25.

Cardier’s meaningful words aside, it was absurd to even consider drinking alcohol handed over by someone after being humiliated by Nick. No matter whose body this was—Lea’s or not—even if that someone was Montrosa’s bastard son. And not realizing it until Cardier mentioned it… It felt as though she’d been completely caught off guard.

She quietly stared at her wine glass before downing it all in one go. The rich, bubbling wine warmed her insides, and soon a tingling heat spread throughout her entire body. Though by ‘Ro’s’ standards the alcohol was mild, to Lea’s current physical condition, it seemed quite strong.

Anyway, she had danced as the duchess had wished, drawn attention due to that crown prince brat, and enjoyed some fine wine… She had fulfilled the bare minimum of duties. True, she hadn’t found a fiancé yet, but with this guy clinging so close, today was clearly ruined anyway.

Ro handed the glass to a passing servant as if tossing it away and said,

“I’ve done everything I needed to. Can we go back to the estate now?”

“Sure. I’ll escort you.”

At Cardier’s gesture, a servant waiting nearby handed them their outer coats.

“Oh, young marquis, are you leaving already?”

“There’s someone I really must introduce myself to…”

“Have you met my daughter yet?”

As they began preparing to leave, noblewomen who had been watching intently, as if this were their final chance, swarmed toward Cardier like moths to a flame.

Each time he brushed them off with a cold expression, new women rushed in. Soon, Cardier was nearly buried amid a sea of fluttering dresses, with only his irritated frown barely visible. Rosetta was quickly pushed by the swelling crowd all the way to the ballroom’s entrance.

She shrugged her shoulders and slowly walked off toward the lobby by herself. The ballroom’s air had grown stifling, and the stares of people gawking at her like some strange animal were unbearable. Besides, after the wine had heated her insides, she desperately craved a cool breeze.

As she approached, the servant standing guard opened the door leading down to the garden. Below the staircase, carriages that had been bustling toward the main gate now sat dark and silent, waiting for their owners. In between, several coachmen and footmen had gathered in small groups, gambling among themselves.

Rosetta stepped onto the marble balustrade, gripping the railing. Her hair fluttered gently in the refreshing early summer breeze. The sky was filled with stars, and distant lights shimmered far off in the dim twilight like lighthouses.

Closing her eyes slightly, she heard the rustling of trees swaying against each other, a sound like waves rolling in.

Leaning forward just a little more, it felt as though she were standing at the prow of a ship. Just as she grasped the railing with both hands and began to lean forward—

“You startled me.”

At the sound of Cardier’s voice, Rosetta opened her eyes. His clothes were slightly disheveled, as if he’d barely escaped the clutches of those women. Rosetta didn’t miss the desperate look in his eyes.

In just a few steps, Cardier closed the distance and grabbed her wrist. He panted as though she were a mirage that might vanish if he didn’t touch her. He leaned in so closely it was almost as if burying his face against her neck as he whispered,

“I thought you’d left.”

Rosetta quietly stepped down from the railing.

“I came out early because it was hot.”

“Without even a coat? What if you catch a cold?”

“You were too busy. Hey, you’re good at this, aren’t you?”

Rosetta giggled, poking his side sharply. Perhaps because she’d just been imagining the sea, her previously taut vigilance had loosened slightly.

“Put on your coat first.”

Cardier unfolded a thin robe with both hands. Ro turned her back, gathering her loose hair to the side and stretching her neck forward—making it easier for him to drape the robe over her shoulders. Soon, warm fabric settled over her arms and shoulders. She loosely fastened the robe and said,

“You got out faster than I expected. I thought it’d take half a day at least.”

“……”

“Well, being excessively handsome must be exhausting.”

“…Did you just say I’m handsome?”

Cardier asked, his eyes carrying a subtle expression. Rosetta blinked, unsure of his intent, then shrugged.

“Well, you’re strikingly good-looking, aren’t you?”

“…You’ve never said that before. Not once.”

“Really?”

Rosetta paused, mentally reviewing the past, then tilted her head. Now that she thought about it, she realized she’d never directly said he was handsome. She’d only ever called him ‘that bastard’ or ‘this bastard,’ tossing insults around like pebbles. And since meeting him in Lea’s body, she’d had even less opportunity.

Rosetta blinked again.

“Do I really need to say it? You must hear it dozens of times a day.”

“But not from you.”

“What’s the difference?”

The alcohol was gradually clouding her mind. Her body burned as if a small furnace had ignited inside, and her heart fluttered like a freshly caught fish. Cardier gently caught her with one arm as she swayed unsteadily.

“Be careful.”

“Bullshit… What’s wrong with just one glass of wine?”

“I told you. Stronger alcohol strains your body.”

“This weak carbonated wine…?”

“But it was one of the stronger kinds among them.”

In her former body, she would’ve lavished praise on any drink the stronger it was, but this delicate frame apparently couldn’t handle even a single glass. Her head began spinning again. She shook it, trying to clear her thoughts.

“Ro.”

In that instant, it felt as if the world had stopped.

Her heart thudded heavily, then leapt back up into her throat. As if dipped into a winter sea, her mind snapped back into sharp clarity.

Cardier called her again.

“Rose.”

Rosetta struggled fiercely not to lift her head, even unconsciously. She didn’t flinch her shoulders or twitch a single eyebrow. She maintained a perfectly calm expression, but honestly, even if the emperor had been assassinated, she couldn’t have been more shocked.

At first, she thought it might be a mistake or misunderstanding. But hearing that name twice—it was no longer something she could dismiss as mere error or coincidence.

To be honest, Ro had more or less given up halfway through. After a lifetime spent crawling through bloody paths, expecting to become pure white just from scrubbing with soap for a month was simply impossible. Moreover, Cardier knew far too much about her former self.

Coming clean might have been one option. True, it carried the risk of ending up dangling from a gallows, but on the other hand, perhaps Cardier might tolerate her out of old sentiment. If she were lucky, maybe even gain his help.

Yet each time, Cardier’s strangely feverish gaze stopped her confession. That desperate yet cold, passionate yet hateful, overwhelmingly raw desire—too clumsy and alive for someone who had already died once.

Rosetta had encountered men with such eyes before in her past life. Moments were thrilling, but none had ended well.

Either they tried to kill her or ended their lives by suicide.

She didn’t want to… consume Cardier that way. Whether “consume” was the right word, she wasn’t sure, but she wanted the memories with him to remain untarnished, like pure sunlight. Therefore, no matter how many times she reconsidered, the conclusion remained the same: trust there was no evidence, gradually eliminate any hint that might spark his interest, and ultimately make him doubt even his own certainty.

Rosetta gathered her endless thoughts and raised her head at the right moment. Fortunately, Cardier’s face remained calm—no conviction or triumph, only habitual suspicion and persistent observation.

That, strangely, gave Rosetta faith. Faith that Cardier still believed her lies.

Rosetta wore the harmless expression of someone who had heard nothing. Then she smiled faintly.

“Now you’re getting my name wrong too?”

“……”

“Now that I think about it, maybe the one who’s drunk isn’t me?”

Cardier opened his mouth as if about to say something, then shut it tightly, like a clam.

“……”

“……”

Ro waited, her throat parched, for his words—like a criminal awaiting the judge’s verdict. Just moments ago, she had thought she might fall into his arms; now, the mere three steps between them felt eternal.

Suddenly, a cold wind blew. Her neatly gathered hair scattered wildly, tousled like seaweed in ocean wind. He reached out long fingers, gently brushing the strands from her forehead and tucking them behind her ear. In that position, Cardier gazed at Rosetta’s face for a long while.

Then, abruptly, he spoke.

“…Yes.”

“……”

“I’m not even sure… if I’m the one who’s drunk.”