The Secret Maid of the Count's Household - Side Story
1. The Meaning of the Name (1)
The wind is cool. Closing my eyes to enjoy the cool sensation, a laugh escaped me.
Turning my head, I saw Vincent. He, who had been looking up at the night sky like me, let out a smile when he saw me. His golden hair swaying in the wind seemed to shine even under the moonlight.
My heart pounded.
"Lord Vincent. I'm thinking of accepting Lord Ethan's offer."
I wanted to let him know of my decision first. Vincent looked a little surprised at my words, but soon smiled deeply. As if he were very pleased with my decision.
I looked back at the stars in the night sky. The densely embroidered stars were pretty. The way they twinkled felt like they were cheering me on.
That day, what bloomed in my heart was anxiety about the distant future and a strange excitement about a new life.
After finishing my conversation with Vincent, I also informed Ethan of my decision. It was the first time I was being so greedy. However, once I said it out loud, I became a little scared. Did I make the right decision? Even though Ethan proposed it first, I thought it might just be empty words. I hoped he didn't think I was too calculating.
When I carefully observed Ethan, he smiled mischievously as always.
"Then I must prepare."
Not long after, Ethan brought several pieces of paper and spread them out in front of me. As I sat there vacantly, wondering what this was about, Ethan personally picked up a piece of paper and handed it to me. Taking the paper, I saw densely written letters.
"I've sorted out a few identities that would be good for Paula to use in the future."
Just as he said, unfamiliar names were written on the several pieces of paper.
"I considered having Paula just join the family as is, but you want to live without any future complications, right? So I thought a new identity would be more suitable than the identity of someone who worked as a servant for the Belunita Count's family. At least an appropriate identity that won't be talked about by others."
Ethan said he would prepare everything well no matter what I chose. It clearly wouldn't be an easy task, but Ethan had really procured identities in a flash. With a slightly bewildered feeling, I slowly read the letters written on the paper. A person's life was written on the paper.
"Is it okay?"
Ethan suddenly asked. The question was cautious. Ethan stared at me. His sunken eyes felt like they were comforting my wounded self. At that, I looked down at the paper in my hand again.
Although Ethan had told me to become family, I knew the process would never be smooth. I thought that perhaps 'I', as I am, might not be able to become a noble. So I was neither surprised nor disappointed.
I wasn't just bloated with dreams. Because just a few days ago, I thought it was absurd for a lower-class girl working as a servant to be adopted into a noble family. No, it was something I couldn't even imagine. There would surely be difficult times, times I'd want to give up, and times I'd regret it. Even if Ethan hid me and let me live under a new identity, rumors about me could still circulate secretly. Ethan's decision was as big of a deal as Vincent's.
A gamble for everyone.
I was greedy, but I couldn't only think of myself. Living with someone required sacrifice. Entering the Christopher family was also to prevent any complications in my future with Vincent. If entering the Christopher family under a new identity, rather than as the poor and insignificant 'me', was a smoother direction, I was willing to accept it. Because from the moment I made my decision, I was prepared for anything.
I casually nodded once.
"It's fine."
Looking at Ethan without wavering, I showed my determination. Whether it got through to him, Ethan also nodded once and held out the other papers.
"Choose the one you like from these."
There were a total of five identities he brought. The papers, bundled in sets of two or three, had descriptions of each identity written on them. The daughter of a ruined noble family, a distant relative of a middle-class noble, the granddaughter of a small noble family in some remote territory—every single one was an identity that was more than I deserved.
With so many options, it was rather difficult to decide. I carefully examined the papers one by one. As I flipped to the last page...
[Florence Christopher]
The name suddenly caught my eye. Christopher? I read the description written below the name.
The only daughter of Diana Christopher and Joseph Christopher. After the Christopher couple was in a carriage accident, Joseph Christopher died instantly on the spot, and Diana Christopher died after giving birth to Florence. Florence was born with a weak constitution and was often sick, and even now, her body is too weak to go outside her room well. She also had almost no interaction with her relatives... Having read up to that point, I went back to the first page and uttered the name written on the top line.
"Florence Christopher."
The name on the tip of my tongue felt unfamiliar. Ethan looked up and reacted to my muttering. He suddenly gave me a steady gaze, then abruptly snatched the papers from my hand.
"Ah, let's exclude this one."
I chased the retreating papers and then looked at Ethan.
"Why?"
"Because this identity cannot be used."
Ethan tossed the papers he had snatched onto the seat next to him as if discarding them. I thought it wouldn't be bad since she was from the same family, so it was a shame. I took my eyes off the paper and examined the remaining four identities again.
But even after looking at them over and over, I didn't know what would be good. As if showing that Ethan had chosen carefully, none of the choices were bad no matter what I chose. That was why I couldn't even grasp what to choose. Would this be good, or would that be good? I laid out the four pieces of paper with the names written on them side by side and groaned as I agonized over them. Because of that, my head started to hurt.
Just as I felt my head heating up, Ethan's voice was heard.
"Come to think of it, how is your physical condition?"
While I was agonizing over my choice, Ethan had been taking care of other business.
"It's much better now."
I had been bedridden with a fever from the gunshot wound, but I was fine now. The wound on my shoulder had healed well too, so as long as I didn't move violently, I didn't feel any significant pain. The doctor who visited a few days ago also told me that I didn't need to worry anymore.
"That's a relief. Are there any aftereffects?"
"No. There aren't any."
"That's truly a relief."
I could vaguely sense relief in his calmly spoken voice. While I was bedridden after being shot, Ethan came to check on my condition almost every day. Worried that something might go wrong with me, that some problem might arise. When the doctor said there might be a scar on my shoulder, Ethan made a face like a sinner.
He apologized to me and couldn't even make proper eye contact.
Just as the doctor said, a scar was left, but it wasn't to the extent of being noticeable. Besides, it could be hidden if I wore clothes, so it wasn't a big deal to me, but Ethan had a face as if he had committed a mortal sin. Perhaps the incident with James remained as a huge sense of guilt in Ethan's heart. His being the first to offer to help me, and his procuring a new identity for me like this, might also be a sense of responsibility stemming from that guilt... Even though he didn't need to do that.
"It seems your body has recovered to some extent, so now I should slowly start making preparations."
At that, my mind, which had been wandering, snapped back. I blinked.
"What are you talking about?"
"Huh? Because we have to leave here, of course."
Leave here? When I stared blankly at the unexpected remark, Ethan looked puzzled.
"Of course you have to come with me. To our mansion."
Uh... Come to think of it, he was right. If I became family with Ethan, of course I would have to go to the Christopher family, not here. It was obvious, but I hadn't even thought that far ahead.
Saying I should think carefully since it was an identity I would have to use forever, Ethan left the papers with the new identities written on them and departed. I kept looking over the papers and then flopped down on the bed. Thinking that it would dictate my future, it was hard to choose with a light heart.
I was staring blankly at the white ceiling when a large hand suddenly appeared before my eyes. After watching it wave once and turning my head, Vincent was standing by the bed, having come in without me knowing.
"You're here?"
"What are you doing?"
"I was just lying down."
Vincent scanned me up and down—lying flopped down in a clumsy posture with one foot on the floor and the other tucked under my thigh—and tilted his head. Then he disappeared from my sight. I felt one side of the bed sink heavily.
"Kinslin Avery?"
A name I had seen on the paper was heard. I abruptly sat up. As expected, Vincent was holding a piece of paper.
"Lord Ethan brought them. He said that since we need to live without complications in the future, entering the family under a new identity would be more suitable. He acquired some appropriate identities, and said that if I choose one from these and tell him, he will prepare it."
Vincent's brow furrowed slightly at my words. It seemed something bothered him. However, without any particular reaction, he picked up the remaining papers left on the bed and read them one by one.
"Is there one you like?"
Looking at his face reading quite carefully, I asked, partly to get some help in choosing. But Vincent, without any reply, read the rest of the papers to the end and looked at me.
"You?"
"I think they're all good."
"No, I'm asking if you're okay with it."
With what? When I met his gaze with puzzled eyes, Vincent lightly shook the paper in his hand.
"Are you okay with living under such an identity?"
It was a question I had also heard from Ethan. Seeing even Vincent ask that, it seemed he was quite worried about me. Somehow, I felt protected. It was a strange and embarrassing emotion, but it wasn't a bad feeling.
"I'm fine."
I answered brightly, but for some reason, Vincent scowled. Dissatisfaction briefly bled into his eyes as he looked at the paper shaking in his hand. Did he think I was forcing myself?
After hesitating for a moment, I reached out my hand toward him. The golden hair that wrapped around my hand was soft. I stroked his disheveled side hair to the side, then gently cupped his cheek. The moment my touch reached him, his closed eyelids opened, revealing pretty emerald eyes. My reflection was captured in them.
Still, such actions were completely unfamiliar to me. It was the same with looking straight at someone. Nevertheless, pretending it was nothing, I met his gaze and carefully moved my hand.
"If I can live with Lord Vincent, anything is fine."
As long as I could be with him, I didn't care about an identity. They were identities that were more than I deserved, but if it would harm him, I wouldn't have accepted it. If it helped him, it was necessary. From now on, I would make all my choices centered around Vincent. Living with someone must be like that. Perhaps his choices would also be centered around me. Thinking that, I didn't think I was simply losing out.
When I purposefully smiled even wider, Vincent, who had been making a displeased face the whole time, smiled back. His hand familiarly grasped the back of my hand. Rubbing his cheek against my hand was a habit he had recently developed.
"Me too."
He tossed aside the papers in his hand as if throwing them. The papers scattered haphazardly. Thinking they would get wrinkled, I glanced at them, but he cupped both my cheeks with both hands and made me look at him. As if telling me not to look anywhere else.
As our eyes met, his emerald eyes stretched out long. Our foreheads bumped lightly. His hand slid down and gently grasped my shoulder. It was a careful and affectionate touch, as if touching glass. He traced the part now covered with a small cloth under my thin clothes. It was clearly covered, but his eyes stiffened in a fleeting moment, as if he could see the scar.
"No matter what identity you have, no matter who you are, I'm fine with it all too."
His low voice sounded like a song. The hand that was cupping my cheek traced my eyelids, brushed past my nose, and fondled my lips. He delicately traced my face as if trying to remember the sensation at his fingertips.
He did this often. Sometimes, when touching me, he would lower his eyes and gently stroke me like this. As if so he could find me even if he couldn't see, as if vowing never to repeat his mistake.
His thumb traced the outline of my lips. I felt his breath. It was hot and thick. His thumb, which had reached the end of my lips, moved again and parted my lips. My lips parted slightly on their own. His thumb dug into that gap, and then suddenly my body flopped backward.
My mind went blank for a moment at the sudden situation. As I was looking at the white ceiling, Vincent loomed over me. He was looking down at me with a mischievous smile. That face, too, was something I had seen often lately. Unfamiliar, yet a familiarity that had taken root in one corner of my heart.
"As long as you stay by my side..."
Vincent's hand pressed against my face again. He fondled my lips. This time, it didn't end with just touching. His face slowly drew closer. Soon, hot lips met mine.
Somehow, it felt sweet like honey.