81. To You, Whom I Couldn't Forget Even If I Tried (5)
A few days later, replies to the letters Robert had sent started arriving one after another. Robert was really happy to receive the replies. It seemed that those letters had somewhat comforted his loneliness, and I was glad too. I felt fortunate that I knew how to write, even if it was just for a moment.
However, the most important reply never came.
It seems that Vincent, whom the governess had asked directly, had promised to bring back the reply. He had shown such obvious reluctance when he spoke to me. It was a good sign, but thinking about how he had grabbed my arm made me feel strange. What was he trying to ask me?
But as the waiting dragged on, I began to doubt whether Vincent had delivered the letters properly. Seeing his face, which had been filled with anticipation, gradually sink into disappointment made me anxious. The governess also seemed to be in a bad mood these past few days.
"Good job."
I politely returned the used ink bottles to Johnny.
"Did it catch their interest?"
"Very much. Thanks."
"Then help me get along with Alicia."
"You still haven't made any progress with Alicia?"
Lately, I've been so busy with my own affairs that I haven't had time to think about anything else. Johnny sighed deeply and slumped his shoulders. This situation seemed familiar, like it had happened before.
"She's ignoring me again lately. She's aloof and doesn't answer me properly. It's like how she used to treat me before I came here."
"Did you have a fight?"
"There's no way. We don't even talk much."
After some contemplation, it seemed he had finally decided to confide in Vincent. Vincent often visited Joel with Robert. The three of them would often have tea, and Alicia would stand shyly, dressed up beautifully. Once, she was so overdressed that Audrey pointed it out.
"Just give up."
"That's not easy."
"Do you like her that much?"
"She's the ideal type I've been waiting for."
Is that so? Then, hang in there. Even though it seems hopeless. But it's hopeless for Alicia too.
I patted Johnny's shoulder, comforting him as he suffered from unrequited love.
"By the way, this is amazing. It really has color."
"Is this your first time seeing it?"
"Yeah. Rich people use all sorts of things."
Johnny shook the ink bottle.
"What's so good about using this?"
"It stands out. It's also beautiful."
"Have you used it? Oh, right, how did you even know about this?"
"I've received it before."
Not exactly me, but I swallowed the rest of the words with a bitter feeling. At the time, I regretted burning the letter, but now, thinking about it, I'm glad I left no trace. Because I left no trace, I could easily forget everything.
"Thanks anyway. It must have been really expensive, and you got it so quickly."
"I got it from someone I know."
"Who?"
I was curious about who could lend such an expensive item. Maybe he has connections with the nobility? It's hard to judge by appearance, but it didn't seem like he had such connections.
Johnny shrugged and carefully picked up the ink bottle. It seemed he didn't want to answer.
"Let me know if you need any help in return."
"Help?"
"Anything I can do. Except for Alicia's issue."
It would be better if you tell me before the probation period ends.
I waved goodbye to Johnny and walked down the corridor again. Robert, who had been reading letters late into the night, was still asleep. I didn't think it was necessary to wake him, so I left him be. As a result, I had a leisurely morning.
As I walked leisurely toward Robert's room, I saw someone standing in front of the door. It was Vincent, who had been so busy that I hadn't seen him in days. I stopped in my tracks.
I clasped my hands and bowed deeply.
"Good morning, sir."
"......"
Despite my surprise, I greeted him first. I bowed deeply, trying not to show my face. The gaze on my head felt piercing.
After a long silence, he stepped closer and suddenly extended something to me.
"Huh?"
It was a letter. I immediately recognized it.
"Thank you so much!"
I grabbed the long-awaited letter with both hands, along with his hand.
Seeing his frowning face, I quickly let go.
"I was just about to pick up the letter."
"I know."
Vincent pushed the letter further toward me. I remained bowed and carefully reached out. Then, I suddenly remembered something and rummaged through my pocket. Vincent looked at me curiously. I hadn't expected him to bring it directly, so I hadn't prepared anything. Would this be okay?
I took out a chocolate cookie. I had brought it to soothe Robert occasionally. I offered it to Vincent.
"What's this?"
"A cookie. A sweet chocolate cookie."
"Why are you giving it to me?"
"I suddenly asked you to do this, and I wanted to thank you. This is all I have. I hope you enjoy it, even if it's not much."
It's really sweet and delicious. I added, emphasizing the sweetness. Realizing my intention, he scowled and then laughed bitterly. Ah, cookies aren't enough, I guess. I should have prepared a cake. His gaze was fierce, as if he was displeased.
"You don't need it, so throw it away."
"But......"
"Are you not going to throw it away?"
Seeing his determined look, I quickly put it back in my pocket. Why is he acting like this? I know he loves sweets.
My attempt to cheer him up with sweets had failed. Vincent gave me a displeased look.
I bowed again and extended my hand. Just as my hand was about to touch the edge of the letter, it was pulled back. My gaze followed it up.
"Before that, I have a question."
"Please ask."
"This."
He took out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and shook it. My eyes met it.
"Who came up with this?"
Robert had written it, and I had given it to him......
"Not the letter. What's written here."
"......?"
Not understanding immediately, Vincent unfolded the letter. I saw colorful writing.
"The ink colors are different."
"Ah— Yes. I used various colored inks."
"Did you come up with this idea?"
"Yes. Since he didn't like writing letters, I thought he might enjoy using this."
"Have you seen such ink before?"
"Me?"
"Have you seen ink with color before?"
"......Why are you asking this? Is there a problem?"
"Answer first."
His stern command made me hesitate, but I continued.
"Yes. I have seen writing in such ink before."
"Where?"
"Once, a long time ago......"
Was it just my imagination?
"Where did you see it a long time ago?"
It felt like I was being interrogated.
"Have you ever worked here before?"
"......!"
Why, why is he suddenly asking this? I was taken aback by the unexpected question. My unhidden emotions showed on my face, so I quickly bowed my head. Vincent, who had glanced at me, was frowning.
What is he basing this on? Was this what he was trying to ask me when he grabbed my arm? Why, what did he see......
Suddenly, a chill ran down my spine. The writing in the letter. The colored ink. Now I understood what he saw in the letter and what it reminded him of. Just as I had recalled, he must have recalled something too.
I made a mistake. I only knew it was expensive. I didn't realize it until I saw others' reactions. Even though I found it amazing the first time I saw it, now I realize I hadn't seen such ink before coming to this mansion.
Vincent's reaction now was as if he was asking where I got it. It must be extremely rare. Or perhaps it's not even for sale.
"This ink isn't sold in the market."
At his words, I closed my eyes tightly. I admitted to knowing about it and having seen it.
"No, it might be sold somewhere across the sea, but I've never seen it sold here. That's why very few people know about it. Especially commoners wouldn't even know such ink exists. It's not for sale, but I know someone who uses it. I've received letters written with it. But you said you've seen it before. So, you either worked here, or......"
Or you know Lucas.
That's what he's saying.
Who are you?
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I was confused about what to say and how to start. I saw the man waiting for my answer, his face as stern as when he had grabbed my arm.
But his emerald eyes, which were now fixed on me, had a sharp edge, as if he was determined to uncover what I was hiding.
Could he have recognized me?
I tightly closed my mouth and swallowed hard. Should I tell him? Should I just say it? That I was the maid who had taken care of you when you were blind. I was curious about his reaction. I wanted to tell him. The urge I had suppressed for so long burst out in an instant.
Just as I was about to say it, a flash of light appeared behind him. I shielded my eyes from the sudden light with one hand. Squinting, I saw the sunlight reflecting off a glass surface, crossing the doorknob. When the reflection disappeared, a woman appeared. Small, thin, plain, and unattractive.
"......As you know, sir, I can write a little. I used to do transcription work. I heard about the colorful ink from someone I worked with. It was so amazing that I kept a piece of paper with writing on it and saw it once."
Strange. Lies flowed out of my mouth effortlessly. I laughed inwardly at how natural it sounded. When did I become so good at lying? The more lies I piled up, the more comfortable I became with crafting a false self.
"Who was that person?"
"I don't know. We didn't ask each other about our backgrounds."
"Where did you do the transcription work?"
"It was a small household near Novelle Square...... It's gone now."
I added this hastily, fearing he might visit the household.
"Then, where did you get this ink?"
"I asked someone I know to get it for me. They said they borrowed it from a friend."
"Who did they borrow it from?"
"I only heard that it was a friend of a friend."
"Then, who did you ask?"
"It was......"
The questions kept coming. No matter how I tried to dodge, he was relentless, as if determined to uncover what I was hiding. I clenched my hands tightly, afraid of showing my nervousness.
"Sir, can you tell me what the problem is?"
"I need to know because it's important to me. Answer."
"Is it really important?"
If he says no, I'll pretend I don't know.
But he answered firmly.
"Yes. It's important."
"......"
"Who did you ask?"
"Another servant...... I'll find out for you."
I added this, fearing he might ask who the servant was. He seemed ready to meet the person who had provided the ink right away. I couldn't involve Johnny.
He stopped talking. His scrutinizing gaze made me uncomfortable. It felt like I was standing on a bed of thorns.
"Can I see the ink directly?"
"I've already returned it, so I don't have it. I'm sorry."
I was lucky to have returned it just now.
"Did the person who told you about this ink say where they saw it?"
"They only said it was where they used to work."
"Where exactly?"
"Up to that point...... I'm sorry."
I bowed deeply, trying to hide my trembling face. He fell silent again. During this silence, my heart felt like it was dropping to the floor several times. I was terrified he might call me out for lying.