume to understand. For someone like me who wasn't involved to preach about this or that—those are just empty words anyone could say. How could anyone only speak kind words when they're in pain? Whether to endure that pain or let it show—that's the choice of the person who lived through it. Whatever choice you make, I have no right to judge it as right or wrong."
"......"
"You can stay like this if you want. Not because it's good, but because there's no need to force yourself to try."
A once-broken relationship wouldn't be easily restored. How wonderful it would be if simply being honest could instantly make them understand each other's hearts and heal their wounds.
But theirs wasn't a gap that could be bridged so easily. Those who want to be honest and those who want to run away can never truly face each other as one. That was the root of why this relationship kept faltering.
Yet if they didn't try at all, there would be no chance of recovery.
"But if you want things to change, you can take it slow. These things take time. Little by little—even if you have to fight through it—you can face each other properly. You can raise your voice. You can hurt each other. If it's what you want, then don't be afraid to reach out. Bit by bit, if you keep building it up, change will come someday."
"......"
Just like you once did.
I bowed my head deeper after saying that much. The gaze burning into my cheek felt strangely emotional. When I subtly rolled my eyes to glance, Vincent was staring at me with an odd expression.
"What—what is it?"
"Just... curious."
"Huh?"
"There was someone... who told me something similar before."
Whoever that was, they must've been quite remarkable.
Vincent averted his gaze from me and stared straight ahead again. His slightly lowered eyelids trembled faintly.
"If we wanted to... could we ever go back to how we were before?"
The weight in his voice betrayed his struggle. I smiled faintly—because Ethan's words from before leaving the room came to mind. 'After Vincent found out everything, we should've talked properly, but we missed that chance. After that, we just drifted along, and now even having an ordinary conversation feels difficult.' Ethan had said that with a bitter smile. Was there really such a thing as the right time to be honest? He regretted not facing Vincent properly. And now, Vincent was agonizing over the changed dynamic between them too. That, at least, felt like a relief—because it meant they both felt the same.
"You can't go back."
"......"
"But you can build something new. Something stronger."
A relationship that's cracked and broken can never return to its original shape. Even if you glue the shattered pieces back together, the scars won't disappear.
But if you keep stacking and mending until those gaps are filled, it'll become sturdier than before. Not an easy task, but not an impossible one either.
"If that's what you both want."
Yes—if both of them wanted it. The dead could do nothing for the living. But as long as they were alive, what couldn't they accomplish? If they kept living, there would come a moment when even a broken bond could grow strong again.
The thought made me smile bitterly. I'd never had a relationship like that myself. But what I'd just told him was sincere.
"You're strange."
The sudden insult caught me off guard. Wait, what did I even do? Flustered, I shot him a sidelong glance. Vincent, who had been staring holes into me, turned his head slightly and furrowed his brow.
"Strange......"