Recently, as I came into contact with the people around him, I realized that his life was far from smooth, beyond what I had imagined. Not everything is as it appears. At least, that was the case with Vincent. Just because he was blind didn't mean his path would be any smoother.
Violet continued to visit the mansion frequently. Sometimes Ethan accompanied her. Perhaps because we shared a secret, she felt less hesitant about visiting. At first, their visits were a burden, but over time, I grew accustomed to them, and they even became a source of enjoyment for me.
And that man, Lucas. I never fully understood his intention when he told me that he had caused Vincent to go blind. He always smiled at me as if nothing had happened, even when we met. His words remained a mystery until the moment he left.
Vincent's attitude toward Lucas was always calm, as if nothing was amiss. Did that mean Lucas was innocent? What did Vincent know? And Ethan? How much did he know? With my limited understanding, I couldn't grasp their relationship.
After all, what could a mere maid know? How could I judge their lives?
I came to understand Vincent's attitude of suspicion, wariness, and aloofness a bit more, but I didn't think I could do anything about it. The sense of crisis in their relationship wasn't something I could meddle in. I just needed to do my job well.
Unnecessary curiosity only brings trouble.
I reminded myself of the purpose for which I was hired.
[Because you're so beautiful, I'm sending it to you.]
He sent a letter with golden script, enclosing a dried flower. It was a white blossom that turned transparent in the sunlight. I shook it around and then tucked it into my favorite book. Then I looked at the clear sky.
The mansion was unusually quiet. The noisy days already felt like a dream.
"It's so quiet."
"Yeah."
Today, I decided to read a book I hadn't read before. The place was by his window. Perhaps because the incident that happened during our tea time left a bad impression, he had retreated back into his room. Instead of trying to pull him out, I set up a seat by the open window.
"The silence makes me feel a bit lonely."
"Not at all. I prefer being alone."
"You're so dry."
"Take it as a compliment."
His reply was laced with ease. His face, looking peaceful, turned toward the window. I watched him. What are you thinking right now? This question had been popping up more frequently lately. I had thought he was just a grumpy blind man, but I recently realized that I knew the least about his inner thoughts.
He pretended not to be curious, but he was.
What are you thinking?
"I've been smelling something sweet."
"Sweet? Oh, the chef gave me a pound cake for dessert today."
I remembered the cake I had momentarily forgotten. After passing him an empty plate, the chef had handed me a pound cake as dessert.
"You've liked sweets since you were a child."
His wrinkled face was filled with joy. I tilted my head at the yellow bread inside the transparent cover.
"Pound cake?"
He showed rare interest. I was a bit surprised by his quick reaction.
"Do you like sweets?"
"A little."
He quickly felt around with his hands. Thanks to recent practice, his movements were quite natural, but he couldn't fool me. He really does like sweets. It was unexpected to see a face like salt with a sweet tooth.
I removed the transparent cover and placed a pre-cut piece of cake on a small plate, then handed it to him. Holding the fork, he felt for the edge of the plate and poked the cake with the fork.
However, the cake slipped off the fork. Vincent, unaware that the fork was empty, put it in his mouth and licked his lips in confusion. He tried again, but this time he missed the plate and poked at empty space. It would take him half a day to eat like that, so I just gave him the cake in his hand.
He frowned slightly but quickly put it in his mouth. He chewed it happily, really enjoying it. He finished one piece and reached out for more. I gave him another piece, which he ate politely.
Watching him eat made me curious about the taste. So, I took a piece and put it in my mouth. The sweetness hit my tongue immediately. It was really sweet, even too sweet. But it was delicious. I had never tasted anything so delicious.
There are such things in the world. The chef here is truly skilled. I secretly took pieces of pound cake and put them in my mouth, one by one. With two of us eating, the small plate of pound cake was soon empty.
"It's rustling."
"Huh?"
I was about to take the last piece when he tapped the window frame. I touched the back of my head. A long ribbon had been blown by the wind, tapping the window frame. The sound was faint, but it must have been clear to him.
"The ribbon in my hair is a bit long, so it's hitting the window frame."
"It's not the one you usually use."
"No, it's a different one. Violet gave it to me as a gift."
A few days ago, Violet gave me a box with a ribbon as a gift. When I opened it, I found a white hair ribbon with round edges and floral patterns. The texture was soft, and it was clearly expensive. I tried to refuse, saying I couldn't accept such a gift, but Violet insisted and even held the ribbon in my hand.
"Back when Pola made a bouquet for you, I felt guilty about using a hair ribbon. Thanks to Pola's advice, I found the courage. Since I'm so grateful, please accept this gift."
I had also received a small bouquet as a gift before. The flowers in the vase in my room withered after a few days, but this was a gift I could keep for a long time. Her kind face had a subtle pressure. In the end, I thanked her and accepted it. She even tied my hair with the ribbon herself, as if she had sensed my intention to store it in a box.
"Nice."
"It's nice, but it's also a bit burdensome. It's so beautiful, I don't know if I can use it."
This was the first time I had something so expensive and feminine, and I was hesitant to even touch it. It didn't suit me at all. Feeling embarrassed, I fiddled with the ribbon, but I quickly stopped, worried it might wear out.
Vincent then grabbed the ribbon fluttering in the wind. He stretched out his hand and felt the ribbon, trying to gauge its shape.
He suddenly commented.
"It suits you well."
"No, it doesn't..."
I was about to shake my head, saying it was too beautiful for me, but I stopped. I recalled the image of the arrogant maid in his mind and swallowed my words.
"It brings out your beauty."
"Where did you hear that?"
"Violet often says it."
He said it as if he was making a joke. I laughed briefly and wiped my hands on my apron. My heart ached. I didn't want to prolong this topic.
He felt around for the cake plate and looked puzzled.
"Why is it empty already?"
"I'll finish reading the book."
I pretended not to know and picked up the book I had left off. He tilted his head and instead sipped his tea. I glanced at him and continued reading. My voice flowed smoothly.
"You're getting quite good at reading."
"Thank you."
Praise always feels good. I smiled and finished reading the remaining content.
"You really love books, don't you?"
"Really? Do I?"
"You always read with such joy. It's like you can't contain your happiness."
"Yes, I do. Did I tell you I worked in a bookstore when I was young?"
"Yes, you did. The day you first offered to read to me."
"Oh, right. That day, you said the bookstore owner used to make children dreamers when they were young. Do you remember that?"
"Hmm. I remember you started this out of self-interest, pretending to care for me."
"You have a good memory."
"Then, do you remember throwing things at me and yelling at me to leave?"
"You remember me forcing food into your mouth because you didn't clean yourself?"
"Then, do you remember throwing me into the bathtub because I smelled bad?"
I laughed.
"It's an honor that you remember all these memories with me."
He smiled back.
"Indeed."
A moment of awkward laughter echoed.
"You said you wouldn't read books anymore. How is it? Isn't it good to read?"
"Hmm. It would be better if you read with more expression."
"I only have one voice, which is a shame."
"Practice more. Maybe another self inside you will come out."
"Thank you for the advice."
A louder laugh echoed.
"It would be better if you didn't eat the cake like a sneaky mouse."
"..."
My smile dropped. Damn. How did he know?
"How much did you eat... You could have shared... So stingy..."
I muttered, burying my face in the last page of the book. He ignored me and looked out the window. The wind blew gently. His hand continued to touch the edge of my ribbon, fluttering in the wind.
"Do you like this life?"
"What do you mean?"
"I'm asking if you're satisfied with living here in the mansion, serving me."
"…Why are you asking this?"
"Because you never talk about your family. When you come to a strange place, you usually miss your hometown, right? Homesickness."
Family. A forgotten emotion stirred. I tried to suppress it from