TLed by NolepGuy
Chapter 41
I opened my eyes with difficulty.
Perhaps I cried unconsciously, as the corners of my eyes were damp. A sigh escaped me. I felt both troubled and weighed down.
“Haa.”
The room reflected in my faintly opened eyes was dark. It seemed to still be nighttime.
I didn’t want to get up.
I didn’t know how I should face Ricardo from now on, or what expression I should wear.
Should I smile foolishly as if I knew nothing? Or should I lower my eyes gloomily and ask for forgiveness?
I wasn’t sure myself.
What should I do? Though I needed to apologize, no clear answer would come to my mind.
There were so many things I wanted to ask.
I wanted to ask if he was okay, if he was hurt, but when I finally saw Ricardo, I felt like I wouldn’t be able to say anything.
What should I do? I…
That heavy feeling once again dampened the corners of my eyes.
“Cough… Cough…”
My throat was dry and scratchy.
Perhaps because it was the change of seasons, it seemed I had caught a cold.
My head felt hot, as if I had a fever, and I seemed to have a runny nose.
My forehead was hot.
I had a fever.
And my heart felt tangled.
Altogether, I felt unsettled.
“Cough… Cough…”
To drink some water, I reached toward the nightstand next to the bed. My short arms barely brushed the handle, unable to reach, so I rolled my body on the bed and slowly extended my hand toward the water cup.
Squeak…
Squeak…
My hand didn’t reach. Perhaps because of the cold symptoms, my body quickly felt exhausted. Feeling regretful, I stretched out my hand once more, but the water cup remained out of reach, so I brought my hand back onto the bed.
‘I’ll just not drink it.’
After all, one doesn’t die from not drinking a single glass of water.
As I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep, I felt the warmth of a hand on my forehead.
“Are you thirsty?”
A familiar voice reached me.
A warm and gentle voice.
Olivia opened her eyes wide. Because it was a voice she hadn’t expected to hear.
Even with the dizziness from the cold symptoms and the sleepiness making her eyes heavy, The Man in front of her was clearly visible.
Her Butler with red hair and an awkward smile. Ricardo.
Ricardo had his hand placed on her forehead.
With one hand on his own forehead and the other on hers, gauging the fever, Ricardo, deep in thought, met her eyes and smiled faintly.
She didn’t know how long he had been there, but seeing the bucket of ice water and wet towel beside him, it was clear he had been there for quite some time.
“…A ghost?”
Ricardo poured a glass of water from the nightstand and held it out. Supporting her back with one hand, he helped her sit up and offered the water cup, to which Olivia lowered her head.
“I’m not a ghost. I’m the handsome Butler.”
No words came out.
In the vision shown by the blue window, she had prepared the words of apology she wanted to say when she met Ricardo, but now that she was in front of him, her mind went completely blank, like a sheet of white paper.
“Have you woken up?”
“…”
When she cautiously accepted the cup Ricardo handed her, the coldness from the cup soothed her fever, and her heavy heart seemed to lighten just a little.
“Gulp… Gulp…”
Ricardo quietly observed her face as she drank the water, then gave an awkward smile.
“If you’re sick, you should say something. Wasn’t I startled?”
“…”
“Your forehead was burning hot, and you were crying in your sleep. I was very startled.”
“…”
Ricardo made whiny complaints.
He told her that if she was sick, she should say so.
It seemed that he had been nursing her late into the night. He had probably stayed by her side all night.
She felt sorry.
At the same time, she felt a sense of defiance.
After all, he also didn’t say anything when he was sick. Holding the water cup in her hand, she said curtly.
“I’m not sick.”
Ricardo let out an empty laugh. He dipped the warmed wet towel back into the ice water, muttering, “Not sick, you say? I nearly burned my hands,” as he wrung out the towel.
“Then why were you groaning in pain, unable to even drink water?”
“That’s because I had a nightmare.”
“A nightmare?”
Ricardo pondered deeply. Resting his chin on his hand, he thought for a moment before breaking into a small smile and said to her.
“Did you dream of being rejected by Mikhail again?”
Eeeek…!
She grabbed the wet towel that had been placed on her forehead. She raised it high, intending to throw it at Ricardo as she usually did, but the earlier scene replayed in her mind, and she stopped herself.
Ricardo looked at her with eyes full of concern.
Her unusual behavior seemed awkward, and he must have been worried that she was very sick. Truly, her Butler lacked any talent for acting.
They spent time in silence.
Ricardo continuously changed the wet towel, and she entrusted herself to his touch.
The current time was 4 a.m.
It was still night, the hour when sleepiness was at its deepest. She spoke to Ricardo, who was checking her fever with his hand on her forehead.
“Go.”
“Pardon?”
“I said go. You’re sleepy.”
“I’m not sleepy.”
Not sleepy, he said. But she had seen him with dark circles down to his cheeks, nodding off, slapping his own face to stay awake.
And it was awkward too.
A brief silence filled the room.
Ricardo was watching her face, gauging her reaction, while she felt awkward sharing the same space with him.
She couldn’t say anything.
It was difficult to start a conversation.
Suddenly apologizing didn’t feel right either.
Ricardo wrung out the wet towel that had been placed on her forehead. Replacing it quietly, he spoke almost as if to himself.
“Young Lady.”
“Yes?”
“That…”
Ricardo trailed off.
With a long sigh, Ricardo lowered his head and spoke.
“I’m sorry.”
“What?”
Ricardo offered a simple apology. In that moment, her heart wavered. She didn’t know why he was apologizing, and it was supposed to be her who apologized.
Ricardo, seeing her flustered face, began to calmly confess his wrongdoing.
“About the hand.”
“…”
“I didn’t mean to hide it….”
Ricardo spoke about the secret of his hand.
She hadn’t expected Ricardo to bring it up first.
She tucked her hands under the blanket, clenching the fabric of her pajamas tightly.
I felt anxious. While worrying internally about what Ricardo might say, I simultaneously felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness, as if trapped in a prison.
If Ricardo were to talk about what happened that day, what should I do?
I couldn’t figure out how to handle it.
Ricardo spoke.
He spoke to me with a slightly indifferent tone.
“I hid it because I thought the Young Lady might worry. As you saw, the scar on my hand is unsightly, so…”
“It’s already fully healed, so you don’t need to worry, but doesn’t it look quite hideous? Haha… I planned to tell you once it faded a little more.”
Ricardo made excuses.
I could easily find the lie within the truth Ricardo was telling.
The part about considering my feelings was true.
But the part about it being fully healed was a lie.
To someone like me who had already uncovered all the secrets, Ricardo’s lie felt like a dagger piercing me.
I spoke in a sharp voice.
Slightly cold, and with a sense of injustice.
“Am I… not allowed to worry?”
“Pardon?”
Ricardo’s startled reaction came back. I spoke again to such a Ricardo.
“Am I not allowed to worry? I’m actually good at worrying too.”
Ricardo shook his head.
“Worrying is my responsibility.”
Ricardo spoke firmly.
I shook my head.
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
My emotions grew a little intense.
“That doesn’t make any sense. If you’re hurt, you should say you’re hurt, and if you’re in pain, you should say you’re in pain. Aren’t you allowed to do that?”
My heart ached.
Even though I knew I couldn’t handle it, I impulsively lashed out in rebellion.
“You said you’d tell me.”
Ricardo lowered his head.
“I’m sorry.”
Many thoughts arose.
From how much Ricardo must have resented me that day when he faced death, to what he might have felt seeing me crying and calling for Mikhail.
It must have been disgust.
The deeper my thoughts grew, the heavier my heart became.
Though I wanted to stop myself from saying things I couldn’t bear, this trembling feeling in my chest wouldn’t calm down.
My head naturally lowered. I couldn’t look Ricardo in the eye.
“Young Lady.”
Ricardo’s voice reached me.
This time, the kind voice of the Butler, carefully folding the towel and placing it on my fevered forehead, resonated softly in the stillness of the dark dawn.
The Butler spoke.
“Are you very angry?”
I looked at Ricardo without saying a word. Ricardo’s expression didn’t seem very good. As he looked down at me with a face full of guilt, I felt like I was going to cry.
With the hand hidden under the blanket, I tightly gripped the fabric of my pajamas.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’
That was the first thought that came to mind. Why are you looking at me with that face? I wanted to ask, but instead, it made my heart ache even more.
Ricardo grabbed the hand I had hidden under the blanket. His calloused hand warmly enveloped my unscathed, soft hand.
“I was wrong.”
Ricardo’s monologue continued.
“I know. You must have felt upset and betrayed. I would feel the same way.”
Like confessing sins to a priest, Ricardo fiddled with my hand as he began to speak, one word at a time.
“But I didn’t want to show it to you. It’s not a pretty scar… What if it appears in your dreams?”
I clenched my fist.
It was a scar I made.
I wanted to tell Ricardo that it was a wound caused by me, but the fear in my heart kept me from moving easily. What if, after I confessed the truth, Ricardo started to hate me?
Now that it had been revealed. What if he said he hated me? That it hurt so much back then, and that he wished I had just let him die? The selfish worry weighed down my lips.
Even now, I had thought about it dozens, hundreds of times. How could I apologize to Ricardo? No, rather, how could I just say that I was sorry?
No matter how many times I thought about it or agonized over it, I couldn’t find an answer.
Ricardo spoke to me, who was lost in thought.
“Young Lady, this scar…”
Strength returned to my hand.
What words would come out of Ricardo’s mouth? What dagger-like statement would pierce me?
With a deep sigh, he reluctantly began to speak. Selfishly, I found it frightening.
“It’s a wound I got in the dungeon.”
Ricardo spoke with a small smile.
“Actually, the truth is, when I went to the dungeon last time…”
“What… did you just say…?”
Tears welled up.
Why are you doing this… Why are you speaking with that expression again?
“Why are you doing this?”
You know.
“Why. Why are you lying?”
You remember everything. Unlike me, who foolishly doesn’t remember, you… you remember that time. So how could you say that?
“Why are you lying?”
Ricardo smiled awkwardly, looking embarrassed.
“I’m sorry. I hid it, calling it a tattoo…”
Resentment burst out.
“That arm…!”
My voice trembled.
“That arm. That…!”
I couldn’t speak. My voice was shaking too much. It was too frightening. But if I didn’t express this suffocating frustration, I felt like I would collapse.
“It’s because of me…”
I sobbed.
Tears rolled down my cheeks foolishly, over and over.
Ricardo laughed awkwardly.
“Did you know?”
Ricardo gripped my hand tightly and said.
“It’s okay.”