Chapter 007. Their Twisted Hero (3)

Despite the affectionate tone of the letter, Rosalyn felt only discomfort. It was frustrating that her nurse, Meriwood, had already set out before she could send a reply asking her not to come.

‘Your Highness, our poor princess… If only Her Majesty the Empress were still alive…!’

Rosalyn recalled how Meriwood had clung to her, sobbing, before her departure to war.

Meriwood had pitied the princess who, having lost her parents, was immediately sent to the battlefield. She had even gone to the Emperor several times, begging him to spare Rosalyn from the war.

But in the end, her pleas were ignored.

‘Don’t cry, nurse. Nathan and I will come back alive. I’ll make sure of it.’

Before setting off, Rosalyn had promised her tearful nurse. But it was a promise she should never have made… a promise she couldn’t keep, now weighing heavily on her heart.

Rosalyn hurriedly drank valerian tea, trying to calm the churning inside her.

Nathan Mason.

Her nurse’s son, and her friend. He had gone to war with her, someone she had sworn to protect but couldn’t.

His name was one she would carry on her shoulders for the rest of her life.

“Tsk.”

In truth, she didn’t want to see Meriwood. She didn’t have the face to meet her, nor did she want to show her the broken version of herself that she had become.

Doubts constantly gnawed at her.

‘Is the nurse really happy I’ve returned alive? Or is she just pretending?’

Perhaps Meriwood wanted revenge for her son’s death.

“Sigh…”

Rosalyn ran her hand over her face, trying to shake off the deepening emotions.

She needed to stop. Once her thoughts started spiraling into self-destruction, it was hard to stop.

“I’ll have to send her back.”

Yes, that would be the best. She could explain it gently, and if that didn’t work, she could always pretend to have gone mad.

‘I want to spend whatever time I have left by Your Highness’ side.’

But somehow, she felt that it wouldn’t be that simple.

* * *

‘Rose, no matter what happens… you must survive.’

A blood-stained hand, its original color impossible to tell, caressed Rosalyn’s cheek.

‘You must survive and become Empress, my child.’

Rosalyn scratched the cheek that had been touched in her dream, tearing the skin until it bled.

‘Mother…’

Instinctively, she took a step back.

But the dark red hand multiplied, as if mocking her retreat, reaching out to grab her.

‘You must survive! Become the Empress!’

Dozens of hands suddenly latched onto her, holding her so tightly she couldn’t move.

‘Do you know what I sacrificed for you?!’

‘I don’t w…’

“Ahhh!”

Rosalyn screamed as she woke up from the nightmare.

The loud cry in the dead of night startled Sionne, who woke up with a groggy sigh, pulling the blanket over his head in annoyance.

“Haa… haa…”

But Rosalyn didn’t notice him, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts as she gradually regained her grip on reality. The sticky sensation of the phantom hands slowly faded with her returning awareness.

“Sigh…”

‘Maybe it’s because I saw Meriwood’s letter today.’

As time passed, Rosalyn calmed enough to analyze her state of mind. In hindsight, she wondered why she had been so terrified in the dream.

After all, such hallucinations were something she occasionally experienced.

* * *

Rosalyn was fundamentally lethargic. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say she spent most of her days lying in bed.

Even now, she lay idly, stretching out her hand and watching it for a long time, flipping it back and forth, clenching and unclenching her fist.

And whenever she got bored, she would call out.

“Prince.”

“I am not a prince.”

The response was immediate. The fallen prince frowned as if the title itself was an insult.

Rosalyn’s choice of title was both a mockery and an insult.

In this space, there was no longer a prince—only a lazy Grand Duke and a battered spoil of war.

“Who asked for your opinion? Answer.”

“…Yes.”

The Grand Duke had thoroughly taught the spoil not to think. Thinking and making decisions were privileges reserved for the free.

“What color do my hands look like to you?”

Rosalyn suddenly posed a random question to Sionne.

To be honest, he didn’t want to answer. He had learned from experience that it was impossible to have a normal conversation with this woman.

But he knew he had to play along.

For Merilyn and Anna.

And perhaps, just as she had said a few days ago, for the chance to bite at her neck when the opportunity arose.

“Color, you say?”

“Yes. Sometimes my hands look black to me, other times red. What do they look like to you?”

Rosalyn had moved close to him without him noticing and was now holding her hand out for him to examine.

Sionne stared at her hand. Her long fingers were covered in calluses, and there were fresh scars on the back of her hand.

But no matter how he looked at it, her hand wasn’t black or red.

Her skin had a peachy hue, tinged with pink.

“They look peach-colored.”

As soon as he answered, Rosalyn’s expression darkened.

“Peach-colored? Where did that idea come from?”

“?”

“The only choices were black or red. So where did you come up with peach?”

As she spoke, Rosalyn leaned in closer to him, her words and body pushing him into a corner.

Sionne leaned back as much as he could, but he was eventually backed up against the wall.

“Look at my hand properly.”

Now, he was trapped between her and the wall, unable to escape.

His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously as the space between them shrank.

“Where exactly do you see peach in my hand…?”

She brought her hand right up to his face, staring at it as if she couldn’t understand. Then, she paused, glancing between her hand and Sionne’s face.

“Aha… Haha!”

Suddenly, she burst into laughter, clutching her stomach as if it was the funniest thing she had ever heard.

“?”

Sionne’s brow furrowed naturally.

Her mouth and body were laughing, but her eyes weren’t. It was a bizarre, unsettling laugh.

“Haha… it really is peach, isn’t it?”

When she finally stopped laughing, all she could say was that simple remark. She tilted her head as if she was genuinely perplexed.

But as her breathing calmed, her expression grew colder by the second.

“How strange.”

Rosalyn’s face returned to its usual, indifferent state as she pulled away from him.

‘She’s getting worse,’ she thought, walking back to her bed.

‘I need to go to the North soon.’

Or rather, she needed to leave this wretched palace quickly.

The longer she stayed in the palace, the more unwanted memories surfaced, driving her to the brink of madness.

* * *

Preparations for Rosalyn’s departure to Anata proceeded swiftly.

Her eagerness to leave once Sionne’s body had recovered, combined with the Emperor’s desire to see her gone, made things move quickly.

But the Emperor had no intention of letting her go quietly.

“The Emperor wants to see whom?”

“His Majesty wishes to see Sionne… sir.”

“Hmm.”

Rosalyn narrowed her eyes and glanced at Sionne, who stood beside her.

“His Majesty would like to offer some words of encouragement before you both leave on your long journey…”

The servant, nervous about Rosalyn’s lukewarm response, added more words in an attempt not to offend her.

“Fine.”

To the servant’s surprise, Rosalyn agreed easily.

“Pardon?”

Her swift agreement made the servant question her, despite himself.

“If the great Emperor wishes to meet my lover, what can I do? I must send him.”

“O-Of course! Right away.”

The servant hurried to Sionne’s side, preparing to take him to the Emperor. Naturally, Sionne’s opinion wasn’t considered in the slightest.

“Wait a moment.”

Just as Sionne was about to follow the servant out of the room, Rosalyn suddenly called them back.

With a wicked smile, she spoke to them.

“Tell His Majesty to return him without a scratch. I value him greatly.”

“Ah, yes.”

The servant stammered, clearly taken aback by her words. Seeing his hesitation, Rosalyn’s eyes turned sharp again.

“Make sure he understands. If he comes back with even a single wound, don’t expect to be sent off to the North peacefully.”

“I-I understand!”

Her tone was serious, as if Sionne were truly someone precious to her.

“Take care, Prince.”

“…”

Sionne bit the inside of his cheek, annoyed by her false words of affection.

Her fake kindness and false warmth were only meant to mock him.