Dwight had just finished speaking and took a small step back, creating a bit of distance from Rosaline. Although it was a subtle move, it seemed to be his preference to maintain personal space during conversations. It was unclear if this was specific to Rosaline or a general habit.
“Just so you know, the Lyonmanes tend to boast about their bravery in public, so it might cause trouble if you were to declare them ‘cowardly opportunists’ in any setting, sir.”
“Then, is there a place where I can speak candidly?”
“You can share your message with the person you want to convey it to, Miss Rosaline. Unless, of course, you suddenly feel like discussing it with His Highness Elpidio.”
Rosaline was unsure about whom to approach, but Dwight’s message was crystal clear. The heir of the Lyonmane family, who was essentially the main support for the Elpidio faction, referred to his own family as cowardly opportunists. This indicated that he wasn’t an unwavering supporter of Elpidio, and if circumstances changed, he might not resist the tide and could switch his allegiance, even if it was to a different master—whether this claim was true or not.
This information might not be favorable for Elpidio, and it could very well end up in the hands of his rival, Ricardis, although Rosaline hadn’t yet realized this.
A strong gust of wind tousled Rosaline’s black hair and exposed her neck. Dwight made a move to remove his outer garment, attributing her shivering to the cold.
Suddenly, a sharp thud echoed through the air. Dwight nearly cried out in pain as a firm grip clamped onto his wrist. He turned his head sharply to identify the intruder and found himself frozen in place.
The man before him, even in the dim light, exuded an incredible beauty, his breath visible in the cold night air. He panted heavily, not from rushing but seemingly as if to quell the boiling anger within him. His silver hair gleamed in the moonlight as it cascaded over his pristine white attire. He was none other than the 2nd Prince of the Empire, Ricardis Darius Illavenia.
“… Dwight Arpeker…” Ricardis’s voice carried a chilling undertone, causing Dwight’s Adam’s apple to visibly bob.
window.pubfuturetag = window.pubfuturetag || [];window.pubfuturetag.push({unit: "64ce79d606107d003c23ea27", id: "pf-5140-1"})Comparing Ricardis to Elpidio felt almost disrespectful; Ricardis exuded a refinement and courtesy that far surpassed Elpidio, embodying the essence of “royal nobility” in human form. Due to this perception, Dwight could only interpret Ricardis’ muttered words, “…this bastard…” as a figment of his imagination.
Dwight made a deliberate effort to maintain composure and forced a smile. “I see the blessings of Illavenia, that calls upon the white night, Your Highness the 2nd Prince.”
Ricardis looked down at him coldly, offering no response. Dwight pondered on what he might have done wrong. What if Ricardis had witnessed the scene where he and Rosaline were conversing?
Ricardis might have observed everything—from Rosaline’s unspoken “please kiss me” to Dwight’s fumbled attempts at close proximity. Though it could have been misconstrued as a kiss due to the angle, it wasn’t uncommon for fully grown adults to display affection during night gatherings.
Perhaps Ricardis found it distasteful to witness his beloved subordinate engaging with a member of another faction. But would he abruptly leave a gathering attended by many people, including the relentless Theresia, just to find her? Something didn’t quite add up.
Dwight glanced past Ricardis at the ballroom, scanning the faces of the individuals who had surrounded Ricardis just moments ago. Their expressions were a bewildering mix of emotions, suggesting they hadn’t exchanged proper greetings. It seemed apparent that Ricardis had acted impulsively, disregarding appearances and the attention of those present.
Only then did Dwight consider another possibility. The intense, predatory gaze from Ricardis was more than the typical sharpness; it felt like relentless torture, capable of piercing through one’s soul.
‘Could it be…’
As Dwight let his bewilderment show on his face, Ricardis finally released his grip on Dwight’s hand, slowly.
A perplexed woman, a flustered man, an angry man.
window.pubfuturetag = window.pubfuturetag || [];window.pubfuturetag.push({unit: "64cc9e79c7059f003e4ad4b0", id: "pf-5109-1"})To any bystander, it appeared as though a husband had arrived to confront the troublemaker who had meddled with his innocent wife. Although Dwight had not anticipated anything of this sort today, he found himself in a familiar predicament. He offered a slight bow, cradling his sore wrist. “It seems you have some matters to attend to with Miss Rosaline. I shall take my leave.”
Up until that point, Rosaline had been alternately gazing at the two men, unaware of the brewing tension. Feeling like he was fleeing the scene, Dwight left the balcony and stole a glance back when he believed he had put enough distance between them. He saw Ricardis’ back as he forcefully pulled the curtain cord without a backward glance.
Swoosh. And just like that, it was over.
Dwight stood rooted in his spot, contemplating the whirlwind of danger and helplessness that had swept over him. ‘That’ Highness Ricardis with ‘that’ Rosaline Radwiell?
His thoughts roiled within, impossible to conceal. However, when he noticed the young ladies chatting cheerfully in the distance, he gracefully smiled and moved on.
Swoosh.
The red curtains cloaked the light from the ballroom. Despite the soft music playing from the nearby space, the dimmed balcony felt entirely disconnected from the lively ballroom.
Meanwhile, Rosaline approached Ricardis with an excited demeanor. Her intention had been to return immediately after her conversation with Dwight, so she was delighted to encounter Ricardis so soon. However, Ricardis didn’t share her enthusiasm.
His expression remained furrowed, lips pressed tightly together. The muscles in his jaw twitched slowly. It was a little later that she heard his voice.
“Did that Lyonmane guy force you into this?”
window.pubfuturetag = window.pubfuturetag || [];window.pubfuturetag.push({unit: "663633fa8ebf7442f0652b33", id: "pf-8817-1"})The question was abrupt, catching Rosaline off guard. “… Excuse me? What do you mean, force?”
“Could it be, you don’t even know what that meant? That bastard.”
Ricardis sneered as he gazed beyond the balcony, now veiled by the red curtains where Dwight had vanished moments ago. It seemed as if he was about to reach for Dwight’s head that had retreated. However, instead of Dwight’s head, Ricardis clenched his own. Veins stood out on the back of his hand above his well-groomed head. Upon closer inspection, they trembled slightly.
Still averting his gaze, Ricardis suppressed his anger and redirected his attention back to Rosaline. His pupils were fixed on her lips. She blinked rapidly, puzzled. Forced into what? What had Dwight done?
Ricardis slowly raised his hand. His firm knuckles lightly grazed Rosaline’s lips. Not stopping there, he used his thumb as if applying makeup, brushing against her lips.
Rosaline furrowed her brows slightly. An itching sensation, like tufts of cotton rolling from her lips to the depths of her chest, began to spread, starting from the lips touched by Ricardis’ hand.
It was oddly difficult for her to meet Ricardis’ eyes, so she focused on his hand as if it were an adversary. However, since he remained silent and still, she eventually had to lift her head slightly. Ricardis’ blue eyes flickered, subtly illuminated by the lanterns in the garden outside the balcony.
“… It seems your lipstick got smudged.”
Earlier, during her meal, some cream had gotten on her lips, and she had licked it off with her tongue, smudging the lipstick slightly. As Rosaline nodded, Ricardis’ face contorted strangely. Oh, he looked exceedingly fierce and attractive. Rosaline’s heart fluttered.
Ricardis picked up a champagne glass from the railing and lightly dampened a handkerchief. Then he wiped Rosaline’s lips vigorously. It stung so much that it was almost painful. When Rosaline grimaced, Ricardis threw the handkerchief to the ground and let out a deep sigh.
“Hah… If the count has coerced you into any non-consensual acts, that’s punishable by law. I can act as a witness. Would you like a dual trial? You can claim it was a mistake and challenge him. I’ll handle the repercussions.”
Rosaline appeared increasingly perplexed. “The count has never forced me into any non-consensual acts.”
Upon hearing this, Ricardis’ expression turned fiercer. “Are you suggesting it was consensual—that you gave consent? Come to think of it, you brought the fan to your lips first, damn it. Rosaline, have I misunderstood you? Fine, you’ll be turning twenty-three soon, right? Hell, you’ll turn 24 after your birthday next month! I know you’re a full-fledged adult, but you still need to choose your affiliations wisely. Dwight Lyonmane? Dwight Arpeker? That individual opposing me and my faction?”
In response, Rosaline calmly tried to soothe him despite his sudden outburst. “Ah, the count mentioned he isn’t in conflict with you; he’s simply supporting His Highness Elpidio.”
She effectively employed the information she had gathered from Dwight earlier, though the timing was less than ideal. Ricardis’ eyes flared up.
“Rosaline Esther!”
Only now did Rosaline read the atmosphere and sealed her lips. She wasn’t entirely sure of the exact reason, but Ricardis was clearly infuriated. She pondered over what he had said—consensual act, fan to the lips.
It clicked.
The fan to the lips!
‘Could he be thinking we kissed?’
Rosaline deduced the answer. Indeed, it would be peculiar to be suspected of kissing another influential heir from a different faction. Although Ricardis’ anger didn’t stem from that, Rosaline remained unaware of it for the time being.
