# 145
145. Met the Viscount Again (14)
I had heard that sigh several times recently. Whenever our conversation twisted in a direction that didn't sit well with him, he would exhale as if making sure I heard it.
"I asked you to stay by my side. To stay here with me. You didn't think I simply meant as a servant, did you?"
"Wasn't it?"
Of course, the fact that I was the only one who knew his secret was probably included, but I thought that was the only reason.
But Vincent's face hardened fearsomely. Seeing his expression as if suppressing rising anger, I grew flustered.
"I kissed you. What about that?"
"Th-That... I'm not really sure why you did that."
Honestly, that part was the most incomprehensible. That night, tormented by guilt, I held his struggling body in my arms and comforted him. The occasional touching of cheeks and shoulders, the holding of hands—I thought it was either remnants of habit from five years ago or him being affectionate. But the reason for the kiss was beyond my measure. I just figured he had been swept up in the atmosphere of that night.
"Don't lie."
The words ground out through his teeth cut off my thoughts.
"You know why I kissed you. You know but you refuse to accept it. Because you've never once considered that I could like you, and you think it's absurd."
"...."
The wind blew again. But even the cool breeze couldn't clear the tense air.
Vincent took an attitude of not backing down this time. He gazed at me straight on, urging an answer. I briefly avoided his gaze before meeting it again.
"Do you like me?"
"Yes."
It was an answer without a sliver of hesitation. I pondered for a moment then parted my lips.
"Do you love me?"
"Yes. I love you."
Again, there was no hesitation. But it wasn't a confession brimming with affection either. It was a stiff voice, with anger leaking through unmistakably.
The face looking at me contorted gradually. The look in his eyes was fierce beyond measure. From every angle, not a trace of the emotion called love could be seen.
I calmly surveyed Vincent before speaking.
"Why?"
It was a question born of pure curiosity. Vincent didn't answer immediately. But I felt I didn't need to hear the answer. I laughed lightly, as if I'd heard an amusing joke.
"Why does the Master love me? How? It doesn't make sense."
Yes, it truly was an absurd notion.
'Love'—it was a feeling too unfamiliar and distant for me. And if it was romantic love between a man and a woman, it was even more incomprehensible. No one had ever seen me as an object of love. Occasionally, someone with peculiar tastes would scan me with strange eyes, but that wasn't a beautiful emotion like love. It was an unpleasant gaze, like sticky fluid clinging all over my body.
'When I'm with that man, it feels like I've thrown myself into a blazing fire. Even though I know my body is clearly burning fiercely, I can't stop. To the point where I wouldn't mind even if the flames consumed my entire body, even that pain feels ecstatic.'
Those were the words of a certain woman in the village from my childhood. The woman speaking those words twisted her entire body shyly, and her flushed cheeks were truly pretty. Happiness seemed to radiate from her entire being. Other women must have felt the same as I did, as they all chimed in saying they were envious.
I ruminated on those unfamiliar words. It was an emotion I had never possessed or felt in my life, so even murmuring it in my mouth felt strange.
What kind of emotion is it where even though your whole body is burning in flames, even that pain feels ecstatic? Is the feeling of a woman and a man loving each other something special? Were the boys who chased after Alicia saying they liked her also experiencing love? Did my father love my mother? Had my mother ever whispered of love as sweetly as that woman?
I was curious. There was a time when I, too, purely wanted to know 'love.' But I quickly realized it was an emotion not permitted to me. Because there would be no man who would love the ever-increasing wounds in my hands, my small and bony body from not eating properly, and this ugly face.
Therefore.
"Why would you make such a joke."
I didn't want him to utter such words even in jest. It wasn't particularly pleasant. So I reproached him, but Vincent was resolute.
"I'm not saying it as a joke."
Then does that mean he genuinely likes me as a woman? Such a thought crossed my mind momentarily, but I soon shook my head. It was an assumption that only made me laugh. When I laughed again, Vincent, who had been observing my reaction, asked.
"What exactly doesn't make sense."
"Look at me."
I spread both my hands and showed myself. The me that people had disliked.
"Who... who would love someone like me."
I tried to say it as casually as possible, but I couldn't hide the trembling at the end of my words. My smiling face must have been unsightly.
Just what about my ugly face made him feel love? Isn't that something a more proper person could have? Not someone like me with a appearance people found dreadful, but at least someone whose face wouldn't put others in a bad mood when they looked at it. So it wasn't me. I always knew my place well.
Vincent, as if reading my thoughts, heavily hardened his face.
"I told you appearance doesn't matter to me. Do you not believe my words?"
"No, I believe you. But this is a different matter."
Simple affection and love were different matters. Moreover, romantic love between a man and woman was even more different. I briefly imagined myself standing beside Vincent. Everyone would mock us, seeing such an ill-matched pair.
Furthermore, a servant being in a loving relationship with their master, and a noble at that, was nonsensical. Every circumstance was wrong for me and him.
"Is it really that strange that I love you?"
"Yes."
"Then what about that night? You told me it was okay, that it was just living like this, comforting me all night? You didn't avoid my kiss? Did you just bestow pity on me like giving alms to a beggar?"
"That was as a servant..."
"So you bestowed generosity as a servant."
That wasn't my intention, but from his perspective, it could seem that way. I didn't particularly deny it.
The silence gradually turned sharp. I knew he was extremely angry. He wore the face of someone whose sincere feelings had been dismissed and was hurt. I didn't know what to say next.
People could seek comfort from others even without love. That was how I understood Vincent's actions that night. I concluded the kiss was for that reason too. Because I couldn't think of any other reason.
"Then I'll tell you clearly now. I didn't simply ask you to stay by my side as a servant. I asked because I love you and wanted you by my side."
"Stop it."
"Why won't you believe me."
"Just what about me made you feel love?"
Frustrated, I asked again. Let's say, giving a hundred concessions, that he truly loved me. But why exactly? I couldn't understand the reason. Without realizing, I let out a scoffing laugh and asked him. Even now, if he honestly admitted it was a lie, I was willing to understand.
The flowers swayed and danced again on the cool breeze. White petals dazzled before my eyes. Amidst them, Vincent briefly turned his head as if feeling the wind. His golden hair, tousled by the wind, covered the area around his eyes.
"When I couldn't see, everything in the world terrified me. To the point where I couldn't even trust the people I knew and believed in anymore. You, who I met then, told me there was nothing strange about being that way, and that if I wanted to change, I should have courage."
I had heard those words before. I held my breath and listened carefully.
"I thought you were amazing for grabbing my hand without hesitation and leading me in the right direction. But when I saw you again, you were different from what I thought."
"Not as amazing as you thought?"
"Yeah. Not amazing."
So was he disappointed? I smiled bitterly and lowered my head.
"That's why I liked it more. It feels like I'm finally seeing you properly."
The low-spoken words pierced into my ears. Startled, I raised my head again. Vincent was still looking somewhere in the flower bed.
"You weren't amazing; you were just someone desperate to live. So you had to cater to the whims of a weak man who couldn't see anything. When I looked at you without knowing who you were, you were a small, ordinary woman who easily got scared and shrank back, and when I realized that such a you was the person I knew..."
He paused as if recalling something.
"When the voice coming from the darkness brought a sense of déjà vu, when I realized that you who appeared before my confused self already knew who I was, you standing in the darkness were so small, and the hand you reached out to me was rougher and more scarred than I expected... I thought I wanted to protect you."
"...."
"That's when I realized. The reason I was curious about whether you lived or died, the reason I wanted to find you and be comforted, was because I loved you enough to want to protect you."
Vincent slowly turned his face toward me. Unlike five years ago, emerald eyes gleaming with light gazed at me distinctly. A man more reliable and mature than back then stood before me. His affection-laden face turned toward me.
"Do you know what changed when I could see again?"
At the sudden question, I slowly shook my head.
"The world that Lucas sees is incredibly beautiful."
The emerald eyes that blinked once seemed to sparkle, as if to convey exactly that.
"And among it all, you're the prettiest."
He reached out both hands and cupped my cheeks. His face was right before my nose. Bright rays of light poured down dazzlingly, but I couldn't avoid his gaze. The emerald eyes thoroughly examining my dazed face were dyed with the emotion of love.
"Pretty, you."
My stomach churned.