1. The Meaning of the Name (8)
"It seems like you're having trouble eating."
As I spoke, looking at the fish dish that had barely been touched, Emma gave me a puzzled look. I explained that since the old man was ill, he likely had no appetite and was struggling to swallow his food. When you're sick, even the most lavish feast must taste like chewing sand. When I suggested that it might be better to serve foods that were easier to swallow next time, Emma listened attentively.
"The Master never let it show, so we didn't notice for a while either. How did you figure it out?"
John, who had been listening alongside Emma, looked surprised.
Just as John said, the old man didn't let it show, but perhaps because I had experienced something similar, I could easily notice his discomfort from his smallest actions. It was the same when Vincent lost his sight; my siblings could never eat properly when they were sick, either. If they starved for a long time and then ate something heavy, they would always throw it up.
"Yes, in the past."
Then, I paused.
Ethan hadn't told the people here exactly who I was. Naturally, they were unaware of my true identity. He must have thought it was better to keep it hidden. Now, speaking of who I was, what I had done, and what my siblings had been through was nothing short of taboo. And perhaps, it was something that should remain a secret forever.
For a moment, my chest tightened.
"...Someone I knew went through the same thing."
I clutched my chest and forced a smile.
"I see."
Fortunately, John didn't seem to notice anything amiss.
Taking my advice, the two discussed the menu for the next meal. Their faces looked quite serious as they pondered what kind of soft, easy-to-swallow food they could prepare. Then, the topic of conversation shifted.
"Come to think of it, the Young Lady would often skip meals when she was unwell, too. Even when she did eat, it was only a few spoonfuls."
"Yes, she did."
Listening to them talk, a sudden curiosity welled up inside me.
"What kind of person was Miss Florence Christopher?"
At my abrupt question, their gazes snapped back to me. John hesitated before answering.
"The Young Lady? Hmm, well. She was like an angel."
It was too vague of an answer. Seeing that I wanted a more detailed response, Emma took over.
"She mostly stayed inside the mansion, but she had a bright personality. She wasn't a picky eater and enjoyed playing with dolls. Since John and I were the ones she spent most of her day with, she would often strike up conversations with us about this and that. Though they were just trivial, everyday chats."
"She must have felt stifled, being cooped up in the mansion all the time."
"Yes, well. Still, she would occasionally take a light walk just in front of the mansion. John or I would always accompany her then. And... she loved the Master so very much. Despite her frail body, she never failed to offer her morning and evening greetings, always tried her best to eat meals with him, and visited his room whenever she had the time. Once, she even insisted on helping prepare the Master's meal. It was so endearing to see her trying so hard with those tiny hands of hers."
Perhaps recalling those times, a warmth crept into Emma's wrinkled face.
"That's right. That did happen. She said she wanted to try cutting the potatoes, so I handed her the knife, but she cut her hand and everyone panicked."
John chuckled softly as he recalled the memory. He even mentioned how he had been so startled that he had rushed over, only to slip on the potato peels on the floor and fall. Emma seemed to remember it too, and let out a joyful laugh.
"Even when she was unwell, she never let on that she was in pain because she didn't want those around her to worry; she always just smiled. Even when she had a stomachache, instead of fretting over her own suffering, she would apologize to me for waking me up late at night. She was such a kind and lovable person. I often wondered where such a person could have come from."
"She really was, indeed."
Gradually, pain began to seep into their faces. Recalling the departed can sometimes be a painful ordeal. I could feel how much they had loved the Young Lady of this mansion just from this brief exchange. The old man must have loved his granddaughter just as much, right? So it was no wonder he might find me horrendous—a person who had appeared to take his granddaughter's place.
Such is the pain of those left behind. Yet, knowing this, I was staying here for my own selfish desires. A heavy stone seemed to settle in my heart once more.
Seeing my expression, Emma gave me a gentle smile.
"To be honest, I was glad when you said you wanted to stay at the mansion. It was only for a short time, but it was nice to have another voice around. It's usually just the Master, John, and me here. There used to be endless laughter in this mansion, though..."
Come to think of it, I hadn't seen any other servants besides Emma and John in this mansion.
"You two must have worked here for a long time."
"A very long time."
"Both Emma and I have lived here serving the Master since we were very young. Though it feels like the years have passed in the blink of an eye, and here we are, getting on in years."
John grinned mischievously and scratched his cheek with his wrinkled hand. Emma frowned at this, arguing that she was still full of life. When she asked if he disliked her because she was old, John frantically waved both hands in denial. His flushed face was a dead giveaway of his panic.
***
"I'm done eating."
The old man, who had merely been picking at his food, soon pushed the bowl away. I had gone out of my way to prepare a smooth-swallowing soup, but it proved ineffective. The soup sat there, looking exactly as it did when it was first served. Taking the bowl, Emma spoke with deep concern.
"It must be difficult, but wouldn't it be better to try and have even just one more spoonful?"
"Enough. I have no appetite."
"If you keep this up, you'll collapse again. Just one more spoonful, please?"
"I said enough. Now leave."
The old man pushed away the plate Emma offered and lay down on his bed.
"If there's anything else you'd like to eat, please let me know. I'll prepare that for you."
"I said I'm done."
"But still..."
Emma couldn't bring herself to step away easily. But the old man was no longer even looking at the food. In the end, the barely touched meal had to be taken away as it was.
Emma and John left, but I remained seated in the chair beside the bed, watching the old man. Even though he knew I was still there, he didn't even bat an eye at me.
Emma always poured her heart into preparing his meals. Recently, because the old man hadn't been eating properly, she had been even more careful with the menu selection. Taking my advice, she had made a light soup with finely minced meat today. She said the old man usually enjoyed meat soups. Despite her careful preparations, he still couldn't bring himself to eat properly today.
"Is there really nothing you'd like to eat?"
"Keep your nose out of my business."
When I asked cautiously, a cold reply immediately came back.
"Everyone is so worried about you. They say your condition will only worsen if you keep this up."
"Hmph. Worried, my foot. They'd probably all prefer it if this old man just died quickly."
"Why do you always say such horrible things?"
I wasn't being sarcastic; I said it out of genuine concern. Everyone was worried about him, yet he always spouted such things. It made me wonder how heartbroken Emma and John would feel if they heard him. Seeing me frown, the old man shot me a fleeting glance before turning his head toward the window.
"Elder."
"You're too loud. If you want to stay in the room, then be quiet."
"..."
Again. He was saying those things again. I clamped my mouth shut and glared at him. He didn't spare me a single glance. A brief silence fell over the room.
"How are you finding your stay here?"
The old man suddenly asked. Momentarily startled by the abrupt question, I opened my mouth to speak.
"It's good. Everyone is treating me well."
"I would imagine so. It's far better treatment than you deserve, so you should be grateful."
"Yes. I am already very grateful. And I know it's all thanks to your generous consideration, Elder."
"If only that fellow hadn't spouted such nonsense, it wouldn't have come to this."
Did 'that fellow' mean Ethan? Come to think of it, the person Ethan sent had handed over a letter. Could it have contained something meant to change the old man's mind? I looked at him curiously, but he showed no particular reaction. His gaze remained fixed out the window. Feeling awkward, I scratched the back of my neck.
"I might not look like it, but I'm actually quite confident in my cooking."
It wasn't an empty boast; I genuinely was confident in my cooking. A lifetime of experience doing household chores had left me with at least a few strengths.
"Is there really nothing you want to eat? I'll make it for you."
At those words, the old man gave me a brief glance.
"Enough. Shut your mouth."
"I'm really good. You can trust me."
"Why would I trust you? Stop your nonsense."
"Still, isn't there something you're craving? Really nothing?"
What? What? What? I asked so persistently that it felt like he would tell me to stop being a nuisance any second. Since he had provided me with a place to stay, I wanted to repay him somehow. At my questioning, the old man looked utterly displeased, but he didn't snap back in the end. After some thought, I quietly pressed a hand to my forehead.
"Ugh."
As I let out a small groan, the effect was immediate. The old man turned to look at me. I scrunched up my face, feigning intense pain.
"My forehead suddenly hurts so much."
"What?"
"Oww."
It was incredibly awkward acting, but it was enough to catch the old man's attention. Watching him panic, I continued to groan in pain. Seeing me like that, the old man grew visibly agitated and finally barked,
"That's why you should have told me earlier!"
Even in a moment like this, he was nagging me. When I closed my eyes and let out another loud, "Oww!" the old man immediately fell silent. Even without looking, I could feel his confusion. I smiled softly and opened my eyes to meet his gaze.
"Are you worried about me?"
"What?"
"You are worried, aren't you? Right?"
I asked with a smile, and the old man's eyes widened. Then, he fiercely scowled. Realizing he was about to yell at me for messing around, I quickly continued speaking.
"Then please tell me. What should I prepare for you to actually eat?"
"What in the world are you—"
"If you eat your meal properly, it seems my forehead will get better too."
It was complete nonsense. However, my intentions seemed to have gotten through to him, as his expression turned stormy. He looked like he had a million things to say. I gently swept my bangs aside. When I had washed up this morning, I noticed the bruise on my forehead was still quite visible. The old man's gaze flickered to my forehead.
Finally, the old man let out a deep sigh.
"...Soup."
It was a very quiet voice.
"I want tomato soup."
"Tomato soup?"
"Yes. Since you said you wanted it."
I immediately went to Emma and asked her for the ingredients to make the soup. However, the most crucial ingredient—tomatoes—was missing. In the end, I asked Emma for directions, headed into town, and bought some tomatoes.
After rolling up my sleeves and starting to prep the ingredients, Emma came over to help, muttering softly under her breath.
"That shouldn't be possible..."
Her words bothered me, but my priority was seizing this opportunity to open the old man's heart. I carefully prepared the ingredients and simmered the soup. I stirred it gently, making sure the tomatoes floating in the bubbling broth didn't get too mushy.
But the tomato soup I had worked so hard to prepare was ruthlessly rejected.
"It's tasteless. Make it again."
After taking just one bite of the tomato soup, the old man set his spoon down. Flustered, I grabbed a spare spoon and tried it myself. The tomatoes were soft, and the broth was seasoned perfectly—it certainly wasn't tasteless.
"The taste is fine, though?"
"It's tasteless to me. Clear it away."
The old man turned his head away and lay back down on the bed. Seeing him end the meal just like that, I couldn't hide my bewilderment.