My hands and feet swelled in the winter chill. I rubbed my reddened cheeks, trying to endure the biting cold, but the habit only invited disaster. Whenever I returned home hunched over like that, my father would greet me—that devil of a man.
I don’t know why he beats me. I’ve become accustomed to the violence, the bruises arriving long before the reason. Curling into a ball is the only resistance I can muster. There were times my younger siblings tried to shield me, only to be beaten in my place.
Alicia, however, would just glance at me and look away. She was the only one among us who was never struck. Father raised her with the utmost care, terrified that even a scratch might mar her fair face—all so he could sell her for the highest price one day. Alicia didn’t know that, of course. That was why she was so haughty.
As the few people who once held my hand disappeared one by one, I learned to endure the pain and sorrow with a cold, hollow composure. I didn’t even need tears. The moment I realized that, I woke from the nightmare. And then, I could no longer fall back asleep.
I sat huddled in a corner, leaning my head against the wall, listening to the familiar sound of his groans. I closed my eyes, letting that faint, rhythmic agony seep into my ears.
Beyond that wall, he is fighting, too. I am comforted by that sound. He might be angry if he knew, but sometimes, when I wake from a nightmare, I listen to his moans. I rub my reddened cheeks against the cold wall and let my tears fall, pushing away the terror. I realize that I am not alone.
“Th, then are you saying that the Christopher family made you like this, Master?”
“Yes.”
“Does Christopher know about this as well?”
“Ethan Christopher doesn’t know. It would be more accurate to say he doesn’t know yet.”
I asked what he meant by that. I was so startled I even stammered, while the person in question remained strangely nonchalant.
“He only suspects. But he isn’t certain. That is why he wanted to ask me. Whether his own family truly made me like this.”
“So, did you give him an answer?”
“I didn’t ask. I suppose he couldn’t bring himself to.”
“Why, why is that?”
“Because my condition is poor.”
I was left speechless.
“He may look the way he does, but he is a kind soul to his own people. He wouldn’t have been able to poke at my wounds while I was blind and consumed by terror.”
Only then did his behavior of avoiding Ethan Christopher make sense. But at the same time, a question arose: How did you come to know all of that?
“Why don’t you tell Ethan Christopher?”
“Because I have no reason to.”
Vincent Bellunita lifted his eyelids. His emerald eyes, still clouded but resolute, stared into the void.
“There are times when secrets must remain secrets.”
“…….”
That was the end of the conversation. He fell silent, and I did not press further. A warning sounded in a corner of my heart, telling me to stop. Since then, I have never mentioned that day’s conversation again, and he has offered no further explanation.
However, the terror remains. Every night, I feel with my entire being the frightening burden placed upon his hunched shoulders as he closes his eyes.
Secrets must be buried as secrets.
Pretend not to see what has been seen, pretend not to hear what has been heard, and never breathe a word of anything.
Reminding myself once again of the conditions I must follow to work here as a servant, I stayed busy attending to the Master today as well.
“Master, please wake up.”
The rounded shape on the bed shifted and squirmed, yet he did not emerge. He is sensitive to movement; he should have known I had entered long ago. I frowned and pulled back the sheet.
“You must have your meal.”
As his face was revealed, he scowled, his displeasure clear. His skin was drenched in sweat—he had suffered through another nightmare.
“You have sweated quite a bit throughout the night. It would be best if you washed.”
The musty smell that once filled the room had faded, and the clutter on the floor had thinned. Light, once a stranger to this dark room, had become a part of the daily routine. Lately, he has been eating well and living a life of sorts. However, he was still uncooperative and wary when it came to being touched.
“Get out.”
He clutched the end of the sheet I had taken. I didn’t give in, holding onto the fabric firmly.
“I have drawn water in the bathtub.”
When I first arrived here, the thought of bathing him was unimaginable. But our strange battles of strength and the slow crawl of time had tempered that, allowing me to make such demands.
“For God’s sake, get lost.”
Vincent Bellunita let out a deep sigh. His tug on the sheet was laced with irritation. He seemed to be in a particularly foul mood today.
“I will assist you.”
“Like last time?”
“Th, that was… I will go check the water temperature.”
I retreated to the bathroom. I had nothing to say about the time I dropped him into the tub.
I dipped my hand into the water, checking the temperature for no reason. After a moment of hesitation, I stepped back out to approach Vincent, who lay blankly on the bed. When I carefully touched his body, he shifted away. I ignored the reaction—it was familiar by now—and lifted his limp arm to drape it over my shoulder. As I pulled, he sat up and climbed off the bed.
Yet, contrary to his harsh words, he was docile today. Because of that, I moved him to the bathtub more easily than expected.
I placed his hand on the tub, and he reached out, fumbling for the edge. I moved quickly to undo the buttons of his top so he could wash comfortably, but he stopped my hand.
“I’ll do it myself, so get out.”
“Are you sure?”
I asked, surprised by his cooperation, and he nodded, beginning to undress slowly. I watched him blankly, only coming to my senses when he dropped his top onto the floor.
What had gotten into him? I quickly bent down to pick up his pajamas. As he went to take off his trousers, he suddenly stopped.
“If you don’t leave, I’ll flip this place over.”
“Understood.”
*Tsk.* I clicked my tongue softly and stood up; Vincent Bellunita’s face turned vicious, as if he had heard it. Expecting him to snap, I left the clean clothes on the floor and quickly slipped out of the bathroom.
I walked down the hall, making a deliberate *thump, thump* sound with my footsteps. As I faded the sound and stopped, the splash of water followed shortly after. He had entered the tub.
What is going on? I had expected him to flip the place over at least twice.
Surprised by his obedience, I decided to focus on the tasks at hand. I had to clean the room while he was bathing.
As always, I put the scattered items back in their places and changed the bedspread, sheets, and pillowcases for fresh ones. Then, I dusted every nook and cranny, swept the floor, and wiped the grime off the furniture. Once the room was reasonably clean, I headed to the bathroom with a sense of accomplishment.
Vincent Bellunita had finished his bath and was changing. I took a towel from the drawer and dried his hair, from which water was still dripping. When I brushed his hair with the towel to remove the moisture, he accepted it quietly.
“I’ve changed the sheets. You may go back now.”
When his hair was mostly dry, I took his forearm to assist him. I led him back slowly to the bed and sat him down. Then, I noticed his buttons were misaligned.
I thought he had dressed well today, of all days. I let out a soft laugh, unbuttoned his top, and fastened it correctly from the bottom up.
“Meal.”
“Yes? Oh, ah, yes. A meal. I will prepare it.”
I trotted to the door to fetch the silver tray. I stood there for a moment, hesitating, then knelt before him. I placed the tray on my lap and brought a spoonful of porridge to his mouth. Vincent Bellunita began to accept the food quietly.
Although he had once suffered from indigestion, he now cleared his bowl quite well. I watched him with a satisfied heart, happy at the change. Today, too, he emptied the bowl completely. I thought it might be fine to prepare food with small chunks in it from now on.
After taking his medicine, he lay down on the clean bed. Pulling the sheet up to his chin, he turned his body toward the wall.
“I’m going to sleep.”
“Yes, I will wake you at lunchtime.”
Having gathered the things in advance, I stepped out of the room, satisfied, carrying the laundry and empty plates.
“Master has been eating well lately.”
“Yes, he cleared his plate again today.”
I showed the empty dishes to the chef. Touched, the chef sniffled, wiping away tears. The kitchen maid joined our conversation, visibly delighted.
“I think we can start serving meals with actual rice grains now.”
“I’ll prepare something hearty for tomorrow!”
I nodded and left the kitchen, heading outside the annex to wait for Renika.
But today, she wasn’t alone. Isabella was with her.
“Master’s condition seems to have improved recently.”
“Yes, he is eating well and even bathing himself now. He still throws things and loses his temper, but it has lessened significantly compared to before. The other day, he even got out of bed and walked for a brief moment.”
I spoke clearly, keeping my voice low enough so that only Isabella could hear the latter part. I also told her that he had managed to step outside his room, even if it was just one step. I recalled the look of surprise on Isabella’s face. She didn’t react overtly, as was her nature, but I had learned that the slight arching of her eyebrows was her way of expressing astonishment.
“That is great progress. You have worked hard. Please continue to take good care of him.”
“Yes.”
Finishing my brief conversation with Isabella, I approached Renika. She took the laundry basket from me and handed me a new one filled with fresh sheets and clothes. After exchanging greetings, I went back inside.
Because the Master was in a favorable mood, I had more free time than expected. Every other day, I would lose so much time arguing with him. After spending the entire day wrestling with his stubbornness, I would be far too exhausted to even think about exploring. This was my first time actually looking around the inside of the building.
The interior of the annex was generally tidy. I had heard that the maids from the main house came at set times to clean. Not long after I arrived, Isabella had told me not to worry about anything else and to focus solely on Master.
Thanks to that, my cleaning area was limited to his room. Furthermore, the room I stayed in was right next to his, and the only other places I frequented were the kitchen and the back door to hand off the laundry.
So this is what it looks like. I peered around, excitedly exploring the mansion. The ceiling was so high that my neck ached from tilting my head back to look at it, and the interior was so vast that I couldn’t possibly see it all even if I walked around all day. It was my first time being in a place like this, and everything was fascinating.
As I did so, I climbed the long, grand staircase in the center and began to examine the frames hanging on the wall, one by one.