Chapter 8
Callahan steadied his mind.
Even that Gerard, walking ahead with light steps, could not be trusted to share the same purpose forever.
He flaunted Callahan as if he were his own weapon, took pride in him, and outwardly treated him like a brother—but Callahan could not afford to forget the truth beneath it all.
A relationship that could never have come to pass without mutual benefit.
He’s nothing more than a pathetic man with an inferiority complex toward his own sister.
Whatever words were exchanged on the surface, he had to remain wary of forming attachments beyond necessity.
That was the right way to think.
Roseline began her day in a flurry of activity.
Her mother’s neurosis had flared up again, causing a brief disturbance, but as always, Roseline stepped in before the maids could be further harmed.
“Do you have any idea how insolent those wretches were to me? You should have seen it yourself, Roseline.”
Since the death of her husband, Grand Duke Clifford, Miriam had gradually begun to depend on her daughter instead of directing her former sharp cruelty toward her. But toward others, she revealed her old temperament without restraint.
Roseline soothed Miriam with gentle hands and a soft voice until she calmed down.
Still, as if her anger had not fully subsided, Miriam clutched the whip she had used to strike the maids. Only after a long stretch of persuasion did she finally release it, breathing heavily as she spoke.
“And where exactly have you been, leaving your poor mother alone?”
After the recent war, Miriam’s condition had worsened to the point that she wanted Roseline by her side from dawn until night.
Instead of pointing out how early it still was, Roseline looked at her mother’s hand—thin and brittle like a dried branch.
“Roseline?”
“Yes, Mother. I will personally see to further punishing the insolent maids, so please don’t trouble yourself.”
Beneath her sleeve, the red marks of self-inflicted wounds still lingered on Miriam’s wrist.
Rather than scolding her, Roseline calmly removed her gloves and slipped them onto her mother’s hands. The simple gesture gradually eased Miriam’s agitation.
“…I’m sorry, my daughter.”
Roseline gave a faint, sorrowful smile and shook her head.
Unable to bear her own suffering, Miriam had lashed out not only at herself but even at the maids who tried to stop her.
It had not even been three days since she had hooked fingers with Roseline, promising she would not do such things again.
“…Then punish those women in front of me.”
“No. Instead of soiling your precious eyes and hands, Mother, you should go and meet Uncle.”
Even as Miriam stubbornly insisted in a subdued voice, Roseline skillfully supported her and guided her along.
“Ah, yes. That’s right.”
At the mention of her brother, the Duke, Miriam seemed to regain her senses and wiped the anger from her face as if it had never been there.
“My goodness, look at me. It’s an important day—I have an appointment with my brother. He said there was something urgent to discuss.”
That went smoothly.
As Roseline let out a quiet sigh of relief, Miriam hurriedly adjusted her attire and quickened her pace.
When Roseline stepped into her line of sight and gave a subtle signal, the injured maid quickly bowed her head and retreated.
The maids who had narrowly escaped the whipping began cleaning up the scene with practiced hands after the two women left.
Only then did Roseline finally have a moment to breathe. Above her head, the gentle light of a spring day shone down, almost cruelly serene.
What will Uncle demand of Mother this time?
For the Grand Duke to claim he had something urgent to discuss with Miriam, who was no longer in her right mind…
Whenever such words left Miriam’s lips, the Grand Duke household’s wealth would steadily flow into the coffers of the Devonshire Duchy.
“Haah…”
A deep sigh escaped Roseline’s lips.
With the occupying army’s victory, the internal affairs of the Kingdom of Verita had been completely overturned.
The royal family’s false propaganda—that the tides would soon turn, that this chaotic time would pass quickly—collapsed one day alongside the brutally defaced walls of the royal castle.
The Duke of Devonshire, ever calculating, withdrew his loyalty from the king and sided with the occupying forces.
The problem was that the nation occupying Verita was Caldrove—the very country suspected of having allied with the Reintz family, the traitors and enemies of Roseline.
When Roseline learned this, what came first was not anger, but worry—worry that her mother’s already fragile condition would worsen further.
Miriam, once infamous as a strict and ruthless Grand Duchess, had become half-mad after her husband’s death, like someone who had lost all vitality.
In place of Miriam, who had become like a bird trapped in a cage, it was her natal family—the Devonshire Duchy—that began to act as the true masters.
They manipulated the weakened Miriam and steadily seized the power of the Grand Duke’s house for themselves.
Even during Roseline’s childhood, no small amount of wealth had already passed into the hands of the Duke of Devonshire through her mother.
Back then, Roseline had thought it a relief that her mother would regain her composure and obediently nod at the Duke’s reassurance that it was nothing serious.
But once Roseline came of age and gained partial authority as heir, she could no longer stand by and watch.
From that moment on, Miriam’s tears, screams, and desperate pleas toward Roseline never ceased.
But what could not be allowed, could not be allowed.
It was the day Roseline, furious, refused her mother’s request—asking if she intended to squander the entire family fortune before Roseline even inherited the title.
After being told that the Duke was disappointed in her, Miriam had locked herself in her room, hurling curses at her daughter.
The next day, she attempted to hang herself with the curtains.
After she was discovered just before death, her self-harm escalated into cutting her wrists.
That day, Roseline heard the voice again for the first time in a long while.
It was her own voice from childhood.
It’s your fault Father died.
Her father, who had died because of her greed.
A wound carved deep into her bones since childhood whispered to her.
Are you going to kill Mother too this time?
Even Roseline, who had hardened her resolve and stood firm, was forced to retreat in the face of the ever-increasing wounds on her mother’s body.
She had to be content with doing no more than minimizing Devonshire’s interference.
Whatever calamity falls this time, I’ll have to reduce the damage as much as possible.
It would not be easy, but it was what she had to do.
As Roseline slowly made her way to the dining hall, she tried to anticipate what her uncle might demand of her mother.
There was no one who concerned themselves with her meals, but taking care of her health for the sake of the family had long since become a habit.
Her mother, who had gone to meet Roseline’s uncle, the Duke of Devonshire, soon summoned Roseline as well.
“Me as well?”
“Yes. And… more than usual…”
The Duke’s servant hesitated before delivering the unexpected message.
“He instructed that you pay special attention to your appearance.”
Roseline frowned, then quickly nodded as something came to mind.
Her uncle, who had long declared himself her guardian, had always been eager to use her marriage as a political tool.
Now that the balance of power had shifted after the war, he must be recalculating.
As expected, there was an unusual tension in the room she was called into.
“Come in, Roseline. You look beautiful today as well.”
There was no way she could fail to notice the greed in the Duke’s eyes as he rose to greet her.
Seeing in him the same face as his son Lucas—who constantly hovered around her—made nausea rise in her throat, and she turned her gaze away.
“First, we must withdraw all marriage arrangements previously promised to the royal family.”
“So it has come to that.”
The Duke had expected resistance from Roseline.
After all, her betrothed was not just any noble, but Edwin—the future king. Any other young lady would have turned pale at the thought of losing the position of queen.
But when Roseline responded calmly, the Duke’s lips curled upward in satisfaction.
“As expected! I knew you, at least, would understand.”
“Does that mean the others disagree?”
“My son Lucas, you mean? He’s been running wild like an unbroken colt.”
“….”
“As for the rest of the royal side, you needn’t concern yourself. The world has turned upside down, yet they still stubbornly refuse to see reason.”
Roseline quietly listened as her uncle and mother spoke as though the matter had already been decided without the consent of those involved.
“Yes, I agree as well, Roseline. What your uncle means is that there is a better match for you—there’s no need to cling to what was previously decided.”
As if trying to persuade her, their long-winded explanation ultimately boiled down to one thing: a new marriage had already been arranged, and Roseline simply needed to accept it.
“So, who is this ‘better match’?”
There was not the slightest trace of expectation in her voice as she asked the identity of the man who had been chosen as her husband without her knowledge.
