Chapter 22: Vivid and Faded Intertwined
Vivian did not slow her steps. In a dignified tone, she declared, “I am going to the music shop to look at the newly arrived sheet music. I will also stop by the ceramics store to select a few tea set designs. She will accompany me. That will be sufficient.”
One of the bodyguards lifted his head and asked cautiously, “Young Miss, shall we prepare a car for you? And assign two additional bodyguards to escort you? The Master instructed that if you are to go out, we must—”
“That will not be necessary. I will return shortly,” Vivian interrupted, her tone impatient, much as it was when she dealt with overly trivial reports.
The tall bodyguard saw that her attitude was firm and her reason legitimate. She was only bringing her Personal Maid, which seemed somewhat too simple, yet he could not immediately find a justifiable reason to forcibly stop her.
As he hesitated, Eve stepped forward and cast him a calm glance. Her equally indifferent red eyes seemed to say, [Carry out the Young Miss’s orders.]
In the end, the bodyguard nodded and stepped aside to clear the way.
Once the two of them had walked beyond the bodyguards’ line of sight, Vivian’s tightly tensed shoulders finally relaxed.
She let out a long breath and turned back, gazing at the unfamiliar scenery of the manor grounds with a slightly vacant expression.
She had truly come out…
There had been no layers of formal reporting, no retinue announcing her presence.
Eve remained as composed as ever. Only when Vivian’s gaze fell upon her did she seem to notice and turn her eyes toward her.
Their gazes met. Eve said nothing, merely giving her a small nod.
“Wait.”
The moment froze; their steps halted. Vivian suddenly raised an objection. “Your parasol—should you not be holding it for me?”
“……”
“Speak. Do not pretend to be mute.”
“Replying to Young Miss,” Eve said without the slightest change in expression, “I suffer from a particular condition. My skin cannot be exposed directly to sunlight. It causes unbearable itching.”
She lied smoothly, with remarkable credibility.
Vivian said nothing and simply stared at her. She believed her—yet perhaps it was false. She attempted to detect a flaw in her expression.
The result was predictable. She failed. She had almost forgotten that this woman was scarcely distinguishable from a corpse.
“Tch…”
“Is there somewhere Young Miss wishes to go? We still have plenty of time,” Eve asked.
Vivian considered for a moment. The places she had frequently visited were precisely the ones she did not wish to see today. This time, she wanted to go somewhere new.
For example…
“Can we go anywhere?”
“That is correct, so long as Young Miss desires it.”
“Then take me to the Black Street.”
“……”
For a moment, Eve was silent. Was it still possible to retract her earlier words? Or perhaps turn back now?
Of all places, she had to choose the Black Street.
Did she not know that area was dangerous? It lay at the border of the slums and was the most active territory of the mafia gangs. One could even smell the stench of corpses in the alleys from time to time.
“Young Miss, perhaps we—”
“What? Are you going back on your word?!” Vivian flared up instantly, pointing at Eve. “I am telling you, absolutely not! You promised to take me out. If you break your promise, I will… I will…”
She stalled for quite some time, unable to produce anything with real menace. Her flushed face was all bluster.
Eve felt somewhat helpless. “Young Miss, the Black Street is very dangerous. And it is filthy and foul-smelling.”
Vivian crossed her arms and turned her head with a huff. “Then I still want to go! Whether it is dirty or smelly, whether it is dangerous—I will only know after I see it myself.”
Eve felt a bead of sweat form on her forehead.
Should she not have recoiled at the description of filth and stench and abandoned the idea? Why was this not proceeding as expected? Was that place somewhere a noble daughter like her ought to visit?
This was not how such scenarios were supposed to unfold. She should have selected a better conversational option, changed her mind, and gone to a flower shop to buy flowers or sampled a freshly baked apple pie.
“Speak. Are you taking me there or not?” Vivian demanded impatiently. Her energy visibly wilted again as she lowered her head and muttered, “I finally trusted you for once… Liar…”
Eve: ?
What kind of accusation was that? Words detrimental to unity ought not be spoken. Of all things, she could not tolerate being called a liar. How dare she? How could she possibly refuse now?
After a moment’s thought, Eve made up her mind. If trouble arose, she would handle it. Should danger present itself, she could still carry Vivian away and retreat.
That was far better than allowing this Young Miss to conclude that she was a liar—or worse, to sneak off on her own.
“Young Miss.”
“…What?”
“Let us go. We will visit the Black Street.”
Vivian’s expression changed in an instant. She lifted her head, her eyes shining. “Truly?”
Eve could not help but feel that not only did Vivian resemble a child in figure, but in certain aspects of her temperament as well—earnest and easily pleased.
“Truly,” Eve affirmed, silently adding in her heart, I only hope you do not regret it later.
“Then let us hurry!”
Vivian immediately brightened, even taking two eager steps forward before turning to urge Eve along. There was not the slightest trace of the aloof, demanding noble daughter she usually appeared to be.
Within the environment of the Hatherin Family, such a trait seemed… somewhat pitiful.
Eve stepped forward to follow, maintaining a one-step distance behind her. “However, it is not nearby. We will need to take a bus and then walk a short distance.”
“A bus?” Vivian blinked, unfamiliar yet curious about the word.
Whenever she went out, she rode in the family’s private car bearing their crest. She had never encountered a public vehicle crowded with people from all walks of life.
As Eve explained, she also observed the changing surroundings along the way.
They had left the quiet bounds of the manor. The buildings grew more compact, pedestrians more numerous, and clothing styles more varied.
…
Half an hour later.
The bus stopped at a station near the bridge leading toward the slums, the old district. The interior of the vehicle had been exceedingly crowded.
The smell of sweat mingled with cheap tobacco and the greasy scent of some pungent food, all blending together.
Under Eve’s protection, Vivian managed to disembark.
The moment her feet touched the stone-paved road, she took several deep breaths—only to be choked by coal smoke and the fishy odor wafting from a nearby gutter, prompting a soft cough.
Vivian looked down at the hem of her dress. At some point, the red fabric at the edge had acquired a suspicious gray-black stain.
It looked as though the black portion of the gown itself had become infected, glaringly conspicuous. Her brows knit tightly together. Her small nose twitched, and unmistakable disgust crossed her face.
“Cough… Even the air here is dirty,” she complained under her breath, drawing a handkerchief from her bag and holding it over her nose to filter out the offensive smells.
The people passing by were plainly dressed, some even in tattered clothing. Their steps were hurried, lacking the elegance and composure she was accustomed to.
The glances cast in her direction were complex, making her feel as though the protective shell labeled “daughter of the Hatherin Family” had been stripped away. Her skin prickled as though ants were crawling over it.
Without drawing attention, Eve deflected a porter who nearly collided with Vivian and said calmly, “Young Miss, this is the edge of the old district. The Black Street lies ahead. We must cross the suspension bridge.”
“If you feel uncomfortable now, we may return.”
“Who said I am uncomfortable?!” Vivian retorted at once, straightening her back. She lowered the handkerchief covering her nose slightly, though her delicate face remained tense. “Lead… lead the way.”