Chapter 48
What was the point of chasing wealth and glory if it led to “this”?
Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.
Like it or not, the disaster had already happened. And the living had to keep living.
If she wasn’t going to sit around waiting to die, then regrets and second-guessing were luxuries she couldn’t afford.
“Let’s go.”
At high noon, when the winter sun hung at its peak, Roseline lowered a makeshift rope—woven from bedsheets—out the window. It was the quietest way out. Before climbing down, she wrapped herself in a thin protective barrier and tucked the rolling pin she’d taken from the kitchen firmly under her arm. After a final scan of the eerily silent streets, she took a deep breath and swung her legs over the windowsill.
“……”
Her heart pounded the entire descent. Her arms trembled from the strain of clutching both the rope and the rolling pin, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself to move slowly. When her foot slipped once, her breath caught—but she made it to the ground unharmed.
“……”
The town was desolate. Half-open shop doors creaked ominously in the wind, and the cobblestone streets were stained with dried blood. Overturned carts, broken flagpoles, and trampled festival lanterns littered the ground. It was a ruin.
Roseline looked up at the sky. She had a few hours before sunset—enough time to reach the city walls if she moved quickly. Logically, she should head straight for the gates.
But her conscience yanked her back by the hair.
The connection between the plague and the vampire bats was undeniable, and the Marquis was almost certainly involved. If this was an experiment, there had to be records somewhere. She might be the last survivor left in the city—and if so, finding those records was non-negotiable. Without understanding how these monsters were created, there’d be no hope for a cure.
The real problem?
Why the hell does this have to be MY responsibility?
“Since when was I the righteous type? What has this empire ever done for me?”
Grumbling under her breath, Roseline’s feet carried her toward the Marquis’s estate anyway. She’d search the study first—if she found nothing, she’d head to the clinic.
Gripping the rolling pin with both hands, she moved cautiously, flinching at every rustle of wind. The closer she got to the estate, the more signs of life she detected—footsteps, hushed voices, and the faint hum of magic.
“Captain, look—over there!”
A knight’s sharp call made her freeze. About twenty paces away, a group of seven knights stood in her path. At a glance, they looked like mercenaries—their armor was leather, not the Empire’s signature plate. But the crimson cloaks and sun insignias on their pauldrons betrayed their true allegiance.
Imperial Knights.
Roseline’s grip tightened on the rolling pin.
Just my damn luck.
“Where?”
The captain, who had been surveying the area, turned at the commotion. His gaze swept over Roseline—taking in her disheveled appearance, the ridiculous rolling pin clutched in her white-knuckled grip, the way she stood half-crouched like a cornered animal.
Yet despite it all, she didn’t look pitiful.
No—there was something starkly beautiful about her. The kind of beauty that came from surviving. Her eyes were steel. Unbroken.
“Barrier.”
At the captain’s order, two knights joined hands. A massive protective dome—identical to the one Roseline had cast days ago—engulfed the street.
It took two of them to do what I did alone.
No wonder her nose had bled.
Another knight nocked an arrow. He fired into a nearby tree, and the moment the arrow struck, the luminescent stone at its tip burst—releasing a plume of crimson smoke into the sky.
“We need to confirm your identity. State your name.”
“Lilmaya.”
“Why lie, Lady Celodienne?”
“…How did you know?”
“Why would you lie in the first place?”
“Good question. Why did I?”
Roseline rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. The captain didn’t press further. What she’d endured was too harsh for a noblewoman, and no matter how strong she appeared, she might still see herself as a wreck. Without a word, he draped his cloak over her thin dress.
“Rest easy. You’re safe now.”
“…Yes.”
“We’ll escort you to safety shortly.”
“…Yes, sir.”
Roseline forced a weak smile. The relief of being rescued by the knights lasted all of three seconds.
Her mind raced.
She was affiliated with the clinic.
This plague started at the clinic.
Was running into the knights really good luck?
It could be salvation.
Or it could be a death sentence.
Just as she was weighing her options—
Clack. Clack. Clack.
The sound of hooves approached, steady and deliberate, cutting through the ruined streets. Roseline turned.
A rider on a black horse emerged through the dissipating red smoke.
Her breath hitched.
The man guiding his mount through the wreckage—
Was Valen.
“Whoa.”
He tugged the reins, stopping just inside the barrier.
Roseline’s pulse stuttered.
Of all the people—
Of all the damn timing—
Valen’s gaze locked onto hers.
And the world stopped.
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