Trashes of the Counts' Families || Trash of the Count's Family || OC

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He was quiet for a moment. "You screamed her name last night," he answered softly.

Adara's face hardened, but he knew she wasn't annoyed at him. She sighed again, though this time, it sounded more annoyed. "Yes. Unnie. She would have loved the sea and salty air if she hadn't left."

Cale looked at her, surprised. "Left?" He had never heard about her Unnie leaving; he just assumed— he didn't know what he assumed. Adara rarely spoke of her Unnie.

She nodded rigidly, still looking at him. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She closed her mouth and tried again. "She... she didn't leave, per se. She died."

Cale blinked; he did not expect that in the slightest. But he noticed the way Adara's shoulders were no longer slumped; instead, they were tense. He noticed the way she wasn't looking at him anymore. "You don't need to talk about it—."

She shook her head, shutting him up in an instant. "No. I am going to talk about it. I... I said I would start accepting care, and in my head, that means opening up and accepting the fact that people can feel sympathy towards me." Because I am Adara Thornwin, she thought. And I will still be Adara Thornwin once I let go of her.

And so, she started her story, a hand on her golden sun pendant. "Unnie—Layla was my servant. She was to me what a lady's maid was to a married woman; she dressed me, made sure I got to my lessons on time, brought me my meals when I was not dining in the dining room, and helped me carry my books to my room because I was weak."

She held onto the pendant tightly, her knuckles an ashy grey. "She often took trips to the Market, and I begged her to let me come. And she did. And I got this pendant—or stole it—I can't remember."

She could still remember Unnie panicking if she paid for it on the way back, but the Market was already closed and she did not know where the jeweller lived. Unnie said she would go the next day to pay for it.

"The next day, she was nowhere to be found. I searched the whole castle, knocking on all the servants' doors. If they were inside, I asked them; if not, I moved on. Nobody knew where she was—except the Housekeeper."

Cale wasn't sure— he knew he would never tell anybody— but he thought he saw the smallest tear streak down her cheek.

"The Housekeeper was always very nice," she continued. "She always patted me on the head when she saw me. That time, she did not. She couldn't even look me in the eyes. She told me to go to the courtyard." Adara was holding onto her golden pendant for dear life. "She was executed. She was standing on a wooden platform when I arrived, the noose around her neck. She saw me... just as they let her drop."

She can still remember how her body fell, the rope taut and a sickening crack in the air. She can remember how her Unnie had tears in her eyes as the rope tightened around her neck, swaying violently. She can remember how her Unnie tried clawing at her neck– still staring at her— she can remember how her attempts got more and more feeble until her hands hung lifelessly at her side, neck elongated.

Her father was there; he was ushering her out, spouting nonsense that she wasn't supposed to be in the courtyard. And as she got pushed out, she glanced behind her. Her Unnie was still swaying ever so softly, her eyes no longer looking at her.

"Why?" Cale asked, bringing her attention back to his face. "Why was she executed?"

Adara shook her head, her eyes glistening. "I don't know."

Cale had asked if she still wanted to go back to the whirlpool after they had eaten an extravagant dinner, but she was determined. Some bad memories weren't going to deter her from helping Cale.