“Isabella, you still look as lovely as ever. You haven’t changed a bit.”
“And you, Ethan Christopher, have become even more manly since I last saw you.”
“Ah, there’s no need to flatter me. I’ve aged quite a bit.”
Ethan smoothed his chin and settled into the sofa. Isabella signaled me with a flick of her eyes. I hurried over with a tray and placed a cup of tea before him.
“Thank you.”
He offered me a warm smile over such a trivial service. It was jarring to see a man of such high standing, draped in fine clothes, treat a lowly maid with such genuine grace.
“Vincent Bellunita’s condition seems to have deteriorated significantly. He wasn’t this bad when we last met. How long has he been shut away?”
“About half a year, sir.”
“Half a year… I see.”
Ethan offered a bitter smile, his eyes shadowed with undeniable worry. It was certain—Ethan knew. He knew the state of Vincent’s sight.
To hold a truth that even the estate’s own servants were denied suggested a bond that defied the usual social order.
“Vincent and I are friends. Very close friends.”
Perhaps I had been staring too intently, for Ethan kindly offered an explanation. I immediately lowered my gaze and bowed.
“I apologize.”
“Haha, no need for apologies. You’re a new hire, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm, you have a different air about you than the maids I’ve seen here before…”
He studied me as if weighing my soul. I stiffened, the tension coiled tight in my chest. Fortunately, he shifted the topic.
“Does Vincent stay in his room around the clock?”
“He does.”
“His current state… the situation from just a moment ago tells me everything. I heard the rumors. There were a few more unfortunate incidents even after I left. I was away on business, and I was careless.”
“Ethan Christopher, you have done your best.”
Ethan smiled painfully, his finger tracing the rim of his teacup.
“Isabella. I chose my family over my friend. That is the truth. The timing was poor, but that’s just an excuse. I decided on my own that Vincent would be fine and I left. But I never, ever wanted him to end up like this…”
“Ethan Christopher.”
“I’ve never seen Vincent like this. Even when Count Bellunita and the Countess passed away in the accident, he wasn’t this broken.”
Ethan’s face darkened. In that expression, I saw the genuine grief of a man feeling another’s sorrow as his own. Is that what friendship is supposed to be?
What is this? My Master lives in a world of self-imposed exile and constant, jagged fear, yet he possesses a friend like this. It is truly bizarre that a man with a personality as foul as my Master’s could hold onto such a bond.
“Isabella, I must see his face this time. If I leave now, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.”
“I will prepare a room for your stay.”
Isabella signaled me. I nodded and retreated from the drawing room.
***
“Does it suit your taste?”
“Good enough.”
Vincent scooped up the rice porridge and brought it to his lips. In the way he chewed—slow, silent, deliberate—I caught a glimpse of the refined aristocrat he used to be.
He had started eating on his own recently. It was an astonishing change. The day after that dreamlike night, when I placed the spoon in his hand out of habit, he didn’t recoil. He simply began to eat. I had stared at him, frozen in shock.
‘W-why are you doing this? Thank you for eating quietly.’
‘Do you think I don’t get tired of having it shoved down my throat until I gag? If I keep eating like that, I’ll eventually choke to death.’
‘You have quite a sense of humor.’
‘It’s not a joke.’
It wasn’t quite that dire, though I grumbled to myself. Still, I couldn’t help but be moved by the sight of him feeding himself. It was a feeling not unlike taming a stray cat that used to haunt Mark’s bakery.
‘You aren’t feeling ill, are you?’
‘Shut your mouth before I throw you out.’
His temper remained as sharp as ever.
Still, it was progress. However, his appetite remained dismal. Watching him leave the bowl barely half-empty, I made a cautious suggestion.
“Would you like to eat a little more?”
“I’m full.”
“Just a little more.”
“I said I’m full.”
Vincent frowned fiercely. I clicked my tongue in regret and took the bowl.
“You need to take your medicine. Here.”
I guided his hand to the cup, and he drank it without protest. That’s right, that’s right. I watched with satisfaction. Once he finished, I reached into my pocket and pulled out something round. After peeling off the wrapper, I placed it into his mouth.
“What is this?”
“A candy. You always complain about the bitterness, so I thought it would cleanse your palate.”
“Am I a child?”
In my eyes, he was a fully grown man, but deep down, he was still a child. Still, he didn’t spit it out, perhaps because the medicine truly was wretched.
“What happened to that man?”
“Who are you referring to, Master?”
“The one who came this morning.”
“Ah, Ethan Christopher. He said he would stay for a few days. He said he absolutely had to see you.”
At that, Vincent squeezed his eyes shut. It was the face of a man witnessing his own private hell. He sighed—a sound I rarely heard—and rubbed his face with both hands. Seeing him like that, I grew confused. The guest seemed so genuinely concerned; I couldn’t fathom why my Master loathed him so viscerally.
“Would you like to see him?”
“Forget it. Do not let him into this room, ever.”
Vincent waved me away and collapsed onto the bed. Watching his retreating back, I brought up the topic I had been steeling myself to address for weeks.
“Master, you need to wash.”
“…….”
He turned away, silent. Cowering toward the wall, he made it clear he had no intention of bathing. I stared at his back, leaned in close, and sniffed. I immediately scrunched my face in distaste.
I grabbed his arm, hauled it over my shoulder, and hoisted him off the mattress. Taken aback, Vincent twisted violently. A few days ago, he would have roared; now, he asked in a voice of weary resignation.
“What are you doing?”
“You smell.”
I gripped his arm, refusing to let go. It was a scent I had detected the very first time I entered this room. At first, it was alien; then, I was too preoccupied with his whims to care, and eventually, I had simply grown accustomed to the stagnation. I had brought wet towels to wipe his face, neck, and hands, but it was never enough. Today, the stench made my head ache.
“When was the last time you actually washed? The smell is enough to pierce my nose. Since you cannot see, you should have asked a servant for help.”
“Stop talking nonsense and let go.”
“Only if you wash.”
I had filled the tub as soon as I entered the room. Today, I was determined. Vincent flailed, but in his weakened state, he was no match for my resolve. I clamped my hand around his waist and dragged him toward the bathroom. He resisted every step, his boots scraping against the floor.
Reaching the tub, I guided his hand to the basin. He felt the porcelain, then gripped the edge tightly—clearly intending to overturn it. I grabbed his wrist; he fought back.
The struggle escalated into a tense tug-of-war. I lost my footing, and because his arm was still anchored over my shoulder, he went down with me.
*Splash!* We crashed onto the bathroom floor. I looked back to see Vincent had tumbled directly into the tub. He sat there, shocked, completely drenched, and then began to tremble. With rage.
“……Are you alright?”
“You, you……”
Watching him struggle to form a sentence, I was left speechless. I reached out to grab his arm, but he swatted it away. He tried to heave himself up using the edge of the tub, but it was slick with water. He kept falling back, splashing wildly. It seemed he wouldn’t need a bath after all; he was already soaked through.
“…….”
Suddenly, his movements stopped.
It was just as I was watching him, tense and breathless, that the door swung open. Footsteps echoed—Isabella. She stopped in her tracks, her gaze shifting from me to the soaking, furious Vincent.
Her face showed a flicker of surprise, but she remained impeccably calm.
“It would be best if you were undressed next time.”
“…….”
“I have something to discuss. I will take over the remaining service.”
She turned her eyes to me. Seizing my chance, I bowed low and scrambled toward the door. I gathered the laundry and hurried out, heart hammering. I was saved!
***
“Is it true that Ethan Christopher has arrived?”
Renika, who had come to collect the linens, asked with wide eyes. We crossed paths daily, and our conversations had grown comfortable. I checked the items in her basket and replied.
“Do you know him?”
“He’s a friend of the Master. Besides, he is the second Young Master of the Christopher family.”
“I suppose he must be famous.”
“He is. It’s not just his status—it’s because he’s good at this.”
Renika gestured with her hand, waving it in front of her face as if to suggest he was devastatingly handsome. Well, he did have a certain polish. And considering how polite he’d been to a servant like me…
“He did seem kind.”
“Yes, he’s sweet. You know how people like us are often ignored by those in high positions, right? But Ethan Christopher doesn’t ignore us; he treats us with warmth. That’s why he’s considered a wonderful person among the female servants.”
“I see.”
“I’ve only ever seen him from afar. If only I could speak to him even once, how wonderful would that be?”
Renika cupped her cheeks and giggled, her face flushed with a dreamlike ecstasy.
“Ethan Christopher is staying in the annex. If you want to see him, couldn’t you go there later? You might greet him by chance.”
“Oh, no, I can’t. We aren’t allowed into the annex.”
Renika waved her hands, looking horrified at the suggestion. I blinked, stunned by her reaction.