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“Why do you want to distinguish them? Why do you still not realize…”
“Realize what?”
Ray did not prefer speaking bluntly, but he decided it would be fine with her.
First, she was a Boltonian, and second, he felt she wouldn't understand unless he spoke clearly.
“There is no need to distinguish. Everyone in Orturan is your enemy. Who in this country do you think would hold any goodwill toward you?”
For a moment, Ray thought he saw tears welling up in Rose's eyes.
Looking again, it was a mistake. It was clearly a misperception due to her characteristic pale coloring. Her eyes were utterly dry.
He always felt it, but she was a woman who surprisingly rarely cried.
“…Then. Am I just supposed to take it? No matter what they say to me? No matter what they do?”
“I will handle the people who treat you carelessly. It would be problematic if you couldn't even trust your husband.”
The woman let out a hollow laugh.
“How can I trust you? You just said it yourself—that everyone is an enemy.”
Only then was Ray able to wear a satisfied smile.
“You're clever. Since you seem to understand, I expect you to behave differently from now on.”
Rose kept her mouth shut and stared at him for a long while before turning her head back toward the window.
Inside the carriage, which had finally fallen silent, Ray was also able to look out the window with a light heart.
As he gazed out, he recalled Archibald Avery's ridiculous face once more. The habitual irritation he felt toward the woman had vanished.
Since it had already happened and the situation was settled, if he were to simply appreciate it with a relaxed mind, it was the best and most amusing sight he had seen recently.
However, that lasted only a moment. By the time the carriage arrived at the mansion, Ray's mood had returned to its usual state—neither irritated nor amused, a flat line without any highs or lows.
Until his wife refused his escort.
Ignoring the arm Ray offered, the woman stepped out of the carriage with poor posture, clutching her dress haphazardly, and muttered in the Antaka language as she passed by his arm.
As someone who had used Antaka as her native tongue, she muttered at a very rapid pace, but Ray understood what she said, and in that instant, his expression stiffened.
“You're annoying, so don't touch me.”
That was what his wife had said.
* * *
It is better to be angry than to cry. Crying helps nothing in life.
Rose closed and opened her eyes tightly, recalling the most important life lesson her homeland, Bolton, had taught her.
“Who in this country do you think would hold any goodwill toward you?”
As soon as that utterly cold voice came to mind, her hand tightened around the hairbrush.
No, this cannot hurt me.
Rose brushed through her hair, repeating to herself like a madwoman: I don't love this country, and I don't love the people of this country, so this cannot hurt me.
“A Boltonian... Crawford has finally gone mad.”
“How did your mother end up living in a place like Bolton, my lady?”
“Surely she couldn't have crossed the Tess River again.”
No, please. Forget it.
Rose muttered obsessively.
She had applied so much pressure that the brush felt as if it were about to snap, but she couldn't stop. It would be better for the brush to break than for her to cry. She refused to cry, even if it killed her.
These people know nothing about Bolton anyway.
Rose closed her eyes tightly and took a deep breath.
Keeping her eyes closed until all those voices vanished from her head, Rose finally opened them after a long while and began brushing her hair again.
She just had to lie down on the bed as if nothing had happened. She just had to wake up and forget.
Just as she had managed to calm her heart and was brushing her hair, she sensed a presence in the hallway, and the man she least wanted to see at this moment appeared, wearing a robe.
Their eyes met in the mirror.
The moment she saw those terribly cold eyes, Rose felt the heart she had painstakingly soothed begin to shake violently.
Ray Crawford's deep blue eyes were Orturan itself.
She should not be looking at that man.
Even though Rose averted her gaze as if she hadn't seen him, he sat on the sofa behind the dressing table, seemingly indifferent.
“Go to your bedroom. I have nothing more to say today.”
No doubt he had rushed here to give her another piece of his mind.
She couldn't understand it.
He had already told her that everyone, including himself, hated her; was that not enough? Did he have more to say? Even harsher words?
Whether it was sadness or anger, her heart began to race again, and Rose gripped the innocent brush tightly once more.
“I have something to say, and that is what is important. Furthermore, you have no right to tell me to leave.”
Right.
The moment she heard that word, the anger she had suppressed suddenly flared up as if fuel had been thrown onto a fire.
In this place, not even a private bedroom could be Rose's. Everything belonged to this man; everything was according to this man's will.
“In Orturan, your feelings are not im—”
The man's voice, remaining calm alone, further fueled Rose's anger. It felt as if the dam holding back her heart had burst.
Before she knew it, Rose had bolted up from the dressing table chair.
As she stood, she threw the brush to the floor as if casting it away, and a dull thud echoed through the quiet room.
“Then what rights do I actually have? If I can't even say this much?”
Only when the brush rolled across the floor did the man's expressionless face finally crack.
“I would prefer it if you didn't act so emotionally.”
Despite his frown, his tone remained dry.
Emotionally?
If Rose had truly acted emotionally, she would have punched Avery in the face.
“Do you know what that bastard said to me?”
She felt the man's surprise at the curse that slipped out unconsciously, but Rose could no longer control herself.
This was exactly why she had tried to avoid the conversation.
“He offered me a cigarette. Told me to have one! Asking if I wasn't a smoker.”
She wanted to explain more clearly how insulting and unfair this entire situation was, but the Orturan language was far too frustrating. She was out of breath.
Eventually, Rose beat her chest a few times and began speaking in Antaka.
“And then he even said that only women without dignity smoke.”
Just using Antaka made her feel much more at ease.
“Am I supposed to just stay quiet after hearing such bullshit?”
Ray was looking at her with a frown, and she couldn't tell if it was because he disliked her or because he was interpreting the Antaka language.
Perhaps it was both.
“I did my best. Instead of telling a guy like that to shut up and get lost, I spoke the way you people do!”
As he listened to her, the man, gradually regaining his usual expressionless face, raised one hand as if restraining a wild animal. As if telling her to stop thrashing.
“Do not raise your voice. And stop with the Antaka. It won't do you any good to make a habit of it.”
It was an unbelievably calm, emotionless attitude.
Faced with the man's attitude—how he could so easily and naturally command her not to do this or that—the anger that had been charging forward came to a dead stop.
After saying those words, he simply stared at Rose.
That gaze felt like a doctor observing a dog after administering a rabies shot.
Under that cold observation, Rose became aware of her own appearance.
Her cheeks were hot. They were undoubtedly red. Her chest was heaving from her labored breathing.
It felt miserable that she was the only one getting angry.
Rose still didn't know what she had done so wrong.
The Orturans said whatever they wanted to her, regardless of whether it was appropriate or not, simply because she was a Boltonian.
And yet, that Rose had endured and endured, only to offer such a small, meager counterattack, was not allowed. Even that was her fault. Even though she hadn't even used harsh words.
“…What did I do that was so wrong?”
As the anger subsided, the question flowed out unconsciously. The question she had wanted to ask ever since she arrived here.
She knew well that to noble people like Ray, she would always seem lacking.
She had accepted it even when they forced values and habits upon her that she couldn't agree with at all. After all, Rose herself had accepted this marriage. She bore responsibility as well.
However, agreeing to the marriage did not mean agreeing with the statement that 'all Boltonians are trash.'
She wanted to ask why... why they hated her to this extent.
“Did my father beg on my behalf? Did he cling to your pant legs? Begging you to please marry me? Or did my father threaten you?”
She had come here without knowing much about Orturan. But it was clear that these people had always loathed Bolton and continued to loathe it now.
If he married a woman from a country he hated so much, there must have been a reason.
“If not, you must have had a reason to accept this marriage too. Then why am I the only one treated like a sinner?”
According to her father, this marriage proposal had actually come from their side first. She didn't believe those words blindly, but surely the two families must have reached an agreement.
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