# 120
120. Even Coincidences Are Ultimately Fate (17)
After disinfecting the wound, I applied the ointment. Up close, his swollen eyelids looked almost comical. A laugh threatened to escape, making the corners of my mouth twitch.
"Don't laugh."
"I am not laughing."
"You were about to."
"I was not."
Feigning innocence, I retrieved the towel and gently pressed it against his swollen eyelids. At this rate, he wouldn't even be able to open his eyes tomorrow. His split lips were bound to swell up as well.
I meticulously pressed the towel over various parts of his face. Ethan, who had been silently surrendering his face to my ministrations, suddenly let out a scoff.
"You said we should make up, so what's with starting a fight?"
It seemed the remark was absurd even in hindsight. I felt the same way. I had promised to make him feel better, so what was with immediately resorting to a fistfight? Surely, he didn't do it so I could laugh at Ethan's battered face, right?
"By the time morning breaks, your face is going to look even more handsome."
"...How much so?"
"Enough that it would be best for you to stay cooped up in your room."
If he went out looking like this, he would definitely become the subject of gossip among the servants. Ethan muttered gloomily, asking if it was really that bad. I confirmed that it was and firmly pressed the towel around his eyes, ignoring his lament about what would happen to his handsome face.
"But the more I think about it, the more pissed off I get."
"You should ask for medical bills."
"I'll be charging them regardless."
Ethan mumbled through his swollen lips, reaffirming his resolve. I scrutinized his face once more. Judging by how it looked, a cold damp towel wouldn't be enough. I placed the towel back in his hand and turned around, saying I would go fetch some ice.
However, I was startled as I rounded the corner. Vincent had appeared.
"Where is Ethan?"
"He is just over there. ...You aren't planning to fight again, are you?"
"I'm not going to fight."
Then perhaps he was planning to have a proper conversation this time.
Up close, Vincent's face was just as much of a sight as Ethan's. Still, it seemed he had received treatment, as his face was glossy with ointment. A wound on his neck wasn't enough; his face had to suffer too. I subtly furrowed my brows.
As I stared intently without a word, he shot me a glance before suddenly turning away to hide his face. When I moved to stand across from him again, he took two steps back, so I took two steps closer. Vincent then turned his face away once more. Not to be outdone, I twisted my body, trying to get a look at his face.
For a brief moment, he and I spun around in circles in the hallway. Eventually, Vincent gave up first and revealed his face, asking sullenly,
"Well? Does it look like it had some effect?"
I scrutinized his face and shot him a questioning look, wondering what he was talking about.
"You told me to get into a fistfight, or something like that."
When did I? I blinked in confusion, and Vincent scowled deeply. Then, perhaps because his face hurt, he raised a hand to touch it.
"You gave me advice, saying it was a refreshing way to relieve pent-up feelings."
He explained in detail. At that, a memory surfaced.
'If it comes to this, you might as well resort to fisticuffs.'
'Fisticuffs?'
'Yes. Violence is a bad thing, but I hear that sometimes it can be a refreshing way to relieve pent-up emotions.'
Good grief. Did he take those words literally? It was so absurd that I was rendered completely speechless. Since when did he ever listen to me so well? And if he was going to listen, he should have listened properly—where did he toss out the latter part where I said it would be fine as long as no blood was drawn and it only resulted in slight bruising?
"I did say that resolving things with words would be the best option."
"I must not have heard that part."
I wasn't sure if he genuinely hadn't heard it or was just pretending not to. Having figured out the reason he suddenly picked a fight with Ethan, I let out a scoff.
"Even if I did say something like that, I never expected you to actually resort to a fistfight. If you had the intention to make up, wouldn't it have been better to just try talking again?"
"I tried, but it didn't work out."
"Have you ever really tried? Did you both bare your honest feelings to one another?"
"......"
Vincent clamped his mouth shut and turned his head away. That meant he hadn't. I narrowed my eyes. *You were tempted to be honest, weren't you?* Since there must have been a lot of pent-up emotions, it was highly likely he had decided to just let it all out explosively this time.
"Are you feeling a bit better now?"
"How could I? What does that have to do with me feeling better?"
"You'd feel better if you made up, wouldn't you?"
What kind of nonsensical statement was that again? I couldn't figure out where things had gotten so twisted, making it difficult to even know where to begin. Furthermore, strictly speaking, they hadn't made up at all; if anything, the situation had only worsened. I let out a deep sigh.
"I'm sorry, but I despise such things."
My father was a man whose actions always preceded his words. He was so hot-tempered that you never knew who would bear the brunt of his rage on any given day, and he wanted to assert his dominance so badly that he would even resort to violence against his own family.
I had once heard the maids gossiping about how such a kind and gentle man in his youth could have changed so drastically, but I never believed them. The father I knew was a violent man to his very core. And I hated violence.
"I cannot understand it, nor do I wish to. Much less resorting to fisticuffs when it could be fully resolved with words—that is even more incomprehensible."
"I'm sorry."
T-There was no need to apologize.
"You do not need to apologize to me."
"You were scared."
Right. I was scared. Even as I stomped my feet in worry, a part of me was also trembling in fear. It was because the sight of them swinging fists reminded me of my father. I thought I had hidden it well, but when did he notice?
"Things have been quite stifling lately. We both had a lot of pent-up emotions. It wasn't a problem that would easily resolve itself, so I thought it might be better to just let it all out explosively this time, but it seems I was being short-sighted. I won't do it again."
"......"
"I won't scare you."
His tone was firm, yet it sounded as though he was coaxing me. Vincent's face, as I faced him, was rigid, but his shoulders seemed to slump. Seeing him look like a well-behaved child who had listened obediently only to get scolded left me even more flustered.
"I also made a slip of the tongue. I apologize."
I hurriedly clasped my hands together and bowed. I didn't know whose benefit the fistfight was for, but ultimately, I was the one who had provided the catalyst for this mess. Therefore, if apologies were to be made, it was only right that I, the one who misspoke, should be the first to offer one.
"My, who recommended it?"
However, an unexpected voice rang out. Startled, I turned my head, only to find Ethan leaning diagonally against the wall, grinning at Vincent and me.
"I didn't realize you were the one who recommended it. I thought you two were awkward around each other, but when did you get so close? I guess I was the only one out of the loop."
His smiling face somehow looked menacing. I quickly shook my head.
"I never recommended—"
"You advised me to get into a fistfight."
"......"
I tried to argue, but I was stopped by the person standing behind me. I looked back at Vincent in exasperation. He simply shrugged.
"What?"
No, seriously, this guy.
"It is a misunderstanding. I did not tell you to fight."
"Well, you must have said something of the sort."
"......It was a slip of the tongue. I apologize."
"Haha. What's the point of apologizing now? It was excellent advice. Thanks to that, I even got to see what I look like with such a handsome face."
Ethan rubbed his bloated chin. I chose silence. Having committed a blunder, I had no room for excuses. After some hesitation, I firmed my resolve and leaned my face slightly toward Ethan.
"Would you like to hit me once?"
"What did you say?"
Ethan wore an expression of sheer disbelief. I added that he could hit me twice, and even that if he wasn't satisfied, he could keep hitting me until he felt better... but by the time I said that much, Ethan's expression had turned foul, forcing me to clamp my mouth shut.
Regardless of my reasons, from Ethan's perspective, this situation must have been nothing short of absurd. I had said it because I wouldn't mind taking a hit if it made him feel better, but seeing the look on Ethan's face—as if he had just heard something deeply offensive—it seemed I had committed another slip of the tongue.
With a face that said he had a million things to say, Ethan hastily raised his voice.
"Do I look like some lowly thug who just goes around hitting anyone? No, what exactly do you take me for?"
Rapidly spitting out his words, Ethan soon clenched his teeth, trying to suppress his agitation. I hadn't said it with any ill intent, but seeing as I had needlessly offended him, I was about to correct myself when a large hand suddenly shot out, blocking my vision. In the blink of an eye, an arm wrapped around my shoulder, and my body was pulled backward.
Something soft pressed against my back. Having been abruptly pulled in by Vincent, I blinked rapidly, trying to process the situation. Vincent's voice drifted down from above my head.
"Don't hit her."
"I'm not hitting her!"
Ethan yelled in anger, but soon cradled one side of his face with his hand and groaned.
"...Hah, whatever. I'm tired."
Exhaling a sigh and muttering to himself repeatedly, Ethan regained his composure. I studied his expression, only to suddenly realize I was being held in Vincent's embrace; startled out of my wits, I slipped out of his arms.
Vincent looked displeased as he watched me, but he soon shifted his gaze away from me and looked at Ethan.
"Ethan."
"What."
"I have something to say to you."
Ethan paused for a moment, let out a groan, and roughly wiped his face with both hands. It must have hurt with the bruises forming, but without showing any signs of pain, he dropped his hands and glared at Vincent.
"I've been waiting, you bastard."
Harsh words spewed from Ethan's mouth without hesitation. I placed a hand over my chest and earnestly prayed that this entire situation would be resolved peacefully.
The drinking party that had been arranged with such difficulty ended anticlimactically due to the fistfight that broke out in the middle of the night, but Joelli didn't complain. Even amidst the chaos, she calmly sat on the sofa, downed the rest of the wine, and merely let out a long yawn.
"It was about time things blew up. Since it has come to this, I just hope it gets resolved well."
Leaving behind that mild piece of advice, Joelli retired to her room, claiming she was sleepy. Alicia and I stayed behind to clean up the chaotic reception room. I had expected Alicia to interrogate me about what exactly my relationship with Ethan was once we were alone, but she simply cleared the table in silence. Her unexpected behavior left me feeling a bit bewildered.
"Why aren't you saying anything?"
"About what?"
"I thought you were going to interrogate me about my relationship with our guest."
Alicia shot me a glance, gathered the empty bottles to one side, and straightened her back. She dusted her hands off as if she had finished her chore, but her face was so exceedingly tranquil that it felt unfamiliar.
"That's enough."
"What?"
"I'm not going to ask you anymore."
With those words, she turned around, leaving the rest for me to handle. All Alicia had done was tidy up the empty wine bottles, but I realized that a bit too late as I had been chewing on her words. Before I could grab her and ask where she was running off to, she had already slipped right out of the reception room, ultimately leaving me to deal with the rest of the cleanup.
Just as I finished cleaning up alone and was leaving the reception room, I bumped into Ethan. He was alone, having seemingly finished his conversation with Vincent. The moment Ethan saw me, he dragged me right back into the reception room and unleashed a relentless stream of nagging.
When Paula was already telling me to talk to him about how he could do such a thing, encouraging a fight was bad enough; if he had a problem, he should have just said it directly... It was only after my ears were thoroughly tormented that I was finally able to return to my room and go to sleep late.
As soon as morning broke, I headed to Ethan's room in a daze. True to form, he was lounging in bed. Although he had gone to sleep late, he still needed to eat breakfast, so I woke him up.
The face of the man who struggled to sit up was, as expected, remarkably swollen.
"One of my eyes won't open."
"That's to be expected. Please, absolutely do not step outside your room today."
I earnestly instructed him and wrapped the ice I had brought along with his meal in a towel, pressing it against Ethan's face. He surrendered his face to my care, smacking his puffy, protruding lips.
As a result, breakfast had to be served in his room. Ethan chewed the finely diced meat a few times before wincing. Given how swollen his face was, it only resulted in a slight narrowing of his eyes, though.
"Ugh, my face is so tight."
"Please try chewing slowly and thoroughly."
I clicked my tongue and poured him a glass of water. Taking it, Ethan took a few sips before staring down at the meat on his fork with a gloomy expression.
"Did you have a good conversation yesterday?"
"Well, it was... not bad."
Despite his words, his expression seemed a bit brighter. It appeared their talk wasn't entirely without results.
"That's a relief."
"Though I certainly don't want to get into another fistfight."
Rubbing his swollen cheek, Ethan groaned in discomfort.