My Ruin to You - Chapter 108

The countess had been whispering these grievances since they left the drawing room, and the count had dreaded this exact outcome. Of course, she couldn’t keep her mouth shut—and now she’d gone and provoked the Grand Duke’s fury.

Valen’s gaze didn’t waver. “Well, Rodelac? I asked you a question.”

“I—I’ve allocated resources, Your Highness! But the scale of this disaster—”

“Resources?” A cold laugh. “The only resource I see wasted tonight is my patience.”

Roseline’s fingers curled into her napkin. She should’ve been relieved—Valen was defending her, after all—but the weight of the countess’s glare made her stomach churn. This is why I hate noble games. Every word here was a blade, and she was tired of being both shield and target.

Then Valen leaned forward, his voice dropping to a murmur only the count could hear.

“Tell your wife this: if she so much as looks at Roseline with disdain again, I’ll have her exiled to the plague-ridden outskirts she claims to pity so much.”

The count’s teacup clattered against its saucer.

Roseline didn’t need to hear the words to understand. The way the countess suddenly found her wine fascinating said it all.

“Now. Shall we discuss how you’ll properly assist those refugees?”

The rest of the meal passed in suffocating silence.

“My deepest apologies, Your Highness. And to you as well, my lady—I apologize on behalf of my wife. It was inexcusable for her to speak so carelessly at the dinner table.”

The count bowed his head in a show of contrition, his voice steady. His wife, lips pressed into a forced smile, followed suit.

“I only spoke out of concern for the lady’s poor appetite, Your Highness. Please forgive my impropriety. And my lady, if your feelings were hurt, I am truly sorry.”

The apology was polished, but the white-knuckled fist clenched on her lap betrayed her. Only their daughter noticed—she caught her mother’s glare and shuddered, shaking her head in silent disgust.

“Not at all,” Roseline replied smoothly, dipping her head just enough to maintain courtesy. “It’s I who should apologize for failing to appreciate the meal you so graciously prepared.”

Her tone was flawless, but the unspoken I know what you did landed with perfect precision. The countess’s smile twitched.

“Oh my, such a gracious lady! In truth, that soup was specially prepared for you. I instructed the chef to use only the finest ingredients—please, do finish it.”

Roseline met her gaze, unwavering. So it was just mine, then.

The unspoken demand was clear: Empty the bowl. Refusing would be a breach of etiquette, and the countess likely assumed pride would keep Roseline from tattling to Valen. A childish, idiotic assumption.

“Thank you, madam.”

For the first time since entering the count’s estate, Roseline held the woman’s gaze without flinching. She picked up her spoon, ready to accidentally spill it—

Then Valen’s hand closed over hers.

“You don’t have to force yourself.” A pause. “Give it here.”

“…What?”

“If the host insists nothing be wasted, then we must comply.”

No one—not the count’s family, not even Roseline—saw it coming. Sharing food, especially something touched by another’s lips, was unthinkable among nobles. Yet Valen pulled the half-finished soup toward himself without hesitation.

“Wait, Your Highness—that’s mine—”

“I know.”

He laughed, as if her stunned expression amused him, and took a deliberate sip of the now-lukewarm soup. The countess paled. Roseline held her breath, watching.

Valen set the spoon down with a quiet clink, running his tongue along his inner cheek. Then, with terrifying calm, he arched a brow.

“Rodelac.”

“Y-yes, Your Highness?”

“Bring the chef.”

“At once, Your Highness.”

The count scrambled up, but the countess was faster—her chair screeched as she lurched to her feet.

“There’s no need for that! I’ll fetch him myself!”

Valen’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Sit down.”

Three words, and the room froze.

Roseline watched, pulse hammering, as the countess slowly sank back into her seat. Valen leaned forward, elbows on the table, and steepled his fingers.

“Let’s try this again. Bring. The. Chef.”

The silence that followed was louder than any scream.

The steward hurriedly left the dining hall. Valen wiped his mouth with a napkin and pushed his water glass toward Roseline.

“Drink.”

“I’m fi—”

“I don’t want to be angry with you. Cooperate.”

It meant: no arguing, just drink the water first. Roseline quietly emptied the glass. By now, the others had also realized there was something wrong with Roseline’s food. Since it had entered a royal’s mouth, if it were poison it would be treason, and even if not, it was still a serious crime.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Valen, holding a knife, tapped its sharpest edge against the empty space on the table. Despite the light gesture, the rhythmic friction sound was extremely threatening.

“G-G-Grand Duke… Your… Your Highness…”

At that moment, the head chef entered the dining hall with a thoroughly frightened expression and immediately prostrated himself flat on the floor.