BVIB 28

Chapter 28

Chapter 16

“It seems like it’s difficult for us to see each other, so I’ll get straight to the point,” Roselyn said, her tone brisk.

The truth was, Roselyn herself was overwhelmed with loose ends to tie up before leaving the capital. Her head throbbed with all the tasks still left undone. The last thing she wanted was to get dragged into another power struggle with her family.

She moistened her dry lips with a sip of wine before speaking again.

“A short while ago, when I went to see the Third Prince, I also met with His Majesty. We discussed the annulment,” she said, her gaze steady.

The Duke of Bellion, who had been glaring daggers at his son, shifted his attention to Roselyn.

“I’ve received permission,” she continued.

“…Wait. Are you saying the Emperor approved it?” the duke demanded, his brows knitting together in disbelief.

That slippery Emperor—he might seem lenient and generous, but he was a calculating man at his core. If he ever gave something up willingly, it meant he had already decided it was in his best interest to do so.

In other words, the duke hadn’t bothered to act because he couldn’t imagine the Emperor would approve the annulment unless there was something to gain from it.

He gave his permission? Just like that?

The duke couldn’t believe it. There was no way the Emperor would simply grant such a request.

No one knew the Emperor better than Duke Bellion. Everything the man did—marriage, love, even the most trivial of conversations—was calculated, driven by some hidden advantage.

This was the same Emperor who could crouch in the shadows for over a decade, all for a single hunt. He was the kind of man who waited, silent and patient, until everyone around him let down their guard—then, without warning, he’d draw his blade and strike, severing heads before anyone even realized.

Duke Bellion narrowed his eyes. “…He didn’t just grant it out of kindness, did he?” he murmured, suspicion lacing his voice.

At the duke’s question, Roselyn nodded without hesitation. “His Majesty said he would grant permission if I successfully negotiate with Kaluta and resolve the recent string of disappearances in the capital.”

“What…?” Duke Bellion stammered, momentarily lost for words—a rare occurrence. Around the table, the other family members fell silent, equally stunned.

Roselyn, however, continued in a matter-of-fact tone, unfazed by their reaction. “So, it looks like I’ll be leaving for Kaluta soon.”

She pressed on, undeterred. “Marquis Gueran will be accompanying me as both an escort and to help investigate the missing persons cases.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room.

“And as for the dress situation…” Her words trailed off. Roselyn set aside her empty wine glass and reached for her water instead, taking a measured sip before continuing.

“I happened to run into Marquis Gueran at the palace when I went to see the Third Prince. And, well, he owed me an apology.”

Her explanation flowed easily, almost too easily, and Duke Bellion’s frown deepened. He’d never heard of any connection between Roselyn and Marquis Gueran before now.

“My wardrobe was empty anyway, so I told him he could make it up to me by providing some clothes,” she finished with a shrug.

“Huh? Roselyn, what do you mean your wardrobe was empty?” Ian asked, bewildered.

“Lady Carmel’s doing,” Roselyn replied flatly. “She either took all the nice things or tore them up.”

It was a familiar tactic. Carmel had long since realized that Roselyn hated burdening her father with unnecessary troubles—so she targeted her in precisely those ways.

Roselyn’s desire not to add to her father’s worries, especially knowing how little affection he had for her, was something she clung to. When she was younger, she would have stubbornly endured it all, convinced that grit alone could protect her from the world.

As if sheer willpower was some kind of impenetrable shield.

Pretending an attack doesn’t hurt isn’t really a form of defense at all.

That’s probably why everyone was so shocked when I finally spoke up this time, Roselyn thought. They never expected I’d actually say anything.

But she’d lived to the age of twenty-seven now. Twenty-seven-year-old Roselyn had learned to be ruthless—cynical enough to use anything, even another person’s life, if it meant survival.

Suddenly, Aegis burst out, unable to contain his rage. “That wretch—how dare she lay a hand on your things?!”

Roselyn waved a hand dismissively. “There’s no need to be upset. I never said anything about it, so it’s not your fault.”

Aegis, who had been furious on her behalf, hesitated. Does she always talk about herself like she’s discussing a stranger? he wondered. Her tone and gaze were so dry, so detached, it was as if all of this was nothing more than a nuisance.

“Anyway, it’s all been taken care of,” Roselyn went on, a faint smile flickering across her lips. After all, she’d ended up with several fine dresses out of the ordeal.

“It’s been taken care of?” Cherty’s eyes narrowed, his gaze flickering with barely suppressed emotion as he looked at her.

He pressed his lips tightly together, forcing down his anger. If he let it spill over, not only would this dinner table be in danger, but so would his daughter.

“There’s nothing ‘taken care of’ about this…” Cherty muttered, swallowing his feelings.

“Of course, I know this wasn’t what you would have wanted, Father. But it’s the best I could do,” Roselyn replied quietly.

Cherty exhaled, tension still lingering in his shoulders. “You could have told me,” he said at last, his voice soft but heavy with regret.

Calm down. Just calm down, Cherty told himself.

“It’s all right. I was able to handle it on my own,” Roselyn said quietly.

Right. This wasn’t her fault.

I’m the one who pushed her away from the very beginning. Cherty’s chest tightened with guilt. So I have no right to be angry now.

“Still… this isn’t something a father should have to hear,” he said, his voice faint.

Roselyn let out a small sigh, her expression radiating a distinct air of annoyance. The hint of exasperation in her eyes made Cherty’s heart sink.

“I’ll let you know in advance from now on,” she murmured, taking a step back—not for his sake, but because she seemed determined to avoid any further trouble.

In that moment, the distance between him and his daughter felt impossibly vast.

“Oh, and while we’re on the subject…” Roselyn’s voice was light, almost cheerful, as she offered a fleeting smile. “It turns out Marquis Gueran owns a villa here in the capital. Since we’ll be working together quite a bit, I thought I’d stay there for a while.”

“…”

No. This distance wasn’t just a feeling—it was real, tangible.

A cold shiver traced Cherty’s spine. He closed his eyes, then opened them slowly, struggling to process her words.

It didn’t feel real.

“After I return from Kaluta and the annulment is finalized, I’m planning to leave for the Kingdom of Del,” Roselyn continued, her tone composed, almost indifferent.

It was as if…

She was declaring that their paths would never cross again.

“I think that’s all I needed to say. If there’s anything you don’t understand, or anything I should be mindful of, please let me know,” she finished politely.

Cherty’s mind reeled. No. I don’t want this. I can’t accept it. Why? Is it because you’ve come to hate me, too?

No, I was the one who pushed you away. Of course this would happen. It was always strange, the idea that someone might actually like me at all.

It’s only natural that she resents me. That’s what I wanted, wasn’t it?

After all, I’m the one who took her mother from her. No one else—just me. I killed your mother.

His thoughts grew darker, the weight of guilt suffocating him. At the same time, an ominous violet mist began to swirl around Cherty.

Bang!

The table began to dissolve and melt, dishes and food crashing to the floor. The rest of the family had already retreated to a safe distance, and out of the corner of his blurred vision, Cherty could see the servants fleeing in terror to the farthest corners of the room.

I have to calm down. Cherty tried to steady himself, blinking slowly.

Why do I even keep living?

His crimson eyes flickered with turmoil.

He was born by taking his mother’s life. The first woman he’d ever loved—he’d ended her life, too.

All he had left was Roselyn. And now, she was leaving him behind as well.

Voices murmured all around him, but their words barely registered. His father’s and Aegis’s harsh voices drifted in and out, sometimes close, sometimes distant, as if they were coming from another world.

Cherty let out a hollow laugh.

He knew all too well how miserable it was to grow up without a mother’s affection. He knew the ache it left behind, how it could hollow a person out.

And yet, I took that chance away from you.

Of course she resented him. He wanted her to. He’d hoped she would keep her distance.

But… what if I end up killing you, too?

The mere thought sent a fine tremor through his body.

He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Wisps of violet smoke drifted from his lips like breath in midwinter.

Roselyn was watching him.

“…Don’t,” Cherty stammered, stumbling backward.

“Don’t look at me…”

Roselyn stood on the other side of the ruined table, her wine glass clutched tightly in her hand. She watched him, unflinching, even as the table melted away beneath her.

“Don’t come any closer,” Cherty pleaded, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Roselyn gazed at him, her eyes wide, pupils slightly dilated. Cherty’s fists clenched at his sides.

He didn’t want her to see this.

He didn’t want anyone to see him like this.

This—this pathetic, shameful state. The image of a man who couldn’t even control his own powers, who had killed his own mother, a monster in human skin.

No… maybe it’s better this way, he thought bitterly. Maybe if she sees what I really am, she’ll hate me even more. At least then she’ll keep her distance. At least then, she’ll be safe.

It would be better if he stepped back now, before things got any worse.

Viscous violet liquid dripped from his hands, burning holes in the floor wherever it fell. Hissing smoke rose, curling around him as everything nearby withered and died. The once-vibrant flowers blackened and crumbled to nothing. Even the stubborn weeds shriveled and melted away, leaving nothing alive in his wake.

And yet, as Cherty retreated into his own darkness, Roselyn moved.

Without hesitation, she reached into her pocket, striding toward him with steady, purposeful steps.