# 142
142. Met the Count Again (11)
But soon her face became sullen again.
"Why did you run away earlier?"
"Please don't misunderstand. It's not like that."
I had fled, but it wasn't the kind of 'running away' he meant. I had gone into the mansion, and strictly speaking, it was more accurate to say I returned to my original place. Nevertheless, Vincent seemed quite displeased with my actions just now and didn't relax his expression.
"Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?"
"Excuse me?"
I let out a loud voice at the unexpected question. When I met Robert's eyes looking this way, I smiled as if it was nothing. And when Robert fell back into drawing, I hurriedly continued speaking.
"Why would you say that? You know it's not like that."
"I know. I just joked because it seems like you detest someone seeing us together."
"It's not that I detest it... I'm just worried people might misunderstand..."
"What misunderstanding?"
"Well, between you and me..."
I was worried about the misunderstanding that we were in that kind of relationship. It was ridiculous, but misunderstandings can arise from even the smallest triggers. A female servant in nightclothes coming into the mansion alongside a young male master. Moreover, if the atmosphere felt intimate, it would be even easier to misunderstand. I could just ignore it, but I really didn't want it to negatively affect him.
"Anyway, it wouldn't be good if strange rumors spread."
I had been vague with my answer because I didn't want to explain in detail. Vincent looked at me with displeasure. Even though he must know it was a natural concern, his gaze seemed to say it wasn't the right answer. I fixed my eyes on the book for no reason. Fortunately, he didn't press further about what happened earlier. Instead, a sigh-like voice flowed out.
"I have no intention of forcing you. It's not an easy problem that will change right away, and you'll need time to sort out your thoughts too."
"......"
"And I understand well what you're worried about."
Saying that, Vincent swept his face with the hand that had been propping his chin. His golden hair became disheveled from the rough gesture.
"I keep acting spoiled around you."
Though his voice was still grumpy, a depressed undertone seeped through. I looked at Vincent in bewilderment. He rarely showed signs of reflection.
But I didn't properly understand his words. Acting spoiled—was it because of the situation earlier, or because of what happened in the annex? If so, I wished he wouldn't say such things.
I knew the guilt Vincent was hiding. I wanted to understand and comfort him. When I held him as he clung to me, my desire to respond to his feelings was genuine. If my presence by his side could ease his burden even a little, I would gladly accept it. I was happy that he told me he needed me. I didn't want to make him regret that.
"You can act spoiled all you want."
So when I said it firmly, Vincent glanced at me. Seeing his face as if he hadn't expected me to say such a thing, I repeated the same words once more. I wanted him not to hide his true feelings. I decided it was better for him to act spoiled to the point where I found it bothersome.
"You might regret it later."
Advice came back as if offering kindness. I thought for a moment before answering.
"I won't regret it."
How much could he even act spoiled anyway. He kept saying he was acting spoiled, but I had never felt he was acting spoiled. As I nodded as if answering again, Vincent, who had been contemplating for a moment, lowered his hand from his chin and straightened his posture.
He reached out and stroked my earlobe. It was a careful, gentle touch. My eyes widened. The sensation from the night still lingered like an afterimage.
A soft light illuminated the room, a night where each other's breathing was heard more than words. His large hand touched me all night as if etching that moment, and his emerald eyes held only my figure.
I was embarrassed but couldn't avoid the gaze we shared. He didn't allow me to avoid it. So I also reached out and purely revealed my honest feelings. I felt a little unfamiliar with myself for doing so.
It was only a few hours ago, yet I stiffened again at his touch. Vincent, on the other hand, seemed completely unaffected. His hand reached me more unhesitatingly than before. Co-could it be that acting spoiled means this kind of thing?
I glanced at Robert. Fortunately, he was absorbed in drawing. When I turned my gaze back, Vincent had closed the distance in the meantime.
"You always say what I want to hear. I think that's why greed grows in me."
I was about to ask what kind of greed, but when his hand slid past my earlobe and rubbed my cheek, my mouth closed. His face was close. I thought it was too close, yet it felt somewhat familiar.
We had been this close just a while ago. It was a bit dark then, but now the surroundings were bright, so each of his facial features could be seen distinctly. I used to really hate facing someone this closely, but him looking at me didn't feel repulsive anymore. I felt strange, not knowing if that was good or bad.
While receiving his playful touch, his lips suddenly caught my eye. Come to think of it, those lips had touched mine. I touched my own dry, rough lips.
The kiss wasn't my first. When I was young, I had bumped lips with a neighborhood boy. It was an unwanted situation caused by someone pushing us. The boy had pretended to throw up and run away, and I had washed my lips with cold water. It was the worst experience. Even though it was just a brief touch, a sickening feeling lingered for a long time.
But it wasn't like that with Vincent. His lips were softer, and......
"What are you thinking about so deeply?"
Startled by the sudden voice, I came to my senses. Vincent was staring at me intently again. I removed the hand touching my lips and shook my head, indicating it was nothing. I tried to quickly refute it, but Vincent narrowed his eyes and smiled mischievously.
"How indecent."
My thoughts had been read. I suddenly became very embarrassed. I lifted the book to hide my flushed face.
I felt his fingers gently wrap around my pinky. As I lowered my hand at the pulling force, Vincent had leaned his face against the back of the chair. When our gazes met, he pulled the corners of his mouth into a deeper smile. His relaxed expression caught my eye in a different way.
"Keep reading the book. I like hearing your voice."
"......Understood."
I answered a beat late and continued reading the fairy tale. Throughout reading the short story, he held my pinky with his thumb and index finger. Even though it was a very small contact, I felt even more embarrassed for some reason.
Just as I was about to read the last page of the book, Vincent immediately held out another fairy tale book. I had to read five more fairy tale books like that. While reading, he never took his eyes off me, to the point where I couldn't tell if he was listening to my voice or watching me read the book. Because of that, I ended up stuttering from time to time.
* * *
Vincent didn't shed tears again. He didn't pour out his layered pain or cling to me like that day. Even when he occasionally spoke of memories with Lucas, he didn't show signs of suffering like before.
But I knew well that the guilt hidden deep in his heart hadn't disappeared. Like I had done, Vincent was probably just temporarily hiding his mistakes in his heart and living in reality. So I also buried his exhausted confession that I had heard that night deep in my heart.
As if we had made a promise, we didn't mention anything about that night at all and continued our lives as usual. But since that day, our relationship had clearly changed.
Vincent came to visit me at the mansion every time he had free time, and we often spent time alone together. He didn't bring up the feelings he had kept inside like before, but even trivial conversations were fine. We enjoyed the peace of the moment through insignificant conversations.
Whenever Vincent came to the mansion, he stuck close to my side and received my attendance. If I seemed to drift away even slightly, he would stare intently or sometimes follow me. Moreover, when Robert asked me for something, he would ask me to do the same for him, which made things awkward more than once or twice. I realized he was acting "spoiled" as he had mentioned before.
"You act more spoiled than I expected."
I whispered quietly while pouring water for him during his meal. I said it thinking of Vincent who had held out a blank sheet of paper asking me to draw him too after I had drawn Robert on paper earlier. Was he always this childish? As I looked at him anew, Vincent, who had cut a piece of meat and taken a bite, drank the water I had poured and then spoke.
"That's right. So be prepared. I'm going to act as spoiled as I want to you now."
As if to fulfill those words, he acted thoroughly spoiled with me. There were no kisses, but he held hands, stroked arms, gave light hugs, and rubbed his face against mine. And whenever he did this, I would stiffen, not knowing what to do with myself.
"Why are you so tense?"
"I-I just... it's also embarrassing..."
"Just from holding hands?"
He asked, raising our clasped hands. He had developed a habit of holding my hand whenever we were alone together. I nodded slowly.
"I haven't really held hands with anyone else before."
"Then I'll have to hold them often. Until you're not tense anymore."
Vincent smiled and squeezed our clasped hands tighter. But I could only squirm my captured hand.
I had never shared this kind of contact with a man—no, with anyone. It was the first time I knew that even the smallest contact could make my whole body feel tickled as if being brushed with a feather, and feel an intense sensation. So when this happened, I felt awkward, not knowing how to react.
At such times, Vincent would pull my hand hovering in the air and wrap it around his neck, or smile softly and show me what I should do. He didn't say anything even when I acted awkwardly. I was grateful for his consideration.
However, following what he said and doing it felt strange in its own way. It wasn't that it felt bad. Rather, it felt good. It felt so good that I thought it was strange.