My Ruin to You - Chapter 64

Roseline irritably flipped her hood back and glared at his retreating figure. Enjoying her furious gaze, Valen followed the knight upstairs. The second floor was sparsely furnished—just an old bed, a wooden table, and a bookshelf. After a brief scan of the room, Valen perched on the table.

“You found the Marquis?”

“Yes, Your Highness. He tried fleeing beyond the city walls but got trapped. He requests an audience—what should we do?”

“Just bring me his head.”

The order came without a moment’s hesitation.

“The knights may object.”

“And?”

His indifferent retort hung in the heavy silence. But Edan, ever loyal to the Grand Duchy, pressed a hand to his chest and bowed.

“I will carry out your orders.”

Meanwhile, chained to the workbench like a guard dog, Roseline kicked the table in frustration. The heavy table scraped forward with each thud, drawing a glance from the knight lighting the furnace—Giorno, the gruff one.

“Sir, I have a question.”

“Not answering.”

“I gave you mana this morning.”

“Tch. Fine, one question.”

“What was that signal earlier? When do you even use it?”

“Classified. Done.”

Ugh, this bastard.

Roseline’s face twisted in annoyance. The other knights, busy with their tasks but eavesdropping, stifled faint smiles—

Scrrrrape—THUD.

An unnatural sound shattered the silence. Giorno by the fire, Roseline by the table, the other knights—all snapped their heads toward the noise.

In that instant, a pale hand shot out from under the table and seized Roseline’s ankle. She stifled a scream behind her palm just as Giorno’s blade severed the wrist in one stroke.

“KREEEEE—!”

A shriek erupted from below. Roseline staggered back, pressing herself against the wall. Every wary eye locked onto the darkness beneath the crooked table.

“……”

From the gaping small hatch, a guttural, rattling growl echoed. Roseline’s head jerked up, her gaze clashing with Giorno’s as he swallowed hard.

“Damn it—!”

Giorno snatched an axe from the wall and hacked through Roseline’s chain. Clank. The moment the broken links hit the ground, infected began crawling from under the table. A knight by the door flung it open.

“Giorno!”

No further words were needed—in dire moments, a look sufficed. With a sharp nod, Giorno grabbed Roseline’s arm and bolted outside. The sounds of knights beheading infected chased them as they ran. Clatter-clatter— the severed chain trailed Roseline like a shadow, its loose end clutched in her fist even as she sprinted blindly. Giorno scanned desperately for cover.

“Sir—that house! We can escape through the roof!”

Drawing from her own escape experience, Roseline pointed to a building. Without hesitation, Giorno charged inside.

Creeeak.

The door groaned softly as they slipped in, their ragged breaths dissolving into the stillness. Roseline layered protective barriers over herself and Giorno, reinforcing them with mana. Their pounding hearts steadied; their breathing evened. Giorno shot her an approving nod, then eased open a half-shut door.

“Grah—!”

The infected crouched behind the door lunged with gaping jaws. Giorno blasted them back with mana, then swiftly decapitated them with his sword. Crimson mana flashed as steel shrieked through flesh, silencing the screams.

“Clear. Let’s move up.”

Having secured the area in seconds, Giorno gestured to the stairs. The second floor was mercifully quiet. He led the way, pushed open a closed door, and scanned the room before igniting a mana-light at his back.

It was a children’s bedroom.

Two small beds sat side by side under the sloped roof. The sight twisted something in Roseline’s chest. What happened to them?

I’ll be in a coffin soon myself—why worry about others?

She shoved the thought aside and reached for the window—

“Stop. We can’t go out anyway.”

Giorno shook his head, barricading the door.

“Huh? Why?”

“The roof’s thatched.”

“…Then why did we come here?”

“Every building nearby is the same. Don’t worry—just wait. They’ll clear the forge soon.”

“What if hundreds crawl out from underground?”

“If that forge had a basement that big, the blacksmith was either insane or a serial killer.”

A fair point. Roseline conceded, perching on a bed while Giorno leaned against the wall beside the door, guarding it. Silence settled briefly—

“…Ugh.”

“…Tch.”

Their synchronized sighs made them glance at each other.

“Why are you sighing?”

“I’m the one who kicked that table.”

“I’m the one who searched the forge.”

“……”

“Ugh.”

“Tch.”

Giorno exhaled hard, raking a hand through his hair.

“It’s fine. Who’d imagine a space like that under a table? Even His Highness didn’t know. And without you, I’d still be chained there, drained dry.”

Roseline’s blunt comfort seemed to work—the gloom on Giorno’s face lightened slightly.

“Not your fault either. At least they came out before we barricaded the door. If they’d crawled through after, my head would’ve—”

A rattling doorknob cut him off. Giorno’s gaze snapped to the floor, his expression shifting instantly. Sword firm in hand, he rose silently and positioned himself before the door—

“Open it.”