Chapter 7
7
7. The Baron family's Awful Master (7)
I was wrestling with him, fearing I'd be kicked out if I didn't do something, but honestly, I thought I'd be punished if caught. In my own way, it was a life-risking act. But why? Puzzled, I followed Isabella, and her voice flowed out.
"Paula, do you know that quite a few servants have passed through this place?"
"Ah, yes. I've heard something like that."
"As the situation is, I tried to be more meticulous than usual, carefully considering the conditions before bringing someone in. But all the people I brought in couldn't properly attend to the master. Rather, the master's condition worsened. Still, we have to keep looking for people, but even that has become difficult as strange rumors have been circulating secretly. There's also that reason for bringing in Paula, who hasn't received proper training, and entrusting her with this work."
Then Isabella stopped walking and turned around. I stopped walking as well, still clutching my nose with my apron, and faced her. My eyes, revealed through the slightly parted bangs, blinked.
"We can't keep changing people every time, so it's time to change the method."
"Then..."
"As long as the master's body isn't harmed, attending to him is entirely entrusted to Paula, so do as you see fit."
That was close to implicit permission for my actions. Honestly, I didn't think she'd turn a blind eye. How strange must the rumors have been?
Anyway, it was good for me. I had no intention of harming his body at all. Rather, I was going to make him healthy. But that process was by no means easy.
He would be horrified if someone touched his body, pushing them away and throwing things, telling them to leave. He broke and threw everything that was put in place, leaving the floor and furniture in ruins. Moreover, if he didn't have anything to throw, he would scream at the top of his lungs, or, unable to control his temper, he would try to scratch his neck or chest until the skin tore, and I often broke a sweat trying to stop him.
At this point, it was a question of who would get tired first.
And at night, groans could be heard from beyond the thin wall. Sounds of resistance, sobbing in pain. My ears were sharp, and I woke up to even the slightest sound. Listening to that faint sound, as if it would go out at any moment, I would find myself opening my eyes and staring blankly into the darkness. The sleepiness that had fled did not easily return.
He was fighting.
With death.
Thinking that, I felt a strange sense of kinship.
Thin and long, even just one more day. That's how I wanted to live. Someone wanted to close their eyes as quickly as possible in this hellish life, but not me.
I wanted to live. There was a time when I desperately wished for death, but now I wanted to live. Even if it was a hellish life, choosing death felt unfair. It was okay to be pointed at for looking strange, and I didn't care if they called me dirty. I wanted to survive, even if I had to lower my face and bend my body.
People called me a tough one. I didn't mind being called that.
Even if I happened to catch the eye of an old gentleman passing by and became a maid in a prestigious Baron family, and the master I came to serve was blind and had a personality that was more awful than I could have imagined.
As I entered Vincent's room, things flew at me as if it were natural. A cup that whizzed past to the right shattered against the door. A clock that whizzed past to the left hit the wall and then rolled on the floor. Not to be outdone, a pillow flew and hit my face directly before falling. The impact caused the Silver Plate I was holding to tip forward. It was predictable that the dessert on it would spill out.
As I indifferently watched him venting all his anger today as well, I wondered what to do in my head. Straight ahead or retreat. First, I bent down to wipe up the dessert that had fallen and was crushed on the floor. Immediately, another pillow flew and hit my face.
As soon as the pillow fell, I decided. I had to say something.
So, as I got up, I heard a suppressed groan. Vincent was crouching down. The venom from just now had disappeared.
No, his condition was strange.
"Master!"
Vincent was clutching his chest and gasping for breath.
Seeing his pale face, I immediately rummaged through my apron pocket. Then I took out a small device and put it in his mouth. When I pressed the protruding part on top, he began to breathe with difficulty.
While attending to him these days, I had experienced several embarrassing things. One of them was when he suddenly couldn't breathe like this.
The first time I experienced this situation, I was so surprised that I ran to the main building to call Isabella. When I told her about Vincent's condition, she immediately called the doctor. It turned out that there was a dedicated doctor living here for the master.
The doctor examined Vincent, who was suffering with his chest, and immediately took action. He put this small device in his mouth like this. Then, he pressed the protruding part on top to help him breathe, and Vincent soon regained stability.
When I asked the doctor what it was as he left after finishing his work, he said it was a Breathing device to help with breathing.
'I'll get you one separately. Always have it on hand.'
This small device, small enough to fit in my hand, had saved him.
According to the doctor, because he couldn't see, his nerves were on edge, and he was accumulating fatigue, and on top of that, he wasn't eating properly or going outside, so his body was very weakened. That's why he was more susceptible to illness.
To overcome this, he needed to eat regular meals, go outside and get some sunlight, and do some light exercise, but Vincent kept holing himself up in his room. If only he would take his medicine, but he didn't even do that and just endured.
Like someone trying to die.
What was it about not being able to see? But when I thought about not being able to see, I was scared. How terrible would it be to live in a dark space, relying solely on sound?
Of course, I could feel textures by touching, smell, and taste was still there. But all of that couldn't overcome the unseen fear. Moreover, he had almost died. That fear must be more than I can imagine.
Still, don't die.
It's not that I'm sad. It's just that I don't want to clean up the corpse of the master I'm attending to.
But I know. That every night, he's struggling to live.
I took the Breathing device out of his mouth, now that he was breathing on his own. I put it back in my pocket and checked his condition as he lay on the bed. Cold sweat was beading on his forehead, and his bloodless face looked exhausted. Still, he was breathing more evenly than before.
As I tried to wipe away the cold sweat, he fiercely slapped my hand away. His eyes were facing the ceiling, but his tightly narrowed eyebrows revealed his dissatisfaction.
"Don't touch me."
"You seem to be doing better since you're talking."
"I'd be even better if you weren't here."
That mouth of his, really.
"Do you enjoy suffering?"
"Get out."
"If you eat."
I brought breakfast instead of the dropped dessert. Rice gruel as white as water, as always. Holding the bowl of Rice gruel in one hand and a spoon in the other, I approached him. I decided not to show my face, which was stained with resolve.
"Get- cough- gasp!"
"Yes, yes."
I familiarly grabbed his face, avoiding his attempts to dodge my touch, and spooned the Rice gruel into his mouth. I wanted to put my fingers in to hold it in place, but I couldn't. Last time I put my fingers in, he bit them and almost cut them off.
I wanted to feed him calmly, but his resistance was so strong that I was soon pouring the entire bowl into his mouth. The Rice gruel that didn't go into his mouth and flowed down made the sheets dirty. His face and neck were also covered in Rice gruel, making a mess.
"No, ugh, na, cough!"
"Just a little more."
"Let, go, let go... let go!"
Unable to bear it any longer, he kicked my body. I was focused on feeding him the Rice gruel, so I couldn't resist the sudden force and fell backward. I must have been at the edge of the bed while struggling, because I fell straight to the floor.
"Ugh."
Ouch! I groaned, clutching the back of my head, which I had hit on the floor. My vision was blurry. The bowl that had fallen next to my face spun around and then stopped.
Rice gruel splattered from the floor to the bed, creating a white path. His clothes were also messily covered in Rice gruel. Nevertheless, he pulled the sheet over and wrapped it around his body. The Rice gruel on his cheek fell onto the sheet.
How am I going to wash that? I sighed at the thought of the renewed struggle.
"You're crazy."
"The sheets are dirty. So are your clothes. You should change into new ones."
I picked up the empty bowl and looked for the spoon, but I couldn't see where it had fallen. Eventually, I gave up and brought new sheets and pajamas. Because his personality was so awful, I realized that it was better to do things all at once rather than one at a time, so I had prepared them together.
"Don't touch my body."
"I won't touch you if you change yourself."
After hesitating for a moment, I held out the new pajamas to him. He stuck close to the wall and guarded against me. I shook the pajamas gently, but he didn't take them, so I finally climbed onto the bed to force him to change, and he quickly snatched them away.
Since he was trying to change his clothes quietly for some reason, I quickly brought a small basin of lukewarm water. Since he refused to bathe, it was to wet a towel and wipe his body.
"Just a moment."
As I tried to stop him from changing into the clothes while still dirty, he fiercely slapped my hand away. The sound was loud enough to echo. Soon after, Vincent glared at me fiercely, but I wasn't particularly surprised. This was also a familiar action.
"If you change like that, it'll still be dirty. Wipe yourself with this and then put them on."
I put the wet towel in his hand. He hesitated for a moment, so when I said I would wipe him myself, he finally started wiping his face.
However, the towel only wiped irrelevant areas. Even when I corrected him that it wasn't there, he only pretended to wipe without sincerity.
Eventually, I took the wet towel and wiped the Rice gruel off the affected areas myself. He immediately backed away. But there was nowhere to run. I silently wiped the Rice gruel off his face, neck, and hair and got off the bed.
I had to change the bedsheets too, so I glanced at him, but he showed no sign of moving. I subtly watched him and then yanked the bedsheets off. Even though he noticed my intention to have him move, he pretended not to know and didn't budge.
In the end, a battle of strength ensued between me, who was trying to take them off, and him, who was trying to resist. Then, in an instant, the bedsheets slipped out. Thanks to that, I fell backward and hit the back of my head on the floor for the second time.
