My Ruin to You - Chapter 2

Magic was largely hereditary, passed down through bloodlines, making it a prized privilege in status-obsessed noble society. A child manifesting magic was the highest honor, and shady folk remedies promising to induce magical awakening flourished in the underworld.

So when such extraordinary magic appeared in the daughter of an obscure baron’s family, the backlash was inevitable.

Her own household was hardly welcoming, either. Those who manifested magic were granted admission to the Academy—but since nine out of ten students came from noble families, tuition was exorbitant.

After her father’s death, Roseline’s stepmother, who saw her as nothing but a nuisance, would never have paid for her education. So Roseline sold her mother’s belongings to scrape together the funds.

But it was fine. Even if she had stayed under her stepmother’s thumb, clinging to her mother’s mementos and her father’s estate, the future awaiting her would’ve been marriage to some pot-bellied old noble as his second wife. Thanks to her magic, her fate had been rewritten—how could that not be fine?

After enrolling at the Academy, she scrambled for scholarships. She attended every event that could boost her eligibility and took on jobs even commoners would hesitate to do.

She could admit it—after meeting Valen, life became easier. The massive donations he poured into the Academy were funneled into various scholarships, and Roseline reaped the benefits. It was a thoughtful gesture—instead of handing her money, he chose the roundabout method of donations.

The only problem? In his effort to protect her dignity, he overlooked the consequences.

The longer their relationship lasted, the more the Grand Duke gave her—outwardly, she flourished, but inwardly, she grew poorer. The things she had to endure multiplied, and the things she couldn’t do increased tenfold. Because every word, every action, could tarnish his reputation.

“Hey, Roseline. How’d you manage to seduce His Highness?”

In that sense, every moment was a test. The moment she cleared one hurdle, another awaited.

Roseline quickened her pace, pretending not to see the young master perched on the staircase windowsill, whistling. The young lord, his eyes half-lidded as he raked his gaze over her, suddenly hopped down and sidled up to her. Leaning in close, he whispered.

“What about me?”

Her foot, poised to descend the stairs, froze. Her grip on her book tightened.

“If you play your cards right, I could invest in you just as much as His Highness. Hmm?”

The feeling of something snapping inside her came right after.

This was different from all the disregard and mockery she’d endured until now. It went beyond rudeness—this was vulgar, blatant contempt, and it shattered Roseline’s patience.

“H-Hey—?!”

The young lord flinched back, sensing the abnormality in her magic—but it was too late.

Magic that should have taken form in the bright white of healing instead blazed crimson, engulfing Roseline. Attack magic.

“S**t—this is against academy rules! W-Wait—!”

The seething magic, flickering like flames, surged toward the panicked noble. He had no time to defend himself before the force hurled him down the stairs.

THUD—

A dull impact echoed, followed by his scream. The commotion drew people running—but by then, Roseline had already collapsed, blood trickling from her nose. The price of wielding magic outside her innate affinity.

◇◇◇

She woke to a splitting headache in the infirmary. Having drained her reserves and forced foreign magic, her body was wrecked—like she’d been trampled by a beast, exhausted and limp.

“Oh—you’re awake.”

A familiar voice. Professor Ji, rustling behind a partition, stepped into view. Roseline struggled to prop herself up against the headboard. The kind-faced middle-aged woman clicked her tongue at Roseline’s pallor.

“I’m sorry.”

“Apologize to yourself first. Look at you—this is why taboos exist.”

The professor had warned her often. Curiosity killed the cat. Your hunger for knowledge will hurt you.

Every era had those who defied natural laws, and Roseline was one. The professor knew she dabbled in shape-shifting spells—but attack magic? That was new. Mastering one’s innate affinity was hard enough; carving into her own flesh to wield another was, in its own way, a talent. A shame such brilliance had no place in a society that prized tradition over innovation.

No—even if this world had cheered for Roseline, one man at its pinnacle would never allow it. Her fate as a magic-wielder was already sealed.

“…Will His Highness hear about what happened today?”

The professor’s eyes flicked between Roseline’s ashen face and her white-knuckled grip on the sheets.

“He was very worried. Sent a letter for you.”

So he already knew. Without further comment, the professor held out a cream-colored envelope stamped with the Grand Duke’s seal.

“Rest a while longer, then return to your dorm. Don’t dwell on today—just recover.”

The professor patted Roseline’s shoulder a couple of times in comfort before turning to leave. Roseline stared blankly at the envelope in her hands until the door clicked shut behind her. Then, slowly, she pulled out the letter.

It spoke of his imminent departure for the capital, stern orders for her to stay bedridden in the dormitory until his return, fretful words about how worried he’d been, and tender, aching affection—I miss you. I want to see you.

As she read his heartfelt words, crystal clear in their devotion, a single thought crystallized in her mind.

Ah. I have to break up with him.