Only then did a sense of reality hit Roselia, cutting through the surreal fog of the moment. Flustered, she wrenched herself away from the terrace railing, desperate to escape the confinement of his arms.
“Ah… that… I…”
Her voice failed her. Like a mute, she couldn’t force a coherent word past her lips. Her green eyes darted around in panic until she finally ducked her head, her face burning crimson, and fled the terrace as if running for her life.
Even as she vanished, Klaus remained trapped in the heat swirling through his blood, forced to gasp for ragged breaths.
Only after the cool night breeze swept over the space where she had stood did his reason slowly begin to return. Realizing the gravity of the situation, Klaus roughly wiped a hand down his face and leaned back against the railing.
“Damn it…”
His deep navy eyes, fixed on the wide-open terrace door, shook with lingering confusion.
In the shadows on the other side of the hallway, someone was watching. The man, who seemed to have just finished spending a feverish time of his own on the opposite terrace, had his shirt disheveled. With a dignified air and silver hair, he smoothed his rumpled collar and curled his lips into a smirk, as if he had just witnessed a very entertaining performance.
* * *
Roselia entered the banquet hall and, desperate to hide her flushed face, kept her head down. She immediately grabbed a glass of champagne, downing it in one go.
As the cold, crisp liquid hit her throat, she felt her mind clear—if only slightly. However, the image of Klaus’s flushed face and the phantom heat of his touch forced her to reach for another glass, which she drained just as quickly.
Closette, spotting her, approached with a start.
“Roselia?”
Roselia flinched, her shoulders stiffening at the sound of the familiar voice. She felt mortified to face Closette, the sister of the man she had just kissed. But Closette, entirely unaware, put on a stern expression and snatched the champagne glass from Roselia’s hand.
“What do you think you’re doing, drinking like that? You’ll be slurring your words before the night is through!”
Despite being much younger, the way Closette acted like a guardian ironically steadied Roselia’s racing heart.
“I think I was just thirsty.”
“Nothing happened, did it? You suddenly said you were going out for air and disappeared—do you have any idea how worried I was?”
“I really just went out for some air.”
She replied with a smooth, feigned smile, but because of the guilt gnawing at her, her lips felt stiff. How would Closette react if she knew? Would she look at her like a pest? No… if anything, she would likely paint Klaus as the villain.
While Roselia was lost in these thoughts, Closette observed her with concern, then looked around the banquet hall with a bored expression.
“I was looking forward to seeing that handsome Laphelios envoy. This is getting dull; shall we head out? But where on earth did Klaus go?”
Even if they weren’t the closest siblings, Klaus would be concerned if Closette disappeared without a word, so she seemed to be looking for him to offer a polite farewell. No matter how much she peered around, however, she couldn’t spot him. Roselia, harborer of a guilty conscience, could only offer an awkward, twitching smile.
“The Duke is always busy, after all.”
“Well, I suppose… he might be stuck with the delegation, droning on about money.”
Just then, Jucid, trailing her red dress, approached with a slow, leisurely gait.
Closette and Roselia, who had been watching her arrival with wide eyes, froze at her opening line.
“I remember now. I was wondering where I’d seen you before…”
*Could it be?* Did she recognize her as Antonio? Was Jucid actually that sharp? Then again, considering she hadn’t even realized Roselia was a woman in men’s clothing when she’d tried to pounce on her earlier, she didn’t seem particularly perceptive.
As Roselia stood there, mentally bracing for the worst, the noblewoman curled her lip in a sneer.
“You aren’t a noble, are you?”
“Pardon…?” Roselia asked, flustered.
Jucid held her chin high and continued in a clear, loud voice, ensuring everyone nearby could hear.
“I saw it. You sneaking out of a low-class tavern in the back alleys.”
Roselia was stunned by the boldness of the claim. It seemed Jucid had spotted her when she’d visited the tavern to retrieve the painting from Nadya. *Should I be relieved she doesn’t suspect I’m Antonio?*
As Roselia stood there looking dazed, Closette stepped forward with an aggressive, protective air.
“What ridiculous nonsense are you spouting?”
Jucid, having been thoroughly humiliated by Closette once before, flinched, but she soon straightened her shoulders and tilted her chin up haughtily.
“I definitely saw it. My carriage wheel broke, and I stepped out for a moment. I clearly saw that woman emerging from a low-life tavern.”
Closette looked at Roselia for an explanation. Since it was true she had been there, Roselia didn’t bother to deny it; she simply stared at Jucid in cold silence.
How truly base. What on earth did she gain by stirring up trouble like this?
Roselia let out a deep, steadying sigh and spoke, her tone perfectly calm.
“I stopped by for a brief errand. That is all.”
It was the truth, but Jucid, determined to crush her, protested with a venomous expression.
“Lies! I clearly saw you in vulgar clothes, like a common tavern girl! With a background like that, how dare you sneak into a place like this?”
“Have you finished?”
When Closette, rather than Roselia, began to charge forward in irritation, Roselia hurriedly blocked her path. Fearing that Closette might grab the woman by the hair, Roselia looked at Jucid with a chilling composure.
“Lady Jucid.”
When a woman she deemed a “commoner” addressed her by name with such calm authority, Jucid fumed with indignation.
“How dare you speak my name? You are nothing but a tavern wench!”
“Watch your tongue, Lady. Regardless of my profession or my attire, I have no reason to listen to your insolence.”
“What…?”
“Even a shoeshine boy or a stable hand deserves more respect than you are showing. In fact, they are twice as diligent and work much harder than you ever have.”
Jucid let out a gasp of sheer disbelief.
“A-are you saying I’m worse than a servant who cleans up horse manure?!”
Roselia didn’t offer a denial, confirming the sentiment with her icy silence. Even the dim-witted Jucid seemed to understand that, as her face began to turn a mottled shade of red and purple.
“How dare you—how dare someone like you insult me?!”
As Jucid trembled with rage, Roselia looked at her with pure disdain.
“Maintain your dignity as a daughter of the House of Belmont. It is unbecoming to speak so informally to others in a setting like this.”
“Y-you…! You’re not even a noble!”
“Are you suggesting that because one is not a noble, you have the right to treat them poorly? The state of the servants in the House of Belmont must be quite wretched if that is what they are taught.”
“Ugh…!!”
Unable to hold back, Jucid raised her hand high to strike.
Roselia didn’t flinch, simply glaring at her. If she were struck, it would only destroy Jucid’s reputation in a high society that valued decorum above all else. Her cheek might sting, but it would be a far greater victory to watch Jucid plummet into the abyss of social ruin.
*Smack—!!*
The hand that had flown down was intercepted mid-air. A man’s grip clamped onto Jucid’s wrist, his voice a sharp, cutting growl.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Looking at the broad back now blocking her, Roselia instinctively knew it was Klaus.
“D-Duke?”
Jucid’s voice trembled in confusion. Klaus carelessly cast her hand aside and lowered his voice into a menacing tone.
“Lady Jucid, does the House of Belmont not teach its children manners?”
Jucid backed away, clearly frightened by Klaus’s icy demeanor, yet she shot a glare of pure hate at Roselia.
“That woman doesn’t belong here! She’s a dirty tavern girl!”
Seeing Jucid’s aggrieved expression, Klaus’s face grew even colder.
“The fact that you pick and choose who deserves your manners is proof that you have not learned any yourself.”
“That’s not it! That woman is clearly—!”
“Lady Jucid, you seem to be under a grave misunderstanding.”
Under Klaus’s iron gaze, Jucid clamped her mouth shut and swallowed hard. He kept his eyes fixed on her, speaking with deliberate, chilling precision.
“The woman you claim to be a tavern girl is a noble.”
For a moment, Roselia stared at Klaus, stunned. He had been under the impression she worked in a tavern as well, yet he was shielding her nonetheless.
“T-that can’t be! I saw it with my own eyes!”
“I don’t know what you think you saw, but I personally guarantee this woman’s identity. Surely you aren’t suggesting that the guarantee of the Baltezar Duchy is to be taken lightly?”
“It’s not that, but…”
“It would be wise to be careful from now on. Although she is here temporarily, she is a guest under the protection of the Duchy. If you slander a guest of Baltezar, I will consider it an act of slandering the Duchy itself. Remember that.”