“I knew you’d be here.”

“…Oscar.”

The voice of an uninvited visitor broke the silence. A reddish-golden light flickered through the room like spreading flames. The door leading to the corridor had closed without my noticing. Oscar approached me with purposeful strides, lamp in hand.

“Take this.”

Instinctively, I caught the object he tossed toward me. It was a fairly heavy velvet pouch. Jewels, rings, or gold coins—I could vaguely feel their presence through my palm.

Understanding the meaning behind Oscar’s gesture filled me with bitterness and anger. Then suddenly, like falling into a bottomless pit, my strength drained away. Even my anger dissipated.

Watching Oscar’s mouth slowly open, I wished he would keep it shut.

“It’s money I’ve saved. Stop being pathetic here and leave.”

But Oscar’s mouth opened with ridiculous ease, and just as easily spilled out the words I had anticipated.

So very easily.

“Father is asleep. The Duke won’t arrive until early dawn… It’s not too late. Brote, please. Just this once. Just this once, listen to me…”

Despite knowing his pleading lacked persuasiveness with those anxiously trembling eyes, Oscar continued his desperate entreaties.

I had no desire to prolong this wasteful exchange.

“Oscar, enough.”

“You fool! Please… What? Don’t you know the rumors? You’ve heard them too! They all died!”

“They’re missing, Oscar. Officially reported as missing, haven’t you heard?”

“Missing! No one has returned, which means they’re as good as dead! You’re smart enough to know that…”

“Stop. That’s enough, Oscar. You’re no longer a child either.”

My words seemed to leave him speechless. Frustrated, he pounded his chest repeatedly.

“This is so frustrating! You… do you want to die? Is that why you’re doing this?”

No, of course not. But I doubted that Oscar, already half-frantic, would believe me. Instead of trying to comfort him, I decided to remind him of the reality—the reality he was currently overlooking.

“Oscar, have you ever thought about it?”

“About what!”

“About the estate you’ll soon be responsible for. About the consequences of refusing the Duke’s proposal.”

Look, Oscar. Getting excited changes nothing. I’m simply paying my share of the price, and someday you too will have to pay yours.

I offered a gentle smile to Oscar, who was glaring at me defiantly.

My dear Oscar. Beloved son of Madame Poporani. My little brother.

“…It’s not your burden. That’s something I should…”

“In just two seasons!”

It had been a while since I’d raised my voice. Oscar froze like a startled squirrel at my outburst. I stepped closer to him, pressing the velvet pouch back into his hand while rising on my tiptoes to bring my face close to his.

“In just two seasons, Oscar, you too will no longer be a child. You’ll become an adult responsible for Veritatis. That means becoming someone who can easily sell off your sister or any future daughter for Veritatis. Remember this, Oscar—everything has its price. You don’t get to choose that price. So accept it.”

Oscar’s face crumpled sorrowfully, as though he’d just heard words of curse from me. He dropped the velvet pouch and fled into the darkness, forgetting even to take the lamp with him.

“So accept it.”

I repeated the words, unsure who they were meant for, then picked up the fallen lamp and velvet pouch. With a gentle breath, I scattered the flickering crimson flame, placed the lamp and pouch in a corner of the corridor, and left.

When I returned to my room through the gallery in the pre-dawn hours, I found Edith packing her belongings. She silently embraced me tightly upon my return from my long night walk, then departed from the mansion.

Beyond the fog covering the rose garden decorated lavishly for the wedding, Edith’s figure gradually faded away.

* * *

After Edith left, my maids, led by Miriam, swarmed in to begin my preparations.

By the time the blue sky turned pale, the wedding ceremony was complete with the taking of the red bouquet.

A white veil covered the face of the woman in white reflected in the mirror. Through the misty window, I could see the sky bleached completely white. Beneath it, clusters of unfaded red flowers bloomed, looking just like spilled blood.

On the day I accepted the proposal, the Duke of Winter from the North expressed his intention to come down to Veritatis in the South to fetch me himself. While the Duke didn’t want an elaborate ceremony, my father had different ideas.

The Count wanted my marriage to appear happy—as though the scandal surrounding me was false, as though the Northern Duke had been my intended match from the beginning. At least on the surface.

‘Brote. Brote Veritatis. Don’t be foolish.’

‘It’s… “love,” Father. Please honor Madame Poporani’s wishes.’

‘Hah, Brote. Pity is not love.’

‘No. Pity is also a form of love. At least for me.’

‘…Foolish girl. Fine. Do as you please.’

Looking back, the Count had never truly supported my engagement to Eric.

‘Darling, let our children experience the same “love” we did. Show them your mercy, darling.’

Only when I mentioned Madame Poporani’s dying wish did he reluctantly give in, like appeasing a stubborn child.

“…Miss.”

Regardless, my wedding was scheduled for the day after the June Rose Festival in Veritatis. When roses would be at their most beautiful—fully bloomed, their fresh scent gone, replaced by an intoxicatingly sweet fragrance as the swollen blossoms seemed ready to fall.

Those beautiful flowers, destined to be crushed into a single drop of perfume, were picked to color the entire mansion red.

So that, even momentarily, the scandals clinging to me might be forgotten in the face of that overwhelming crimson.

“Miss.”

“…Is it time?”

“No, not yet.”

“…Then?”

“…Young Master Eric has arrived.”

The red lips of the woman in the mirror parted in disbelief. Her raised finger brushed against her earlobe. Hoping I had misheard, I turned toward Miriam.

“Who… did you say is here?”

“Young Master Colin. Young Master Colin has—”

“Send him away.”

Naturally, no wedding invitation had been sent to the Colin family, Eric’s household. From the beginning, invitations were limited to families with close ties to Veritatis. Even then, the number barely reached thirty. And yet…

What could possibly be going through his mind to appear at my wedding?

If he had chosen her…

Just as he had abandoned the Brote in the book, he should have ignored me as well.

My head throbbed. My heart raced uncontrollably. My legs weakened, forcing me to step backward. Brote, Brote, Brote. I shook my head as though I could hear your voice.

“Miss! Miss Brote. Breathe—breathe. It’s all right. Everything’s all right.”

“…Miriam. Miriam, I… I…”

I couldn’t understand.

Was it because I didn’t cling to you?

Because I didn’t torment, slander, or curse “Ariel”? Because I didn’t hold a knife to her throat like a villain from a cheap novel? Because I acknowledged that your love was a sandcastle built on pity, and didn’t drink poison to exploit even that pity?

Or was it because I easily accepted and let go of your betrayal with Ariel?

What made the difference? Both the Brote in the book and I loved you as much as life itself. You were my salvation—that never changed. It was the one truth that remained constant throughout my entire existence.

Why did you so coldly reject my hand then, yet now you linger before me?

“Miss, shh—shh—it’s all right. Everything’s fine. It’s all over now.”

“…Miriam.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“I’m… fine. Let me go now. I’m all right.”

“…Yes.”

Knock, knock.

“Brote. It’s time. You’re ready, aren’t you?”

Nothing would change now.