21.

What, what, what did you say? This crazy man.

Blood rushed to her face in an instant. She had thought him to be a straightforward man, but who would have known he could be this slick? Ro clicked her tongue. Was he born this way, or had time changed him?

The Cardier Montrosa that Ro originally knew had always been rather plain when confessing love. “I like you. I love you.” He used only clear and direct expressions—like a sunflower following the sun, or a blindly devoted puppy trailing its master. Had she never known the earlier Cardier, she wouldn’t have felt this sense of dissonance at all.

Recently, Rosetta sometimes felt as though she were facing a monstrous creature from a tranquil abyss whenever she saw Cardier. Like someone unknowingly stepping into a monster’s nest, only to realize the beast had woken and was secretly watching her while pretending otherwise—that was the chilling sensation she got. Especially moments like this…

“…….”

“…….”

Whenever she happened to look up and meet his deep blue gaze, fixed intently on her, the feeling intensified even more.

Cardier gently reached out and wrapped his arm around her waist as she instinctively stepped back in fluster. His hold wasn’t improper by etiquette, yet firm enough to make it clear he wouldn’t let her escape. Rosetta felt like a herring impaled on a fisherman’s metal skewer.

Whether it was a reflexive action or not, Cardier slightly furrowed his brow and soon released her. Instead, he draped a shawl over her bare shoulders and said,

“This way, if you’re taking the carriage.”

“…….”

“Watch your step.”

The words came the moment the lady-in-waiting nearly stumbled, stepping on the hem of her dress. The Duchess’s face lit up with deep satisfaction at such attentive and considerate words. To be honest, Cardier was undoubtedly the most precious and rarest target among all the eligible bachelors in the social season—one any noble maiden in the empire, including her own daughter, would dream of capturing.

The three imperial dukes regularly hosted social events for the purpose of exchange, and naturally, Lea and Cardier had grown up meeting each other at least twice a year since childhood. Secretly, the Duchess had always hoped her daughter would live a peaceful life as the mistress of a suitable noble house, rather than becoming the crown princess—so more than anyone, she had wished for the two to grow close.

Yet the young Marquis of Montrosa had always been exceptionally cold and distant since childhood, and Lea, in particular, had always been rather blunt and harsh toward him. As a result, they had never even relaxed their formal address, let alone held a proper conversation.

And now, seemingly overnight, they had grown so close they called each other by name without hesitation…

The Duchess suppressed her trembling heart, filled with new hope. Still gazing fondly at their retreating figures descending the main gate stairs, she suddenly let out a short exclamation.

“Oh my, look at me, losing my mind.”

The Duchess opened her mouth flustered, though her expression showed no real panic.

“There’s a necklace the mistress of Ilenov lent me, and I completely forgot about it. Worse, I can’t even recall where I put it.”

It was an overly elaborate excuse—so specific it sounded even more suspicious. Rosetta narrowed her eyes slightly and glanced sideways at the Duchess. The older woman trailed off, feigning great distress.

“What should I do…? If this goes on, they’ll be late.”

“Would it be all right if the young lady’s maid took the carriage?”

“Anna’s hands are so capable, I really need her with me. What should I do now…?”

By this point, it was obvious—she was subtly urging them to leave alone. The Duchess’s eyes shone not just with hope for a scandal between them, but with a downright ominous desire for something to actually happen.

Look at that sinister gaze—if they reached the carriage together and nothing happened, she might as well start publishing gossip pamphlets herself… Rosetta shivered involuntarily at the ominous feeling.

Cardier, perhaps thinking she was cold, tightened his grip slightly on the shawl around her shoulders. Alternating his gaze between the carriage and Rosetta, Cardier finally spoke, as if resigned.

“In that case, we shall depart first.”

“That would be best.”

The Duchess quickly replied with a broad smile. Rosetta nearly burst into incredulous laughter. She knew Cardier wasn’t a scheming man, but what on earth was the Duchess relying on to entrust her daughter like this? Did she actually want something to happen between them?

This felt just like becoming a siren luring an innocent sailor to be devoured. And yet, her own opinion had not been considered at all in this arrangement. Pushed forward by the Duchess’s urging stare, Rosetta reluctantly opened her mouth.

“Then, Mother… I’ll see you at the ball.”

Damn it. Tonight was going to feel unusually, painfully long.

* * *

The Renouac Mansion’s summer ball was an imperial-hosted event for high-ranking military officers, marking the official start of that year’s social season. Unlike typical noble balls, which grew wild and unrestrained past midnight, this one maintained a rather calm and solemn atmosphere, since the crown prince and the prospective crown princess attended in person.

Rosetta anxiously bit her lip, mentally replaying Madame Falmont’s tedious explanations. She had to do this—otherwise, she couldn’t maintain a composed expression. Being trapped alone inside a carriage speeding at full pace sometimes made her feel like a cornered mouse.

“…….”

“…….”

Swallowing the awkward silence, Rosetta strained to keep her eyes fixed outside the window, avoiding Cardier’s gaze.

Peeking through the glass, she saw that Cardier didn’t seem to be looking directly at her either. And yet, her throat kept drying up with every passing moment.

“Is your seat uncomfortable?”

When Cardier suddenly spoke, Rosetta nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Wha… what did you say?”

“You keep fidgeting, unable to sit still.”

“…….”

“He won’t be far behind. The Duchess will follow soon enough.”

He spoke softly, one leg crossed over the other, hands clasped atop his knee.

“Though whether she comes to rescue the lady-in-waiting or push her deeper into the pit, who can say?”

His face radiated a calm ease. Ease. Something utterly unlike her own tense, twisted expression.

That gap annoyed her. Rosetta furrowed her brow deeply.

“Stop your nonsense. What do you want, anyway, acting like this?”

“What I want… Hmm. Though honestly, I’ve been more preoccupied with an immediate concern.”

He smiled—a charming, heart-throbbing smile. Rosetta froze, blinking rapidly.

This man must have conducted an in-depth study on how his appearance affected people around him while she was dead. Otherwise, there was no way he could deliver a smile at such a perfectly calculated angle.

Rosetta would have wagered her entire fortune that at least a dozen men in the capital would gladly give up their bodies and souls just to see that smile again.

Struggling to suppress her wandering thoughts, Rosetta dryly retorted,

“A concern?”

“A dilemma, really—whether or not to seize the young lady, pretending ignorance, like the greedy Duchess of Valdemore desires.”

“Let me ask you one thing. Are you interested in me?”

Cardier shrugged.

“If I weren’t interested, I wouldn’t be here doing this.”

“Don’t play dumb. I’m asking if you have ulterior motives—as a man.”

He kept smiling, but tilted his lips slightly sideways. That alone made him seem inscrutable, dangerously unpredictable. He lazily ran a finger along his lips as he spoke.

“Well… not sure about ulterior motives.”

“…….”

“But sometimes I wonder what it would be like to open the young lady’s head.”

“…….”

“Because I suspect what’s inside that cute little head of yours might be something I’ve lost long ago.”

The moment she heard those words, goosebumps crawled up her spine.

She kept her face calm, as if she didn’t understand what he meant, but her heart was pounding far too fast. Her ears burned, and the thudding of her insides echoed in a dull roar. One thought echoed in her mind: How much does he know? How much has he figured out?

“Young lady.”

At the sound of Cardier’s voice, she barely managed to lift her head. He smiled, resting his head slightly against his clenched right fist—so infuriatingly at ease, so leisurely as he spoke.

“You look terribly pale.”