“Lucas?”
“Yes. He will be staying here for a while, so keep that in mind.”
I collected the discarded clothes and handed him fresh ones. Lately, he wore everyday attire more often than pajamas. Seeing his complexion brighten from regular meals and proper bathing, I voiced the question that had been gnawing at me.
“May I ask one thing?”
“Speak.”
“Is it really alright for Lucas to stay in this mansion?”
He looked at me, having buttoned his sleeves. I lowered my gaze, noticing the shirt buttons were misaligned. I stepped toward him, unfastened them all, and began to redo them one by one.
“Unfortunately, the buttons were fastened incorrectly today.”
“…….”
Vincent remained silent until I finished. I glanced up to check for signs of irritation, but found none. Instead, his hand clamped firmly onto my head. As he mercilessly rubbed my hair, I shrieked and struggled against the weight that felt as if it would drive me into the floorboards.
I only regained my freedom once my hair was a tangled mess. Startled by this sudden, unprecedented physical contact, I clutched at my disheveled locks. Looking up, I saw his lips curled in a faint, mischievous smile.
“It’s fine, so don’t worry.”
*That’s a relief, but……*
*No, but why mess up my hair?*
“Paula. We meet again.”
“Yes. We meet again.”
As I bowed stiffly, a soft laugh drifted from above.
“Do you remember me?”
“Yes. You are Ethan Christopher’s younger brother.”
“I am Lucas Christopher.”
“Yes.”
“I said I am Lucas Christopher.”
*So what?* As I tilted my head in confusion, he laughed again. The sound felt off—sharper, as if beneath the mirth lay a trace of anger. I rolled my eyes. Could he possibly want me to address him by his full name?
“……Lucas?”
“Yes, Paula.”
At that, his expression brightened into a genuine smile. Perhaps because he is Ethan’s brother? Lucas certainly shared that tendency to laugh often. To think he’d light up just because I called his name once. I had addressed him that way at dawn, too, though he likely didn’t remember.
“Are you here to clean?”
“Yes.”
I shot him a look, silently asking him to leave the room. He didn’t budge. Ah, since he couldn’t see my face, I had to speak up.
“I will be working here, so please make yourself comfortable.”
Lucas merely moved to a chair at the side table, producing a book. Clearly, he had no intention of leaving. Well, if that was how it was, I decided to finish my chores in peace.
I swapped the bedspread, pillowcases, and sheets, then swept the floor. In the silence, the rhythmic *swish-rustle* of the broom filled the room as I meticulously scrubbed the corners.
But…… it was strange. My back had felt warm for a while now.
I turned to see the back of Lucas’s head as he read. *Was I wrong?* I tilted my head and resumed, but the sensation returned, prickling against my skin like a steady, heavy gaze.
By the time that ‘warmth’ sharpened into a ‘tingle,’ I spun around.
“Do you have something to say?”
“Me? No.”
Lucas retorted with a smooth, practiced smile. I narrowed my eyes. His answer had come too quickly—like a line he’d already rehearsed.
“Then why do you keep watching me?”
“That can’t be true.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I wasn’t looking.”
He was so firm that further questioning felt awkward. Was I merely imagining it? I was suspicious, but if I were wrong, I would only end up looking foolish. I turned back to my work. Then, as I reached for a rag to wipe the nearby furniture, I felt a sudden presence behind me.
“This.”
Startled by the unfamiliar touch against my hair, I stiffened. The rag slipped from my hand, hitting the floor with a wet *thud*. As I turned, creaking like a rusted hinge, I saw Lucas looking startled.
“I’m sorry. Were you surprised?”
“A little……. Er, how did you come to have that?”
“This.”
In his hand, he held a white hair ribbon.
“She must have pondered for a long time before gifting this to you.”
“Pardon?”
“Violet gave it to you, right?”
I nodded.
“My sister worried for days, wanting to find the perfect gift. Then she decided on a hair ribbon, but she fretted that there were too many that suited you. After agonising over the design and the color, she must have finally settled on this one.”
He twirled the edge of the ribbon. My gaze drifted toward it, mesmerized.
“For your information, I also added my opinion that this would be a good choice.”
“Ah, yes. I see.”
I wondered if he had startled me just to claim some of the credit. I reclaimed the ribbon from his hand and wound it tight around my palm, keeping it out of his reach. Lucas smiled at the gesture.
“It suits you well, indeed.”
“Thank you.”
“I thought the color of pure white suited Paula.”
I let out a dismissive laugh, brushing off his words as a joke. Lucas laughed along. I didn’t know what he found so amusing, but he had been beaming since I arrived. It was a stark contrast to his deathly pallor at dawn. Come to think of it, why had he sought out Vincent in the dead of night?
“Paula is still very guarded. Is it because of what I said last time?”
He was referring to that shocking remark. I forced myself to remain calm. *I know it wasn’t you who did it, you know?*
“That is a misunderstanding.”
“I wasn’t saying it as a joke.”
He said terrifying things with such a bright smile. I didn’t know what he hoped to achieve by gaslighting me, but I couldn’t admit I knew he was lying. That Vincent himself had uttered those words to me felt like a secret—perhaps not even a topic a mere maid should know.
*Keep your mouth shut, and act as if you didn’t hear it.*
When I failed to react, the laughter faded from Lucas’s face. A grave, piercing intensity replaced it.
“Did you hear it from my brother?”
“What are you talking about?”
I tried to keep my face a blank slate, but I must have been clumsy. His expression darkened.
“I didn’t think he would go as far as to tell you that……”
*No, I didn’t say anything!*
*Is there something stuck on my face? My thoughts?* I reflexively touched my cheeks, feeling only stray strands of hair. I couldn’t read his eyes, and he seemed convinced that Vincent had already spilled the truth.
“I understand. It must be good to have someone you can trust by your side.”
“What have you been talking about since earlier?”
“Honestly, it is surprising.”
He was entirely convinced.
I picked up the fallen rag, determined to finish my chores and escape. As I turned to leave, Lucas reached out abruptly.
“I will help you, too.”
“Yes?”
Before I could protest, the rag was snatched from my hand. He rolled up his sleeves, clearly ready to labor. Horrified, I tried to intervene.
“Please don’t. I will do it.”
“I will help as well. I have nothing to do anyway.”
“Even so, I cannot let a guest do such work. I will be scolded.”
“Then I will say I snatched it away by force.”
With that, Lucas began to wipe the nearby ornaments. I darted a look toward the door; fortunately, it was closed. I tried to dissuade him again, but he just smiled, focused on the task, and kept scrubbing.
*Why is this person acting like this again?*
* * *
In the end, Lucas finished the mopping, leaving me with nothing but a heavy sense of burden. His obsessive behavior didn’t stop there. Whenever I cleaned, he would insist on helping, and if I adamantly refused, I would feel his gaze prickling the back of my head. If I turned, he would immediately look away, pretending to be busy with something else.
He acted like a man desperate for my approval. I was grateful for the kindness, but the motive remained a mystery, and that made it suffocating.
It was the same when I served Vincent.
Except for the early morning, Lucas was almost always in Vincent’s room. I didn’t know if he was visiting or attending to business, but he was always there. He didn’t seem to be doing much, though—he simply watched us.
Sometimes, we would eat together. There was never any real conversation between the two of them. I was the one stuck in the middle, constantly having to read the stifling air.
But when they were alone, it was different. Lucas was always smiling when he was with me, but occasionally, when I peeked through the crack of the door, their faces were grave. Vincent’s expression was unreadable, but Lucas’s smile was gone entirely. Their conversations were cautious, their voices low and heavy with meaning.
When he wasn’t in Vincent’s room, he would wander the mansion. Yet, if our paths crossed in the hallways or the study, he would approach me with that same bright smile, acting as if we hadn’t seen each other in weeks.
I didn’t know much, but I knew this: he was profoundly bored.
Just as I was becoming accustomed to his presence, Vincent, having finished his meal, spoke up out of the blue.
“Shall we go for a walk?”
The request was unexpected, but there was no reason to decline.
“I’d love to!”
“Then get ready.”
Since it had been a while, we decided to combine the walk with teatime. I packed the teapot, teacups, and snacks, adding a book to read.
But one more person joined us.
“That sounds delightful.”
Lucas stood next to Vincent with a wide, expectant grin. I glanced at Vincent, but he said nothing about Lucas tagging along.
The three of us set off side-by-side. Our options were limited to the garden behind the annex or the forest. I walked while supporting Vincent by the arm, and Lucas hovered right next to me. I had been granted the “honor” of being sandwiched between two grown men.
We reached the garden and sat at the table. I spread the cloth and set the tea, but I had only brought two cups. I hadn’t expected Lucas to come.
I placed the cups in front of Vincent and Lucas.
“I’m fine.”
Lucas pushed his cup toward me. When I hesitated, he insisted he wasn’t in the mood for tea. If that was the case, so be it.
Today’s dessert was a sweet cake dusted with sugar, Vincent’s favorite. I cut it into bite-sized pieces and served them. I gave Lucas a plate, just in case.
Vincent didn’t wait. As soon as I set the plate down, he elegantly cut a piece and put it in his mouth. He had been clumsy with a fork before, but he was improving. He chewed and immediately cut another.
Unlike Vincent, who was consuming his portion with focus, Lucas took one bite and frowned.
“…It’s too sweet.”
He looked at the cake as if it were an affront. I took a bite of my own. It was sugary, yes, but hardly inedible. I buried my face in the plate and continued eating. Vincent, for all his nonchalance, was devouring his as well.
Lucas looked back and forth between us.
“Is it that delicious for both of you?”
“It’s not to the point where I can’t eat it.”
“It’s delicious.”
Our answers were immediate. Neither of us stopped moving our forks; it felt as though we were competing, our entire world narrowed down to the sugar on our plates.