My Ruin to You - Chapter 20

She shrugged, her expression unchanging. Vermouth, flustered, turned to the young viscount he usually hung out with—who happened to be sitting right beside Lady Schnitzel—expecting him to back up his claims about Roseline’s “aggressive tendencies.” But when it came time to testify, the young viscount kept sneaking glances at the truth-squeak mouse and stammered that he “wasn’t sure.” Worse, when asked if he’d heard the rumors Vermouth spread, he nodded—strengthening Roseline’s case.

Vermouth could only seethe, glaring at his so-called friend.

But later, his testimony flip-flopped again. He admitted to some of what he’d said but insisted Roseline had provoked him. Squeak, squeak. The truth-squeak mouse called him out once more.

By the end, he was kicking the table legs in frustration. Even when the professors reprimanded him, it didn’t last. The final verdict? Vermouth was held back a year and suspended. As for Roseline’s unauthorized magic use? A written apology.

“You’ll regret this. You’re tossing me aside now, thinking Celodienne will become Grand Duchess—but we’ll see about that, won’t we?”

Grand Duchess? Really?

As Lady Schnitzel had pointed out, the young master’s imagination truly was something else. With one last venomous glare at the professors and Roseline, he stormed out. The presiding professor offered Roseline a half-hearted apology—then praised her clever use of the truth-squeak mouse, even musing about employing it more often for testimony verification.

“Ah, I forgot to mention—Lady Schnitzel was the first to find you that day. She healed you while unconscious and organized the others to carry you to the infirmary. Don’t forget to thank her.”

You couldn’t have led with that?

Leaving the hearing, Roseline glanced around. Click, click. At the far end of the now-empty hallway, polished heels echoed crisply—Lady Schnitzel’s. Her ash-blonde hair, tied high in a single ponytail, swayed stiffly with each step.

“Wait, my lady”

Roseline hurried to catch up. Schnitzel glanced back, her expression as flat as ever.

“Hmph. Save the thanks. I didn’t do it for you.”

“Even so. I heard you were the one who found and healed me that day. I’m sorry it took so long to say this, but… thank you.”

“…So you only just found out?”

“Yes, by chance.”

“I wasn’t waiting for gratitude. Like I said, it wasn’t for you.”

Yet she seemed like she’d been waiting more desperately than anyone. The corner of her mouth twitched, her cheeks faintly pink. Roseline couldn’t help smiling at how cute it was—which earned her a sharp “What’s so funny?” and an eye-roll, as if Schnitzel hadn’t just been flustered.

After years of claiming this Academy was full of idiots and that she’d endured more insults than meals here…

Turns out, Lady Schnitzel was one of the few sensible ones. It was a shame Roseline only realized it on the cusp of graduation. Had she known sooner, maybe the past three years wouldn’t have been quite so unbearable.

“Let me make one thing clear—don’t go dreaming we’ll suddenly become close just because of this. I’m not that easy.”

“Huh? Oh, sure.”

“I mean it. I can’t stand annoying things.”

“Okay.”

“…Unbelievable. With that weak resolve, how do you get anything done?”

What does she even want from me?

Roseline stared back, baffled. The young lady huffed, “Ugh, forget it!” then shoved past her and stormed off. Roseline, abruptly pushed aside, let out a dry laugh as she watched her go. The winter air was icy, but strangely enough, her heart felt warm that day.

◇◇◇

A strange rumor began circulating.

Vermouth, suspended and sent home, had disappeared. Whispers placed him in Pielo’s salon—a den of depravity—or worse, lurking in brothels. But just as those rumors died down, something far more unsettling took their place.

“Drunk and got himself killed somewhere, no doubt. There’s no way he’d stay quiet this long otherwise.”

Gossip came easily to others. Every mention of the young master was now accompanied by casual speculation about his death. His parents poured money into searching for their missing second son, but public interest waned by the day.

The Academy buzzed with excitement as final exams concluded. Roseline, having finished the semester with outstanding grades, submitted her application to the Magical Affairs Bureau. It was an unspoken rule that nine out of ten graduates—especially heirs—returned to their families. But becoming a bureau official was the exception, a coveted path even for second sons and women, bringing glory to both the individual and their house.

Only one healer would be selected, but Roseline was confident. Her grades were impeccable, her interview flawless, the atmosphere promising. She joked with her maid, Lina, about soon being able to pay her generously as they awaited the results.

Yet, regrettably, Roseline was not the one accepted.