My Ruin to You - Chapter 137

A considerable amount of time had passed before Merrick returned.

He had run so much that, defying the winter cold, cold sweat beaded on his forehead. The Manifestor, who had been brought along without understanding why, was also breathing heavily.

“I have brought the Manifestor, Your Highness.”

Merrick, standing before the iron bars, bowed his head.

“Come in.”

The voice that barely escaped was so cracked it closely resembled the sound of scraping metal. Sensing that something was terribly wrong, Merrick finally looked closely at Roseline. Her motionless, closed eyelids and pale complexion. Roseline seemed to have lost consciousness.

“……My apologies, Your Highness. It appears we are already too late.”

The Manifestor, who had been channeling magic to heal Roseline, knelt down. His voice, announcing her death, trembled uncontrollably. Valen, who had been stroking her cheek as it lost its warmth, slowly turned his gaze toward the Manifestor.

“Too late. Are you saying the young lady is dead?”

“……M-my deepest apologies, Your Highness.”

Merrick’s eyes widened drastically. A silence so heavy it was hard to even breathe settled over them.

“Shall I kill you?”

A cool, murmured statement sliced through the stillness. The Manifestor, who had glanced up to look at Valen, promptly prostrated himself on the cold floor. Valen clicked his tongue briefly as if displeased and looked down at Roseline again. He slowly stroked her face, which looked as if she were merely asleep, and let out a soft laugh as if remembering something.

“No. She’d throw a fit of crying and screaming when she wakes up.”

“…….”

“Prepare the carriage. We are returning to the estate.”

He unfastened his cloak and wrapped it around Roseline’s body. Then, holding her in his arms, he stood up. Merrick followed behind him with a stiff expression.

The one held in his arms was growing cold, but he never once spoke of it aloud.

“Let’s go home, Roseline. Once we’re home, everything will be alright.”

The words whispered to his lover were neither a promise nor a comfort. They were merely the scream of one who ultimately could not accept it.

◇◇◇

The rumors spread quickly.

The streets that had once cheered the Grand Duke’s return procession were now filled with ominous rumors about the Grand Duke losing his mind. Wherever two or more people gathered, talk of him invariably arose.

“They say he’s holed up in his estate, holding his dead fiancée, and won’t move an inch.”

“And that he summoned dozens of Manifestors only to drive them all away.”

“Oh, enough now! He’ll go mad at this rate!”

A merchant tidying his stall chimed in affably. Merrick slowly passed them by. Perhaps because they lacked the capacity to address the rumors and had left them unchecked, the entire capital was already abuzz. No, it was because his master paid no heed to such rumors whatsoever.

Even on the day he carried Roseline out of the prison, letters from nobles inquiring about the situation poured in like rain. Fearful of repercussions for openly accusing him of smuggling out a criminal, they secretly asked if some misfortune had befallen the young lady. The Grand Duke ordered them ignored, but the next day, Merrick announced the news of Roseline’s passing.

The palace, inside and out, was soon in an uproar. However, as Roseline’s funeral arrangements were not announced and the Grand Duke remained sequestered in his estate without any outside contact for days, rumors began to swell. The suspicion was that he had smuggled out a living Roseline and hidden her away.

On the exact fourth day since Roseline’s departure, the rumors were put to rest through a statement from the Emperor who visited the estate.

‘The Grand Duke is immersed in deep mourning, and We and the Imperial Family wish to quietly respect his grief.’

The investigation results confirming that Roseline had no connection to the plague were also formalized. Edan had taken an active role in this, arguing that if, as Roseline had said, she had personally released the bats from the basement, the young lady would have been infected as well. He presented it as a false confession born from guilt over failing to stop the plague, and brought forth Rudy, a survivor saved by Roseline during the plague, to testify about the events of that day.

‘The bakery man grabbed mother. Mother screamed for me to run. I fell while running, and no one saw me. I tried to get up, but people kept kicking my feet, so I couldn’t. But the Manifestor lady saved me. She healed my injuries too. When I fell again, she made a huge protective barrier. Because of me, the Manifestor lady couldn’t get out. Waaah.’

The child’s words were an unvarnished truth and the most powerful defense. Rudy, who had cried for a long time upon hearing the news of Roseline’s death, placed a single chrysanthemum at the palace fountain on his way home. Before that flower could even wither, another chrysanthemum was placed. People who didn’t know her name or face each placed a chrysanthemum with their own condolences. Thus, one by one, the chrysanthemums filled the edge of the fountain.