No matter how much Turner shouted, Rosetta had already calculated that this was the most efficient method.Rather than wearing it to Montrosa Castle and letting several hands touch it, it was better to take it off now to preserve it in slightly better condition.

The fact that Turner didn’t seem the least bit masculine also played a part in her decision, but she had already determined there was no issue to begin with.Unless he went mad, he wouldn’t dare lay eyes or hands on her recklessly.

From the moment she began untying the ribbon, seeing him crouched in a corner of the room as if hiding confirmed her prediction was spot-on.Turner’s petty survival instinct, always dodging like a ghost when his life seemed at stake, was almost admirable.

Once she made up her mind, her actions were swift and decisive.Rosetta used a sharp dagger to cut through every last knot tightening her waist.The moment she let go of the fabric at her chest, the dress fell to her feet, pooling like a large puddle.In an instant, Rosetta, now in her slip, nimbly stepped out of it.

“Really, no, oh, my goodness…”

From the rustling sounds alone, Turner realized what was happening and let out a dumbfounded sigh.Rosetta paid no mind, spreading out the dress and cutting away the most stained parts with her knife.She carefully trimmed any mistaken cuts, setting them aside, and tossed the largest piece onto Turner’s desk along with a handkerchief.

“Find out as much as you can about its composition.It took about an hour to get here by carriage, and I avoided any situations that could cause further contamination.It doesn’t seem like a drug used alone; it’s likely mixed with hot tea…”

“Alright, I get it, but…”

“What.”

“Please, just… put something on.”

Rosetta then realized Turner was still crouched in the same corner and burst into incredulous laughter.He reached for a basket overflowing with laundry, grabbed something randomly, and tossed it behind him.Rosetta picked up the garment that landed at her feet with her index finger and thumb—a men’s tunic of questionable cleanliness.

“What’s this trash?”

“Just wear it. Please.”

Rosetta examined the tunic skeptically, turning it over and sniffing it.The stench was so potent her nose wrinkled instinctively; it must have been left unwashed for ages after being sweated in.Clicking her tongue, Rosetta pulled the tunic over her head.It was long enough to cover her down to mid-thigh.

“I’m dressed.”

Turner muttered a mix of curses and sighs, then, seeing Rosetta’s bare legs, let out an ugly scream and covered his eyes with both hands again.Panting heavily, he shouted,

“Why… why didn’t you put something on your lower half?”

“You didn’t give me anything.”

“Find something there and put it on.”

Rosetta rummaged through nearly half the pile of foul-smelling laundry and found a pair of barely wearable trousers.Tailored for Turner’s sturdy frame, even with the belt tightened as much as possible, she had to roll up the hems three or four times to keep them from dragging.

“Are you dressed?”

“Yeah.”

Glancing back, Turner buried his face in his right hand and slumped into an armchair.Dust puffed up and settled in that brief moment, as if he’d been hit by the weight of years, looking utterly exhausted.

“Next time, please… don’t just strip anywhere…”

“You’re so picky.”

“I just want to live a long life.”

“Come on, who’s going to kill you?”

“…Let’s not talk about it.”

Rosetta scoffed.As if a guy who’d lived twenty-seven years without seeing a woman’s skin would blush at the sight of her legs.Turner had always been insufferably fussy, second to none in that regard.Did he strip? No, she did.While she grumbled inwardly, Turner, barely recovered from the shock, was examining the fabric scraps she’d cut under the sunlight.

“That’s all for now. Figure out the drug’s components or find Calypso.I’m borrowing these clothes.”

As she grabbed her discarded hood, ready to leave, Turner scratched his head and stood up.

“You’re going now?”

“Yeah. I’m already busy enough as it is.”

“Since you’re here, stay a bit longer.”

“Why?”

“That Melvin you asked me to find—he’s on his way here.”

Rosetta chewed her nails, restlessly tapping her right leg.The fine carriage floor of the Montrosa heir and her shoe heels clashed at odd angles, making strange noises.

She had planned what to say and how to act when reuniting with Melvin multiple times.But meeting him again while wearing stench-ridden clothes was something she hadn’t even imagined.

“Milady.”

Turner knocked on the carriage door with a dumbfounded expression, opening it without waiting for permission.The faces of the coachman and attendants a few steps away turned grim instantly.Rosetta raised her hand to stop them.

“Why are you meddling again?”

“You’re really meeting him here? There’s a reception room, you know.”

“The carriage is fine. And who knows what traps you’ve set up in there?”

“Come on, a merchant’s trust is their life! What would I gain from setting traps? You’re too suspicious…”

Rosetta dug into her ear with her pinky, as if to say, “Tell me something believable.”Turner gave an exasperated laugh and shrugged.

“Fine, do what you want. He’ll be here soon, so brace yourself.”

Waving a warning finger, Turner closed the carriage door again.Perhaps because of his jab, her tension grew, taking shape and swelling by the moment.The last time she saw Melvin, he was a young boy who followed her like family.She vaguely assumed he’d have grown a bit since then.

So when Turner returned with a young man, she didn’t even suspect it was Melvin.The carriage door opened again.

“Get in.”

Turner gestured toward the carriage, and the young man, limping on one leg, climbed in obediently.Rosetta remained bewildered even as he sat across from her.

“This is… Melvin?”

“Ask him yourself for details.”

Turner waved dismissively and shut the carriage door, leaving Rosetta alone with Melvin in an instant.

“…”

“…”

Perhaps warned in advance, the young man looked extremely intimidated, barely daring to glance above her chin.This gave Rosetta the chance to observe him freely.Brown hair, brown eyes—those matched her memory, but his gaunt cheeks completely changed his appearance.His eyes and lips seemed almost the same, though.

But the most crucial evidence was the small scar on his chin, from falling while mending a sail.Only then did Rosetta let go of her heavy suspicion.

“You’re Melvin? The one who worked with the Red Dawn?”

“Yes, well… that’s right, but…”

He tilted his head, puzzled by why she was asking.But he answered dutifully.

“To be precise, rather than working together, I had the honor of serving them closely.”

Immensely satisfied with his response, Rosetta nodded vigorously.The loyalty, politeness, and respect in his tone sent a thrilling rush through her, as if she’d rediscovered something long forgotten.While she closed her eyes, savoring the moment, Melvin cautiously spoke.

“Um… may I ask one thing?”

Rosetta nodded with a rare benevolence.

“Permission granted.”

“I heard, um, that you’re the wife of the Montrosa heir.”

“That’s right.”

“…”

Melvin’s eyes visibly narrowed.His brown gaze scanned the ragged clothes Rosetta wore from top to bottom, then twisted into an insolent smirk, as if daring her to lie again.Yet his tone remained impeccably polite as he bowed his head.

“Then, if I may be so bold… why are you dressed like that?”

Rosetta was momentarily speechless.Fine, she could understand his wariness given her attire.In his shoes, she might feel the same.But unless his eyes were knotholes, refusing to drop his suspicion despite the carriage’s intricate interior was plain stupidity.Rosetta summoned one last shred of patience.

“There were circumstances.”

Melvin scanned her from head to toe again.Then, with a look of pity, as if certain of something, he whispered,

“Of course, I’m sure there were.”

…What’s that supposed to mean?