Chapter 38
“I understand now,” said Empress Wilhelmine, tapping her fan and nodding.
“The process of selecting, measuring, and fitting a dress involves several trips in and out of the mansion.”
While the bride is trying on her dress, neither Melchor, the groom, nor the male servants are allowed to be present. If necessary, Roseline can be brought here unconscious.
“Very well, let’s gather all the renowned designers in the capital. The bride-to-be can summon one of them to the Postenmeyer villa.”
“I will make it happen,” replied the Marquis of Auberweichman confidently. This assurance brought relief to both Empress Wilhelmine and Count Viegelhoffen.
******
“You’re not going to hire a designer?” asked Johanna, the housekeeper of Grand Duke Postenmeyer, with a hint of disbelief.
Traditionally, a tailor and seamstress were brought in to take measurements and create a bespoke wedding dress. However, Roselaine was proposing to bypass this step.
“No, I won’t. I’ll only wear it briefly during the ceremony anyway,” she replied.
“But, madam, the budget allocated by His Majesty the Emperor and Empress…”
“I’ll use it differently. I don’t want to waste my budget on just a dress.”
It was important to put up a good front, especially in light of Roseline’s father’s criminal background. The dress was a minor aspect of the wedding, and guests were often too preoccupied with the food, drinks, and atmosphere to remember the details of the bride’s attire. What mattered most was making a lasting impression through a warm and memorable celebration.
“Very well, Johanna, proceed as instructed,” said Roseline.
Johanna suspected that there was something more to Roseline’s decision, but chose not to question it further.
“Yes, ma’am,” she responded, accepting the directive.
****
Empress Wilhelmine was taken aback by the news.
“Marquis Oberweichman, what are you talking about? Why aren’t you hiring a designer for the wedding dress?” she asked.
“As I just said, the Postenmeyer family has declined to hire a designer,” replied the Marquis. “They plan to have the existing dress altered by the mansion’s seamstress.”
“But the wedding will be held in an outdoor hall,” protested the Empress. “Surely they can’t expect to wear just any old dress.”
“Apparently, that’s all they require,” said the Marquis.
Empress Wilhelmine was left in disbelief, tapping her forehead with her fan. She was beginning to suspect that someone was working against her, as all her plans were being thwarted. The strange behavior of Grand Duchess Postenmeyer only added to her suspicions.
“I heard that the Grand Duke Postenmeyer has restored the Crimson Rose family’s property,” she said, musing out loud.
Count Wigelhofen interjected, “Perhaps it’s just a nominal restoration, and in reality, the property rights are still tight. That would make Melchor quite a sneaky man.”
Feeling frustrated, Empress Wilhelmine pushed her younger brother’s face away with her fan.
“I’ll have to change my approach to that lady,” she thought.
*****
Melchor returned late at night and summoned Deborah, acting as if it were routine.
“It’s time,” he said.
Deborah, still unable to make eye contact with Melchor, stammered on the carpet. Hugo, the butler, suggested she get used to Melchor before entering the office, but she couldn’t shake the brotherly demeanor.
“Did you get along with Countess Rosaline?” Melchor asked.
“Um, I think so,” Deborah replied, hesitantly.
“Give me a clear answer. Don’t give me vague responses like ‘probably’,” Melchor insisted.
“I’m sorry, I apologize…,” Deborah stuttered.
She couldn’t understand why she was put in this role or why the drama and its two participants were getting married. She also couldn’t understand why Melchor was putting so much pressure on her instead of directly asking Rosaline.
“Understood,” Melchor said, before adding, “Where are you going?”
Deborah, relieved that the interrogation was finally over, tried to stand up with her shaky legs. “I have to go,” she said.
Melchor didn’t answer, but instead strode past Deborah, leaving the room. She stumbled and eventually collapsed on the floor. Hugo, who had seen Melchor’s departure, carefully closed the door so that Deborah wouldn’t faint and concealed the owner’s appearance.
****
The Countess of Crimson Rose demanded Roseline’s punishment from Melchor after he accepted a visit from him.
“Did you say punishment?” asked Melchor.
“Yes, indeed,” replied the Countess. “How dare she send her mother to the annex, when she becomes very conceited that she doesn’t have a father and locks her up until she pleads guilty, and if she doesn’t starve, she’ll crawl up to the Grand Duke!”
“Did you say you were locked up?” asked Melchor.
“Yes, I was,” replied the Countess. “Since she’s going to be a grand duchess now, she can’t be beaten or have her hair cut, right? So… I had to punish her in that manner.”
“You mean you used to punish my wife that way,” stated Melchor.
The Countess of Crimson Rose, noticing Melchor’s unusual tone, hastily excused herself.
“She is so arrogant that I can’t educate her unless I do that. As a parent, this is natural…,” said the Countess.
“I have changed my mind. I’ll get you a hotel,” said Melchor.
“Yes?” asked the Countess.
“I cannot allow you to stay in this mansion any longer,” stated Melchor. This meant she was being kicked out of the mansion. As the Crimson Rose Mansion was still under construction, there was no other place for her to go.
“Wait a minute, Grand Duke? This isn’t the case. I am her mother!” exclaimed the Countess.
“I am Roseline’s husband,” replied Melchor coldly, staring straight at the Countess. The Countess was taken aback by Melchor’s eyes that gave off a bizarre radiance, seeming to suck even her soul. The reason Melchor had kept his eyes down was not out of humility, but simply being considerate. But now, he had no reason to be considerate towards the Countess any longer.
“I will not wait to see whoever is abusing my wife,” declared Melchor.
*****
Melchor trotted out of the hallway. It was late at night and the mood for sleep had flown away earlier. An unpleasant sensation wandered in the heart of Roseline.
“Trap her, starve her, and even cut her hair in a smack.”
Melchor did not know about the abuse that Roseline had been receiving from her parents, as he had no childhood memories. However, Roseline’s behavior was a result of the abuse she had endured from her parents.
‘I didn’t know because I kept worrying about my mother and brother.’
Roseline had thought that she and her parents were on good terms, she would check on her mother and brother even after being separated from them and would continue to meet them even after bringing them to this place.
It was not possible to treat someone like that if they were on bad terms. Melchor did not know what would happen if the abused child’s heart was filled with debt. Therefore, he mistook Roseline for coming from a harmonious family.
“Is it possible to care so much about someone you don’t even like?”
The strange feeling of incompatibility that Melchor felt when he faced Roseline was finally understood. Roseline may have been smiling at Melchor or treating him casually, even though she hated him, for the sake of her family.
“Then how do I know whether Roseline hates me or not?”
Melchor became confused.
**********
It was all a dream to Melchor. A memory of a sweet-smelling dream.
The dream always smelled like flowers, a pleasant scent that was soft and warm, different from the cool and fascinating scent of roses.
Melchor closed his eyes. The lovely scent approached him, tickling the tip of his nose and spreading out lightly on his skin.
“Roseline.”
The dreamlike space was filled with red petals, resembling her, in the white sky. The distant horizon seemed to have been sprinkled with sugar.
Of course, it was just a dream.
When Melchor reached out his hand, a bunch of red petals fell into his large hand. He paused and stared at them. Although they seemed out of place, he suddenly felt the urge to blow them out of his hand and into his mouth.
“Whoo.”
The red petals danced and flew away as the wind blew, blocking the view.
“You look happy, Julian.”
A clear voice, familiar to Melchor’s ears, reached him from a distance. He didn’t have to turn around to see who the owner of the moist voice was.
“Julian, come here.”
“I think the petals will go bad if I step on them.”
Unlike Melchor’s big and heavy shoes, the petals that fell to the floor looked very fragile. Feeling that stepping on the petals would hurt Roseline, Melchor just stood there and turned around to face her.
“Are you okay?” Melchor asked.
Roseline held out her hand as if offering permission. Melchor approached her cautiously and took her hand. A pleasant tactile sensation was written on the back of her hand, which was soft and white. Her body temperature was warm and spread slowly, like dyeing the white petals.
At first, Roseline’s hand was bigger than Melchor’s, but it had become small enough to fit comfortably in his hand. Had he grown up?
“Julian,” Roseline called his name again. His real name, which he had been called before he acquired the name ‘Melchor’, and which was now only called by her in his imagination.
Green eyes, as vivid as sunlight shining through leaves, faced him. Melchor gave Roseline a slight glance and then slowly lowered his eyelids. Even if the light was blocked and the field of vision turned black, the warmth and scent did not change. Melchor liked this darkness where only her touch and scent could be felt.
Any troubles and worries that Melchor couldn’t bear to say when he looked into her eyes seemed to melt away the moment he closed his eyes and entrusted himself to this scent and body temperature.
“Julian, open your eyes,” Roseline said.
“I want to stay like this for a little while longer,” Melchor replied. He wanted to feel this moment more. Or maybe he just wanted to enjoy it.
“You don’t want to see me?” Roseline asked.
“It can’t be,” Melchor answered. Of course, he also wanted to see Roseline’s face, but what should he say? No one would believe him when he said this, but in fact, Melchor was not immune to sudden stimuli.
“If I keep my eyes closed like this and suddenly my eyes meet yours, I might run out of breath,” Melchor explained.
Roseline laughed, loving the sound of her ticklish laugh.
Melchor slowly, very slowly, opened his closed eyelids.
“I like looking into your eyes, Julian,” Roseline said.
“My eyes?” Melchor asked, surprised.
“It feels like the blue of the sky that I longed for as a child is in your eyes,” Roseline said.
It seemed that Roseline had the vitality of the vivid leaves of spring and early summer in her transparent green eyes.
“The reason the sky in this world is white might be because your eyes have stolen that color,” Roseline said.
“I don’t have that ability,” Melchor replied.
“Whoops,” Roseline laughed quietly.
Roseline took a step forward, staring into Melchor’s eyes. Melchor did not move, but his expression did not change either. Clearly, his face remained expressionless, but the closer he got to the reflection of Roseline in his blue eyes, the more strangely thrilled he was.
At first, Roseline was slightly taller, but then her eye level, which was similar, lowered considerably before Melchor knew it.
“You’ve grown a lot, really,” Roseline said.
“Who?” Melchor asked.
“You have,” Roseline replied.
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