32.

“Sit here. I’ll bring you something to drink.”

Ro nodded drowsily with a weak wave of her hand. She really needed something to settle her stomach, no matter what it was. Cardier, seemingly uneasy about leaving her alone, glanced around as if searching for someone to look after her for a moment. But after judging everyone nearby as untrustworthy, he clicked his tongue in irritation and sharply raised his eyebrows.

Then, as if he had never acted so impatiently, his gaze softened again, tender and gentle as he looked down at her.

“Stay right here and don’t move. I’ll be back soon.”

“Like I’d go anywhere… Where would I even go…”

Ro grumbled weakly, her stomach churning. She really should’ve kept her head down. Then she’d never have seen the way Cardier was looking at her—like she was a spoiled little kitten. Worse, he actually reached out and gently stroked her hair, as if smoothing it.

“There, there.”

She didn’t even have the strength to question that unsettling look in his eyes. Rosetta buried her face in her hands, dazed, waiting for the water Cardier had promised. At this point, she’d rather he came back with a strong drink—one that knocked her out completely—than plain water.

It would’ve been so nice to just hide somewhere and collapse. But even leaning lazily against the couch wasn’t permitted for a lady of her status. She curled her back tightly, bracing herself for the worst—just in case she suddenly vomited.

Soon, she sensed someone approaching.

“…Cardier?”

“The young marquis won’t be coming. He’s currently engaged in conversation with Lady Tulea.”

“Who…”

But the voice answering Rosetta’s call was completely unfamiliar. An unknown woman’s voice. At the edge of her hunched vision, she saw three pairs of small, sky-blue shoes with tiny ribbons come to a halt. Not one, but three of them.

“Lady Rosetta.”

“…”

“Lady Rosetta of Valdemore. Can you hear me?”

Her fleeting hope that they had mistaken her for someone else shattered completely when the women called her name a second time.

Ro slowly, painfully lifted her head. Three girls stood before her, their long hair styled in cute, frilly arrangements. Their dresses were made of relatively cheap fabric, and the jewels decorating their earrings weren’t real.

If they’d received invitations to this event, they were likely among the last to be invited—the kind people sent out to fill empty seats. The tallest of the three stepped forward, lifting her chin with forced confidence.

“Actually, I’ve wanted to speak with you since the Renouac mansion ball.”

“Who exactly are you all…”

At her words, all three girls flushed bright red. The one who had stepped forward stammered, her ears turning deep crimson.

“I thought you might not recognize us. You don’t usually attend these kinds of events.”

Not usually attending, in other words, meant they rarely received invitations from high society. But Rosetta had enough tact not to point that out. Whether in society or among nobles, she’d lived over thirty years—long enough to know better.

“Anyway, we came to ask you to stop. Your recent behavior has been going too far.”

The girl on the left was nudged sharply in the elbow by the one in the middle and opened her mouth. Though she said “ask,” her tone was almost a warning.

If these three had been men, she’d have kicked them in the groin and cursed them out until they fled. But these girls—delicate, huddled together like baby chicks… Rosetta barely held onto her patience.

“So, speak clearly…”

“You can’t pretend you didn’t know that Lady Tulea and Marquis Montrosa were engaged.”

Her words cut off sharply, followed by a smug retort. Rosetta suddenly realized they hadn’t even introduced themselves or mentioned which families they belonged to. According to “102 Guidelines for the Perfect Lady,” the book Lady Valmone carried around day and night to lecture her, this was a grave breach of etiquette.

By a pirate’s logic—where everything was measured in gold—Valdemore, a duke’s house dealing only in top-tier sapphires and diamonds, was a whale. These girls, adorned with fake trinkets, were little more than flounders.

They weren’t even close to her league, yet they dared to be this rude. There were several possible explanations: first, that she was a woman abandoned by the crown prince, thus unworthy of respect; second, that Lady Lea looked too pitiful, so they’d say their piece while Rosetta was disoriented and vanish; third, perhaps they’d heard rumors about her going mad and thought, why not test their luck?

They probably expected some reward for their loyalty once their words reached the ears of their beloved “Lady Tulea.”

“No matter how much you wish to catch the crown prince’s eye… flaunting such familiarity with Marquis Montrosa in public doesn’t look good.”

Rosetta didn’t miss how the woman’s gaze briefly flickered toward her hand—where Cardier had touched her when helping her up earlier. She’d clearly been watching.

“No matter that the crown prince has turned his affections elsewhere…”

“Stealing a friend’s fiancé like this is simply outrageous.”

As she listened, the relationship between Lady Tulea and Cardier was rapidly upgraded—from rumored engagement to official betrothal. It seemed they’d only just realized that mere rumors wouldn’t be enough to pressure a duchess’s daughter.

“You’ve really gone too far.”

“To take a friend’s lover so cruelly…”

And now, he was a lover. Just hearing that made her stomach churn even more. Her lips turned pale as she barely managed to speak.

“Let’s… discuss this matter later.”

She was about to vomit for real, and she couldn’t even grasp what these women wanted. Lover? Fiancé? Or just rumors of an engagement?

The whole situation was absurd—being tied to Cardier and treated like this. After all, it was Cardier who was actually attached to her, while she was the one desperately trying to avoid him.

“Haa…”

Rosetta covered her nose and mouth with her palm, letting out a weak groan. The women stood blocking the wind, and the thick scent of perfume and makeup hung heavily in the air. Her already queasy stomach sank further toward disaster. At this point, being branded a rude duchess’s daughter seemed far better than throwing up all over the place.

Ro clutched the hem of her dress and staggered to her feet. The girls flinched back, but when Rosetta pushed past them toward the railing, they followed in a huff, their faces indignant.

“Lady Rosetta!”

“Leaving in the middle of a conversation like this—is that your way of ignoring us?”

“We’ve made our position perfectly clear by now!”

Rosetta gripped the railing tightly.

“What… do you expect me to do?”

“You must give us a definite answer.”

“A clear promise that you’ll stop approaching Marquis Montrosa.”

For a moment, Rosetta couldn’t hide her utter disdain. Oh, these sweet little “ladies.” She wished they’d stop bothering her and go pester Cardier instead—ask him not to approach her. She leaned heavily against the railing, hiding how her legs were giving out.

And then, suddenly, the ship lurched violently. Amidst murmurs and scattered screams, chaos erupted. Rosetta clung to the railing, struggling not to collapse disgracefully onto the floor.

In that split second, a hand emerged from the crowd and shoved her shoulder hard.

The intention was likely to make her fall and humiliate her. But the problem was Rosetta had no strength left to resist. The moment her grip slipped from the railing, she plummeted straight into the dark river below.

Scene after scene fragmented, flickering slowly like broken frames. The last thing she saw before closing her eyes was Cardier’s face, pale with shock.

“Rose!”

Just before her back hit the churning water’s surface, she thought she heard Cardier’s voice—like a hallucination.