# 5
5. The Count's Damned Master (5)
"One more word and I'll really kill you right here."
"……."
"Get out right now."
I had heard that royals and nobles kept guns in their bedrooms for self-defense. But where did something that wasn't there just a moment ago suddenly come from?
And he was serious. Even knowing that couldn't be true, meeting those murky eyes that seemed to stare straight at me, I swallowed dry saliva without realizing it.
"Th-then I'll leave you the undergarments."
After straightening up, I grabbed the pile of laundry gathered to one side and practically ran out of the room. Of course, the moment I closed the door, my legs gave out.
I slid down and slumped in front of the door. My heart pounded. The sensation of the gun barrel against my forehead was vivid. Was he really going to shoot?
Why did I overlook this?
That the master of this Count's household is a true madman.
Renika made a deliberately surprised face as she took the basket containing the laundry. It seemed she was shocked that I, who always came back with disheveled clothes and an exhausted face, barely managing to bring only pillowcases or sheets, was giving her perfect laundry today.
She was one of the few people I met every day since coming to this mansion. Every morning she came to the annex herself to collect the laundry and bring things for us to use.
"It seems it went smoothly this time."
"Thanks to the master."
Thanks to him, I'm having a hell of a time.
My face wouldn't be visible anyway because of my bangs, but I forced a smile on my exposed mouth. Even if I complained about how hard it was, I didn't know how words might get twisted, so I had to try my best to act fine. Renica scanned me up and down with a look of seeing me in a new light, then left for the main house with the laundry.
After she left, I sighed and trudged back inside.
That was the only harvest this morning. Breakfast ended with everything being overturned as always. Remembering him pressing the gun to my forehead, I couldn't act forcefully this time. He hadn't eaten anything last night either, but he didn't care.
No wonder his body was so gaunt. He didn't eat properly. When something was brought to him, he threw it first—how bad must it be?
Thanks to that, disposing of the food he didn't eat was my job. I had a somewhat late breakfast, tearing into the cooled thin soup and bread. This too was a kind of luxury for me. In the past, starving was an everyday occurrence, and the food my father and Alicia left behind was my entire meal.
Right, thinking about life before coming here, why should the master's temper be scary?
But the ill-fated Vincent's atrocities continued after that. At lunch, I was chased out without even being able to bring the meal into the room. The moment I entered, he threw things and caused a commotion. He must have deliberately gathered things around him, because he started throwing them the moment the door opened, and I couldn't hold out for even a moment. It was a mistake to put the clock and vase back when he briefly fell asleep.
Even though he threw and broke things like that every time, I had to bring new ones again. I once asked Isabella if it was dangerous and unnecessary, and she said that once when they removed everything, his whole body was covered in scratch marks.
In short, he self-harmed. Even with his fingernails breaking and scratch wounds tearing and bleeding, he didn't stop harming himself, and after that happened a few times, she explained that from then on they filled the room with new things. Perhaps he was venting that filthy temper by throwing things. Thanks to that, this side was having an even harder time.
And it was the same at dinner. Since I hadn't put things back, there was nothing to throw like at lunchtime, but the meal was overturned as always. When I brought it again, it met the same result. Now if I approach, he swings his hands first. If I try to touch his body, he shoves the gun at me.
The next morning, I couldn't even change the pillowcase. After throwing every kind of fit imaginable, he smeared the meal I brought, determined to feed him, all over my face. The failures continuing until evening were a predictable result without even saying.
Two days passed like that. Isabella, who came to check on my condition, had a peculiar expression. It was a face as if she knew this would happen, having foreseen this situation. Watching her back as she left after letting out a low sigh, I felt a chill. Somehow I felt a warning that I must not hear her sigh even one more time.
And that day, my patience reached its limit. The gun he shoved at me was no longer scary. What was scarier than a gun to me right now was reality. I recalled the words I heard last time: 'The servants who served the master suddenly disappeared.' There was no need to even ask what happened to them.
The bowl floating in the air landed on top of my head. The thin gruel in the bowl dampened my head and trickled down. And so dinner ended with being overturned again. I was no longer surprised.
Wiping off the gruel flowing down my face, I went into my room and beat the pillow, making a resolution.
Just you wait.
"You son of a bitch!"
Gathering my anger, when morning broke, I dressed properly, prepared the meal, and ran to Vincent's room. As soon as I entered, I pulled back the curtains to give light to the dark room, and cleared the things on the floor one by one. Then, I also pulled back the dirty sheet.
Then, as expected, the gun barrel touched my forehead.
"Do you want to die?"
"Just shoot."
"What?"
"If I continue to neglect the master like this, I'll die eventually anyway. I'll disappear without a sound before long. Rather than dying this way or that, I'll take the honor of dying by the master's gun. Now, hurry up and shoot to end it."
"……Are you crazy?"
"You're not going to shoot? Then I'll change the sheet."
When I pulled the sheet as it was, he freaked out and grabbed it. For a moment, the force trying to take it and the force trying to hold on clashed. However, the opponent was a patient who hadn't even had thin gruel. I scoffed and pulled the sheet with all my might.
"Truly crazy!"
Leaving behind Vincent shouting after losing the sheet, I brought a new sheet.
"Get out right now!"
"Yes, I'll leave when I finish my work. Could you please get up so I can finish quickly and leave?"
I pushed Vincent, who was about to shout again, and yanked the bedsheet. His body, dragged along with the bedsheet, fell weakly to the floor. I pretended not to notice, finished stripping the bedsheet, and put on a new one. Then I quickly changed the pillowcase too.
He stared blankly into space for a moment, then came to his senses and furiously contorted his face. He cut off the words that had come out as far as "You—".
"I'll bring breakfast."
The floor was cluttered with things, and with his temper being so damned, I didn't know what he'd do, so I temporarily set down the meal I brought at the door, the farthest point away. I deliberately made loud footsteps as I moved away, then picked up the meal I had left by the door and approached again with loud steps.
Vincent felt his way along the floor and sat up on the bed. I snatched the sheet he was trying to wrap himself in again and instead placed a spoon in his hand.
"What are you doing."
"I've prepared the meal."
"I'm not eating."
He threw the spoon he was holding onto the floor. I watched the spoon bounce off the floor with a clang, then brought a new spoon. I had brought a few extra, knowing this would happen.
"How old are you that you still throw tantrums like a child?"
"Do you really want to die by my hand? Is that why you're acting so arrogantly?"
His hand still held the gun. I glanced at him fiddling with it, then stared at Vincent's face again.
"You can't even see in front of you, can you really aim?"
"My fingers are perfectly fine."
"You must be confident you'll hit."
"Shooting was my specialty."
Wow, I see. Briefly expressing admiration, I knelt in front of him and placed the bowl of gruel on my knee. Then I scooped up the gruel with the spoon and brought it to his lips.
"Please open your mouth. I'll feed you."
"Clear that away!"
Vincent swung his hand, but I was one step faster, picking up the bowl and dodging backward. He felt around for something to throw, but I had cleared all the things after what he threw last night.
Realizing there was nothing suitable, Vincent gripped the gun tightly. The veins on the back of his hand bulged. Yet he still didn't try to shoot.
I placed the spoon against his lips again.
"Now, say ah—."
"Clear that away right now!"
"If you have just one bite, I'll clear it away."
"I'm not eating. Clear it away."
"Please have just one bite. Or would you rather eat by yourself?"
"I said clear it away! I said get lost!"
"By any chance, can you not even chew?"
For an adult, it seems you can't even put food in your mouth and chew. When I kindly added this, Vincent let out a gasp of disbelief. Not stopping there, I even kindly offered to teach him how to use his jaw if he wished.
In an instant, he suddenly kicked the bowl I had placed on my knee. The bowl rolled across the floor with a loud noise. The gruel spilled along the path it rolled. I squeezed my eyes shut seeing the bowl lose its balance and tip over halfway.
This time I couldn't contain my anger.
"You must be afraid of me."
"What?"
"I asked if you're so afraid of me that you can't even have one bite of gruel. Why, am I going to eat the master alive? Are you such a great person? Ah, you are a great person indeed. The master of this great household."
"……What are you trying to do right now."
"I'm giving you a scolding."
The reason I endured even when he threw tantrums until now was because his heart was sick.
They said he, who lost his sight, wasn't holed up in his room like this from the beginning. Not long after losing his sight, he went about his daily life as if nothing was wrong. Since he couldn't see, he tried to live no differently from when he had sight by listening to the butler's voice and handling work, but more incidents broke out after that.