BVIB 04

◆ Chapter 4 ◆

No sooner had the Duke finished speaking than the other servants began dragging the three maids away.

“Wait, please! This is a misunderstanding! You’re mistaken!” one cried desperately.

“Madam-to-be! Lady Carmel, please!” pleaded another, her voice trembling.

“Little Duchess! It wasn’t us!” wailed the third.

Lady Carmel, clearly flustered, darted a glance between the Duke and the terrified maids. Hastily, she tried to explain, “I’m sorry, Father. I never gave such an order—they’re just a little too loyal to me, that’s all…”

“Miss! Please!” one of the maids sobbed.

“Have mercy on us, please—!”

Their pleas turned to screams as they were dragged out of the dining room by the other servants.

“To think such worthless pests would dare play games at my table…” the Duke muttered, his expression twisted in disgust.

Roselyn watched the scene unfold with cool detachment. Finally, she set down her utensils and spoke again.

“Has anyone here heard of ‘Makluksa’?”

Her quiet question drew the room’s attention, and Aegis, still at the table and gulping down water, raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Makluksa? You mean that wretched criminal group—the one that operates like a cluster of cells?” he asked, frowning.

Roselyn nodded, her eyes fixed on Lady Carmel. Though Carmel’s face remained carefully composed, a flicker of panic passed through her eyes.

“That’s right. Lady Carmel was raised as a ‘Bishop’ within Makluksa,” Roselyn said evenly.

A cold silence fell over the table.

“And she plans to bring down the ducal house,” Roselyn finished, her voice calm and clear.

After Roselyn’s bombshell, all eyes turned to her in disbelief.

She turned her head and flashed Lady Carmel a sweet, almost mocking smile, watching as Carmel’s mask of composure finally cracked.

“I did warn you not to make things difficult for me,” Roselyn said lightly, her tone almost innocent.

Carmel’s eyes widened with outrage. “You—! Just because you’ve spent your whole life locked away in this house, does that give you the right to make up wild stories and accuse me of such things? Is your hatred for me really that deep…?” Tears streamed down her face as she pleaded for sympathy.

Roselyn ignored her, turning instead to Aegis. “If you need proof, just check the back of her heel.”

At those words, Carmel’s lips pressed tightly together, her face blanching.

“It’s written in special ink,” Roselyn continued smoothly. “You’d need to raise her body temperature for it to show.”

Makluksa.

An unusual criminal syndicate, its hierarchy modeled after chess pieces: from the lowly ‘Pawn,’ through ‘Knight,’ ‘Bishop,’ and ‘Rook,’ all the way up to ‘Queen’ and ‘King.’ There was even a special rank—‘Reaper’—reserved for the organization’s most clandestine and deadly assassins.

Makluksa now operated as a network of hidden cells, biding their time in the shadows. No one—not even the leaders nor the members within the same cell—truly knew each other’s identities. The structure was ruthless in its efficiency; any unresolved issue could be dealt with swiftly, thanks to the strict compartmentalization of information.

And yet, ten years from now, Makluksa would become brazen, establishing itself openly as a guild.

That was why Roselyn knew so much about them—she’d once used Makluksa to escape, only to be betrayed by them in turn.

It was when the ducal house’s business was hijacked midway that Makluksa found its foothold and began to expand, eventually growing bold enough to operate out in the open.

They’d started by leaking confidential information and luring away skilled engineers. Then, step by step, they expanded their business by stealing Bellion’s clients one by one.

And the person who contributed most to this betrayal was none other than Carmel.

Of course, House Bellion wasn’t the only family to suffer internal leaks. Other houses managed to catch the problem early and recover, but the Bellion family was hit with one disaster after another—there was no time to regroup.

Aegis, who had never liked Lady Carmel, left the estate on the day of her wedding.

A mysterious, incurable illness struck the Duke three years later. Not long after, he was ambushed and killed, along with his butler, on the road during a visit to the estate.

The only direct heir left was Roselyn’s father, Cherty—the young duke. But he soon developed the same strange illness and was rarely lucid.

Naturally, it fell to Carmel to act as regent for the ducal house.

It was like leaving a fish market in the care of a cunning cat. The outcome was inevitable.

By the time Aegis realized what was happening and returned to the mansion, the situation was beyond repair.
All business ties had been severed, the duchy was on the verge of revolt due to exorbitant taxes, and the storerooms were completely empty. The holes in the household were so deep and numerous that Aegis, with no training as an heir, couldn’t fix them.

Still, he did what he could—bowing his head, pleading for help—and managed to keep the ducal house barely afloat. But even he became an obstacle to those who’d benefited from the chaos, and in the end, they killed him too.

That’s why, in the world Roselyn came from ten years later, House Bellion no longer existed.

Despite being the last of the Bellion line, Roselyn refused to inherit a family already ruined.

“Stop this nonsense! How dare you—” Carmel’s voice shook with outrage. “Even if you’re uneducated, you shouldn’t pick up such wicked habits as lying—!”

“Enough.”

The Duke, who had been silent until now, dabbed at his lips with a napkin and finally spoke.

“Is there any need for all this talk?” the old man said, swirling his wine with lazy indifference.

“If you’re innocent, a simple check will suffice.”

“Father!” Carmel cried out, her voice trembling.

The Duke, eyes narrowed, took a slow sip of wine before fishing out a cigar and placing it between his lips. With a careless tilt of his head, he replied.

“Are you doubting me too, Father? How could you…?” Carmel’s tears fell harder, her voice thick with hurt. She whipped her head toward Cherty, the young duke.

“Won’t you say something? Have I ever committed anything so heinous as to raise suspicions of consorting with such criminals? I only ever… loved you…”

Her tears fell in heavy drops as Cherty frowned, a strange ache pulsing in his chest. Instinctively, he pressed a hand to his heart, discomforted by the sudden, unshakable certainty that he ought to cast out anyone who stood against her. It felt disturbingly natural—and yet, deeply wrong.

He turned away, gaze landing on Roselyn, with whom he’d hardly exchanged words over the years. He froze, startled to find her watching him in silence.

Their eyes met for a moment before Roselyn, indifferent, looked away and took another sip of wine.

“Father, let’s leave it at that. I’ll handle the inspection myself—” Cherty said.

“No,” Roselyn cut him off crisply. “Let the butler do it. He’s got an excellent memory and should be on his guard.”

She added, “Ah, and you’d better cover her eyes and lead her out—she’s skilled in hypnosis as well.”

Carmel’s jaw dropped, her composure finally shattering. Very few people, even within Makluksa, knew she could use hypnosis—only those ranked above Bishop were aware.

Carmel had been sold to Makluksa as a child and raised as one of their junior members. Only the oldest, most trusted operatives in the organization knew what she was truly capable of. There was simply no way for an outsider to have learned such information.

“How… how do you know any of this?” Carmel demanded, unable to comprehend how this gloomy, seemingly spineless girl could possibly know the inner workings of Makluksa’s hierarchy.

Roselyn smiled, eyes glinting. “Are you giving up on pretending now, future stepmother?”

“I asked you—how do you know?” Carmel shouted in disbelief.

So she’s dropped the act, Roselyn thought, lowering her gaze as she finished her wine with a small, satisfied smile.

Leisurely, she propped one elbow on the table, rested her chin in her palm, and tilted her head, watching Carmel intently.

“How do I know…?” she murmured, then leaned in, her lips nearly brushing Carmel’s ear, and whispered just loud enough for her alone to hear, “Because they once tried to recruit me too.”

“What?” Carmel’s eyes widened in shock.

“They offered me the position of ‘Queen.’”

The look of horror on Carmel’s face made Roselyn’s eyes crinkle with amusement. She gave a bright, innocent smile.

“That’s impossible. They’d never—” Carmel stammered.

“Of course you wouldn’t have heard about it. You’re just a subordinate,” Roselyn replied lightly.

For a moment, Carmel bristled at the implication—‘Bishop’ wasn’t exactly a low rank, especially compared to ‘Pawn.’

“And just what makes you think a girl like you could ever be Queen?” Carmel spat.

Roselyn shrugged, sinking back into her chair. “I turned them down, obviously.”

She gave a cheerful little wave, grinning. “Farewell.”