BVIB 25

Chapter 25

“…Do you really have to go, my daughter?”

“Yes, Father. It’s already been announced,” Roselyn replied, for what felt like the tenth time—adding the same explanation she’d given over and over.

It had been made public on the final day of the palace banquet: Roselyn would be leaving as a diplomat to Kaluta.

There was no taking it back now.

“Are you absolutely sure?” her father pressed.

“Yes,” she said again, her tone growing weary.

After the eleventh time, Roselyn stopped bothering to explain. Whether he asked or not, she only nodded with the barest effort.

Three days remained until her departure.

Before she left for Kaluta, there was one last thing Roselyn needed to do:
She had to attend the auction being held today.

It was an auction shrouded in darkness—where everything from rare gems to exotic beastfolk, and even people, were sold to the highest bidder.

This shadowy market was run by Makluksa.

But the real core of Makluksa never revealed itself. Like the organization itself, the auction operated through a network of cells—one could uncover the layers behind it but never reach the true backer, never unmask the “King” of Makluksa.

Not that Roselyn was attending in hopes of uncovering the King’s identity.

She didn’t even plan to participate in the actual bidding.

Thanks to Marquis Gueran, she possessed an invitation, which granted her access to the “preview,” a private showing before the auction officially began.

A place where she could view the goods before they went on display.

Of course, this privilege came at a price—if she wanted something, she’d have to pay whatever was asked, no bargaining allowed.

The prices at these previews were typically five to ten times the auction’s starting bid.

No problem there—Marquis Gueran gave me a blank check for this, Roselyn thought. After all, there was only one thing she was looking for.

Cherty let out a short sigh as she watched Roselyn pack, her back turned and focused on preparing for the journey.

Since that day Roselyn disappeared after recovering from her illness at the palace, Cherty had refused to leave her side for long.

Roselyn recalled the look of shock on Cherty Bellion’s face when she and the Third Prince had reappeared together that day.

As soon as he saw Roselyn, Cherty had thrown his arms around her, muttering how he’d thought Roselyn had vanished again.

Her father had looked deeply unsettled.

He’d been so worried, in fact, that the man who’d always preferred the solitude of the underground had moved his room right next to hers.

And that wasn’t all.

Every morning, he’d come to invite her to breakfast; at noon, to lunch; and each evening, to dinner.

At one point, Roselyn had snapped that he might as well just do his work from her room if he was going to keep hovering.

And so, after simply replying, “Understood,” the next day he set up a small office in one corner of her room.

The result? This never-ending barrage of questions about whether she was really going to leave.

“Roselyn, at least take this with you.”

Cherty’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

Cherty reached to his belt and produced something, holding it out to her.

“…A dagger?”

It was housed in a leather sheath—at first glance, rough and unassuming, but the blade itself was ornately crafted.

Roselyn’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.

As she drew the dagger partway from its sheath to inspect it, Cherty flinched, his shoulders tensing.

Unlike ordinary silver blades, the dagger Cherty handed her shimmered with a faint, violet hue.

…This is…

Roselyn recognized it immediately.

It was the very dagger that, under normal circumstances, would have belonged to Lady Carmel.

“I made it myself,” Cherty said.

“You… made this?” Roselyn echoed, genuinely surprised.

Lady Carmel had always carried it with pride, showing it off at every opportunity—but it had never occurred to Roselyn that her father was the one who’d crafted it.

At her question, Cherty averted his gaze, looking both proud and slightly embarrassed as he continued, “Yes. I forged it by blending a special ore with molten steel, infusing it with my own Abyss.”

Abyss Weapon… Roselyn realized.

A dangerous weapon her father invented—one that had helped bring the shadowy organization, Makluksa, to prominence.

A secret once stolen by Lady Carmel, who’d also lured away Bellion’s master smith from the family. The same secret that would one day nearly bring the Bellion family to ruin.

Roselyn gripped the dagger and gave it a light, downward sweep.

It felt remarkably light and perfectly balanced, as if it had been crafted just for her.

“…It’s easy to hold. Most daggers are made for men—too thick and heavy for my grip.” She offered her brief assessment, her voice quiet but sincere.

An awkward silence settled between them.

Worried she’d said something wrong, Roselyn glanced over at Cherty, replaying her words in her mind.

“Of course it fits you—I made it specifically for you,” he said quietly.

Her eyes widened slightly at his confession.

“And for the record, I didn’t just pick it up somewhere, or make it on a whim, or think it was cheap or anything like that,” Cherty added in a rush, his voice oddly urgent.

He made it for me? The thought took Roselyn completely by surprise—she truly hadn’t expected that.

She parted her lips as if to respond but then closed them again, momentarily at a loss for words.

“It’s nothing strange… I just happened to come across a rare ore recently, that’s all…” Cherty muttered, his voice trailing off to a mumble.

“…Though, maybe it’s not the sort of thing that suits a young lady,” he finished, sounding uncertain.

When Roselyn still didn’t say anything, Cherty glanced at her nervously and quickly added, “If you don’t like it, you can just give it back—or throw it away. I’ve never been good at this kind of gift…”

He stumbled over his explanation, then slowly furrowed his brow.

“I just thought I’d try something different, since I always give you flowers… Maybe it was just meddling on my part,” he muttered, almost to himself. After all, she’d be traveling with a bodyguard anyway.

As Cherty began to mumble more excuses, eyes fixed on the floor, Roselyn couldn’t help but smile.

“No, I prefer this to flowers,” she said gently, lifting the dagger and holding it up to the sunlight streaming through the window.

The blade caught the light, its flawless finish and crystal-clear surface gleaming.

“I’ve never been one for being protected by others. Thank you,” she said, her gratitude clear.

Cherty’s eyes widened in surprise—then he allowed himself a small, fleeting smile.

“…Is that so? Still, I hope you never have to use it.”

“When did you start making this?” Roselyn asked, curiosity in her eyes.

Was it since I refused those flowers before…? Roselyn wondered as Cherty glanced at her and finally spoke.

“I started about three and a half years ago,” he said.

“…What?” Roselyn looked up, startled.

“I found the ore five years ago, but it was so difficult to work with that it took me a while just to process it,” Cherty explained.

But Roselyn barely heard him.

…Three and a half years?

“Of course, it’s not that I was slow or careless,” Cherty added hurriedly, his voice sounding distant, “the ore itself was just unusually hard and tricky to forge.”

Then that dagger…

The very dagger Lady Carmel had always carried in the other world…

Roselyn felt her fingertips turn cold.

No, maybe it wasn’t meant for me in that world, she told herself. Maybe he’d always intended to give it to Lady Carmel, not me.

She slowly lowered the dagger, lost in thought.

Then she noticed a small groove etched into the blade.

Rose

The name was inscribed in delicate script—Cherty’s handwriting, unmistakably his own.

Thud.

For an instant, it felt as if her heart had dropped straight to the floor.