Isabella approached the window and pulled the curtains, allowing a shaft of long-blocked light to flood the room. As the casement swung open, a rush of cool air swept in, and only then could I finally draw a full breath.
In the corner, shielded by the shadows, sat a bed. The sheets were piled into a jagged, uneven mound. When I caught sight of an arm protruding from beneath the fabric, I realized it was a person.
Isabella approached the bed. The sheets shuddered, then slowly retreated, though there was nowhere to run.
“Have you awakened, Master?”
“……Get out.”
A voice, thick with gravel and rage, drifted from the darkness. Isabella stood perfectly still, her hands clasped respectfully before her.
“I have brought your evening meal. I’ve prepared dishes that are easy for you to manage, so please, for the sake of your health, do eat.”
“Get out!”
The rounded shape moved with surprising speed, snatching a vase from the nightstand and hurling it. Isabella tilted her head; the porcelain whizzed past her and shattered against the floor.
I gasped, dumbfounded by the hostility, but Isabella remained impassive.
“I shall fetch a new vase.”
“I don’t need it. Don’t come near me.”
“Also, I have brought the servant who will attend to you from now on.”
Isabella cast a glance toward me. Standing by the door, still reeling from the violence, I smoothed my expression and stepped forward to join her.
Up close, the man on the bed was larger than I had imagined. Though his face was obscured, I could deduce his identity from the voice I had heard earlier and the silhouette I’d caught a glimpse of.
“N-nice to meet you, Master.”
“This child will serve you from now on,” Isabella continued. “If you need anything, please tell this child. I will have it ready immediately.”
“I look forward to serving you.”
I pressed my palms against my stomach and bowed. The response, however, remained unchanged.
“Get lost.”
The delivery was harsher than before.
I flinched, shoulders trembling, and glanced up at Isabella. She acted as if she hadn’t heard a thing.
“I will go fetch the evening meal.”
She turned toward the door, her gait as steady as it had been upon our arrival. As I secretly marveled at her composure—while my own heart hammered against my ribs—everything changed.
A hand suddenly shot out, fingers groping for a knife left on the nightstand plate. Seeing him fumble for the blade, I turned back in a panic.
“If you swing that blindly, you could kill someone!”
I rushed to grab his hand. Perhaps because I had moved too quickly, I failed to watch my footing. My heels caught on the trailing edge of the sheet, and I slipped. My field of vision flipped, and as I tumbled backward, my flailing hands caught onto something heavy.
A weight collapsed on top of me. Before I could process the pain of my head striking the floor, a crushing pressure pinned my chest. I wheezed, sticking out my tongue and squeezing my eyes shut.
“Master!”
At Isabella’s urgent cry, I realized the person pinning me down was the Master, Vincent Bellunita.
I snapped my eyes open. His face was inches from mine: thick eyebrows, emerald eyes, a high-bridged nose, and rough, full lips—a handsome face that would turn heads on any street. I was too stunned to move.
But something was off. Vincent, looking as startled as I was, began searching blindly from side to side. His emerald eyes were directed at nothing.
No, looking closer, the color of his eyes seemed strange, too—they held a milky, clouded sheen.
His hand reached toward my face. As his long fingertips brushed the hair covering my eyes, I shoved him away and scrambled backward. Only then did I realize the impropriety of my reaction.
I looked at Vincent, who had fallen back and begun groping the floor in a frantic, desperate rhythm.
Sensing the truth, I narrowed my eyes. Isabella hurried to pull Vincent to his feet. He stumbled as he stood, his gaze darting aimlessly across the room.
Just like…
“Your eyes…….”
Like a man who couldn’t see.
The face that had been darting around so quickly froze. Isabella glared at me sharply. It was only then that I realized I had committed a grave slip of the tongue.
Before I could stammer an apology, Vincent’s expression twisted with ferocity. He let out a roar and began hurling anything he could reach in my direction.
*Crash! Bang! Clatter!* I was defenseless against the barrage. I tried to shield my face, but it was useless. Isabella reached my side, grabbed my arm, and hauled me up. Accustomed to such outbursts, she showed no sign of surprise, and I followed her, trembling, as we beat a retreat.
Only after the door clicked shut behind us did the commotion cease. I clutched my chest, my heart drumming against my ribs.
“He is very sensitive. Be careful from now on. Especially with your mouth.”
“……Yes.”
Isabella turned away without another word. Watching her walk off, I sighed. I had a premonition that my future here would be anything but peaceful.
That day ended with the evening meal I had worked so hard to prepare being flipped over by Vincent’s hand. My room was the one right next to his. Usually, servants and masters lived on different floors, but I was ordered to stay adjacent so I could be called at any moment. Damn it.
Still, for the first time in my life, I fell asleep on a soft bed tucked under clean blankets. I was woken up once or twice by strange noises, but it was, all in all, a comfortable place to sleep.
Even if, the next day, after I dressed properly and brought in breakfast, I was hit in the face with a pillow.
* * *
Vincent Bellunita.
He was the Master I was to serve.
As the only child of the prestigious Count and Countess Bellunita, he had drawn eyes since childhood for his refined appearance and extraordinary intellect. Furthermore, his parents were a devoted couple; by all accounts, it had been a happy, loving family.
Then, due to an unforeseen accident, the Count and Countess passed away, and Vincent Bellunita, left alone, inherited the estate at a young age. Society whispered that he was too green to handle such a burden, but contrary to those concerns, Vincent led the house brilliantly. The family’s status grew day by day.
……That was the happy past.
One day, tragedy struck.
At a party hosted by the Royal Family, the proceedings turned to chaos when a man lunged at him with a knife. The assassin had been dressed as a Bellunita servant. Fortunately, because Vincent had guards, his wounds were minor, but the strange powder the assassin sprayed into his eyes caused the true damage.
At first, his vision was merely irritated. Then, it blurred until he couldn’t distinguish shapes, and at some point, the light vanished, and darkness took hold.
He was blind.
Since then, Vincent Bellunita had remained locked in his room—that was the story as it stood. The public believed Count Vincent Bellunita was simply recuperating.
There were rumors that Vincent might have been involved in the incident since the assassin had used a servant’s uniform, but those soon died out. It was discovered shortly after that the assailant was not a household employee. However, the killer’s identity and motive remained a void.
In the end, Vincent was blind, a secret known only to a few confidants—unknown even to the rest of the household staff. That was why I had to serve him alone. Secretly.
Keeping secrets was a condition of my employment. Never to breathe a word of anything that happened behind these doors. I had signed the contract with an implicit understanding of the consequences if I ever spoke out.
It didn’t matter. I just thought I would do my best. But I quickly realized that serving Vincent was much, much, much, much harder than I had imagined.
“Get all of this out of here!”
*Crash.* The twelfth plate met its end. I let out a secret sigh as I looked at the heroically shattered shards. No sooner had I bent my knees to clear away the glass than glasses and silverware went tumbling across the floor.
“Get lost!”
Wrapped from head to toe in his bedsheets, he looked exactly like a cat. A cat with its hackles raised, glaring as if to say, *how dare a thing like you try to tame me?*
Stray cats used to frequent the front of Mark’s bakery. One grew thinner by the day, its appearance so pitiful that it was the only one I would secretly feed. At first, it was wary, but eventually, it approached, took the bread, and began to purr and rub its face against my hand.
But he was too large to be treated like that cat; he was a full-grown man. I gathered the broken shards and tableware onto the tray and looked at Vincent Bellunita.
“I will bring you more.”
“I don’t need it. Just get lost.”
“If there is anything you would like to eat, please let me know. I will ask the chef.”
“All I need is for you to disappear.”
“Then I will leave it in the room.”
“I said I don’t need it!”
Vincent Bellunita shouted and recoiled, pulling his body into a defensive coil. I scanned him up and down. His hair was a chaotic mess, and his clothes were stretched, stained, and filthy. Even the sheets had turned a yellowed, neglected shade; I couldn’t remember when they had last been changed.
“The sheets need to be changed as well. And your clothes. I think it would be best if you took a quick bath. I will prepare the water.”
“Get out! Get out!”
*Aaaargh!* A fierce roar erupted, loud enough to make my ears ring. With him screaming like that, his throat must be hoarse every single day. Yet, his venom never subsided. If anything, it felt as though it were growing more potent.
I suppressed the frustration that surged within me. I must have lived too comfortably until now to be this exhausted already. I shook my head, fighting off the weariness, and caught my breath.
I was accustomed to the foul tempers of the upper class—no, it wasn’t just the upper class. Most of the people who hired me held that same attitude. Because I was poor, because I was a woman, I had endured every kind of contempt imaginable. This household, governed by a devil’s whelp, was no different.
I had endured and survived all of those things. *Don’t you dare look down on me just because I’m poor!*
“I will be back with more. Please wait.”
With that, I turned and left the room without a backward glance.
The moment the door closed, *thud*—the sound of something heavy hitting the wood echoed. A pillow, perhaps? I let out a heavy sigh as I imagined what the object might have been, tapping my heels against the floor as I walked away, just to vent the frustration.