She pushed the trimmed crusts to the far edge of her plate. Amid the soft scraping sounds, Rosie spoke quietly.

“I don’t.”

Even if she had, she didn’t. At her sharp reply, Callios’s brows tightened slightly.

He tried again.

“It won’t take long.”

“I have things to do in the manor.”

“What things?”

Rosie spread butter with steady, unhurried movements.

“Do I have to report every personal matter now?”

“I meant we should talk. I’ve been neglectful.”

Rosie paused with the butter knife in her hand. The sweet, creamy scent wafted past her nose, and she let out a faint laugh.

When she had wanted to talk before, he hadn’t listened to a word she said. Now it was his turn to feel frustrated.

The longer she remained silent, the darker Callios’s expression became. In a low, growling voice, he asked:

“What exactly is the problem?”

“There is no problem. So there’s nothing to talk about.”

There was a time when she wanted to share everything with him. But that time was long gone. Too much had happened in the meantime, tearing her heart apart until nothing recognizable was left.

“In any case, I’m sure the two of them will push back hard because of this meal arrangement. I hope you handle it well.”

Rosie thought of Pante Benedict and Isabella, who were undoubtedly fuming right now. If there was one thing she could thank Callios for today, it was keeping those two away from the dining table.

Callios watched her quietly, as if trying to understand why she looked so pleased.

“I have no idea what you’re thinking anymore.”

‘That makes two of us.’

Rosie answered lightly in her mind, then lifted her head with a small “Ah.”

She picked up the small knife and twirled it gracefully in the air.

“I think I’ll have something to say in a few days. We can ‘talk’ then.”

Callios stared at her enigmatic expression before taking a long drink of water. He looked parched.

***

After breakfast that morning, Rosie enjoyed a quiet cup of tea alone in the garden. Among the beautifully swaying flowers, one empty patch of soil stood out.

‘I planted it there, didn’t I?’

When she woke up, she saw a strange white flower on her bedside table; she had sown its seeds in the empty patch.

Rosie gazed at the spot in silence.

‘Am I… doing this right?’

From the moment she opened her eyes after dying, nothing about her situation had made sense. But what mattered to Rosie now wasn’t the reason for her return. What mattered was what she could do now that she was back.

Even if she had merely stepped back in time for a while, she would still die. If the ending was going to be the same, she wanted to set things right in her previous life.

Those who had made her suffer should suffer just the same. Those who had made her happy deserved happiness in return.

‘What else can I do… now?’

After thinking about it for a while, Rosie beckoned Jenny over and whispered something in her ear. Jenny’s eyes widened, and she jumped up.

“W-What? Why would you want something that dangerous prepared in advance?”

“I might need it soon.”

Rosie requested a large mallet and a strong hammer.

Jenny was baffled and asked again and again.

“Why would you need something like that, my lady? You could just ask us to do it…”

Rosie poured hot water into her cooling tea.

“No. It only means something if I do it myself.”

Shortly after they had finished talking, she heard footsteps rustling through the grass. They sounded angry yet controlled, suggesting that the person was trying to maintain propriety. Rosie could easily guess who it was.

She greeted them in a pleasant voice.

“Welcome, Mother. Please, have a seat.”

Isabella stood stiffly with her chin lifted and her hands gripping her skirt.

Ignoring Rosie’s polite tone, she issued a warning.

“You. Stay home today.”

Several people had requested Rosie’s time today. When she stared back without responding, Isabella became angry.

“I said stay home. We haven’t spoken much lately, so I intend to make time for conversation.”

“How thoughtful of you to care so much for me, Mother. Thank you truly.”

Amusement flickered behind Rosie’s soft tone.

Meanwhile, a cold fury twisted Isabella’s beautiful lips.

“Callios returns, and suddenly you’re full of spirit. You’re quite skilled at charming your clueless husband.”

Charming her husband? Where did that come from?

Rosie tilted her head slightly.

“I don’t recall doing anything that would make you say that.”

“Don’t pretend. Callios has been treating me harshly lately, all because of you. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

Ah. She must be talking about being excluded from the dining table.

Rosie understood but let out an exaggerated sigh, shrugging lightly.

“As you’ve always said, I’m from a ruined house. I really don’t know much. I have no idea what you’re referring to. My apologies.”

“You—!”

Isabella was trapped by her own words; she couldn’t dispute any of them. All she could do was clutch her skirt tighter and tremble with frustration.

As Rosie calmly offered her more tea, Isabella watched her grind her teeth.

“Since you’re already here, why don’t you have a cup of tea before you go, Mother? It’s getting cold. Though I suppose you won’t want the rest, since you took all the best ones.”

With a serene expression, Rosie added in an even gentler tone, as if apologizing for not being considerate enough. Isabella glared, lips trembling, before spitting out her demand.

“…Make yourself free today. I told you clearly.”

“I will. But I also have something to tell you.”

‘You? What could someone like you possibly have to say?’

Her expression said it all—arrogant and offended.

Rosie responded quietly.

“I want to choose the location this time.”

“The location? What nonsense. We’ll be in that room, of course.”

That was the end of the conversation. Isabella stormed off, barely containing her urge to overturn the table, her heels sinking into the grass as she left.

Jenny, who had been holding her breath the whole time, turned pale.

“M-My lady. Surely… surely you don’t mean—”

There was only one meaning behind being summoned to that room.

Jenny’s hands shook as she cleared the empty snack plates.

“What do we do, my lady?”

Rosie sipped her tea calmly. The water, warmed to just the right temperature, slid smoothly across her tongue.

“What else? She told me to come, so I should go.”

“I don’t know why she’s acting like this when His Grace is home…”

Usually, when Callios was around, the existence of that room was kept secret and handled carefully.

Isabella must be furious. She was desperate to assert her authority without thinking even one step ahead. But Rosie set her teacup down without so much as a flicker of emotion.

“I was planning to deal with it anyway. This works out.”

“Deal with… what?”

That detestable room!

Rosie remembered everything that had happened there.

On the first day she was summoned, she had gone in knowing nothing, only to have her hair grabbed without warning.

She had begged and been dragged across the floor without knowing what offence she had supposedly committed.

“I’m sorry, Mother, I’m sorry… ah!”

Then came the slap. Then came the kick. Later, there was a thin, stinging switch.

The larger ones were avoided because they ‘might leave visible scars’. She was only hit where her clothes would hide the marks, on her thighs, calves, forearms and stomach. Sometimes she was stripped so that she would feel the shame more deeply while being beaten.

When she begged to know what she had done wrong, Isabella would hit the bedside table with the switch and sneer.

“Coming into this house with no shame, that was the first mistake. Don’t you know that?”

“Hk…”

“Pathetic. You should’ve run to your sister’s house and never returned. But you couldn’t even do that, you got caught by Callios?”

Repeated violence bred fear. Each time she approached that room, her terror grew.

But Isabella never laid a hand on her during the two or three weeks before Callios returned, for fear that he might discover her cruelty.

Not that it mattered. Even after Callios came home, their connection continued in a dark, unlit room. He never knew.

Rosie had kept silent to avoid causing discord in the ducal household. Isabella’s constant threats — “Everything is your fault” — had sunk deep into her mind.

Isabella had kept her mouth shut so effectively that no one dared tell Callios anything.

Which was more frightening: the duke, who was rarely home and always away, or Isabella, who was there every day?

Rosie swallowed the last of her tea, then rose slowly to her feet.

She realized that all the judgements she had made back then had been wrong.

It was only when she was on her deathbed that this became clear to her.

It was only when she was deathly ill that Isabella finally stopped. The repeated brainwashing — ‘It’s all your fault, so stay silent’ — finally came to an end.

Once those voices had faded, Rosie could finally see her situation clearly.

She understood.

It wasn’t her who had done wrong.

With a cold smile, Rosie gave Jenny her order.

“Bring what I asked you to prepare. Also, I’ve changed my mind. Bring someone strong, too.”

Jenny hesitated, glancing around nervously.

“…My lady, forgive me for saying something so disrespectful, but… surely you’re not planning to use that on her…? No matter how hateful and awful she is, still…”

“It’s not what you’re thinking, so don’t worry.”

“Really?”

Jenny still looked unconvinced when a small figure came running towards them.

It was Ashley, arriving breathless and pale. She hurriedly blocked Rosie’s path.

“Sister! I saw Mother marching off furious, did she tell you to go to ‘that room’…?”

“Yes. She did.”

“Then why do you look so calm? Wh-what should we do? Brother is home, why would she do something like this? Should I tell him? Isn’t it time? I… I can’t hold it in anymore!”

Ashley trembled as she stammered, trying desperately to stop Rosie.

‘Ah. So it’s around this time.’

It was earlier than before, but still familiar.

In the previous timeline, this happened right after Callios left the estate.

Ashley had reached her limit then, too, saying that she would tell her brother everything. The Rosie of that time had only cried and begged her not to. The kind-hearted Ashley had agreed.

Rosie had soothed her gently, placing a finger to her lips.

“Not yet, my lady.”

“But—”

“I’m really fine. Truly.”

“What on earth are you planning, Sister?”

Rosie smiled silently and rose to her feet. As she turned around, she saw Ashley’s anxious face and held out her hand.

“Ah. If you’re willing, my lady… would you like to come along?”

“C-come along… for what?”

Rosie leaned close to Ashley’s ear as though sharing a secret.

“Because that room… will disappear today.”