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IGF 16
“It sounds as if you're telling me to sell my body and soul to Your Highness to ensure my safety.”
“You don't have to sell your soul. As for your body... I won't stop you if you wish to.”
Upon hearing his words, Roselyn instinctively stepped back. Whether they were good men or bad, there had been many who did not hide their desires for her. The despair she felt in the garden that day flashed vividly in her mind. A learned defense mechanism caused a sudden surge of fear.
However, as he slowly closed and opened his eyes, they did not hold the unpleasant glint typical of such men. Rather, his gaze was utterly dispassionate, as if he were looking at an inanimate object. It was enough to make Roselyn wonder if she had misheard what he had just said.
“I will offer once more. Take my hand. Even if you sell everything you have, it will not be a losing bargain for you.”
A single gesture of his hand would be more valuable than everything Roselyn possessed. He spoke with absolute certainty, without a shred of hesitation. Roselyn bit her lip, feeling as though she were being regarded not as an equal, but merely as an object of utility.
The spring sunlight shone brightly behind the Prince, while she stood in the shade. Despite being within arm's reach, the gap between them felt immense. Overwhelmed by a sudden sense of sorrow, she lowered her head. As if sensing her conflict, Aiden delivered a final word to drive the point home.
“Be smart, Roselyn. If you want to get what you desire.”
Be smart? She knew exactly what being truly smart meant. It meant rejecting his proposal. Achieving everything on her own without anyone's help. Ensuring that no one, absolutely no one, could ever make such an offer to her again.
But there was no viable way. All she could do was give up and resign herself. She was already too exhausted from enduring the rapidly changing circumstances and countless misunderstandings. Every day felt suffocating and bleak—to the point where she feared she might succumb to dark thoughts.
That was why, even knowing he would only use her, she couldn't reject the proposal immediately. The hand he extended was the only hand of salvation she had longed for. The thought that accepting his offer could allow her to escape this place at any time tempted her heart. Once the matter was settled, she might even secure the funds to open a pharmacy in a quiet area, as she had originally planned.
Furthermore, he was royalty. He possessed the authority to call for a noble's trial, a privilege reserved only for the imperial family and high-ranking nobles. If she took his hand, she could ask him to open a trial for Selena and Isaac, or even ask him to find her mother's keepsakes if a trial was not possible.
The scales of her heart tipped further and further to one side. However, she could not accept the offer right this moment. For she knew better than anyone what she would have to endure if she took his hand.
While Roselyn's conflict dragged on, Aiden waited for her in silence, a cigarette between his lips. It was amusing to watch her hesitation written all over her face. He figured he could afford to be a bit more patient. She would have no choice but to accept his proposal eventually. Waiting until the tobacco had burned down, he felt a slight movement and crushed the cigarette under his foot. Right on cue, Roselyn looked up with a confused expression.
“Please give me a little more time to think.”
“Very well then.”
After a brief glance behind him, he answered nonchalantly and leaned in. Startled by Aiden's sudden proximity, Roselyn tried to step back, but the hand firmly supporting her waist would not allow it. He tilted his head, bringing his face close to hers. A scent of wild flowers, reminiscent of medicinal herbs, wafted from her. He leaned in close to the nape of Roselyn's stiffened neck and whispered.
“Once you've made up your mind, tell the maid who guided you today.”
“...Yes.”
The bitter scent of tobacco from the man close to her brushed against the tip of her nose, making her head spin. It was an act that could be called harassment, yet his demeanor was so dispassionate that it didn't feel unpleasant. Instead, she was suddenly terrified that he might hear the erratic thumping of her heart. When Roselyn finally answered with her eyes tightly shut, Aiden stepped away lightly, as if he had nothing more to say.
“It seems the item I was looking for isn't here. My apologies for the intrusion, Miss Russell.”
At his words, Roselyn's face turned pale. Coming back to her senses, she saw Violet glaring at her with fierce eyes over Aiden's shoulder, with Betty standing beside her. She could feel an unmistakable hostility in Violet's piercing gaze.
Flustered, Roselyn looked at Aiden and clenched her fists in dismay. From Aiden's relaxed smile, she could tell that the previous act had been entirely intentional. He had brought Violet here via the maid to make her misunderstand their relationship. From Violet's slanted perspective behind him, it must have looked as though they were kissing.
Aiden leisurely walked away from the frozen, distraught Roselyn and the visibly wounded Violet. Since things had gone according to plan, the cornered Roselyn Bluebell would soon contact him through Betty. Imagining her clinging to him with a helpless expression brought him a pleasant sense of satisfaction.
“Violet. This is a misunderstanding. I, I mean, actually, His Highness the Prince...”
There was no time to hide her panic. Though she rushed out with words, they sounded like nothing more than excuses even to her own ears. She was tormented by the fact that she even had to make such excuses in the first place. Strictly speaking, Violet and Prince Aiden were not in any particular relationship, yet Violet's gaze—as she bit her lip until it bled—was like that of someone looking at a mistress, making Roselyn's blood run cold.
“The mere fact that you two were alone here is enough for me to misunderstand.”
Violet closed her eyes and trembled, as if swallowing her rage. When she opened them again, her green eyes were as dark as moss.
“No matter what the rumors said, I didn't believe them. I didn't even care. It was none of my business how many men you played around with.”
Violet signaled Betty to leave and stepped closer, one pace at a time. The hem of her ivory dress, clearly one of her most cherished garments, was carelessly stepped on and soiled by Violet's feet.
“But now you're even eyeing your friend's man? I suppose playing around like that until you were divorced wasn't enough for you?”
“Violet!”
Roselyn's eyes widened. She had not expected that even Violet would think of her that way. She could endure the chatter of strangers, but the fact that Violet—who should know her innocence better than anyone—felt this way cut deeper. Despite their different situations and circumstances, she had still thought of her as a friend.
“You know the rumors aren't true. You heard everything about my story on the day I left home, so how can you say such a thing?”
Roselyn murmured with a stunned expression. Even in the face of her despair, Violet only gnashed her teeth. She was blinded by rage and jealousy.
“Call me Milady! I never gave you permission to call me by my name.”
I should never have brought her into my house. Violet regretted it too late. That day, when she saw Roselyn standing miserably, drenched in a sudden downpour, she should have ignored her. She should not have stopped the carriage and called out to her.
At first, it was due to a meager sense of morality. A strange feeling of superiority had also played a part. Violet's childhood had been entirely overshadowed by Roselyn. Her father, and her mother while she was still alive, were always busy comparing the violet to the blue rose whenever Roselyn was mentioned. At every event they attended together, everyone looked only at Roselyn. Her first crush had spent all his time following Roselyn around. Praises for her always ended with, 'though not as good as Roselyn.' The conviction of the Marquess and Marchioness that the daughter of a Marquess must not be inferior to the daughter of a Count wore Violet down through increasingly harsh etiquette lessons.
After the death of Count and Countess Bluebell, when news arrived that Roselyn had been sent to a convent, Violet was the one who rejoiced the most. The joy of no longer being compared, the liberation of no longer being second best, easily betrayed a momentary friendship. It was she who had subtly inflated the rumors that Roselyn had been sent to the convent for improper conduct. She felt no guilt. Compared to the suffering she had endured because of Roselyn, Roselyn's situation, living peacefully within the convent, must have been heaven.
Even as the Empire's Blue Rose was slowly forgotten, Violet alone did not forget Roselyn. A vague anxiety that Roselyn might return at any moment and steal everything she had achieved always lingered in a corner of her heart, tormenting her.
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