# 97
97. The Still Strange Guest (11)
"Honestly, I couldn't understand it. I just chalked it up to him being a soft-hearted guy. But looking back, I think I had a similar moment too. When I first met Paula."
Ethan paused for a moment, then let out a soft chuckle. His gaze shifted slightly, as if recalling the first time we met.
"I simply thought she was a new maid, but the moment I realized that wasn't the case, I felt so relieved. Ah, Vincent isn't alone. There's someone staying by his side, even if just a little. There's someone who will strike him and stop him with all their might if he harbors dark thoughts."
His smile deepened.
"It wasn't because Paula did something, or because she was someone special. Rather, Paula probably doesn't realize how comforting it was that she simply stayed by his side without doing anything."
"……."
"Vincent must have felt the same way."
His eyes, fixed on me once more, were brimming with affection.
"In a darkness filled with nothing but despair, if someone takes your hand without any ulterior motives, and if you come to trust that touch... how could you ever forget that memory?"
His low voice sounded as if he were embracing and comforting me. It gave me the illusion of warmth spreading through my entire body.
"I... don't understand."
I couldn't understand what Ethan was saying. Why me? What am I to you? My going to that mansion was mere coincidence, so why do they tell me they found comfort? Why do they reveal their affection as if whispering a cherished memory?
To become an unforgettable person, someone to long for, someone who brings comfort—you must possess that much worth. But I had no such value.
As soon as I began to toddle, my father immediately taught me housework. I learned to clean by staggering under a broom taller than myself, grasping it with both hands.
One day, I followed my father while struggling to carry a towering pile of laundry by myself, only to be abandoned at the washing grounds. Left standing there all alone, I watched the women nearby out of the corner of my eye and did laundry for the first time. I scrubbed and wrung the clothes with my tiny hands, but the results were dreadful. Seeing the soaking wet pile of laundry, my father brought his large hand down across my cheek.
'I only keep you around if you're useful, useful!'
'Waaah!'
'Shut up!'
My father was merciless, even to his young child. Beaten without even knowing why I deserved it, I wailed until I eventually fainted. Afterward, I realized that crying only further provoked his temper, so I stopped crying altogether.
'You're useless, so you have to at least do this if you want to keep living with me. Understood?'
He whispered those words as he forced a knife into my tiny hands. I was so terrified of the sharp blade that I didn't want to touch it, but my father insisted I hold it. That day, I peeled what felt like an entire sack of potatoes, cutting my hands countless times in the process. The potatoes I peeled were made into a watery soup, which my father ate all by himself.
'You useless bitch.'
My father often said such things. Frowning and clicking his tongue, and sometimes resorting to brutal violence. An ugly child who could only be sold for a pittance was worthless to him.
And when the mother who bore the youngest ran away alone in the dead of night just days after giving birth, I realized it.
I was a person of no worth. A useless existence.
I felt it to the very bone as I held the hands of my still-young siblings. How could someone like me have been that to you?
"I don't know if I am someone worthy of such things."
Even the parents who birthed me denied my existence. I couldn't save my siblings from death. The one remaining sibling hated me, just as our parents had. No one liked me. Receiving someone's affection was something I dared not even wish for. I couldn't understand Ethan, who seemed to be calling someone like me a precious person.
I stared blankly at Ethan and licked my drying lips. He said nothing, simply meeting my gaze with calm, settled eyes.
Soon, he patted the back of my hand again. It was a slow, feeble touch, yet incredibly warm. His long, brown eyes held a gentle light.
"Paula, don't overthink it. Like I said last time, I'm not trying to make things difficult for you. I just want you two to face each other honestly, at least once. You said you deceived Vincent about your appearance. If Vincent is longing for Paula, it would be too cruel, wouldn't it?"
Even though my previous answer must have sounded strange, he didn't mention it. He simply offered a gentle smile.
"I just had a somewhat amusing thought. Perhaps it's fate that we met again like this."
"...It's a coincidence."
"You're supposed to say, 'I think so too,' at times like this."
"……."
"Then again, I don't really believe in things like fate either. But right now, I'd like to believe in it a little."
Suddenly, Ethan leaned his face closer to mine. He opened his mouth as if he had something to say, but then abruptly hesitated. I watched him curiously, wondering what he was doing, and waited for him to speak.
"Actually, you see..."
The voice that flowed out a moment later was heavy. Curious as to what he was trying to say, I unknowingly pricked up my ears and leaned in closer.
*Knock knock.* The sound of someone rapping on the door rang out. Startled, I whipped around, only to find Vincent leaning against the open doorframe, wondering when he had even opened it.
W-when did he get here? How much did he hear? Don't tell me he heard everything? Vincent calmly observed Ethan and me, who had frozen in bewilderment, and threw out a remark.
"It seems I'm interrupting."
Only then did I take in Ethan and my own posture. With our hands clasped together and our faces so close they were nearly touching, it was a sight ripe for misunderstanding.
I jumped up in a panic, and Ethan raised both hands.
"Don't misunderstand. We were just having a light conversation."
"No need to explain."
"If I don't, you'll misunderstand."
Don't do that. Despite Ethan's firm words, Vincent's reaction was indifferent. He neither denied nor confirmed it. He definitely misunderstood.
I parted my lips to make an excuse, only to meet Vincent's gaze head-on. Had it become a habit? I instinctively averted my eyes. It was only after I turned my head away as far as possible to hide my face that I realized my mistake.
Ethan glanced between Vincent and me, letting out an ominous, "Hmm..."
"How long have you been here?"
"Just now."
"Just now when?"
Perhaps sharing the same concern as me, Ethan pressed him relentlessly. Vincent paused for a moment, but soon answered obediently.
"When you were rambling about fate."
Then that meant he hadn't heard our earlier conversation. I secretly let out a sigh of relief. However, the conversation Vincent *had* heard was far from reassuring either.
Perhaps due to our past connection, Ethan didn't act stiffly around me, and I too had grown accustomed to being comfortable around him. Because of that, I never knew when I might make a slip-up. On top of that, he occasionally called out my real name. I would have to beg him to be more careful the next time I got the chance.
"Did you come to see me?"
"Yes. I have something to say."
At those words, Ethan briefly made a surprised expression and looked at me.
"Po—"
"I'll take my leave!"
I hastily cut off his words. If he said even one more syllable, I was going to strangle him. I glared at him viciously with that thought in mind, and Ethan clamped his mouth shut. Instead, he grabbed my arm and yanked me downward. Before I knew it, I was seated back on the sofa.
"Stay seated here."
"Pardon?"
Flustered, I looked over at Vincent. Seeing him subtly contort his face to reveal his displeasure made me feel awkward. This might be an important conversation, so I shouldn't be here, should I?
However, every time I tried to stand, he would yank my arm, causing me to repeat the motion of lifting and lowering my bottom. I shot him a look telling him to stop, but he completely ignored it.
He's really going to misunderstand and think we're in a suspicious relationship at this rate.
I could feel a lingering gaze.
"You two seem close."
Vincent flopped down on the sofa across from us. Unable to escape my seat, I hung my head low.
"Because we know each other. I told you I used to work at his mansion."
"For mere acquaintances, your relationship seems quite deep."
"Well, we share a secret. Call it a cooperative relationship?"
Ethan's nonchalant words felt like they could spark a misunderstanding where there wasn't one. I shot Ethan a horrified glare, but upon catching Vincent's gaze, I ducked my head again. The stare bearing down on the top of my head felt prickly.
"There's some dessert left. Would you like some?"
Ethan smoothly pushed forward a plate holding the remaining sweet chocolate cake.
"I'm fine."
"It's really sweet, but it's quite good. Here."
Ethan pushed the plate closer to Vincent and even poured him some tea. Unable to refuse any longer, Vincent picked up his cup.
The teacup clinked against its saucer. That was the only sound. After that, Vincent and Ethan didn't exchange a single word. Vincent, who claimed to have something to say, just chewed on the cake, while Ethan silently sipped his tea.
A breeze drifted in through the open window, carrying the sound of leaves rustling against each other, but not a single syllable of human conversation leaked out. As if they had made a pact, they didn't even look at each other.
I sat between them, constantly gauging the atmosphere.
I could now be certain. The tension I had felt last time was not an illusion. A heavy atmosphere hung over the room, shrouded in silence. An uncomfortable air enveloped the two of them. I couldn't say they had been close, but even so, it hadn't been this bad five years ago. Now, the suffocating awkwardness felt almost unbearable.
Caught in the middle of it, even I ended up feeling uncomfortable.
'I want to escape.'
My bottom shifted restlessly.
"W-would you care for more tea?"
Mustering the courage to lighten the stiff atmosphere, I lifted the teapot, but Vincent merely glanced at me without answering. I sat there, stiff as a board, experiencing the limits of my patience. Did he want me to pour or not? I just wanted him to say his piece quickly and leave, but Vincent was silently chewing his cake at an agonizingly slow pace. He looked ready to dissect every single ingredient that went into making it.
In the end, I quietly refilled his empty teacup without a response.
Then, I subtly asked Ethan.
"Shall I pour you some more?"
"I'm fine."
A cold refusal came back. I shrank back gloomily.
Silence fell once more. My hand holding the teapot began to tremble. If I made an excuse to leave, would they see through the lie? Would they even care enough about me to notice? I didn't know what kind of situation this was, but I felt like I would lose my mind if I stayed here any longer. I racked my brain for a way to escape.
"Didn't you say you had something to say to me?"
Ethan was the first to break the ice. Only then did Vincent set down his teacup and give him his attention.
"Why did you insist on staying here?"
"What are you talking about all of a sudden? I just said I'd rest here for a few days."
"Give me a proper reason."
"You can just think of it as me taking a short vacation here."
"Not that."
Ethan's eyes widened.
"What exactly do you want me to say?"
"I'm asking what you plan to do while staying here."
"What kind of nonsense are you implying I'd do?"
"I'm asking because it seems like you're up to something."
"You think I insisted on staying here because I have some ulterior motive?"
"Yes."
At the firm reply, Ethan paused. But soon, he let out a playful smirk.
"Don't be ridiculous. I just came here to rest."
"Here, of all places."
"Robert is here."
"I hope that's really all there is to it."
Vincent's retort carried a hint of a bite to it. Seemingly sensing this as well, Ethan draped his arm over the backrest and rested his chin on the back of his hand. His head was tilted at an angle, suggesting a hint of displeasure, but his expression was so stoic that his true thoughts were impossible to read. Ethan stared quietly at Vincent.