“How was he?”
“Who?”
“James Christopher. I’m asking how he seemed.”
“Hmm. I only caught a glimpse of him from afar. He seemed displeased that he couldn’t meet Master. He knew you were here, so he demanded that you be summoned.”
His eyes were like a snake hunting for prey. A chill ran down my spine as I recalled the man I had seen earlier.
I have encountered many kinds of people since I was young, but that man exuded a singular, dangerous aura. He felt like a predator—the sort of man whose sleeve you shouldn’t even brush against, lest he devour you whole.
“He was certainly intimidating. His presence alone was…”
“Exactly. Don’t go near him. Be careful not to cross paths with him alone. If you do happen to run into him, don’t lift your head, don’t make eye contact, and don’t speak.”
“Is there any chance of that happening?”
“For anyone, there is always a ‘what if.’ Since you serve me, the possibility isn’t zero.”
“Why did you ever get involved with someone like that?”
“There is an exception to every rule.”
His words sounded like a lament. He looked so melancholic that I lowered my shoulder so he could lean on me. He shifted, his body sagging slightly.
“He wasn’t like that before.”
“Ah. You were old friends with Ethan Christopher, right? Then you must have seen him often.”
“Not often, but occasionally. He was always busy. But back then, he was taciturn, yes, but responsible and worth emulating. He even hung out with us when we were young. The James I knew changed only when Count Christopher passed away.”
“Count Christopher?”
“Ethan’s father. It was a murder case.”
Good heavens. I thought of the bright, cheerful Ethan. There was no shadow of such sorrow in his expression. Then I thought of his younger brother, Lucas. He bore a heavy heart; he smiled, yet he looked weary somewhere deep down.
“The culprit? Were they caught?”
“They speculated it was an outside intruder, but they never caught anyone. A servant was identified as a suspect, but due to a lack of evidence, the case was closed. James inherited the title. He is the current Count Christopher.”
Is that why he was so accustomed to giving orders? His demeanor had been borderline arrogant. Recalling it made me shudder, and I rubbed my arms for no reason.
“Ever since he inherited the family, he changed—as if he weren’t the man I once knew. He stops at nothing to achieve his goals. He never hesitated to use or kill people. If necessary, he would slaughter his own flesh and blood. It was as if he had become someone else entirely.”
“Surely not. Can a person really change that much?”
“Perhaps that was his true self all along.”
No one knows what hides inside a person. He curled his body inward. Thinking he might be cold, I sat closer. As our bodies touched, warm heat transferred between us, yet the parts that remained exposed still felt chilly.
“If you ever meet James, run. Run without looking back. Even if someone calls out to you, don’t turn around. That is for your own good.”
“And you, Master?”
“I… am currently running as fast as I can.”
Then, for how long? When I asked, he remained silent. Was he pondering? His closed eyes revealed nothing. Even if he looked peaceful on the outside, perhaps he was rotting away on the inside.
Then, the most fundamental question arose.
“Then why did he… go after your eyes?”
“…….”
Vincent opened his eyes. The weight that had been pressing on me lifted as he stared off into the void. I worried I had displeased him.
But that wasn’t it. His hat was pushed back by the wind, and his golden hair danced in the air. He didn’t stir. His eyes, fixed on empty space, seemed to be chasing the past.
“I told you before: some secrets must remain secrets. If you break that rule and try to peek, it only invites disaster. Right and wrong are irrelevant. The question is whether you can handle the consequences.”
“…….”
“It wasn’t me that James was aiming for.”
The wind howling around us swallowed his voice. The secret was buried, and silence consumed the air.
I couldn’t breathe.
Secrets must remain buried. Yet, he had confessed a fragment of that secret to me.
“I am not the one who needs to end this.”
He pulled his hat deep over his face, as if hiding. Leaning against my shoulder once more, he reached behind him and shook the iron gate. As the screeching echoed, he closed his eyes.
Now, only the wind hummed. I ruminated on his words, and though I tried to erase them, I found myself reflecting on the thoughts that kept rising again.
Then, who exactly was that man aiming for?
* * *
To my eyes, this place was simply vast and beautiful. The forest, the gardens, the mansions, the opulent interiors—it was all so beautiful it was blinding. I hadn’t come here to dream, but living here made me dream.
It was a place of sweet dreams, yet it hid a darkness beneath its brilliant colors—a darkness so thick and sticky that if you touched it, it would swallow you whole.
*“Then think about it. It’s not the right place for having foolish dreams.”*
*Wouldn’t you be happy if you had a lot of money?* Perhaps those were far too naive thoughts.
As the sun set and darkness swallowed the surroundings, I left the forest. I entered through the back door, and Isabella greeted us. Seeing that she said nothing, it seemed that man had left.
After that, nothing out of the ordinary happened. It was the same routine. The daily life that had briefly wavered soon settled back into peace, and my heart maintained its tranquility.
*[When I look up at the sky, I want to leave. To a distant place where no one knows me.]*
I read the letter with the golden lettering, just as always. But I caught a glimpse of sorrow amidst the brilliant colors. Is something wrong? As I tilted my head, Isabella handed me the next letter. On the outside of the envelope, it was written, *‘To Paula.’* The sender was Violet.
*[I am writing because I want to talk with you, Paula, just the two of us.]*
Below that, she added that she had ordered a new dress but was worried because the lace at the hem looked tacky. Following that were a few more complaints about the dress, and the letter ended with her sharing her daily life.
I picked up a pen and wrote a reply. Compared to her life, mine was trivial and uneventful, but it was enough to fill a sheet of paper. As I put it in an envelope and reached for the letter with the golden lettering again, Isabella stopped me.
“There is no need to write any more replies to that letter.”
“Ah.”
She took the letter and threw it into the fireplace. It burned quickly. At first, I wondered if she could do that, but then I remembered the first time I found a letter with golden lettering; it had been inside the fireplace. Isabella had said those letters weren’t stored—they were burned. I suppose one isn’t allowed to leave traces.
Still, it was a pity. We had exchanged quite a few letters. At first, I had found it difficult to write back, but once I got used to it, it became quite fun. I would look forward to the letters, curious and excited to see what was written. I even thought that if something good happened, I should write about it.
It was only a few lines, but I was careful. Perhaps that was why a sense of politeness permeated every short letter from the other side. Once, I had even tried to guess who the person was among the people in Vincent’s circle. It hadn’t yielded any results.
For a long time, I stared at the golden-lettered note as it turned into ashes in the fire. I couldn’t bring myself to break the connection, so I filled that void by exchanging letters with a new recipient.
Then, one day, as I had grown accustomed to that routine, it happened.
It was late at night, the moon hidden by clouds. The sound of the rain that had been falling since the afternoon was the only thing lingering within the mansion when a frantic knocking echoed through the house. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I fumbled for the nightstand. The oil in the lamp had run out, so I lit a candle and stepped out. As if he had heard the noise, Vincent Bellunita was stepping out of his room as well.
“I’ll go check. Please go back to sleep.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“It’s fine. Go back inside.”
“I’m already wide awake.”
I went downstairs with him. When I opened the door, a man stood there, soaked to the bone. At the sight of his face, my sleepiness vanished.
“Lucas?”
What was he doing here in the middle of the night? I stared at him, stunned, scanning him from head to toe, when I heard Lucas muttering something. His voice was swallowed by the rain. When I stepped forward and asked, “Pardon?”, he lifted his head.
Lightning flashed. In that blinding light, his anxious face was revealed, then vanished. When the thunder finally ceased, darkness returned, but his complexion remained hauntingly pale.
“Lucas?”
“I came to see… Hyung.”
I turned around. Vincent Bellunita was standing at the bottom of the stairs, gripping the banister. Lucas’s gaze fixed on him.
“Hyung.”
“Come in.”
As Vincent Bellunita turned and began to climb the stairs, Lucas followed. Water dripped from wherever he stepped, leaving a trail. I quickly shut the door and hurried after them.
The moment we entered Vincent Bellunita’s room, I brought a towel from the bathroom and handed it to Lucas. He thanked me and wiped his face.
The two men remained silent. Their expressions suggested they had much to say, but Lucas kept his words to himself, and Vincent Bellunita simply waited.
Amidst the heavy silence, Vincent Bellunita took my hand.
“Go back to your room.”
“But…”
“It’s alright. Just go.”
I glanced sideways at Lucas. Could I really leave them alone? But when Vincent Bellunita gave my hand a gentle tug, I reluctantly returned to my room. I lay down and pressed my ear against the wall, closing my eyes. Since our beds were placed against opposite sides of the same wall, I could hear faint sounds if I focused. However, I couldn’t make out the words.
Soon, the faint hum of their voices drifted through the wall. Their conversation continued for a long time, until the candle had melted away completely.