It was her mother. Rosaline was so startled she almost dropped the basket in both hands. Her mother standing before the lamp had a cold face. Romeo also generally had cool eyes, but the texture was different. If he was cold flame, her mother was like snow that wouldn’t melt.

“…I went to the temple.”

She spoke sharply without realizing it and was startled at herself. Unable to look at her mother directly, she pretended to be busy placing the basket on the side table.

“So?”

She felt her mother approaching.

“I went to see the priest today. He said your visits have been sparse lately, so you lied to Miss.”

It was before she could answer no. The moment she looked where her mother should be, she was slapped. Ringing sounded and with a stinging sensation, the inside of her mouth burst. A vivid smell of blood rose up her throat.

“You should deceive someone worth deceiving. You betray a master so kind to you?”

She couldn’t say she did it for Juliet who was so kind, or that she’d returned to the past by divine arrangement. Would her mother, who had no intention of listening to even a simple answer, listen to such absurd words? No, even if she spoke absurdly or lied, there was no need to hit her like this.

Unbelievably, she was angry. Rosaline swore she had never once been angry at her mother.

Getting angry at Romeo and even sneering seemed to have become a habit. Bad habits are easily learned and hard to change. Suddenly frightened, Rosaline suppressed all anger and barely whispered.

“I’m sorry.”

She looked at her mother while holding her cheek. She tried to smile, but as if her tear ducts were broken, tears kept flowing.

“But I absolutely didn’t intend to betray Miss. Look, there was a problem getting the wine Miss often drinks, so I had to find a place to get it.”

The lies flowed smoothly. Right, I was best at lying. That’s why I have no choice but to lie again to explain a lie. Mother isn’t curious about my innocence anyway.

“You know. Since it’s illegally traded wine, I had to go to dangerous places and just didn’t want to worry Miss unnecessarily.”

Juliet knew Rosaline got this wine from the old town. But she had no awareness that the place was dangerous in the first place, so she’d allowed Rosaline to go. Having grown up nobly seeing only good things, it was natural she didn’t know dangers that didn’t touch her skin.

It wasn’t that Juliet was indifferent to her, she was just a different person. Romeo was wrong. Rosaline repeated this without knowing why she was denying Romeo even in this situation. Right, Romeo was wrong. Miss just doesn’t know, that’s all.

Her mother’s persistent gaze coldly scanned Rosaline’s cheek.

“Fine for now.”

At the words that fell with a sigh after a long stare, Rosaline’s heart clenched. She was relieved by just that short answer.

“How much money did the Capulets spend to make you a priest? You shouldn’t lie about such things. Understand?”

“…Yes. I’ll be careful.”

“Good. Miss is sleeping, so bring the wine to her yourself tomorrow.”

Her mother left with a short click of her tongue, her face without a trace of disorder. Rosaline collapsed onto the bed. Her mother, her quiet room—everything was the same, but only she was a mess.

Ah, I really was the strange one.

Shaken by Romeo, that’s why she became strange. Rosaline lay curled up on the bed without even changing clothes and closed her eyes.

If tomorrow came as usual, she would see Juliet like morning sunlight and regain her routine.

* * *

Rosaline’s mother collapsed at the end of the corridor. Something invisible pressed down on her and even covered her mouth, so she could only sob like a beast.

“Hup, kk. Huuk.”

She fumbled with her hand trying to grab even an extinguished candle, but a sharp leek end trampled her hand. Not strongly, but enough to control movement, implying it could break with just a bit more force.

“I won’t tell you to be generous to your daughter.”

It was a chillingly low man’s voice. She raised her head to find the source of the sound, but buried in darkness, she couldn’t see properly. However, the kind man bent at the waist and showed his face to the nanny.

‘Romeo Montague?’

The nanny’s eyes colored with shock. She couldn’t forget the man who troubled the Miss while leaving Rosaline injured. Before feeling absurd, she was puzzled. Why was he at the Capulet residence?

As if mocking her question, he curved his eyes crookedly. His half-visible face was perfect like part of a sculpture, but therefore evoked more terror.

“But never again will you be able to lay hands on her.”

His black pupils dyed a vivid red.

“Your anger and hatred will burst inside you before reaching your daughter, and the moment you try to tell your daughter about today, fear will *ssault you and you’ll become mute.”

She felt the sensation of his command embedding in her bones. Even the name Romeo Montague became hazy, and his face remained only as a black shadow.

“Watch your mouth.”

A long index finger touched her forehead.

Tap—when he pushed her forehead, her head dropped powerlessly. Romeo, who withdrew his hands and feet, strode across the corridor and entered Rosaline’s room.

The door closed without a sound, and darkness swallowed the silent surroundings. When he glared at the night with emotionless eyes, Rosaline, sleeping curled like a fetus on the bed, entered his view. She had her eyes closed, holding the pain of tear-stained eye areas and a swollen cheek.

Approaching close, he stared at her as if he would k*ll her.

But the hand extending toward her was only slow. Even the fingers touching her cheek were so careful that no murderous intent was felt at all.

When he moved his finger slightly, soft flesh touched. As soft as when he first touched her, enough to make his fingertips tremble.

Romeo bent at the waist without any guilt. He took her cheek in his mouth. Bit lightly.

It was sweet.

You said you’d give yourself to me, so I should just pin down both hands and take you. Drive my filthy c*ck into your soft skin and shake it. Would you hate me? Actually, it doesn’t matter. I’ve waited so long for you, dyed with resentment and hatred.

“Rosaline.”

He whispered above her lips. One action could achieve what he imagined. However, the reason he couldn’t approach further was because the habit of always only watching her was ingrained in his body. Damnably, because as much as the long years he resented her, he wished she wouldn’t hurt.

Why does he feel so dirty when he should be glad that she too have that painful hope that someone who never looks back will look at you?

He smiled bitterly while stroking Rosaline’s hair.

“Is it painful?”

I am too. I too want to be freed from this pain. But since I’ve been in pain for so long, I should at least take a piece of your heart, even if it’s just a shell.

In the instant moment when wind blew through the crack of the open window, the shadow that had covered her room disappeared.

* * *

Rosaline woke from sleep, swallowing short breaths. Her whole body was soaked in cold sweat, and her pale skin was like a corpse. Peeling off hair stuck to her face like wet seaweed, Rosaline stroked her cheek.

After returning, Juliet often died in dreams, but it had been a while since her childhood appeared in a dream. It was a dream of Juliet and Rosaline running away to drink while shaking off Capulet people, and though she didn’t know who the man chasing was, she was terrified to madness.

If caught by that tall height and dark grasp, everything would end. But that voice calling her had a desperate corner rather than being entirely hideous, evoking a strange feeling like a dream she couldn’t grasp.

What did he say? Rosaline muttered while retracing the dream wrapped in fog.

“Look at me.”

Right, he definitely said that. Look at me. But it also seemed she ran holding Juliet’s hand in fear she’d fall if she turned around. Erasing the ambiguously mixed fear and sympathy, Rosaline looked at the window to fully wake from sleep. Pure white morning sunlight caressed her swollen cheek.

Skin stinging from being slapped by her mother, eyes stiff from crying herself to sleep. She came to her senses at the rushing sense of reality. The disturbed dream must have been because many terrible things happened last night. Rosaline didn’t want to dye happy memories with Juliet into a scary dream, nor did she want to continue the complicated feelings.

‘Miss……’