My Ruin to You - Chapter 111

Dinner was officially over.

Perhaps sensing the atmosphere was too strained to continue, Valen ordered their meals to be served separately—with an added warning that any further tampering would result in personal consequences. The count practically leapt to swear he’d carve out his own heart before letting such a thing happen again.

The count had prepared two bedchambers, their doors set side by side. With an air of pride, he opened the first.

“It’s too dark to see now, but this is the quietest room with the best sunlight. Come spring, the garden blooms spectacularly—a truly unmatched view. It may seem bleak in winter, but the snow-covered village has its own charm. On clear days, you can even see the white-capped mountain ridges in the distance—so serene… like a painting come to life. Ha ha.”

Desperate to make up for the salted soup incident, the count fumbled nervously, even dismissing the steward to personally adjust the curtains himself. He rambled on—about the freshly laid bedding, the perfectly heated bathwater—until his words blurred into background noise.

Surprisingly, Valen didn’t cut him off—not out of politeness, but because he wasn’t listening at all. His gaze swept the room with clinical precision, inspecting the doorknob, the window latch, every possible entry point.

“Ahem. That door connects to the lady’s chamber. Alize, please escort her—”

The young lady—Alize, presumably—who had been waiting in the hallway, perked up. But Valen shook his head.

“No need.”

“…Pardon?”

“If they dared pull that stunt right under my nose, what do you think they’d do to her alone?”

His tone was matter-of-fact, devoid of anger, as if stating the obvious. The count looked ready to cry. There was nothing he could say except insist it would never happen—but Roseline, pressed against the wall like a startled cat, understood Valen’s logic all too well. Spotting her, Valen smirked.

“I’m tired.”

“O-Of course, Your Highness! Your meal will arrive shortly. May you rest well, and if there’s anything—”

As the count’s words threatened to drag on, Valen narrowed his eyes. The man promptly shut his mouth, bowed, and scurried out with the steward. Two maids lingered, but Valen’s next words were a clear dismissal:

“Get out.”

Once alone, he turned to Roseline.

“Come here.”

She hesitated—then crossed the room, stopping just out of arm’s reach. Valen sighed, snagging her wrist and tugging her forward.

“You’re not sleeping alone tonight.”

Roseline blinked. “I—I didn’t assume I would?”

“Good.” He nudged the connecting door open with his foot. “Because I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

The second chamber was nearly identical—same plush bedding, same heavy drapes. Valen locked both doors, then tossed his coat over a chair.

Roseline eyed the single bed. “So, uh. Shifts?”

Valen shot her a look. “We’re adults. Share.”

She opened her mouth—closed it—then sighed. Fine.

As she crawled under the covers, Valen dimmed the lamp. In the dark, his voice was quiet.

“Next time someone poisons you, spit it out faster.”

“Noted.”

He reached out as if beckoning her closer. Roseline, who had been practically glued to the wall, finally approached him with slow steps. Seemingly frustrated by her sluggish pace, he grabbed her hand and yanked her into his arms. Even though they had been side by side all this time, he pulled her slender body tightly against him as if they had been apart for ages, burying his nose into the hollow behind her ear and inhaling deeply.

“It tickles.”

Roseline pushed him away slightly. The excuse about it tickling was just that—an excuse. The real reason was the embarrassing stiffness pressing against her lower abdomen.

“Tickles? Where?”

A mischievous smile played across his striking features under the flickering light. Roseline didn’t even bother replying and turned away, only for him to pull her back into an embrace from behind.

“Hm? Where does it tickle?”

He gathered her hair to one side and pressed his lips to the exposed nape of her neck. His hand trailed slowly down from her shoulder, soothing at first—until his fingers began loosening the laces of her dress one by one. Tug, tug. The sound of each knot coming undone stirred a flicker of wariness in her.

“Stop.”

When Roseline tried to turn around, he gripped her shoulders firmly, holding her in place. One hand was enough to suppress her feeble resistance, while the other continued undoing the laces with practiced ease.

“I’m sore.”

“Oh?”

“We walked all day yesterday and today, and we rode horses too. I didn’t even get to sleep properly.”

“Poor thing. What should we do about that?”

A faint trace of laughter laced his voice. Just as Roseline scrunched up her face in protest, the tightened laces finally gave way, and her dress slid down her shoulders with a whisper of fabric. The sound seemed to deepen the quiet of the room. The moment the cool air touched her skin, now barely covered by her chemise, Roseline instinctively hunched her shoulders.

“…Seriously, don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Time and place matter, you know. Wait—you actually want to do this now? Are you some kind of beast?”

Roseline clutched the slipping dress to her chest. She pried his hands off her shoulders with deliberate force and put some distance between them, as if securing a safe zone. Just as she huffed and tried to slip her arms back into the sleeves, a low chuckle reached her ears.

“Can’t say you’re wrong. But, Roseline—”

“What?”

“You have to take your clothes off to wash.”

“…Oh.”

Roseline froze in embarrassment.