95. That Still Strange Guest (9)
Going out to the back of the mansion, I saw laundry hanging on the clothesline. The laundrywoman set down a basket next to the porch and began taking down the dried laundry. When I helped her take them down, she looked troubled again, but it wasn't a difficult task, so I pretended not to notice and helped. It would have been much easier if only the man next to me wasn't here.
I sighed at the presence that stuck to me with every step I took. The laundrywoman, who had initially tried to stop me, was slowly backing away, glancing cautiously at Ethan.
"Didn't you say you didn't want to leave your room?"
"You told me to do something other than sleep."
"I didn't mean for you to follow me around."
"Watching is quite fun, you know."
I coldly turned to look at Ethan, who was standing glued to my side.
"Why on earth are you acting like this?"
"Because I want to get closer to Paula?"
I took a step back.
"I don't find such jokes amusing."
"Oh, but it's not a joke."
"Do you really have nothing better to do?"
"Yes."
I was at a loss for words at his shameless reply. I felt like he had said he was busy last time; did I hear him wrong? However, as he stared at me blankly, he truly looked like a man with nothing to do.
I looked at him as if he were the most pathetic person in the world, then shook my head. Ethan, completely unfazed by my reaction, simply observed me. At one point, he asked, "Shall I help?" which made me jump in alarm, and I earnestly instructed him to never touch anything.
After helping to take down the laundry and receiving fresh linens, I went back inside the mansion.
"What are you going to do next?"
Ethan asked as he followed behind, but I didn't answer. Yet, that question continued to follow me—while I went to Ethan's room to organize the items I had brought, replaced the drinking water, went out to sweep and mop the hallway in front of the room, and refilled the coal in the stove.
Moreover, he didn't just follow me consistently; he would trail behind me, suddenly disappear, and then just as I thought he was gone, he would pop out of nowhere and start following me again. Thanks to that, I had to clutch my chest in fright several times.
The presence sticking to me like a tail was burdensome enough to drive me mad.
I finished a simple meal, and with some time to spare, I went to see Robert. From the moment Ethan singled me out as his personal attendant, I had to serve both Robert and Ethan.
Serving Robert was merely an assistant role to his nanny anyway, and perhaps her personal matters were settled, as the nanny hadn't left the estate recently and stayed constantly by Robert's side. As a result, the time I needed to focus on Robert had decreased. Naturally, I no longer wrote letters reporting about Robert either.
Still, whenever I had the time, I dropped by Robert's room. Today, Robert was taking a late nap, so the nanny welcomed me by herself. The nanny, who had been greeting me warmly, widened her eyes when she saw Ethan standing behind me.
'It seems you two are quite close?'
It was to the point where the nanny openly marveled and asked. It was definitely a strange sight. If I kept walking around like this, I wouldn't be able to avoid someone's questioning.
Eventually, I lost my patience.
"Just go for a walk!"
"Shall we go together?"
He suggested as if he had been waiting for this. I was slightly tempted for a moment, but shook my head.
"Servants are not allowed to leave this mansion freely."
"We can just go nearby."
"I don't want to cause unnecessary trouble."
"Then keep working hard. I'll just watch."
At this rate, it seemed like he would follow me around and watch until I went to bed.
"What are you going to do now?"
I was now sick and tired of hearing that question. I hesitated for a moment before speaking.
"I am going to prepare some dessert for my master."
"For Robert?"
"..."
Without replying, I headed back to the rear stairs. As Ethan tried to follow me again, I went down to the kitchen after making him promise absolutely not to follow me, saying I would be back soon. I went straight to the chef, requested a dessert, and prepared tea to go with it.
Balancing a thick slice of chocolate cake, cookies, a teapot, and teacups on a silver tray, I walked up the stairs. I walked past Ethan, who was staring at the items in my hands, and headed up.
"Robert will be happy."
"It is for you, Lord Ethan."
"..."
"I'll give you this, so will you stop following me?"
Ethan, who had been silent for a moment, replied in a low voice.
"Am I a burden to you?"
"Yes."
"Bear with it."
"..."
No, this guy is really...
"Go back to your room and sleep again, even if it's late. Sleep all you want. I absolutely won't disturb you."
"Well. I'm not really in the mood for that right now."
"Until when exactly are you going to follow me around?"
"Until I get bored?"
A deep sigh leaked out involuntarily. It seemed like conversing with him was impossible. Urging my steps on with the thought of quickly dropping off the tray in the room and running away, I wanted to regain my freedom quickly.
I quickly walked up the stairs and down the hallway. The footsteps following behind also gradually grew faster.
"Shall we eat that together?"
"I'm fine."
"Don't be like that, let's eat together."
"I'll pass."
"Paula."
An unwelcome call reached my ears. No, I told you not to call my name! I stopped walking and quickly turned towards Ethan.
At that moment, the door to the left of Ethan burst open, and two maids coming out of the room collided with him.
With a short scream, the two maids lost their balance and fell to the floor. Both of them were holding vases; one hit the floor and shattered, and the other soaked Ethan's left trouser leg before rolling onto the ground. The flowers that had been in the vases were scattered all around.
Standing about five steps away, I fortunately avoided the disaster of spilling my tray.
"I, I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!"
One maid spotted Ethan, freaked out, and prostrated herself on the floor. Bowing her head to the wet floor soaked with water from the vase, she repeatedly said, 'I'm sorry.'
The other one froze stiff upon seeing Ethan, then slowly prostrated herself following the maid next to her. Her crouched body was trembling.
"P, please, f, forgive me..."
"P, please, have mercy."
It was nothing major. It was a minor accident, a perfectly understandable mistake. Yet the maids bowed their heads and trembled in fear as if they had committed a grave offense against Ethan.
Why? I looked at them in bewilderment, then shifted my gaze to Ethan. He was staring down at his soaked trouser leg.
"Please spare me!"
A desperate cry erupted. Following her, the other maid shouted the exact same words. 'Please spare me! Please, at least don't take my life! Please! Please!' It was almost like a shriek. The sound startled me. Yet the very person listening to it remained completely unfazed and apathetic.
Seeing that smile-less face, I could understand why they were trembling. The man standing there right now was not the playful, smiling man from before, but Count Christopher. With a rigid expression, a heavy aura, and a pristine appearance, he was the very subject of fear, trailed by cruel rumors. Although it was a minor mistake, the person they faced was a nobleman rumored to not even hesitate to kill his own kin, which was why they were trembling in terror.
Ethan glanced down at the maids who were prostrated and trembling, then took a step forward. Flowers were crushed and trampled beneath his feet, but he paid them no mind as he walked towards me. I stared blankly at his approaching figure.
"Let's go."
Ethan uttered just those two words and strode past me. Only then did I snap out of my daze and follow behind him, keeping a step or two of distance. Glancing back, I saw the maids watching us. It felt strange seeing their fear-stricken faces directed at Ethan.
Perhaps realizing that their sudden mistake had passed without consequence, one of the maids began to sob. The sight of the other maid holding her in her arms and comforting her looked like survivors who had just crossed the threshold of death.
I turned my head to look at Ethan. He must have heard the crying, yet he showed no reaction whatsoever. He didn't even look back.
I scanned him from top to bottom. Even upon a second look, his attire was immaculate. He must have applied pomade and slicked his hair back, as it was flawlessly neat without a single strand out of place. However, right below the back of his head, in a spot his hands couldn't easily reach, a few tufts of hair were sticking out.
Seeing that, my tension suddenly evaporated. I thought his grooming was immaculate, but what on earth was that? At the unexpected flaw, a laugh threatened to slip through my lips. Has he been walking around like that the whole time? Anyone who saw it would have wondered what was going on. He probably didn't even know himself.
If the maids had seen the back of his head just now, would they have been so terrified? If they had gathered their wits and observed him properly, wouldn't they have noticed his little flaw? Wouldn't they have realized that he wasn't such a frightening person? However, overwhelming fear blinds one to what is right in front of their eyes.
Come to think of it, whenever I occasionally bumped into the other servants, they would look behind me and either startle or freeze in their tracks. Some would bow deeply, desperately trying to avoid making eye contact. Every single one of them had fear etched onto their faces.
'Ah, so that's why.'
I hadn't noticed. That the air surrounding him was razor-sharp, and that everyone was watching and fearing Ethan.
Being as perceptive as he was, he must have noticed. Perhaps it had been that way ever since he first arrived at this mansion. Was that why he holed up in his room and only slept? He had chosen me as his personal attendant, and the other servants hadn't welcomed him. As a result, I was the only servant who went in and out of his room.
His room was likely the only space where he could let his guard down. The moment he stepped out of it, he had to become Count Christopher, subjected to the stares of others. Even though he had done nothing, people would cower in preemptive fear and lower themselves before him.
Perhaps sleeping comfortably was the true "recuperation" he had spoken of.
Ethan maintained his silence as we walked down the hallway. He neither displayed the playful attitude from earlier, nor did he initiate conversation. His gait was rigid, and the aura he emanated felt somewhat heavy. However, as the only person who had noticed his little flaw, I glanced around once before whispering softly.
"Lord Ethan, your hair is sticking out in the back."
It was a soft voice, but it must have been loud enough for Ethan to hear. As if to confirm this, his stride faltered for a brief second. Soon after, his hand came up to awkwardly feel and smooth down the back of his head. Watching him, I calmly spoke. A little more to the side.
His pace ahead of me quickened. As I followed behind him, I firmly suppressed the laugh threatening to burst out. It was my own way of showing consideration for Ethan, who was likely feeling mortified. However, that consideration didn't last long, as I eventually burst out laughing.