"I mean James Christopher. How was his condition?"
"Hmm. I only saw him from a distance. He seemed in a bad mood because he couldn't meet you. He said to bring you here if you were around."
His eyes were like those of a snake hunting prey. Just thinking about the man I saw earlier made me shiver.
There are all kinds of people in the world, and I've encountered many different types since my childhood. To me, that man exuded a dangerous aura. He seemed like someone who could devour others if given the chance, someone you shouldn't even brush against.
"He did look scary. The atmosphere around him was intense."
"Right. So don't get too close. Be careful not to meet him alone, and if you do, don't look up, don't make eye contact, and don't speak to him."
"Would I ever do that?"
"Anything can happen to anyone. Since you're serving me, it's not impossible."
"Why do you have to deal with such a person?"
"Everything has its exceptions."
A sigh, almost a lament, escaped his lips. He seemed somewhat depressed, so I lowered my shoulder for him to lean on. He shifted his body.
"It wasn't like this before."
"Oh, you said you were old friends with Christopher and Ethan. So you must have seen him often."
"Not often, just occasionally. He always seemed busy. But back then, he was a responsible and admirable person, despite being a bit gruff. He even played with us younger ones. James changed after the Earl of Christopher passed away."
"The Earl of Christopher?"
"Ethan's father. It was a murder case."
My goodness. I thought of the bright and cheerful Ethan. There was no trace of such gloom in him. At the same time, I thought of his brother Lucas. He definitely had a somber look, seeming listless even when he smiled.
"Was the culprit caught?"
"They only suspected an intruder, but couldn't catch him. A servant who was nearby at the time was accused, but without solid evidence, the case remained unsolved. After that, James took over the Christopher family. He is the current Earl of Christopher."
Is that why he's so used to giving orders? His attitude is even domineering. Just thinking about it made me shiver, and I rubbed my arms.
"Since he took over, he's changed completely, like someone I don't know. He doesn't care about the means or methods to achieve his goals. He uses and kills people without hesitation. He would even cut down his own kin if necessary. It's as if he's become a different person."
"Surely not. No matter what, could he really change that much?"
"That might be his true nature."
No one knows what's inside a person. He huddled up, and I moved closer to him, thinking he might be cold because of the wind. Our bodies touched, and the warmth was comforting, but the parts that didn't touch were still chilly.
"So if you ever meet James, run away. Don't look back, just run. Don't turn around even if someone tries to stop you. It's for your own good."
"What about you?"
"I'm... trying my best to run away right now."
For how long? When I asked, he was silent for a moment. Was he thinking? But his closed eyes revealed no thoughts. He might look calm on the surface, but inside, he could be rotting.
Then, a fundamental question arose.
"Then why did that person... take your eyes?"
"..."
At that moment, Vincent opened his eyes. The weight that had been pressing on my body lifted, and he gazed into the air. I worried that I might have upset him.
But that wasn't the case. The wind blew his hat back, and his golden hair danced in the air. He didn't move. His eyes, fixed on the void, seemed to be chasing the past.
"As I said before, sometimes secrets should remain secrets. If you pry and uncover them, you'll only bring trouble. It's not about right or wrong; it's about whether you can bear the consequences."
"..."
"James wasn't after me."
The wind carried his words, but another gust swallowed them. The secret remained hidden, and silence enveloped the air.
I couldn't breathe.
Secrets should remain secrets. But he revealed a piece of the secret to me.
"The one who needs to be finished isn't me."
He pulled his hat down deeper, as if hiding himself. Then, he leaned on my shoulder again, reached behind him, and shook the iron gate. The creaking sound echoed as he closed his eyes.
Now, only the wind hummed. I pondered his words in my mind. Despite trying to erase them, the thoughts kept resurfacing, and I slowly replayed them.
Then, who was that man after?
* * *
To me, it was just a place of grandeur and beauty. The surrounding forest, the gardens within, the majestic mansions, the lavish interiors with their intricate patterns, the furniture, decorations, and even the frames on the walls were so beautiful they could blind you. I didn't come here to dream, but being here made me dream.
This was a place of sweet dreams. But in reality, it hid darkness beneath its dazzling facade. A darkness so black it could swallow you whole and leave you feeling sticky and grimy.
'Then think about it. This isn't a place for idle dreams.'
Having a lot of money doesn't necessarily mean happiness, and having many possessions doesn't necessarily mean joy. That might be a very superficial thought.
As the sun set and darkness enveloped the surroundings, we emerged from the forest. To be safe, we entered through the back door, and Isabella greeted us. Seeing no one else, it seemed the man had left.
Nothing much happened after that. The usual routine of serving him. The brief disruption soon settled back into calm, and my heart remained at peace.
[Looking up at the sky makes me want to leave. To a distant place where no one knows me.]
I read the letter with golden script as usual. But beneath the dazzling colors, there was a hint of sadness. What's wrong? I tilted my head, and Isabella handed me the next letter. The envelope read "To Pola." The sender was Violet.
[I'm writing to talk to Pola alone.]
Below that, she mentioned ordering a new dress but was unsure about the lace at the end, finding it too rustic. The letter continued with a few more lines of complaints about the dress before ending with a description of her daily life.
I picked up my pen and wrote a reply to Violet. My daily life was mundane compared to hers, but it filled a page. I put it in an envelope and picked up the letter with golden script again, but Isabella stopped me.
"There's no need to reply to that letter anymore."
"Oh."
She took the letter and threw it into the fireplace. It burned quickly. At first, I wondered if that was okay, but then I remembered that the first golden letter I found was also in the fireplace. Later, Isabella told me that these letters were always burned in the fireplace and not kept. Perhaps they shouldn't leave any trace.
Still, I felt a bit sad. We had exchanged several letters. At first, it was awkward to write replies, but it became a bit of a hobby. I looked forward to receiving letters and was excited to see what they contained. When something good happened, I thought about writing it in my reply.
Even though it was just a few lines, I was careful with them. Maybe that's why the short letters always seemed polite. I once tried to guess who the letter writer was among Vincent's acquaintances, but I didn't get far.
I couldn't take my eyes off the golden letter as it turned to ashes. To ease my sadness, I focused on exchanging letters with new people.
One day, as I was getting used to this routine, it was late at night, and the moon was hidden behind clouds. The sound of rain that had been falling since the afternoon echoed through the mansion when a sudden, urgent knock on the door broke the silence. I rubbed my eyes, groggy from sleep, and fumbled for the lamp on the side table. After lighting the candle, I held the candlestick and left the room. Vincent was also coming out of his room, having heard the noise.
"I'll go and check, so go back to bed."
"Come with me."
"I'm fine. Go back to bed."
"I'm already awake."
I followed him downstairs, where he rarely insisted. When we opened the door, a drenched man stood there. Seeing his face, my drowsiness vanished.
"Lord Lucas?"
What's he doing here at this hour? As I examined him from head to toe in shock, I heard him mutter something, but it was drowned out by the rain. I stepped closer and asked, "What?" He lifted his head.
At that moment, a bolt of lightning flashed. In the brief moment between the thunderclaps, I saw a face that looked anxious. After a few more lightning strikes, the darkness returned, but the pale face I glimpsed was striking.
"Lord Lucas?"
"Vincent... I came to see my brother."
I turned around immediately. Vincent was standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding the railing. Lucas's gaze met Vincent's.
"Brother."
"Come in."
Vincent turned and walked up the stairs, and Lucas followed. Water dripped from his body, leaving a trail. I quickly closed the door and hurried after them.
As soon as we entered Vincent's room, I fetched a towel from the