My Ruin to You - Chapter 167

Clear it. As the command fell, a servant who had been holding their breath in the corner approached and neatly cleared away the scattered fragments. Another servant carefully handed him a bandage, while someone else wiped the blood from the table. In the tense atmosphere, taut like a drawn bowstring, no one dared to speak.

Roseline, deathly pale, was a given, but even Merrick remained standing, having just pulled out her chair, reading the strange mood. Treating the Grand Duke’s hand was the priority, and that required calling for someone, yet no one’s mouth opened. That was the kind of atmosphere it was—one where even breathing seemed to need suppression.

“If you understand, I ask for your cooperation. I want to do well this time, you see.”

“…….”

“And sort out your magic, too.”

Valen leisurely bandaged his own hand. Because the fragments hadn’t been removed, dark red blood seeped through the cotton cloth. Yet, as if merely covering the wound was the goal, he wrapped the bandage carelessly a few times before quietly lowering his hand. Only then did Merrick move.

“……I will call for a physician.”

While the situation urgently required treatment, the greater factor was his judgment that this was no longer his place to be.

Around the time Merrick’s footsteps faded, Valen, acting as if nothing had happened, calmly ordered the meal to be served. Until then, Roseline had been unable to speak a word, just staring blankly at the bandaged hand.

“Shall we eat, Young Lady?”

A smile as beautiful as if drawn, a voice merely calm. Her coral-colored eyes, which had been unfocused and dazed, gradually turned toward him. Because he was excessively serene, it felt unreal.

Roseline. She was sure she had heard his voice, growling as if he couldn’t hold back an explosion, calling for her, yet the man before her was elegant and composed, as if such a moment had never existed. It was truly, horribly so.

“Eat.”

He urged her to eat, picking up a knife with his injured hand. It was obvious the fragments would dig into his skin, yet his expression didn’t twitch, as if he felt no pain. It was bizarre. Roseline barely managed to reach for her water glass. So shocked and flustered was she that her hand trembled violently, causing the water in the glass to slosh as if about to overflow. Gulping down the cold water, the emotions that had been pure chaos gradually settled. In the space left by the receding confusion, anger filled.

She had been fooled again.

But what made her even angrier was the realization that even if she went back to last year’s banquet, she would inevitably be fooled again. He had turned her mind into a muddled mess, and now he sat there nonchalantly spreading butter on his bread—how could she possibly see through such a man?

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

Roseline asked. Her voice was as cold as her icy gaze. It was then that the knife stopped moving.

“If it looked that way to you, I suppose I should be glad.”

It was a composed response. Soon after, the knife began moving again. Scrape, scrape. The handle of the knife spreading the ash-colored butter was soaked with blood, but no one noticed. However, his deception, masquerading as composure, didn’t last long.

Clatter. As if throwing it down, he set the knife aside, pushed the inside of his cheek with his tongue, and fixed a steady gaze somewhere on the wall opposite where Roseline sat. He also tapped the table with his bandaged fingertips. It was exactly as if he was struggling to hold something back.

Finally, he slowly turned his head and stared at Roseline.

“Since you ask, I’ll ask too. What do you think I should have done?”

“…….”

“The end I decided upon includes your life, so should I have gotten angry and told you not to die without my permission? Or should I have explained how pathetically I floundered after you went and died on your own? Grabbing you, who trembles just from making eye contact?”

Stripped of his composure, he finally revealed his true feelings. The remnants of emotion clung thickly to his gaze directed at Roseline. Roseline, who had been staring back at him without flinching, was the first to turn her head. She was resentful, but had no suitable retort. Because if he had cornered her at that banquet, she would have just died again.

It meant he had waited until she had sorted out her emotions and understood all the circumstances, until she wouldn’t run wild. He was truly a cunning man. Since when? Did he really remember his past life even at that banquet? Why had Valen also returned? Instead of the unresolved questions, Roseline brought up something else.
“Then you should have pretended not to know until the very end.”