# 34
34. The Count's Circumstances (4)
"How was he."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean James Christopher. I'm asking how he seemed."
"Well, I only caught a glimpse of him from afar. He seemed displeased that he couldn't meet you, Master. He said to tell you to come out since he knew you were here."
Eyes like a snake hunting for prey. Remembering the man I had just seen gave me chills.
There are many kinds of people in the world, and I too have encountered various people since childhood. To my eyes, that man exuded a dangerous aura. As if even brushing against his collar should be avoided; if a person could devour another, he seemed like the exact type who would do it.
"He did look frightening. The atmosphere around him too."
"That's right. So you stay away from him too. Be careful not to run into him alone, and if you do, don't lift your head, don't meet his eyes, and don't speak to him."
"When would I ever do that?"
"Anyone can have a 'what if'. Since you're attending to me, it's not entirely impossible."
"Why are you connected to someone like that?"
"Everything has its exceptions."
Words that seemed like a sigh escaped his lips. Feeling that he looked somewhat gloomy, I lowered my shoulder so he could lean comfortably. He shifted his body.
"He wasn't like that before."
"Ah. You said you, Christopher, and Lord Ethan are old friends, right? Then you must have seen him often too."
"Not often, just occasionally. He always looked busy. Still, back then he was blunt but responsible, a man with many qualities worth emulating. He even played with us kids. The James I knew changed when Count Christopher passed away."
"Count Christopher?"
"Ethan's father. It was a murder case."
Oh my. I recalled the bright and cheerful Ethan. Nowhere in his appearance did such sorrow show. At the same time, I thought of his younger brother, Lucas. He definitely had a shadow of sorrow cast over him. He smiled, but somehow looked spiritless.
"What about the culprit? Were they caught?"
"They only suspected an outside intruder, but never caught anyone. The servant who was nearby at the time was pointed out as the culprit, but without clear evidence, the case was eventually closed unresolved. And James succeeded the Christopher family. He is the current Count Christopher."
Is that why he's so used to giving orders? His attitude was even overbearing. Recalling that figure gave me the chills, and I rubbed my forearm for no reason.
"After succeeding the family, he changed as if he wasn't the person I knew. He doesn't care about the means for his ends. He didn't hesitate to use and kill people. To the point of butchering even his own flesh and blood if necessary. Yeah... It felt like he became a different person."
"No way. No matter what, could he really change that much?"
"That might be his true nature."
No one knows what's inside a person. Adding that, he curled up. The wind was still chilly, so wondering if he was cold, I sat closer to his side. Our bodies touched, sharing warm body heat. But the parts that didn't touch were still cool.
"So if you ever meet James, run away. Run without looking back. Even if someone grabs you, don't turn around. That's for your own good."
"What about you, Master?"
"I... am running away as hard as I can right now."
Until when? When I asked that, he was silent for a moment. Was he agonizing over it? But his face with closed eyes didn't reveal any thoughts. Even if he looked peaceful on the outside, wasn't he rotting away inside?
Then the most fundamental question surged up.
"Then why did that man target your eyes...?"
"..."
At that moment, Vincent opened his eyes. The weight that had been pressing heavily on my body fell away, and he stared into the air. I worried that I might have offended him.
But that wasn't it. The wind blew his hat back, and his revealed golden hair danced softly. He didn't move a muscle. His eyes staring into the air seemed to be chasing the past.
"I told you last time, but there are times when secrets must be kept as secrets. If you break that and pry, it will eventually bring disaster. Right and wrong aren't important. It's a matter of whether you can bear it or not."
"..."
"What James was after wasn't me."
The humming wind around us embraced his voice and spread it. But another wind swallowed it up. Secrets were hidden, and silence devoured even the surrounding air.
I couldn't breathe.
Secrets must be buried as secrets. But he confessed a fragment of that secret to me.
"I'm not the one who needs to end it."
He pressed his hat, which had been pushed back, deeply over his eyes again. As if hiding himself. Then he leaned on my shoulder again and reached his hand behind his back to shake the iron gate. Closing his eyes as he listened to the creaking sound.
Now only the sound of the wind hummed. I ruminated on his words in my head. Then I flinched in surprise, and carefully recalled the thought that surfaced again even though I tried to erase it.
Then who on earth was that man after?
* * *
To my eyes, it was just a grand and beautiful place. The forest surrounding it, the garden created within, the magnificent mansions, the gorgeously patterned interiors of the mansions and the furniture, decorations, and even a single picture frame hanging on the wall—a space so beautiful it could blind you. I hadn't come here to dream, but being here made me dream.
This place was a space of sweet dreams. But in reality, it hid darkness beneath its splendid colors. A pitch-black darkness that was sticky to the touch and could swallow one's entire body whole.
'Then think about it. It's not an appropriate place to dream vain dreams.'
Would having a lot of money make you happy? Would having a lot of things bring you joy? That might have been too light a thought.
We came out of the forest at the time when the sun set and darkness swallowed the surroundings. Just in case, we entered through the back door, and Isabella greeted us. Seeing that she didn't say much, it seemed that man had left.
After that, nothing else happened. The daily routine of attending to him as always. The briefly shaken daily life quickly soaked back into peace, and my mind maintained its tranquility.
[When I look up at the sky, I want to leave. To a faraway place where no one knows me.]
I read the letter written in golden letters as always. However, sadness peeked through the splendid colors. Did something happen? As I tilted my head in wonder, Isabella handed me the next letter. On the outside of the envelope, it said 'To Paula.' The sender was Violet.
[I'm sending this letter because I want to talk with Paula alone.]
Below that was added a concern about the lace attached to the end of the new dress she ordered this time being tacky, wondering what to do about it. After that, a few more lines of complaints about the dress followed, and the letter ended with news of her daily life.
I also picked up a pen and wrote down a reply to send to Violet. Compared to hers, it was a trivial and unremarkable daily life, but it was enough to densely fill a sheet of paper. I put it in the envelope, and as I picked up the letter with golden letters again, Isabella, who was beside me, stopped me.
"You don't need to write any more replies to that letter."
"Ah."
She took the letter and threw it into the fireplace. The letter burned away quickly. At first, I wondered if it was okay to do that, but thinking about it, the place where I first found the letter with golden letters was also inside the fireplace. When I asked Isabella later, she said those letters are not stored separately but thrown into the fireplace and burned. Perhaps it must mean that no traces should be left behind.
Still, it was a shame. We exchanged quite a few letters. At first, it was awkward to write replies, but once I got used to it, it had its own fun. I looked forward to the letters coming, and when they arrived, I was curious and excited about what would be written. When something good happened, I even thought about writing it in my reply.
Even so, it was only a few lines, but I was careful with those few lines. Perhaps because of that, politeness always oozed from the other person's short letter content. Once, I was curious about who the letter partner was and tried to guess among the people around Vincent. It wasn't very fruitful, though.
I couldn't take my eyes off the letter with golden letters turning to ashes in the fire for a long time. I substituted that regret by exchanging letters with a new partner.
Then one day, when I was gradually getting used to that daily routine.
Late at night, at a time when even the moon was hidden by clouds, the sound of urgent knocking suddenly echoed through the mansion where only the sound of the rain that had been falling since the afternoon lingered. I rubbed my eyes, heavy with sleep, and fumbled across the bedside table. The lamp oil had run out, so after lighting the candle I had left as a substitute, I took the candlestick and left the room. Vincent, having heard the sound as well, was just coming out of his room.
"I'll go check, so go back in and sleep."
"I'll come with you."
"It's fine. Go back in."
"I'm already fully awake."
I went downstairs with him, who was rarely this stubborn. When I opened the door, a man, completely drenched in rain, was standing there. Seeing his face, my sleepiness vanished in an instant.
"Lord Lucas?"
What's with his appearance at this hour? As I looked him up and down in horror, I heard Lucas muttering something. But it was drowned out by the rain and hard to hear. When I asked "Pardon?" and took a step closer, he raised his head.
At that moment, lightning flashed brightly. Amidst the roaring flash of light that followed, a face looking somehow anxious was revealed and then vanished. After the lightning struck two or three more times and stopped, darkness settled around us again, but the complexion I briefly saw in between was noticeably pale.
"Lord Lucas?"
"I came to see Brother Vincent."
I immediately turned around. Vincent was standing right below the stairs, holding onto the railing. Lucas's gaze landed on Vincent.
"Brother."
"Come in."
Vincent turned around and went up the stairs, and Lucas followed behind him. Wherever he passed, water dripped, creating a trail. I also hurriedly closed the door and quickly chased after them.
As soon as we entered Vincent's room, I brought a towel from the bathroom and handed it to Lucas. Saying thank you, he wiped his face.
After that, the two were silent. Even with a face that looked like he had a lot to say, Lucas kept his words brief, and Vincent waited for him.
In the heavy silence, Vincent grabbed my hand.
"Go back to your room."
"But..."
"It's fine, go."
I glanced at Lucas. Is it okay to leave those two alone? But when Vincent shook my hand again, I eventually went back to my room reluctantly. Instead, I lay down with my ear pressed as much as possible against the wall and closed my eyes. Vincent's bed and my bed were adjacent with only a wall between them, so if I focused, I could hear faint sounds. However, it wasn't to the point where I could make out the words.
Soon, a faint voice hummed through. Their conversation continued for a long time until the candle completely melted away.