1. Meaning of the Name (7)
As expected, the sound came from the room where the old man was. As I approached, the first thing I saw was something rolling in front of the door. It was a bowl lid. Wondering why that was rolling around there, I peeked into the room and saw Emma looking troubled as she stared at the soup spilled on the floor. Sitting on the bed in front of her, the old man was huffing in anger.
"I told you I was done eating!"
"But still, what a waste of this precious food."
Emma picked up the scattered bowl and let out heavy sighs. The huffing old man turned his head toward the window as if he didn't want to hear it. In the suddenly quiet room, only the sound of Emma's overt sighs could be heard.
John, who had left the dining room earlier, was helping her. Just like last time, he held a mop in his hand. It seemed he had anticipated this situation after all.
John wiped up the spilled soup on the floor with the mop, and Emma picked up the fallen tableware. Watching the situation blankly until then, I suddenly came to my senses, picked up the lid rolling in the hallway, bent my knees, and scooped up the solid bits of soup with my hands. Emma panicked and stopped me.
"Why did you come out? Please don't do this and go back to finish your meal."
"I'll help you."
"It's alright. I can't make a guest do such a thing."
"No. I want to help."
As I touched the soup bits with my hands again, Emma looked truly panicked and signaled John with her eyes. He quickly scrubbed the soup stain with the mop. When I reached out to pick up the cutlery lying next to me, she snatched them away first and quickly picked up the rest of the tableware as well.
In the end, I couldn't even help properly. Standing there blankly with both hands raised, Emma untied the apron she was wearing and wiped my hands. I could have just wiped them on my clothes... But before I could stop her, Emma told me to wait a moment and left the room holding the broken bowl pieces. She was probably going to get something to wipe my hands with.
I felt even more sorry for causing trouble. I had to stand there blankly holding the soup-stained apron. John, who was wiping the floor, saw the dirty mop and left the room saying he would bring a bucket of water. Suddenly, only the old man and I were left in the room.
The air flowing in the room was incredibly uncomfortable. The old man sat quietly on the bed, and I, having missed the chance to leave, stood there awkwardly before needlessly grabbing the mop handle John had left behind and wiping the rest of the floor. The already dirty mop didn't make the floor clean; rather, it left more soup stains.
Just then, a clinking sound was heard. The old man had picked up a fork and was picking the bones out of the fish dish. He speared a bite-sized piece with his fork and brought it to his mouth, but after chewing a few times, he slightly frowned. Swallowing the food was slow. When he picked off another bite to eat, he even clutched his chest slightly with his hand.
"Is it difficult for you to eat?"
It looked like he was struggling to eat the fish. If one is sick, eating must be hard too. So I asked, and the old man sent a glance my way. He still looked displeased, but he also seemed a bit flustered.
"It's hard for you to swallow food, right? Isn't it?"
"Don't concern yourself."
"Why didn't you say so? Then I would have prepared food that's easier to swallow."
"If you have nothing to do, leave."
The old man waved his hand. Then he picked off another piece of fish to eat, but set the fork down after barely taking a few bites. He wiped his mouth with the cloth resting on his knee and picked up the cup placed to the side. However, seeing that no water came out, he turned the cup he had brought to his lips upside down.
I looked around, picked up a nearby water pitcher, and approached. When I offered the mouth of the pitcher, the old man glanced at it and held out his empty cup. I carefully poured water into his cup. The old man immediately brought the cup to his lips and drank the water.
My lips twitched at the sight. Thinking I shouldn't show it, I suppressed my expression and turned around. I was placing the pitcher back in its original spot when the old man suddenly burst into a coughing fit. I quickly turned around in surprise, and the old man was groaning while clutching his chest.
I quickly approached and checked the old man's condition.
"A-are you alright?"
"Don't touch me."
When I reached out my hand, the old man fiercely swatted it away. Worried, I tried to check his complexion, but this time he pushed me far away as if annoyed. However, the coughing didn't stop. I looked toward the door. The two who had left hadn't returned yet.
I didn't know the details of the old man's illness. What should I do in this situation? As I looked around in panic, a medicine bottle on the bedside table caught my eye. I picked up the medicine bottle and offered it to him.
"Sir, would you like to at least take some medicine?"
"Cough—Put that away."
"But..."
"I said put it away. What medicine for something like this."
The old man swatted the medicine bottle away again as if annoyed. But then he erupted into a coughing fit so severe it looked like he would stop breathing at any moment. I could see strength gathering in the hand clutching his chest. Anyone could see his condition was not good. I stood there not knowing what to do, then slowly reached out my hand.
I felt his back flinch under my touch. Our eyes met. I knew he was displeased, but even so, I didn't pull my hand back. Slowly, I stroked the old man's back to help him breathe easier.
I thought the old man would shake off my touch this time as well, but fortunately, he didn't. I put strength into my hesitant hand. While doing so, I kept glancing back at the door.
"Your complexion is bad. You need to at least take your medicine to get better."
"Nonsense. I know my own condition better."
Even while out of breath, the old man didn't forget to fiercely meet my gaze. He was the type whose mouth would only hurt if I argued further. When I didn't talk back and continued stroking his back, the old man stared intently at my face. It was piercing.
"You look experienced."
"P-pardon?"
"Mopping the floor, attending to someone—it looks familiar to your hands. Like you've done it often."
"..."
"And you also looked accustomed to helping the servants."
I fell silent at the sharp observation. His observing gaze felt like it would pierce right through to my core.
"People, you see, cannot hide their origins. A merchant cannot hide their trade, and a stableman cannot stop observing horses. A person raised with a good education would never lack so much shame as to pick up food fallen on the floor with their bare hands under the guise of helping."
It was a sharp remark. I hesitated before opening my mouth.
"Is helping someone a shameful thing?"
"Bowing to a servant is a shameful thing."
"..."
A noble does not bow to a servant. They never lower their heads to their subordinates. I couldn't understand it, but they say nobles have something called dignity.
That was the life of nobles. I was ignorant of it. No matter how much I dressed up the outside, I couldn't fool them with my tone or behavior. The very thing Ethan had pointed out was now flowing from the old man's mouth. In that brief moment, the old man seemed to have figured out what kind of person I was.
"That fellow shows up after a long time and mentions my granddaughter. He said he'd introduce someone to take her place. I don't know where or what he heard, but I noticed he came knowing my granddaughter was dead. To dare say he wants to buy my granddaughter's status."
"..."
"And the moment I saw you, I knew right away. Who that fellow was going to introduce."
The old man overtly scanned me up and down again.
"You are not someone who belongs here."
"..."
"There are fellows who don't know their place and desire what's beyond their reach. I don't want to criticize people for being greedy, but I dislike people like you. That fellow is still a person of the Christopher family. If someone from my family did something pointless, I always made sure to put them in their place. I won't fail to do so this time either."
Then he issued a threat.
"I don't know how you roped in that sly fox, but while I'm still speaking nicely, quietly return to your own place."
The criticism flew at me as a warning. I kept my mouth shut again and stared silently at the old man. At some point, the old man had stopped coughing. His complexion was still poor, but I breathed a small sigh of relief thinking nothing major would happen right away. Feeling my gaze, the old man furrowed his brows.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"I was wondering if you were worrying about me."
"..."
The old man immediately parted his dry lips. I thought he would yell that it was nonsense, but for a fleeting moment, I saw a look of panic on his face. Ethan's words suddenly came to mind.
'Even if he speaks like that, he has a warm heart.'
Even though I came to stay suddenly, he provided me a room to stay in, gave me meals, and even worried like this. He only said wicked things to be called kind, but I wondered if he was just clumsy at expressing himself. I pulled my hand back and dragged a chair next to the bed to sit down. The old man's gaze chased after me.
"What are you doing?"
"I thought it would be better for me to stay by your side than to go call the people who left. You're alright now, but we don't know what could happen in a brief moment."
"Stop spouting nonsense and leave."
"When the others come back."
"Did you even hear what I said?"
"Yes, I heard you very well. Thank you for worrying about me."
The old man immediately furrowed his brow.
"It's not like that."
"Yes. I will take your advice to heart."
"I said it's not."
"Yes, yes."
The old man's expression grew even fiercer. I pretended not to notice and looked out the window. Beyond the tree branches dangling with leaves, a blue sky that relaxed you just by looking at it came into view.
"Even if you want to criticize me, it's okay."
The old man only spat out sharp words, both at our first meeting and now. They were words spoken knowing full well the other person would be hurt.
I know very well that he doesn't like me at all. That's bound to happen. It wasn't like I wasn't angry. Being discriminated against because of status was always sorrowful. Even if it wasn't strictly because of status, discrimination was a sad thing.
But in a way, the old man was right. Even if that wasn't my intention at first, I was currently receiving Ethan's help. Rising in status—regardless of my intentions, the path I was ultimately trying to take was exactly that. Even if I added the word 'dare' to it, I had nothing to say, and even if I was cursed and criticized as a snob, there was nothing I could do.
"No matter what criticism I receive, it's something I've already decided."
For my happiness.
And for the happiness of the person who is with me.
Even if that path is a road of thorns, I intend to walk it willingly. I intend to try being greedy.
"I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable."
This was sincere.
"Please don't hate Count Christopher too much. He did it to help me; he didn't have bad intentions. Rather, scold and hate me instead. If doing so relieves your mind, you can do as much as you want. I'm, used to it."
I know well that when the body hurts, the heart hurts too. Even if you don't want to, wicked words can slip out. I had experienced such things before. If I recalled the man whose temper and actions were much more atrocious, this was on the better side. Suddenly, I really missed him.
"Still, sir."
The memory that had been wandering around in my head resurfaced. The sight of the old man clutching his chest, looking like he would breathe his last at any moment, felt raw. Someone's death is terrifying. I think it's a truly scary thing that you never get used to, no matter how many times you experience it. If possible, I never wanted to experience it again in my life.
I clenched both hands resting on my knees tightly. My whole body shuddered.
"Please don't die."
With those words, silence settled in the room again. I closed my mouth. My gaze was still fixed on the blue sky. However, as the silence dragged on, I finally couldn't bear it and turned my head. But the old man was making a peculiar face.