A Monodrama for Carolyn August - Chapter 53

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 53.
“Good heavens!”
Iban clutched his chest and leaned against the wall, wondering if he’d seen a ghost.
The fright passed quickly; holding the lamp closer, he recognized her at once.
It was the Maidservant who had served at dinner and teatime.
A middle-aged woman, old enough to seem nearly a head Maidservant, though whether other servants existed in the Mansion remained unclear—making any official title feel hollow.
“Forgive me for startling you, sir.”
“No, no. Is something the matter?”
“Were you on your way to see the young master?”
The Maidservant asked calmly, her hands folded before her.
Iban abandoned any pretense of denial.
There was no point in lying about wandering someone else’s house with a lamp in hand.
“Yes, I was.”
“If you have questions for the young master, I can answer them all. How would it suit you if I let him sleep, and instead offered you a soothing tea—something pleasant to drink at this hour?”
A conversation with the Maidservant instead of the child?
Iban hesitated for a moment.
“As you know, the young master must be quite exhausted.”
At that, Iban nodded.
The Aiden he’d seen through the window had arrived at the Mansion on foot, without even a Carriage.
And considering what he’d witnessed near the Train Station—Aiden begging in the streets—
The Maidservant had already sensed that Iban knew this truth.
“Very well. Let us talk.”
Steam rose expertly from the Teapot as the Maidservant poured.
Breathing in the delicate aroma of tea, Iban lifted the Teacup to his lips.
“Mrs. Darvel is quite fixated on this Mansion, isn’t she?”
“Yes, sir.”
The Maidservant nodded, sliding a plate of Cookies filled with nuts toward him.
“The mistress wishes to preserve the Mansion and everything within it exactly as it is. She has not forgotten her former lover, The Count, and her attachment to what he gave her is extraordinarily strong. That is why she has never sold a single thing.”
“And yet she still indulges in extravagance, as if still in her youth.”
“Indeed. Having grown accustomed to luxury for so many years, she regularly orders fine Jewelry and Dresses. Though she does not say it outright…”
“?”
“…it seems she believes that if she remains beautiful and keeps up her appearance, that gentleman will return to her.”
Who that gentleman was had become clear.
Before visiting the Mansion, Mileba had warned Iban and told him the story beforehand.
“She still has not forgotten The Count.”
“No. She speaks of him several times a day.”
Iban himself had sensed this after conversing with her today.
Michelle’s mind was not entirely sound.
She had not lost her reason or suffered severe damage, yet there was unmistakably a vast emptiness within her.
The way her face had hardened at the mention of selling things.
The chill that had descended over the conversation.
A way of thinking utterly disconnected from reality.
“It cannot be good for the boy. No, that is not even the real problem. I saw Aiden begging at the Train Station today.”
The head Maidservant’s expression twisted into a bitter smile.
“On his first day here, the mistress told him he could not touch the Artwork. He economized as much as possible. But the mistress only grew hungrier for lavish spending.”
Iban glanced through the window at Michelle’s room across the way.
Even the Curtains drawn over the windows were of the finest quality, woven with gold thread.
“Unlike the mistress, who would not believe despite being told of our financial troubles many times, the young master grasped the problem quickly. So he told me to sell some of the Artwork and use the money for living expenses.”
“Good God.”
Iban closed his eyes tightly.
He was only a child—not even double digits in age.
“After the mistress discovered it and scolded him severely, it did help. I told her that the luxury goods were difficult to procure due to the craftsmen’s lack of skill or circumstances, and by gradually reducing the household staff, we managed to survive.”
“But that was not enough.”
“After the young master was harshly reprimanded by the mistress, I stopped mentioning our living expenses to him entirely. Yet somehow he sensed it, and one day, without a word, he simply pressed money into my hand.”
The Maidservant’s face contorted.
Sorrow at how quickly the child had grown, the relief she felt at that moment, self-reproach for her own helplessness—all of it was etched into every line of her visage.
“It was no small sum. At first, I thought the young master had stolen it. I inquired for days, but no Artwork had gone missing. The things he used as a small child had long since been sold.”
“So now it makes sense. That boy… he begs.”
The Maidservant nodded.
Iban let out a hollow laugh and leaned back in his chair.
A magnificent Mansion.
There were countless things that could be sold for money if one so wished—yet they remained untouchable.
Living in a place that appeared more lavish than anyone else’s, and yet lacking funds even for food and firewood.
To resolve this, the boy would venture outside and beg, earning a considerable sum in the process.
“It’s a ridiculous story—the kind you’d never see in a play.”
Iban shook his head.
“Please, help us. Our parents are gone, and my sister and I survive by begging. We have nowhere to stay, so we’re beaten every time we go from shop to shop.”
Aiden’s voice, as he clutched his sleeves tightly while speaking, had brushed past Iban’s ears.
The way he spoke, his voice trembling with barely suppressed tears, had seemed genuine—like a child truly trapped in such circumstances.
Even his carefully chosen clothing had fit the part perfectly.
“Then is the boy’s appearance fabricated as well?”
“It appears he maintains it that way each time, believing people will find it more convincing.”
“The sister, of course, must be a lie too.”
“Yes, sir. Whatever story he has told to obtain money, it is all false. As for the young master himself…”
The head maidservant hesitated, fidgeting with the Teacup.
Iban furrowed his brow and drew his chair closer.
“Speak.”
“The young master possesses keen powers of observation and considerable intellect. He discerns with ease what words will draw money from his mark. He has a gift for constructing compelling false backgrounds and deceptions, and for making himself appear as though they were true.”
“He does seem gifted at Acting. Even I was momentarily drawn in and gave him a substantial sum.”
In that instant, understanding struck Iban like a flash of light.
‘Acting.’
Aiden possessed a remarkable talent for performance. And Michelle and Aiden Darvel were in want of funds.
Having the boy walk more than ten minutes—a distance a Carriage could cover—to beg each time was hardly appropriate.
Even if money were obtained consistently, what was to become of the child’s life?
“How would you feel about trying something different?”
The next day, Iban requested a private audience with Aiden.
And he presented the boy with a proposal: to become an actor.
That way, he would not go hungry, and his future would be assured.
That he possessed genuine talent for Acting.
Simultaneously, Mileba broached the same idea to Michelle—suggesting that Aiden be trained in the theatrical arts.
“Aiden seems to have inherited your artistic sensibility. He has real talent in that direction.”
“Is that so? Well, it doesn’t matter to me. Do as you think best.”
Michelle, who had never shown much interest in her children, offered no particular objection.
And so, when Iban and Mileba’s holiday at the Mansion drew to an end,
As they boarded the Carriage to depart, Aiden traveled with them.
The two journeyed toward the Capital, escorted by the farewells of a maidservant whose smile was brighter than it had ever been.
In that moment, Mileba believed she had made a truly wise choice—that she had resolved all difficulties with wisdom and foresight.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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