BVIB 16

Chapter 16

“Roselyn! Where do you think you’re going?”
“Hey, are you out of your mind?”

Roselyn hesitated as a hand tugged her back. Cherty, pale as a ghost, shrank further away as she approached, fear and confusion etched across his face.

“Let go of me,” Roselyn said, her voice calm.

“Let go? Are you serious? When he’s like that, the best thing to do is lock him in until he calms down—!” Ian Bellion yanked her arm roughly, trying to pull her away from the danger.

Roselyn frowned but stood her ground, refusing to budge. “That’s exactly why Father still can’t control his powers. You all just run away and hide from him.”

“What…?” Ian sputtered, taken aback.

“Let go,” Roselyn repeated, her tone clipped.

She shook off his hand and strode purposefully toward Cherty.

“I said don’t come closer!” Cherty barked, his voice raw with panic as his features twisted in distress. His pupils were pinpricks, his entire body taut with tension.

“You always said I was just a distraction if I stayed near you,” Roselyn replied, her voice unwavering. “But if you lose control, I’ll die, Father.”

Cherty’s shoulders jerked as if struck.

A sharp, hissing sound filled the room—liquid splattering, smoke rising, the air thick with danger.

Her shoes began to melt, the soles hissing as they touched the corrosive violet liquid spreading across the floor.

“I said, don’t come any closer…!” Cherty shouted, but his voice had lost some of its earlier force—he sounded more afraid than angry now, terrified his rampaging power might hurt her.

So this is what it means for the Abyss to go out of control, Roselyn thought, taking another determined step forward.

Her next step was met with the faint, sickening sensation of her shoes softening beneath her, the material slowly giving way as the corrosive, violet poison gnawed at the leather. She could feel the sole thinning, heat and sting seeping through, each movement leaving a sticky residue behind. Bit by bit, the elegant footwear she’d chosen that morning was being devoured, sacrificed in her determined advance toward her father.

Abyss.

That was what they called these special powers—abilities that defied explanation, awakening unpredictably in certain people. The name came from an ancient word for “the depths,” a nod to how mysterious their origins were.

Those who awakened the Abyss gained powers that set them apart from ordinary humans.

I always knew Father had an ability… Roselyn reflected, watching the destruction around her.

I just never realized it was something like this.

The reason was simple: Roselyn had never actually seen her father use his power before.

Some Abyss abilities, she knew, could be difficult for their wielders to control. Those born with powerful gifts—but who lacked the discipline or maturity to manage them—often wore accessories crafted from soulstones to suppress their abilities. It was common practice for children and for those whose control was still developing.

The more soulstone jewelry someone wore, the stronger their ability was rumored to be.

At that moment, Cherty was wearing three soulstone bracelets on each wrist. That wasn’t all: a small piercing glittered above his earring, and his fingers were adorned with no fewer than seven rings.

Even among the Bellion family, who were known for wearing an impressive array of soulstone jewelry, Cherty’s collection was unmatched. Despite this, whenever his emotions ran high, his power still spilled out of him, wild and untamed.

Cherty Bellion had awakened to his Abyss the moment he was born. The midwife and his mother had both died that day, and from then on, he’d been regarded as a cursed child.

He grew up in isolation. Loneliness was his only companion, but at least when he was alone, no one else got hurt.

“Don’t come any closer…” Cherty’s voice trembled now, stripped of its former authority.

He simply couldn’t believe what he was seeing: his daughter, her face composed and calm, steadily approaching him—stepping right through the deadly poison leaking from his body. Cherty wished, desperately, that all of this was just a bad dream.

“I don’t really mind if I die,” Roselyn said quietly.

Cherty’s eyes widened in shock.

“There’s nothing tying me here, anyway. I’ve already died once before,” she added, her attention never wavering—not even for the poison steadily eating away at her shoes. She didn’t spare it a single glance.

Cherty and the others behind her, on the other hand, looked far more anxious than she did.

“Father,” Roselyn began, her tone gentle, almost careful.

“There’s something I’ve always wondered.”

Strictly speaking, the man before her wasn’t truly her father. Not in the way most people understood the word.

If she was being completely honest, well… yes.

There was no one left for her to ask.

After all, you couldn’t question the dead.

Still, an uneasy feeling gnawed at Roselyn. If the people in this parallel world truly mirrored those from the world she’d once known… then why had her own father died?

If Father’s Abyss is poison, he should be immune to every toxin…

So why hadn’t he noticed Lady Carmel’s cowardly trick? Why had he succumbed to poison at all?

“If someone who’s supposed to be immune to every poison dies of poisoning… why do you think that would be?” Roselyn asked softly, her gaze steady. “What would make someone who can never die, finally die?”

Cherty paused, taken aback by the question. He studied Roselyn, eyes full of quiet meaning, and after a long silence, finally spoke.

“…It’s because that person’s body chose to stop fighting. Chose to stop purifying the poison,” Cherty replied, his voice low.

This time, it was Roselyn who stopped in her tracks, his answer striking her with unexpected force.

Of course.

It was more or less the answer she’d expected.

Roselyn lowered her gaze, releasing a quiet, shaky breath.

When does an immortal finally die? she wondered. If there ever comes a moment when even a flawless immortal succumbs, it must be when they themselves choose to stop living. When every cell in their body gives up, refusing to fight any longer. When, deep down, they decide it’s time to let go.

Why?

That was the question burning in Roselyn’s mind—the one she desperately wanted to ask.

But there was no one left among the dead for her to ask. So Roselyn held her question in silence.

Before she realized it, she was standing directly in front of Cherty.

He stared at her, pale and horrified, his gaze dropping to her shoes—now half-melted by the poison. He instinctively reached out but faltered, his hand trembling in midair.

“I always thought you hated me, Father. That I was never enough—not what you wanted me to be,” Roselyn said quietly.

Cherty’s eyes, usually hidden by his long bangs, widened in shock.

But if…
If that wasn’t true—

A heavy shadow settled over Roselyn’s expression.

“…No way,” Cherty whispered, his voice barely audible.

A pale hand reached out, hesitantly clutching the edge of Roselyn’s sleeve.

“That can’t be…” His words trembled, raw with emotion.

At that moment, Roselyn slowly lifted her hand as if to embrace him—but instead, she shoved something into Cherty’s mouth.

He swallowed reflexively.

It was an extraordinarily powerful sedative, one she’d crafted herself—designed specifically to work on those with Abyss abilities.

I’m glad I made this, just in case, she thought.
It didn’t exist yet in this world, but in a few years, it would.

Cherty’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, and within moments, his body sagged forward, collapsing into her arms.

“Well, that’s over with…” Roselyn muttered, stepping back and slipping off her ruined shoes as Cherty collapsed to the floor with a dull thud. “Honestly, I thought they were going to melt right off my feet.”

She tossed the half-dissolved shoes aside without a second glance and looked up.

Three members of the Bellion family stared at her in shock, their faces frozen in disbelief—as if some precious hope had just been dashed.

“…Is something wrong?” Roselyn asked, raising an eyebrow.

Aegis was the first to recover, letting out a wry laugh. “We thought you were finally going to give that stubborn fool a heartwarming hug.”

Roselyn let out a small, dry chuckle. “Do you really think a hug would change anything at this point?”

She had no plans to stay in this country, after all.

“And in any case, I didn’t get to hear his last words. He passed out before he could finish,” she added, glancing sideways as Aegis hefted her unconscious father onto his shoulder.

“By the way, there’s going to be an auction for the Norlang Mine soon. I’d recommend putting in a bid,” Roselyn said, waving over a nearby maid. “Bring me any shoes you can find, I don’t care whose they are. Just something I can wear.”

“Ah, yes, right away, my lady!” The maid scurried off.

Turning back to the Duke, Roselyn continued, “Marquis Gueron will be after it too, and he’ll probably bid around a billion Olang. Just to be safe, you should go as high as two and a half billion.”

The Duke of Bellion said nothing, his expression unreadable.

A harsh laugh burst from Ian Bellion. “The Norlang Mine? Isn’t that the worthless pit where everything’s already been stripped out? There’s nothing left but a pile of junk—and the only gemstones you’ll find are cheap, useless bits of amber. Who the hell would buy a boulder like that, let alone for two and a half billion? Even a stray dog would laugh at you.”

Roselyn remained unfazed, her expression flat and uninterested. “No one’s forcing you to buy it. The choice is yours.”

Ian scowled, not ready to let it go. “Just don’t go rushing into danger like an idiot again. Do you even know who he is? He killed his own mother the day he was born—”

“Ian!” Aegis’s voice snapped through the room, sharp with warning.

Ian pursed his lips, scoffing, but finally fell silent under his brother’s glare.

 “Roselyn.” Her Grandfather called out.

“Yes, Your Grace?” she replied, turning to face the Duke.

Duke Bellion narrowed his eyes at her, his gaze sharp and unreadable, a muscle twitching in his brow as he considered her response.

“Call me Grandfather, will you? My only granddaughter has no affection for me at all,” the Duke grumbled.

Roselyn frowned slightly at his blunt tone.

“All my friends are constantly bragging about what their granddaughters do for them,” he went on. “Shopping together, sweet little gestures, acting all cute. Why can’t you—?”

She interrupted, her expression unreadable. “Do those granddaughters ever ask for something while they’re out? Maybe hint that they want their grandfather to buy them something?”

The Duke hesitated. “Well… yes, I suppose they do.”

Roselyn nodded, unsurprised. “That’s just because they don’t want to spend their own money. They need someone else to open their wallet.”

The Duke paused, thrown off by her bluntness. He clearly hadn’t expected that kind of answer.