My Ruin to You - Chapter 54

Her voice shook as she asked again. A confirmation or denial—he gave neither, simply watching her as he calmly removed his remaining arm guard. Once both arms were free, Valen flicked his wrists lightly, as if shaking off tension.

“How many territories do you think have fortifications as stubborn as these?”

The only territories she had ever seen were her hometown, this place, and the capital. So, the first thing that came to mind was the capital’s sturdy walls.

“Right, the capital.”

Valen nodded as he observed her.

“The Marquis is an ambitious man. If we assume he spread the plague to the capital—two days from the territory to the capital. While the other lords panic and shut their gates, the Marquis would suppress the plague. It would be easy for him to handle, since he created it.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because it benefits him.”

“How long have you known about this, Your Highness?”

“Do I have to answer?”

She wanted to hear it, but she wasn’t in a position to demand answers. Roseline silently shook her head and formed her own hypothesis. Most likely, he had been watching the Marquis, waiting for the decisive moment. The manifested one who burned the bats the moment they took flight might have been the Marquis’s subordinate, not the Marquis himself. If she assumed that, the tangled clues fell neatly into place.

“Check it. See if it’s what you’re looking for.”

Valen placed a thin book he had pulled from inside his leather breastplate onto the table. For a moment, Roseline alternated between staring at Valen and the book from his possession before stepping forward to pick it up. As expected, it was a journal.

One page, then another. The more she flipped through, the darker Roseline’s expression grew.

“The tears of a trampled guardian.”

“The fresh soul of a ruthless slaughterer.”

“Refined earth of the land.”

“A shattered sculpture.”

What the hell is this creepy bastard saying? It was infuriating—he had listed nothing but jargon only he could understand.

“Skip the obvious parts and tell me something else.”

Tap, tap. After undoing all the buckles on the side of his breastplate, he carelessly dropped the heavy armor. Though made of leather, its thickness made for a dull thud.

“How deeply were you involved in these experiments? How much do you know about the Marquis? That’s what I want to hear.”

Valen absently brushed back his disheveled hair and brushed past Roseline to sit on the sofa. She suddenly felt like an intruder in this space. The days when he would lend an ear to even trivial matters were long gone. Was it because lives were at stake? Everything felt unfair.

“I’ve already told you everything. The healing center had no patients… I thought something was off, so I was packing up to return to the capital when suddenly all this happened…”

“I didn’t ask for your personal circumstances.”

“…But you could still listen.”

“Why should I?”

A short, decisive reply. As if to say, You should know the reason better than anyone.

Roseline pressed her lips together. Was she the only one still tangled up in this? A sudden, irreverent thought bubbled up—How dirty and petty—but this wasn’t the time for such things.

“You shouldn’t still be under any illusions.”

“I’m not. But I truly have nothing to do with this. I don’t know anything.”

“Then you should have fled outside the walls. Not come back.”

“……”

“Someone has to take responsibility. If we don’t catch the Marquis, you’ll be the one held accountable for this disaster. You must’ve thought hard about it—surely you’ve at least figured that much out.”

“It does.”

The calculations lined up too perfectly—that was the problem. Roseline stood there blankly, blinking vacantly. Valen, leaning back lazily with his chin propped on his hand, watched her with a heavy gaze. His eyes traced every flicker of her expression—the way she chewed her lip, wrinkled her nose, twisted her face as if on the verge of tears—before he finally spoke.

“Get out. Think about what you need to do, and come back when you’ve sorted it out.”

Sort out what? Her life was the one being sorted out here.

Roseline lowered her head and turned away weakly. Like a defeated soldier, she trudged out and stumbled into her own room, where all her grief came crashing down.

She collapsed onto the edge of the bed, biting down on the bedding as she sobbed for a long time. She cried from the injustice, the anger, the sheer absurdity of how her life had turned out.

What’s going to happen to me when we return to the capital?

If she was lucky, the guillotine. If unlucky, stoning. Or maybe torture before a slow, agonizing death. Either way, she’d die.

If I begged Valen for my life, the outcome might change—but judging by the way he kept drawing lines with that “young lady” nonsense, she couldn’t count on it. And she didn’t even want to. She’d rather just run.

“…Hic, run?”

For a moment, she stared blankly at the tear-stained bedsheet. Then, sniffling, she wiped her damp eyes. Escape? Pfft. The first time was hard, the second easier, the third even more so.

Yeah. Let’s go.