# 114
114. Even Coincidences Seem Like Destiny Eventually (11)
Perhaps because he didn't hear anything substantial from Vincent, Ethan pressed me this time. I explained the situation of how I was looking for a place to hide and ended up getting locked in by accident. Only then did Ethan's expression soften a bit.
"Even if you were trying to help, that place was a bit much, wasn't it? It looked like anyone who went in would come out as a corpse."
I agreed with that statement.
"How did you find me?"
"The nanny said she heard some sounds around there. So I went to check it out. It seemed like a room that hadn't been used in a long time, with all the furniture covered in cloth, but only one dresser was sticking out. It seemed strange, so I looked around and discovered a crack in the wall."
That was truly a relief.
"I was so worried, thinking something had actually happened."
"I'm sorry."
"But why did you cry so much? Nothing actually happened, right?"
"No. It's just... I guess I was scared because it was so dark inside the storage room."
"You must have been really scared."
Ethan glanced at my flushed face. Embarrassed, I pressed the cold towel harder against my face. The nanny had brought it to help me cool down. After crying so much for the first time in a while, my nose was stuffy.
"How was Vincent?"
"The Master?"
He asked in a light tone, but I caught the intent behind the question. I recalled Vincent trembling in fear inside the storage room.
Just a moment ago, when we went out of the storage room and I observed him, his neck was covered in scratch marks. However, because Vincent had left the room first, I couldn't even suggest treating his wounds.
As I stayed silent for a moment, Ethan's eyes widened.
"Something happened."
"...Yes. Actually, the Master..."
"He had a seizure when it got dark, didn't he?"
So he did know. When I nodded, Ethan smiled bitterly.
"Even if he can see now, it seems scars that have already been carved don't heal easily. He's fine normally, but he has a seizure when his surroundings suddenly get dark. He must be afraid of the dark. It must be like when he couldn't see."
"There's nothing wrong with his eyes, right?"
"Probably not. Although his eyesight seems to drop a bit at night."
Ethan reassured me not to worry. Only then did I let out a sigh of relief. It was truly a relief that there was nothing wrong with his eyes. Since it was a precious gift from a precious person, wouldn't it be sad if there was even a slight problem with it?
"You must be very tired today, so go back and rest."
Ethan turned around. I blankly watched him unbuttoning his shirt, seemingly intending to change, then opened my mouth.
"Lord Ethan."
Ethan threw me a glance.
"I'll give you the answer to the bet you mentioned last time."
His hand unbuttoning his shirt paused. Turning back towards me, Ethan raised an eyebrow. I lowered the towel from my cheek.
"Alright, tell me."
"You remembered me. I also found out a few days ago."
"How did you find out?"
"Just by chance, I heard him calling my name. And just now in the storage room, I realized he remembered what I had said."
"Did you share a good story?"
Ethan smirked. I shook my head. The 'good story' he mentioned meant whether I had revealed who I was, so I answered no. Both in the study last time and in the storage room this time, I still chose not to tell him. However.
"You knew, didn't you?"
"You knew too, didn't you, Paula? That Vincent remembers you."
"Yes. Honestly, when I found out directly that he remembered me, it was nice. I was also happy. But, even if I know, I wonder what the point of it all is."
I was grateful to Vincent for cherishing the words I once said as a good memory. I was thankful to Ethan for remembering me and treating me unchanged.
But that didn't change the situation I was in. When night fell, I still heard the voice whispering not to forget my sins.
"That's not an answer."
However, Ethan refuted.
"You didn't answer whether Vincent misses Paula or not."
"That's..."
"Do you know the answer to that as well?"
"..."
I couldn't answer. I knew he remembered me, but I still wasn't sure if that connected to longing. Furthermore, he was someone whose wounds from when he couldn't see were still remaining. Because of that, my thoughts leaned more towards 'no'.
But answering honestly felt suspicious given Ethan's behavior.
"The bet only ends when we find that out."
"Why do you want to know that?"
"Because I want to see it."
I didn't understand the meaning. Did he want Vincent and me to embrace and enjoy our reunion? Or did he want to see Vincent crying and clinging to me, saying he missed me? None of that seemed meaningful to Ethan. The most likely explanation was that he was simply acting like this out of boredom.
"What can you learn from seeing that?"
I asked out of pure curiosity. But Ethan rarely hesitated to answer. His gaze, which had bypassed me, lingered on the floor for a moment before staring out beyond the window. Ethan kept his eyes on that place where nothing but pitch-black darkness could be seen for a long time.
For a moment, a heavy tension brushed across Ethan's face. But it was extremely brief, a fleeting instant, so the shadow disappeared from his face before I could even properly perceive it.
"Well. Just... as you live, don't you sometimes have such thoughts? Like, am I doing well right now, things like that?"
"..."
"I wanted to know that a bit."
Am I doing well right now... huh. It was a difficult question. Who on earth would teach that?
"If we find out whether the Master misses me or not, does that mean we can also know the answer to that curiosity?"
"Probably?"
What was that supposed to mean? I frowned at his unclear words. As if he had already expected my reaction, Ethan laughed softly.
"Paula, you said coming here was a coincidence, but wouldn't those coincidences pile up and eventually become a connection? And that connection would eventually become destiny. Perhaps Paula returning here and meeting Vincent again could be the path to destiny."
"..."
"And my reunion with Paula here might also be destiny."
It was nice to hear, but the fact that he would continue to bother me remained unchanged. I let out a deep sigh. He was originally a person skilled at hiding his inner thoughts, and I gave up, thinking he wouldn't give me a proper answer even if I kept asking.
"Are you not confident you'll win the bet? Then you can switch with me. If Vincent misses Paula, Paula wins, and if he doesn't, I win."
"...What's so good about winning the bet?"
"Hmm, I'll grant one wish Paula wants."
That was also something I had heard before.
"Even if I look like this, I'm a very capable person."
"If I win, I'll wish for you to never make a bet like this again."
"If that's what you want."
"I've seen a noble family ruined by gambling."
"Don't worry. My family has had no ties to gambling for generations."
If only he couldn't speak.
* * *
So there was a flowering tree in a place like this.
I looked up at the white flowers blooming on the dry branches. When I was locked in the storage room, I wondered where a tree branch had popped out from, but a flowering tree was situated right outside the window. Moreover, it was quite large than I expected, and its branches grew long enough to reach and touch the wall.
White petals had fallen around the tree. As the wind blew, white petals poured down like snow.
I raised my hand and caught a falling petal. It's pretty.
"What are you doing here?"
When I turned my head at the voice that suddenly rang out, Vincent was approaching. After leaving like that last time and being quiet for a while, he had popped up out of nowhere again.
"Were you on your way to see Count Christopher?"
"You?"
"I was just looking at the flowers blooming on the tree for a moment."
I pointed to the tree with my hand. He glanced at the tree and then returned his gaze to me. Somehow, it felt like his gaze was sticking to my face. I rubbed my cheek for no reason.
Just then, Vincent suddenly put his hand inside his jacket and pulled something out, offering it to me. It was a small, round cloth pouch with a cute red ribbon attached.
As I watched with wide eyes, he shook his hand up and down as if telling me to take it.
I took it reflexively and untied the ribbon. Inside was something round wrapped in red packaging paper, and something small and square wrapped in transparent packaging paper. One seemed to be a candy, and though I didn't know what the square one was, it also looked like something to eat.
But why give this to me? As I looked up in surprise, Vincent spoke.
"You like sweet things."
"Uh... yes, I do. But how did you know?"
"Because I gave you candy to eat every time."
He said so and immediately scowled. I rolled my eyes. I, I think I did. Since he liked sweet things, I had offered them to soothe his mood.
"You looked like you would like sweet things."
"I like them."
"..."
"Are you okay now, after crying?"
"Ah, yes. I'm fine."
Come to think of it, I cried my eyes out in front of that man. I fiddled with my front hair as embarrassment surged again, then something suddenly came to mind, so I asked.
"Is your neck okay? It looked like you got hurt last time."
As I said that, I examined his neck. Although it was hidden by his shirt collar, the occasionally exposed skin bore thin scratch marks. It looked like he had left the wounds untreated.
"You didn't treat it?"
"I didn't."
"Why? It could leave a scar. It might get worse if you think it's nothing serious. Please make sure to get it treated."
If it were up to me, I would have liked to treat it myself, but I didn't show it, thinking that would be too meddlesome. Actually, I had a clean cloth, bandages, and ointment for wounds in my skirt pocket. However, I couldn't muster the courage to offer these.
Vincent, who had been listening to me, tilted his head slightly.
"Are you going to do it for me?"
"Eh? What?"
"The treatment, I mean."
"M-Me?"
When I asked again, Vincent nodded once. I was flustered because I hadn't expected him to say such a thing first.
"I think it would be better for you to receive professional treatment rather than from me."
"If you don't want to, forget it."
Vincent changed his words immediately. I grew even more flustered. For some reason, it felt like he would neglect the scratch marks if left like this.
Eventually, I nodded a beat too late.
"I'll do it."
"Then come this way."
Vincent whipped his body around.
"W-Where are you going?"
"You can't get treated standing up."
Saying that, he walked under the tree and flopped down. White petals fell across him. This time, I was flustered for a different reason.
"You'll get dirty."
"It's fine. Come here."
Vincent patted the seat next to him. I hesitantly took steps and placed my bottom next to his. It was close enough that our legs touched. Moreover, Vincent was staring intently, making it incredibly uncomfortable.
"Should I go get something to treat it with?"
"Ah, I have it right here."
I took out a clean cloth, bandages, and two medicine bottles from my pocket and placed them on my skirt. Vincent, who scanned the items in turn, looked at me with a puzzled expression. I smiled awkwardly.
There were two medicine bottles. One was disinfectant, and the other was ointment for wounds. First, I soaked the cloth in disinfectant and glanced at him. Then, Vincent placed his hand on the floor next to my knee and leaned his upper body forward. As his face approached suddenly, I involuntarily pulled my upper body far back.
Vincent scowled in dissatisfaction.
"Why are you moving away?"
"Y-You're too close."
"You said you'd treat my wound."
Ah right, I did. I brought my upper body, which I had pulled back, forward again. When his face was visible right in front of my nose, my body stiffened rigidly. Vincent, who had been looking at me with an expression that said he didn't like me awkwardly raising the corners of my lips, turned his head and showed me his neck.
The scratch marks were more visible than when I looked from afar, but the shirt was still a problem. I hesitated for a moment, then reached my hand out.
"Excuse me."
And I unbuttoned his shirt from the top button one by one. The hidden wounds were revealed through the slowly opening collar. Only then did I lower my head and examine the condition of his neck.
Wounds from him scratching wildly were placed here and there on his neck. Some had already lost their scabs and formed scars, and some had blood scabs, showing he had scratched several more times over the past few days.
I carefully applied the cloth soaked in disinfectant to the wound. I felt him flinch.