# 147
147. Meeting the Count Again (16)
I couldn't tear my gaze away from the nanny's face. Right then, Robert picked out a book and walked over. Accepting the book Robert held out, the nanny asked affectionately,
"Who do you love, young master?"
"Um, hmm... I love my mother, and I love you too, Nanny!"
Robert, pondering deeply with his little head before answering, swung both arms wide. As if trying to show the sheer size of his love. The nanny beamed at his response.
"Oh my, I love you ever so much too, young master."
As the nanny pulled Robert into her embrace, Robert hugged her tightly with his short arms, giggling brightly. Watching the two of them overflowing with happiness, my mind went endlessly blank.
What does it mean to love someone? What does it mean to live? Is there such a thing as a life without wounds? Is a life covered in scars and filled with nothing but regret truly worthless? Is there a right way to live? Isn't living alongside others ultimately just a continuous cycle of hurting and being hurt?
I mulled over the nanny's words in my head time and time again. I sat on my bed, unable to fall asleep until the dead of night, trying to organize my thoughts, but no clear answer emerged. Perhaps a part of me already knew. That this was a question with no right answer to begin with.
I caught myself biting my nails and suddenly looked down at my hands. Eyes grown accustomed to the dark took in my knobby, protruding bones. I raised both hands. Illuminated by the lamplight, my hands were covered in freckles and roughened by tiny cuts.
This was my life. A life where I struggled desperately against poverty just to survive. A life plagued by nightly nightmares, seeing phantoms of the dead, and drowning in guilt. Did I want to say that this life of mine was wrong? No, I didn't want to say my life was wrong.
I looked around the dark room. There are no answers in life. There is no right or wrong in love, either. I already knew that. But because I was 'me,' I couldn't accept it. I still hear my siblings' voices. I see the dead Lucas. That, too, was my life.
I picked up the lamp and stepped out of the room. The hallway was just as dark as the room—dangerously so, to the point where I couldn't see an inch ahead—and the light of the lamp in my hand was far too feeble to illuminate the darkness. Yet, strangely, I wasn't afraid. Isn't living life anyway just like walking through the dark?
'If you have something you want to say to me, come find me. I'll wait one last time.'
Vincent hadn't told me where he would wait. But I felt like I knew exactly where he was.
I took in the pitch-black hallway slowly before walking into the darkness. Only my footsteps echoed through the silent corridor. Within that sound, my siblings' voices intertwined and reverberated. *Don't go, Sis. Don't go. Sis, Sis...* The auditory hallucination sounded strangely urgent. But just for this moment, I didn't want to hear my siblings' voices.
I ignored the sounds echoing around me and just walked forward, staring straight ahead. The footsteps ringing in my ears gradually grew faster. Then, I suddenly realized I was running. By then, I had already burst out of the mansion and was sprinting through the forest.
In my haste, I nearly tripped over a large stone, and the brushing branches scratched at my skin, leaving stinging trails. But the thought that Vincent was waiting for me made it impossible to stop my frenzied sprint. My breath caught in my throat as I gasped for air. I quickly made my way through the forest and came to a halt in front of the annex.
Taking in the still dilapidated, dreary, yet familiar annex, I made my way to the door. The lock was undone. Perhaps it had remained unlocked ever since the day I returned here with him.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The creaking sound of the door was eerie, and the chill in the air seemed to seep into my very bones. Relying on the feeble light of the lamp, I climbed the stairs. As I did, I reminisced about the first time I had come to this place.
Isabella had been with me back then, and I had followed her lead. The interior of this annex had looked nothing but beautiful to my eyes, sparking a strange sense of anticipation for the new life I would lead here. That was, until I met the master with the rotten temper I was to serve, and those expectations were shattered to pieces. Even now, the shock of that first encounter hadn't faded. I let out a soft chuckle as I walked down the hallway and stood before the familiar door.
I was about to knock, but stopped. It didn't feel necessary. Grasping the handle, I carefully pushed the door open, and the soft glow illuminating the room spilled out into the hallway. As I opened the door fully, I saw Vincent sitting in light clothing amidst the warm light of several lamps placed around the room.
Hearing the door creak, Vincent turned his head. Upon seeing me, he closed the book he was holding. I hesitated for a moment before stepping into the room. Behind me, the door clicked shut. It sounded just like the severing of an escape route.
I swallowed dryly and set the lamp down at my feet. Then, I walked over slowly until I stood directly before him. Until that moment, Vincent had been silently tracking my every move with his eyes.
Standing before him with the window at my back, I hesitated. Vincent didn't rush me; he simply waited.
"Can't we just stay like this?"
I barely managed to spit out a single sentence. His face faintly creased into a frown.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I don't think I can hold back."
It was somewhat of an embarrassing admission, but Vincent was entirely serious.
"You might not realize it, but I get jealous when you share even the simplest conversation with another man, and I hate it when you show them any interest. I want to keep you where my eyes can always reach you, and sometimes, I don't want anyone else to even look at you. If someone asks what our relationship is, I want to tell them we're lovers."
"......Our statuses don't match, Master. I might not mind, but if others find out, they will criticize you."
"Then we'll have to find a way."
"What if there isn't one?"
"If there isn't, then we'll just have to live without one."
"Do we really need to live such a difficult life?"
"I don't want to keep looking over my shoulder every time I touch you anymore."
Just for such a reason... It was a difficult life to live, relying solely on 'love.' If one were to weigh the value of a life, his life without me would undoubtedly hold more weight than his life with me. Vincent had to know that. Yet, he didn't back down.
"I still don't understand."
Even after coming all this way to see him, I was trying to back out again. I felt both grateful and sorry toward him for wanting to walk this difficult path with me, yet I still lacked the confidence, wondering if it was really okay to do so. But hearing my answer, Vincent didn't get angry.
"Doesn't someone like me frustrate you?"
"Not at all."
"Why?"
"Were you frustrated when I was agonizing over what happened with Lucas?"
I shook my head. How could I ever find his pain frustrating? Unable to even dare fathom its depths, I could never belittle his suffering. As if reading my mind, Vincent let out a soft chuckle.
"It's the same for me. I can't fully know your pain, so I don't want to blindly push you."
"......"
"But I am curious."
He gently caught my fingertips.
"Have you truly never felt love for me, not even once?"
I cast my eyes down. *Love.* I murmured the unfamiliar word to myself and took a step back. His hand fell away, but his gaze remained firmly fixed on me.
The moonlight pouring in from behind felt chillingly cold. Perhaps it was just the cold air in the room. While it was slightly warmer than the hallway, it still carried the same chill I remembered from the annex five years ago. It served as a reminder of the passage of time, while also highlighting just how much the present moment had changed.
"I survived because of my siblings."
I brought out the words I had organized in my mind while deciding to come here. My heart pounded so fiercely it felt like it would burst with every word I uttered, but I desperately feigned composure.
"You asked me last time how I managed to live, didn't you? I lived a life mired in poverty from the moment I was born. I had a mother, a father, and four siblings. My mother abandoned her children and ran away, and my father used us as punching bags to vent his frustrations."
I tensed up completely, terrified that my voice might tremble. Fortunately, Vincent listened to my words without showing any overt reaction.
"I couldn't stop my youngest sibling from being beaten to death by our father. I couldn't stop the fourth from starving to death. I couldn't stop the second from being sold to a brothel and dying. Because I knew it was happening, yet I turned a blind eye. That was how I survived."
I buried my dead siblings with my own hands. I covered them with dirt and laid flowers for them. Every day they lived in that house might have been hell, but I hoped they would find peace in heaven. I thought that was the only way to slightly ease my guilt. I sent those children off without shedding a single tear over my siblings' deaths.
"For your information, the sibling who came here with me is the third. My father doted on the third. Though not in a good way, of course."
Saying so, I let out a light laugh. It was undoubtedly a heavy story, but I wanted to brush it off lightly. So I forced a laugh, but Vincent didn't smile. I stopped my hollow laughter and continued speaking.
"It was a life where I had no right to wish for happiness. I wanted to die every single moment, but the reason I struggled so desperately to live was because I believed that dragging out this hellish existence was my way of atoning to my dead siblings. Then I came to this mansion, and as I started my new life here, there was a time I dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, I was allowed to wish for a little happiness. But even here, I survived by sacrificing Lord Lucas and others."
I turned a blind eye to Lucas's death and accepted Isabella's help. The moment I left them behind, I knew full well that what I was doing was wrong. I also knew just how dangerous the choices they made for me were. I pretended not to know because I wanted to live. It was a wicked heart.
"What if someone like me becomes happy? What if I am loved? I... I can't do it. If I wish for that, then what about the people who were sacrificed because of me... My siblings, my poor siblings, how pitiful they would be..."
The people here would remember Lucas's death. I didn't know whether Isabella was alive or dead, but surely there was someone out there who cherished her. However, the only person who would remember my siblings' deaths was me. I was the only one who knew of their deaths and could remember them.
"So I am sorry. I cannot accept your feelings, Master."
I clasped my hands together and offered a deep, respectful bow. The conclusion I had reached after days of contemplation was that I could not accept his heart. This might very well be the last chance to change my life, but bound by my guilt, I couldn't make that choice. Even if he were to accuse me of being frustrating, I couldn't help it. I was even prepared to leave if he told me to get out right then and there.
"That's not the answer I was waiting for."
"I'm sorry."
"Paula."
"I'm sorry. I am truly sorry."
I could only repeat the same words. I clenched my trembling hands into fists and hid them.
"Then what about you? What about your life, your happiness? If you can never let go of your guilt toward your siblings, when will you ever be happy?"
"I......"
If that happens, then I... will never be able to find happiness. But I couldn't help it. As that thought crossed my mind, the flickering light on the floor started to blur.
There is no right or wrong in life. A person's life is shaped by living alongside others, and in that process, whether I intend to or not, I will inevitably hurt someone again. Loving someone might just be a natural emotion that arises within a life lived among others. But despite knowing this, I still couldn't accept it. If I couldn't judge the rightness or wrongness of a life, then perhaps I couldn't call this life of mine bad, either.
"......I'm okay."
So I try to convince myself that it's okay. But am I truly okay?
At that moment, Vincent strode forward and grabbed me by both arms. His grip hurt. I winced and looked up, only to find Vincent wearing a face contorted with fury. It was different from last time. Back then, he had been angry because his feelings were rejected; this time... it felt like a completely different reason.
"That isn't the answer I wanted, either."
"I'm sorry."
I apologized to him once again. Vincent refused to accept my apology.
"When you told me that I pretended not to know I was receiving Lucas's eyes, was this how you felt? Did you want me to live, giving up on happiness while burdened by guilt?"
"No, that's not it."
"Then how did you want me to live?"
"I wanted you to live without forgetting Lord Lucas. You could carry your guilt, but I wanted you to live without believing that you were in the wrong..."
The words leaving my mouth sounded foreign to my own ears. I abruptly stopped my halting speech. I stared blankly at Vincent. He parted his lips, as if waiting for me to finish my incomplete answer.
"Then what did you want to do for your dead siblings?"
"I, I......"
What did I want to do for my siblings?
As I watched my siblings die, what was it I wanted to do? ...Ah, that's right. I truly wanted to apologize to them. To say I was sorry for turning a blind eye, and sorry for surviving on my own. I wanted to beg for their forgiveness. Not just building them a grave and fleeing like a coward, but holding that grave close and truly mourning their deaths.
"I wanted to comfort them. So......"
My siblings, my poor siblings. What should I do? Their deaths were so devastating and pitiful—how was I supposed to comfort them? The agony of knowing I could no longer hold them in my arms and soothe them was unbearable. I wanted to carve even that agony deep into my heart.
"Tha... t's why......"
That was how I wanted to send them off.
My vision blurred. A soft moan was crushed between my lips. I raised my trembling hands and clamped them over my mouth.
Whose hands were holding onto my siblings? In truth, wasn't it me? Wasn't I the one clinging to them, desperately holding them back as they tried to leave?
A single tear finally spilled over and trailed down my cheek. I replaced the hands over my mouth and buried my face in my palms. Through the gaps between my fingers, Vincent's face blurred and swayed. Beside him, I saw the figure of my second sibling. A face looking back at me, shedding tears.
I finally knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to hold my dead siblings in my arms. I wanted to tightly embrace their cold, frail bodies, shatter the emotions I had tightly sealed away in my heart, and let them pour out endlessly.
"Waaaaaah—!"
That was how I wanted to cry.