1. The Meaning of the Name (11)
The old man scraped the bowl clean, eating the soup down to the very bottom. Even though this time it truly was the awful soup he had spoken of, he finished it all.
‘You ate the soup very well.’
It was the first compliment I had ever received. However, I couldn't simply rejoice, and that was because of the conversation I had shared with the old man. He had made me rethink the mistakes I had only vaguely pondered.
I had thought that as long as things worked out, anything was fine. I had thought that the days I could peacefully enjoy the pleasure of looking up at the night sky with Vincent, whispering of happiness, were numbered. The clear sky, which had somehow felt so pleasant before, now felt stifling.
I went down to the dining room for breakfast as usual, only to halt in my tracks at an unexpected sight.
The old man was sitting at the head of the long dining table. Steam rose gently from the hot bean soup placed before him. So surprised that I unknowingly stopped at the door, the old man merely glanced at me before continuing to spoon his soup without any particular reaction.
It was my first time sharing a meal with the old man. John familiarly pulled out the chair opposite him for me. I hesitantly took my seat and spooned the soup Emma had brought me. And so, we continued our incredibly awkward meal.
In the afternoon, the man Ethan had sent visited the mansion again. Once more, he brought a letter.
[I thought it might be uncomfortable for you, so I took this opportunity to have the private villa cleaned. The man delivering this letter will guide you there, so you can stay there for the time being. I will send for you as soon as the matter is resolved.]
Ethan seemed worried that I might be suffering mistreatment here. The man took a step forward and asked where my luggage was. When I told him it was in the room at the very end of the second-floor hallway, John, who was standing nearby, stepped forward to guide him. The man followed John up the stairs, and I trailed behind them.
We had just reached the second floor and were heading straight for the end of the hallway when another voice rang out.
"What is going on here?"
The old man, draped in a gown, was standing there, leaning on his cane. He must have stepped out because of the commotion.
Seeing the old man, the man bowed respectfully.
"Who is that man?"
"He is from the Christopher family. He says he is here to pack the young lady's belongings."
At John’s explanation, the old man looked at the man once more.
"Are you returning to the main house?"
"No, sir. I was told to escort her to the Christopher family's nearby villa."
"Hmm."
The old man let out a low hum as if pondering for a moment, then continued.
"It is fine."
"Pardon?"
"She will stay here."
At these unexpected words, my eyes went wide. Did I hear him correctly just now? The person before me didn't seem like the old man I knew. It wasn't just me who felt that way; John was also staring at the old man with his jaw slack. Even Emma, standing behind him, couldn't hide her astonishment.
"B-But..."
The old man tapped his cane against the floor, cutting off the man's protest.
"Enough chatter. Be on your way."
"...Understood."
As the old man revealed his displeasure, the man immediately cowed and bowed deeply. The old man tapped his cane against the floor once more and turned away. In doing so, his gaze collided with mine, but he merely glanced at me before slipping into his room. Emma followed him in a beat later.
Just then, John, who was standing there in a daze, muttered under his breath.
"Is the Master's condition deteriorating...?"
***
In the end, the man was sent away, and I was to stay here once more. I had no idea what had brought about this sudden change of heart, but regardless, it was not a bad thing for me. I was thoroughly shocked, though. Ethan, who would likely receive the man's report, would probably be just as surprised.
After it was decided that I would be staying a while longer, Emma came to my room and asked,
"Since you'll be staying for a few more days, are you experiencing any discomfort? Your room is in the farthest corner after all. If it's uncomfortable, I can prepare a sunnier room for you."
"I am not uncomfortable staying in my current room... as long as the old man doesn't mind."
In fact, I was the one who felt hesitant about using that room. When I asked softly, Emma gave me a warm smile.
"Of course. The Master said it was fine as well."
That was quite surprising. I was certain the old man would dislike it.
"But what are all these?"
At that moment, Emma pointed to the boxes stacked in the corner of the room. I looked over and answered.
"Ah, someone sent me gifts."
The man had delivered the gifts Ethan sent along with the letter. Upon opening the mountain of boxes, I found dresses, nightgowns, undergarments, shoes, and various accessories inside. Every single item was so extravagantly valuable that my eyes widened in disbelief.
Looking at the pile of gift boxes in the corner, my jaw dropped. I was afraid it might tear if I touched it, so I merely gazed at the white dress adorned with sheer lace, when Emma approached.
"Let me help you."
"Huh? Ye-yes...?"
She took the white dress out of the box for me. Then, glancing back at me with a look, I awkwardly began to undress. When I hesitated, she took the initiative and stripped off my clothes. Even as I protested that I could do it myself, she simply went about her business with a nonchalant air.
Stripped down until I was completely bare, a wave of embarrassment washed over me. I crouched down, covering my chest with both hands. My face flushed red with shame. Unlike me, Emma didn't seem to think much of it, but as she brought over the new undergarments, her eyes suddenly widened.
"What happened there?"
As Emma pointed somewhere on my body, I briefly forgot my shame and examined myself. I had no idea what she was talking about.
"Your neck. It looks like you were bitten by something."
My neck? It was only then that I realized her gaze was fixed on my nape. I raised the hand that had been covering my chest and gingerly touched my neck. Just as I wondered what she meant, a memory surfaced, making my face burn. I quickly covered the spot where a red mark must have remained.
"Ah, th-that... I think a bug bit me."
"A bug? Were there bugs in your room?"
Emma’s face crumpled in displeasure. She asked how on earth a bug could have appeared when she had laid out insect repellent. I lied, saying I had been bitten at my previous lodgings, and only then did she drop the subject.
I somehow managed to put on the undergarments she handed me, and after lacing up the corset tightly, I slipped the dress over my head. Emma naturally stepped behind me to tie the laces. My body twisted repeatedly under the force of her tight pulling.
Next, Emma knelt on the floor, placed my foot on her knee, and rolled the stockings up my legs. I was entirely at a loss for how to react to her actions.
After helping me into my shoes, Emma sat me down in a chair and began styling my hair. She combed my unruly hair smooth, gathered it into a single section, and pinned it into a neat, rounded roll. I flinched at the touch of her hands on my hair.
I had only ever served others; this was my first time being on the receiving end. The unfamiliar experience made me instinctively shrink back, unsure of how to react. I suppressed the urge to scream at her to stop.
Finished with my hair, Emma stood me in front of the mirror. Only then did my reflection truly register in my mind.
The white dress, reaching down to my ankles, fit me perfectly. The delicate lace adorning the sleeves and hemline kept it from feeling too ostentatious.
The stockings and shoes also paired beautifully with the dress. Furthermore, the neckline was quite high, managing to just barely conceal the red mark on my neck. My hair, which I had always struggled with and tied up haphazardly, looked far neater now that it was beautifully gathered and pinned into a smooth, rounded roll.
Emma stood behind me, surveying my reflection in the mirror. She seemed to be checking to see if she had missed anything. I also ran my eyes over my own reflection. It was incredibly awkward. The face was definitely mine, but the person looking back didn't seem like me. I needlessly fiddled with the collar. The fabric brushing against my skin was impeccably soft without a hint of roughness. As I clutched the skirt of the dress, I felt a strange, unfamiliar sensation.
Seeing as I was already dressed up, Emma suggested I go for a walk. I donned a hat, slipped on a pair of gloves, grabbed a parasol, and stepped out of the room. John, who was passing through the hallway, smiled broadly when he saw me.
"It suits you perfectly, Young Lady."
'Young Lady.' Emma and John had called me that from the very start. It was entirely different from the names I had heard my entire life: wench, ugly hag, hideous dwarf. It felt like a title that suited me far too little. It wasn't as if the face that had tormented me my entire life had changed, nor had I grown taller, nor had my figure become voluptuous; yet, simply because I had arrived alongside a noble, they naturally assumed I was a 'Young Lady.' Somehow, I felt stifled, as if I were wearing clothes that didn't fit.
On my way out of the mansion, I ran into the old man. A brief look of surprise crossed his face before he scanned me up and down. Under his gaze, I suddenly felt self-conscious and scratched the back of my neck awkwardly.
"Where are you going?"
It was a question thrown out without expecting a reply, just like always.
"For a walk."
However, an unexpected response came.
I looked at the old man in surprise; he had his hands clasped behind his back and was heading toward the iron gate. Seeing him open the gate and walk out, it seemed he was actually going for a walk. After a moment of hesitation, I followed him with a slight delay. The old man threw a single glance my way as I trailed behind him, but continued walking without a word.
As we walked down the path, other buildings came into view. The people outside recognized the old man and greeted him.
"Oh my, sir! What brings you out here?"
"Is your health a bit better now?"
"I just dug up these potatoes today, so they're fresh. Please take one."
The old man did not reply to a single one of them, but the people welcomed him warmly and continued to strike up conversation. And naturally, their gazes shifted toward me, trailing behind him. I could feel their curiosity: *Who is that person?* It was overwhelming. I pulled the brim of my hat lower, desperately trying to avoid their stares.
"What a surprise to see the Young Lady out with you today!"
As someone called out, the others chimed in and began greeting me as well. 'Young Lady! It's been a while, Young Lady! We should see you more often!' Even though I was seeing these people for the very first time, they acted as if they knew me. As I continued to listen, I realized that they were mistaking me for 'Florence.' I was flustered, but since the old man made no move to correct them, I could neither confirm nor deny it.
It was an undeniably bizarre situation. The person that was 'me' remained exactly the same, yet people only looked at my outward appearance, assumed I was the old man's granddaughter, and called me 'Young Lady' as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Simply because my attire had changed, the way people treated me had changed as well. Somewhere along the line, I had become 'Young Lady Florence.' They did not ask who I was, nor did they ask for my real name. It was an incredibly stifling situation. The excessive clothes I wore felt as though they were choking the very breath out of me.