BVIB 03

◆ Chapter 3 ◆

When she had been on the run, she hadn’t been able to afford such luxuries.

She possessed a sharp, elegant nose and striking features.

Hair as white as snow cascaded like flowing silk.

Her eyes were a deeper red than the color of rubies.

And skin so pale and translucent, it seemed almost unnatural.

‘She doesn’t look very healthy,’ she mused—less so than when she was seventeen.

Finishing her brief reflection in the mirror, Roselyn turned and made her way straight to the dining hall, where the formal meal was already underway.

As Roselyn appeared, the servant, so startled by her presence, even forgot to bow and instead stood there, mouth agape.

“Open the door,” Roselyn instructed, her tone cool and unwavering.

“Ah, um… Lady Rose—lyn?” the servant stammered, tripping over the name as uncertainty flickered across his face.

Roselyn’s brow furrowed for an instant, but as she registered his confusion, she offered a single, understanding nod.

Flustered, the servant finally bowed hurriedly, then swung the dining room doors wide open.

Click, click.

The sharp sound of Roselyn’s footsteps announced her entrance. Instantly, every gaze at the table snapped to her, surprise painted across each face. Their expressions varied, but the astonishment in their eyes was unmistakable.

It was only natural. Dressed in a jet-black dress, her lips painted a vivid red to match her striking crimson eyes, Roselyn radiated an air both decadent and dangerously alluring.

No one uttered a word. The silence hung heavily in the air as they stared, transfixed. Roselyn, in turn, watched them with equal intensity.

After all, the once-grand House Bellion—the family she remembered—had already crumbled five years ago. To her, everyone gathered in this room was already among the dead.

‘So this is what happens five years before it all falls apart.’

A faint tightness squeezed her heart, and she realized, to her surprise, that it was the trace of something like relief. Closing her eyes for a slow, measured breath, she gathered herself.

‘I was planning to leave this mansion today…’

She wondered if it might not be such a bad idea to see these faces for a few more days, and with that thought, Roselyn took a seat at one of the remaining empty chairs around the round table.

She reached quietly for her utensils, only to realize—almost as an afterthought—that her grandfather, the Duke of Bellion, was present at the formal meal. Lifting her gaze, she met his eyes.

“What… what on earth are you wearing?” the Duke stammered, clearly taken aback. “How could you appear at a formal dinner dressed like… like that?”

“What’s wrong with the way I look?” Roselyn replied, her tone calm and unfazed.

There were two reasons she’d bothered to attend this dinner, a gathering she could have easily ignored. The first was to uphold her own warning after her soon-to-be stepmother foolishly decided to provoke her. The second was to declare her intent to leave this house for good.

“Who would wear something so indecent, with their arms completely exposed?” Lady Carmel scolded, her voice sharp. “I’ve told you countless times—a proper lady must always show refinement—”

A soft, involuntary laugh escaped Roselyn’s lips, cutting off the tirade. Lady Carmel’s face stiffened with offense.

“How strange,” Roselyn murmured, tilting her head slightly.

“What do you mean, strange?” Lady Carmel demanded, frowning.

“I’ve been raised as a lady for seventeen years. Yet it’s you, my soon-to-be stepmother—someone who was lucky enough to be adopted by a count’s family after being born a commoner, who then killed your former husband and took up the position of acting countess in place of his young son—who lectures me on how a lady should behave?”

Roselyn’s voice carried a hint of amusement, but the atmosphere at the table turned icy cold. The subject matter was hardly fit for dinner conversation, and her words were as shocking as they were blunt.

“W-what…? How dare you… Even if you dislike me…!” Lady Carmel’s voice trembled, her eyes brimming with tears as she turned to the Duke and to Roselyn’s father, Cherty Bellion. “Father1, Cherty, what more do I have to do to be accepted…?”

Roselyn watched the scene unfold with a leisurely air, calmly cutting into her steak as Lady Carmel pleaded tearfully for sympathy.

Across the table, the elderly Duke’s sharp eyes narrowed, his imposing frame casting a long shadow.

He always did look the part of a villain, she thought to herself.

Roselyn took a sip of her wine with effortless elegance, her expression unreadable.

The old man—her grandfather—wore a striking crimson suit, and what stood out most about him were his mismatched eyes. Tattoos adorned the backs of his hands, revealed by his slicked-back hair and the way he held himself. For a man of his age, he was almost unnervingly stylish.

And, she recalled, he was also someone who would stand tall until the very moment of his death.

“You’d think, at your age, you’d be done appealing to emotion,” Roselyn remarked lightly, her voice edged with irony. “But it seems you’re as sensitive as ever.”

She let out a soft laugh, raising her gaze to meet the Duke’s. Their eyes locked across the table.

She cut into her steak, the red juices pooling on her plate, and brought a piece to her mouth. Mid-bite, she paused, her brow furrowing deeply.

The Duke’s sharp eyes narrowed in response, watching her carefully.

But then Roselyn relaxed, chewing slowly and swallowing with a look of utter delight.

“It’s delicious,” she declared, her smile radiant.

Still grinning, she carved off a generous piece and looked around the table. “Mine seems exceptionally good today. I almost want to share—would anyone care to try?”

At her unexpected offer, the maids standing behind her—who had been quietly stifling laughter—froze, unsure how to react.

“What do you think? Uncle, Father?” Roselyn asked, her tone almost playful as she glanced between the two men.

Both their gazes were fixed on her.

Her uncle, Aegis Bellion, looked every bit the flamboyant rogue, with his hair slicked back like the Duke’s, his red hair tousled, and his vivid shirt left scandalously unbuttoned. In stark contrast, her father sat beside him, somber and withdrawn, his dark hair neat and every shirt button fastened up to his throat.

Both men regarded her in surprise.

Aegis grinned, rubbing the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “Well then, since it’s the first time my dear niece has ever asked me for anything…”

He rose from his seat with a flourish.

“Roselyn! Have you no manners at all?” Lady Carmel burst out, scandalized. “How can you offer your uncle food you’ve already touched…? It’s utterly—”

“Oh, that’s enough,” Aegis cut in, waving her off without a trace of patience. He strode over to Roselyn, ignoring the shocked looks from the rest of the table.

“Ah—” he said, leaning down, his shirt falling open to reveal a sculpted torso as he opened his mouth, waiting expectantly.

Roselyn hesitated for a moment, steak-laden fork in hand, taken aback by her uncle’s casual boldness.

“Well? Go on,” Aegis urged, undeterred.

“Brother-in-law! If you keep indulging her like this—!” Lady Carmel protested, growing more flustered by the second.

Aegis shot her a look, snorting in irritation. “Since when did you get the right to meddle in my affairs? And besides, you’re not even married into the family yet—‘brother-in-law’ is a bit premature, don’t you think?”

He dismissed her objections with a flick of his hand, irritation clear on his face. Then, turning back to Roselyn, his expression softened, eyes crinkling with a mischievous glint.

The way the atmosphere shifted with each change in expression was almost fascinating, Roselyn thought. Despite herself, she couldn’t ignore Aegis any longer; with a bemused look, she finally obliged, placing the cut piece of steak into his waiting mouth.

For the eldest son of a noble house, he was unusually rough around the edges—brash, unrefined, and almost reckless.

He’d always been that way.

She remembered how, back then, he’d sacrificed his longed-for freedom, bowing his head and making compromises everywhere, all for the sake of keeping the crumbling ducal house afloat—until the very end.

But it had all been for nothing. The family had still fallen.

Roselyn watched Aegis, noting the way his expression shifted as he chewed the meat. As he finally swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbed and a wild grin spread across his face.

“Well now, that’s good,” he declared, and without hesitation, grabbed Roselyn’s plate. “If it’s this delicious, Father and my dear brother must try it, too.”

Roselyn paid him no mind, downing a mouthful of wine to wash away the overwhelming saltiness still burning her tongue. The saying was true—sometimes, when something is too salty, it becomes almost intolerable. Her mouth tingled as if stung.

“Come on, Cherty. You should have some too,” Aegis insisted, shoving a piece of steak unceremoniously into his younger brother Cherty’s mouth.

“Stop this nonsense, Aegis,” Cherty protested frowning.

But Aegis only grinned, turning to their father with a flourish. “If it’s this delicious, Father must try it as well. It’s your son’s request, after all.”

“And just how many ‘requests’ do you intend to make—?”

The Duke’s sharp rebuke was cut short when Aegis, with a devil-may-care grin, popped a forkful of steak straight into his mouth as well.

The Duke glared at him, his face contorted in fury, but then paused, finally chewing the meat slowly. He didn’t get through more than a few bites before spitting it out into his napkin and, without a word, washing his mouth with wine, eyes closing in silent exasperation.

Aegis, meanwhile, had abandoned all pretense of composure and was now gulping water straight from a pitcher.

“…Which bastard is trying to get themselves killed?” the Duke growled, his voice rough and barely restrained. He opened his eyes—one red, the other gold—fixing Roselyn with a piercing stare.

“Who else, Grandfather?” Roselyn replied smoothly, her gaze drifting past him to the trio of maids standing behind Lady Carmel, their faces drained of all color.

The Duke shot a glance at the terrified maids, then slammed his glass down with a snarl. “Clear this away.”