IWPU 10

Chapter 10

At my words, the maids, startled, each grabbed one of the nanny’s arms. But the two slender women were no match for the nanny’s plump frame. I gave a quick glance to another maid who was hesitating nearby. Unlike the first two, she seemed to catch on quickly and rushed to help restrain the nanny.

“H-How could you, my lady… how could you….”

The nanny mumbled continuously, unable to believe what was happening, even as she was being dragged out. It was obvious she would be deeply upset. Just thinking about how I’d have to soothe her already gave me a headache. I felt especially exhausted today.

“Don’t just stand there—please have a seat, Countess.”

I sat in a chair by the table and gestured for the Countess to sit across from me. She looked at me with a strange expression.

“Didn’t you come here because you had something to say?”

“You’re… not quite what I’ve heard you to be.”

She muttered as she took the seat I’d offered. Her gaze had been fixed on me from the moment she entered. Ignoring her stare, I signaled to the remaining maid in the room. The maid quickly came to my side.

“Two cups of lavender tea.”

She hurried out to bring the tea. I leaned back into my chair and looked at the Countess. She was still gazing at me with that strange look. Now, only the Countess and I remained in the room.

“That’s not really what you came to say, is it?”

I met her gaze directly.

A silence fell between us. Then, the Countess let out a small sigh.

“The woman you called your nanny—if I were to press charges against her for insulting a noble, what would you do?”

So she couldn’t just let it go after all. I had expected as much and took a hard-line approach in advance. My mouth tasted bitter.

“I’m not one for beating around the bush. Just tell me what you want, Countess.”

“Please… meet with him—just once.”

* * *

In the end, I went to meet the Count.

He was staying in the guest annex. After collapsing during the Marchioness’s funeral, he had regained consciousness shortly after the ceremonies ended.

According to the Countess, the first person the Count had asked for upon waking was me. Her expression as she told me this seemed faintly bitter.

“My dear girl…”

The Count, lying in bed, brightened at the sight of me and tried to sit up. He struggled immensely, unable to rise at once. The Countess rushed to support him.

He looked at least ten years older than he had a few days ago. His cheeks were sunken, his face gaunt and lined. He motioned weakly for me to come closer. Even that gesture seemed to drain him. His arm trembled like a brittle branch on a dead tree.

Looking at him, I became certain—everyone’s suspicions had been wrong. The Countess hadn’t tried to kill the Count. She had no need to. There was no lingering attachment to life in his eyes.

It must’ve been the death of his daughter that had shocked him enough to let go of life itself. Wanting to see me was probably because he thought this might be his last time.

I approached him. The Count reached out and clasped my hand gently. His touch was as rough as it looked.

“Are you all right…?”

I gazed at him quietly. I had no reason not to be all right. The Marchioness and I were always like strangers. In the past, I had resentment toward her. But now, she was just another stranger to me. No lingering feelings, no bitterness remained. All I felt was a woman’s pity for another woman.

‘In the end… was suicide the only path she had left?’

I, too, had once made the same choice. I had cursed the world that had pushed me to the edge, resented the man who never looked at me.

‘Back then, was there really no other choice? Could there have been a better way?’

The pain and desperation of that time were still vivid. Back then, the only thing I could think of was ending it all. I had longed for release from the hellish torment, even for a moment. And by then, I was utterly exhausted from loving him.

Because I had made the same choice as the Marchioness, I understood her despair. We had both been blinded by love. Foolish, desperate women, consumed by the emotion called love.

‘But now? Could I avoid making the same foolish choice again?’

A chill ran through my entire body like a bucket of cold water had been poured over me. The emotions I had buried began to crawl up from the depths. I hadn’t seen him again yet. What would happen when I did?

‘Would I fall in love again and repeat the same mistake?’

My fingers began to tremble. I was starting to fear something that hadn’t even happened yet. I was afraid of the me who might fall in love again.

“…I’m sorry.”

A warm embrace enveloped me. Before I realized it, the Count was holding me. His large, rough hands gently stroked my back.

“I should never have looked away, no matter how hard it was… It’s all my fault.”

His frail body trembled as he held me. He was crying. I pulled away from him slightly and looked up. Tears were flowing from the deep creases on his wrinkled face.

He cupped my cheeks in his hands. Rough, but warm.

“It’s all your grandfather’s fault. So don’t cry like that.”

I didn’t understand what he meant. I wasn’t crying—he was. But his face twisted in sorrow as he looked at me.

He wiped the corner of my eye with his thumb. I felt the dampness he brushed away.

“Don’t cry so sorrowfully without even making a sound, my dear girl.”

Reflected in his eyes… I was crying.