“Now that I think about it, I haven’t heard much about you.”
“That’s because I have nothing to tell you.”
“You used to chatter away even when I didn’t ask.”
“I’m not very bright, so I don’t remember much.”
The empty plate spun in circles. Its rhythmic scraping filled the space between us.
“Your second sibling must miss you dearly.”
“…….”
The plate let out a shrill, protesting screech and came to an abrupt stop. Silence descended instantly. I couldn’t bring myself to pull my hand away. Breadcrumbs scattered across the wood, marring the table—much like my own heart.
“No. They won’t miss me.”
“Why?”
“Because they went to a better place. We don’t live together anymore.”
As I spoke, I looked up at the sky outside the window. It was bright and clear. My siblings were up there now, finally escaped from the hell that devil’s spawn used to stir up.
They were likely looking down at me, nursing their resentment.
“I see. They must have married into a good family.”
Ah, was that how he’d interpreted it? I didn’t bother to correct him.
“Yes. A good place.”
“And your other siblings?”
“Yes. Oh, except for the third one. Father was fond of that one.”
Though being the object of his affection had been the problem. I thought of the house in Pilton. I hadn’t exchanged news with them since I left, nor had I visited. How were they faring without me? I had wondered once, then pushed the thought away. It was a useless concern.
“And your mother?”
“I don’t have one.”
Since I didn’t know if she was dead or alive, she might as well have been a ghost. Having reached the limit of my willingness to speak, I prepared to excuse myself if he pressed further. He didn’t. He merely turned his gaze back to the window.
“I suppose so. There’s no real need to miss them.”
The indifference in his remark stung, as if he knew something I didn’t. *Stop it. Don’t stir me up,* I wanted to scream.
“……What about you, Master? Do you miss anyone?”
I decided to counterattack out of spite. I knew his parents had perished in an accident, and I poked at the wound anyway. I expected him to be displeased, but his reply was entirely unexpected.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because there is no need. If they’re dead, I’ll meet them eventually; why bother mourning? Grief should be brief. I don’t want regrets, either. It’s better to discard those feelings than to let them consume me and blind me to what lies ahead. They are useless.”
“…….”
His words were cold, yet I understood them perfectly. I was the same.
The death of my siblings had brought waves of grief, longing, regret, and guilt. But I didn’t have the luxury of drowning in those emotions. I had to survive, and such feelings were nothing more than ballast. My value was measured in utility, and those emotions rendered me useless. So, I had carved them out. Life was easier that way.
Did he live the same way?
Suddenly, I felt a strange sense of kinship.
“I told you, didn’t I? This is no place to dream.”
*‘Then think about it. It’s not a suitable place to harbor vain dreams.’*
Yes, he had said that. At the time, I’d assumed he was just being prickly, but in retrospect, it sounded like advice born of his own hard experience.
“Even so, isn’t there at least one thing you want to dream of, even if it’s a vain dream?”
I was curious. What was the secret wish of a man who dealt in such dry philosophy? He pondered for a moment before offering a difficult reply.
“To be able to see.”
My curiosity vanished, replaced by a dull ache.
“What about you? Is there anything you want to dream of, even if it is a vain dream?”
“For me, it’s just to live a long life. It would be nice to suffer a little less, but since I’m a beggar drifting wherever my feet take me, I don’t dream of anything extravagant.”
“Then you should just keep living here. At least you won’t suffer out there.”
“Are you intending to let me stay for a long time?”
The sentiment was surprisingly sweet, so I replied playfully. When I first arrived, he had only shouted for me to get lost and thrown things; now, he spoke like this. It was quite touching.
“I permit it.”
“Really? You can’t go back on your word later, okay?”
“I won’t. Stay for a long time.”
He took a sip of tea. I wondered, briefly, if I should ask for a written agreement.
“I will protect you.”
*Clink.* The teacups collided. A breeze blew in, catching the hair tie on his index finger. He lifted it slightly, pressing the ribbon against his lips—a gesture that felt like a kiss.
“Because you are mine, I will protect you.”
“…….”
“Promise.”
His emerald eyes curved into crescents. Within his gently opened hand, the hair tie fluttered into the air, brushing my cheek, grazing my hand, and catching on my neck. I couldn’t break my gaze from Vincent Bellunita.
My heart hammered against my ribs, a sensation so unfamiliar I curled my fingers.
“So stay by my side. For a long time.”
His resolute voice felt like a binding spell. The white ribbon, warmed by his skin, left a burning sensation where it grazed my neck. He had stolen my attention, my breath, and my gaze.
“You’re silent. Am I not that trustworthy?”
“No… that’s not it. It isn’t.”
“Considering you denied it three times, I suppose you did think so.”
“Not at all.”
“Four times. That’s certain.”
“…….”
“Still, try trusting me. I am trying to trust you, too.”
I opened my mouth, closed it, and opened it again. Meeting the sincerity in his eyes made my chest tickle. Something inside me was beating for the man in front of me.
“Since I lost my sight, my other senses have become sensitive. I deal with people by touching, by feeling their breathing, the trembling of their voices, their gestures, and their scents. Every moment is a guessing game. Right now, I’m guessing about you.”
His fingertips moved toward me. I widened my eyes.
“You go silent when you’re embarrassed. You’re probably opening your mouth right now. Because you’re touched.”
“……You’re wrong. Not at all.”
I clamped my mouth shut and shook my head, even though I knew he couldn’t see. He gave a soft laugh.
“Is that so? Then I’m curious what expression you’re wearing. I wish I could see you. If I could, I would know exactly what you were thinking.”
“You’d regret it if you saw me.”
“Because you’re too pretty?”
“To the point where your eyes would go blind.”
He snorted. *‘Full of yourself,’* he said, but the laughter didn’t leave his voice. It was nice to see him laugh; he looked magnificent. Regular meals had filled him out, and the pitiful, gaunt appearance from before had largely vanished.
He was changing.
The thought brought a mix of pride and sadness. I had to remain stagnant while he moved forward. Every time I saw his growth, the reality of our unequal positions crashed back over me. I refused to name the strange emotion blooming in the corner of my heart.
I knew instinctively.
It would never be a good feeling for me.
***
Just after noon, Isabella visited the annex. With a look of urgency, she grabbed my arm and dragged me toward my room.
“Paula. You must go out with Master immediately.”
“Pardon?”
“Pack your things and hurry. I will tell Master separately.”
She pressed an outer coat into my hands. I stood there in a daze, completely flustered.
“Wh-where should I go?”
“Anywhere. Just go as far away as you can. But not too far, either. Somewhere safe. I’ll even permit you to return late.”
With that, she hurried toward Vincent Bellunita’s room. I tried to follow, but first, I shed my apron. I had no outdoor clothes other than the dress I’d arrived in, so I pulled it on, grabbed my coat, and hurried out.
Vincent Bellunita was already emerging from his room, dressed for an outing. He must have changed in a rush; his clothes were slightly disheveled. Behind him, Isabella stood looking anxious.
I started to ask what was happening, but he tapped his cane on the floor.
“Shall we go for a walk?”
His tone was so casual that I found myself nodding.
I took his hand, and we headed toward the forest. There weren’t many places to walk, and Isabella had insisted on safety—the only safe ground was the estate itself.
The forest was silent, save for the chirping of birds, which helped ease my tension.
“What exactly is going on?”
“Who knows.”
I glanced at him. Unlike me, he seemed perfectly calm, scanning the trees with an expressionless face. But the fingertips of the hand I held were trembling. He was putting on a performance.
Vincent knew the reason for this sudden departure. I narrowed my eyes, but he had become adept at hiding his feelings. He was a different man than the one who had once been constantly on edge.
I was curious, but I stayed silent.
“I don’t know where we should go. You said we should go far away.”
“We can just go.”
“Didn’t you say you were reluctant to go out after you met Violet last time? Besides, how can we go far? We’d have to head toward the main mansion.”
“We can go.”
“How?”
He pulled my hand and led the way, not toward the path, but toward the dense thickets. He walked without hesitation, despite not knowing what obstacles lay ahead.
The overgrown grass made travel difficult, and protruding branches threatened to scratch us. Eventually, I took the lead, pushing aside the brush to clear a path. He followed, his hand trailing against the bark of the trees as if searching for something.
After walking for some time, a space revealed itself: a circular clearing surrounded by trees. In the center stood an iron door, swallowed by years of vines. It was a location that would remain hidden unless one physically moved the foliage. Beyond the gate lay a path.
I stared in awe.
“Wow. I had no idea this was here.”
“If we go out through here, we can reach the village.”
It felt like an adventure. I reached out and pushed the iron gate; it creaked open, revealing that the chain on the handle wasn’t actually locked.
“What is this used for?”
“They said it’s an emergency exit.”
“The door is all rusted.”
“It hasn’t been used in a long time.”
I scanned the path beyond the gate. The way ahead wasn’t clear—sharp, overgrown grass choked the trail, making it feel less like a road and more like being pulled into the wilderness.
“It’s like a secret door. If we go out there, a new world awaits. Maybe one with magical creatures and fairies, where I can make companions and go on an adventure.”
“I’ve been thinking this for a while, but you’ve read too many books.”
He shook his head. I shrugged. What of it? Imagination is free.