“Mmph—!”

Carlo captured Roselina’s lips in a desperate kiss.

Until now, he had always played the part of a gentle and tender man. But in a moment like this, he felt he had to reveal a different side to himself — something bolder and more assertive. Wrapping one arm firmly around her waist, he tilted his head and deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue between her parted lips without giving her a moment to breathe.

Roselina let out a strained m*an as her body tensed and shifted. Carlo merely tightened his embrace, making it clear that he had no intention of letting her go.

His large hand slowly travelled up her body, leaving trails of fire beneath her skin. Yet it stopped just beneath her chest and lingered there, seemingly intent on driving her mad with anticipation.

“Ugh… C-Carlo…”

“Haa…”

Their lips parted for only a moment, their ragged breaths mingling in the confined space between them. A predatory heat burned in Carlo’s eyes, and Roselina swallowed hard before surging towards him once more.

Through the slight opening between their lips, Carlo’s tongue slipped into her mouth again, skillfully entwining with hers and drawing her in deeper.

The wet sounds of their kiss grew louder and more intimate as their bodies pressed together, leaving not even the slightest space between them. Roselina trembled, her breathing unsteady and strained.

Straddling his lap, she steadied herself with one hand on his shoulder and the other against the windowpane. She writhed as though she had lost all control. Carlo responded with equal intensity, deepening the kiss as though he intended to devour her.

Neither of them noticed the faint sound of a hand brushing against the window.

Nor did they realize that Laila had turned her gaze towards the scene unfolding inside.

‘A kiss…!’

Laila’s hands jerked around the reins, stunned by what she had just seen. The horse reared up in fright, hooves striking the air.

“Whoa… whoa!!”

It took all her strength to calm the panicked animal, but inside her chest, thunder still raged.

‘What… what did I just see?’

Her hands trembled uncontrollably. She couldn’t stop thinking about Carlo’s arm around Roselina, their lips locked, and Roselina’s flushed, trembling face. It was a world she could never enter.

Laila wanted to scream. If it would ease the pain tearing her apart, she would have done so.

“Please, step down.”

All she could do was hide her tears as she opened the carriage door. It was her duty as a knight; it was her place.

Moments later, Carlo emerged and offered Roselina his hand with impeccable courtesy. She took it, her face radiant and almost divine.

Her cheeks were flushed, and the make-up on her lips had almost disappeared. Carlo’s lips were the same shade, and his collar was slightly rumpled. Heat still poured from inside the carriage.

Laila quickly turned her gaze away in despair. But she heard Roselina’s voice — light and casual, yet piercing straight through.

“I saw your horse rearing earlier, Dame Laila. Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

Laila forced every trace of emotion from her voice.

“You should be more careful. For someone famed as a prodigy knight to lose control of her own horse—don’t you think that’s rather disgraceful?”

“…”

The meaning behind Roselina’s words was clear. She had noticed the commotion. Which meant both she and Carlo knew exactly what Laila had seen.

‘Are they secretly pleased?’

If Roselina’s goal in bringing her along had been to humiliate her, it had worked perfectly.

“Shall we, my lady?”

Without looking at Laila, Carlo offered his hand to Roselina and started walking with her. However, it was not Roselina’s mockery that hurt Laila the most, but Carlo’s indifference.

“Lord Carlo, why have we come here?”

The two arrived in the most extravagant district of the capital of Cerclezia, where the city’s finest salons and boutiques were located. The shattered Laila stood behind them.

“Well, it’s only fitting to gift the most beautiful lady with the most beautiful things.”

In response to Roselina’s gentle question, Carlo smiled — and it was beautiful, damnably so.

As soon as they entered the salon, all eyes turned towards them. Laila followed a few paces behind, her expression clouded. No one spared her so much as a glance – why would they?

“I’ve already commissioned a gown designed with you in mind. Would you like to try it on?”

“You… designed it yourself, my lord?”

Carlo winked playfully, and Roselina’s face lit up in genuine surprise.

“Yes. I’d be honored if you’d wear it to the party with me.”

It was a flawless escort’s invitation—charming, thoughtful, complete. He had no doubt prepared matching shoes, jewels, and a handbag as well.

“Haah…”

The pain in Laila’s chest was so intense that she felt as though she was going to collapse. She felt as though she had been reduced to something discarded and forgotten.

Meanwhile, Carlo and Roselina appeared perfectly happy together; their world was radiant and complete. Meanwhile, Laila was nothing more than a shadow on its fringes.

Surrounded by noblewomen in dazzling gowns, Laila stood out in her knight’s uniform — an incongruous figure who did not belong. Yet no one cared.

Not even the man with whom she had once shared half her life.

‘Perhaps I should go outside… Anything would be better than watching this.’

At the sight of Carlo’s radiant smile, Laila bit down hard on her lip. Against her will, memories of happier days rose to the surface — memories that all belonged to him.

She could still remember it vividly.

The first time he had taught her how to dance.

“Laila, let me teach you.”

After sword practice, Carlo had waited for her outside, freshly washed and expectant.

“Dancing? All of a sudden?”

“Any lady should know how to dance, shouldn’t she?” 

He said as if it were the most natural thing in the world, stepping closer.

‘I haven’t even dried my hair yet… and I’m dressed like this…’

It was late in the evening and she had just finished bathing. Her thin silk nightdress clung lightly to her skin, soft enough to register every sensation.

“You seem to have forgotten—I’m a knight.”

“No. To me, you’re a lady. My first lady… and the last one I’ll ever have.”

The meaning of those words sent tremors through her heart. It was as if she had just received the confession she had always hoped for. The last lady. Despite her desperate attempts to do so, she couldn’t fully grasp the weight of the phrase at the time.

Carlo stepped closer and took her right hand in his. With his other arm, he encircled her slender waist.

“Carlo!”

“Shh. This is the proper stance.”

Her face burned. Through the thin silk of her nightdress, she could feel his warmth and touch far more vividly than she wanted to. Overcome with embarrassment, Laila lowered her gaze, but Carlo wouldn’t allow it. Gently but insistently, he tilted her chin upwards.

“Look at me.”

“…!”

“That’s it. Just look at me.”

His crimson eyes blazed with a steady, unshaken focus—so intense that for a fleeting moment, Laila could almost believe he loved her.

“Hiccup!”

The sound escaped before she could stop it. The tension in the air dissolved at once, the fragile spell breaking apart.

Carlo rested his forehead on her trembling shoulder and burst into laughter.

“Hahaha… Ah, you’re too adorable.”

“D-don’t tease me!”

Flustered, she pushed against his solid chest, but he only drew her closer, tightening his hold around her waist.

“I’m not teasing you. You really are adorable.”

“…”

“Don’t be nervous. I’ll lead.”

Carlo’s hand brushed gently against her waist. It was a reassuring and almost tender touch. Then, with unhurried grace, he began to guide her through the steps.

Whether because of her natural aptitude or his effortless teaching, Laila soon found herself moving in time to the music. Their bodies drew closer, close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath and the steady beat of his heart.

“…”

“Ah…”

How many songs had passed? They were both breathing hard, their faces mere inches apart.

That night, Laila was certain of one thing: the crimson eyes usually hidden behind his easy smile were trembling with something raw and unguarded.

Carlo released her hand only to cup her face instead. His long fingers traced her cheek as if to memorize it, tracing her features with reverence.

Her face burned. His lips inched closer and closer until it seemed their first kiss was about to happen.

But—

“…”

Carlo pulled away. As always. As if reminding himself that he mustn’t.

‘He ran from me like it was forbidden… yet he kissed that noblewoman so easily.’

It had been a happy memory once—but after witnessing Carlo’s kiss with Roselina, it had turned unbearably bitter.

“I’d like Dame Laila to attend to me personally,” came Roselina’s airy voice, snapping Laila out of her thoughts.

“…Pardon?”

When Laila looked as though she hadn’t heard correctly, Roselina’s expression stiffened ever so slightly.

“I’m going to change. You’ll be helping me.”

“Ah… yes.”

The salon attendants, already prepared to assist, blanched at the exchange. Had they somehow offended the lady? They hurried forward, eager to serve, but Roselina shook her head firmly.

“No. I said her.”

“…Of course, my lady. This way.”

With no other option, Laila led her towards the changing room. The moment the door closed behind them, an icy silence filled the confined space.

The dress that Carlo had supposedly designed himself was exquisite — so beautiful that even Laila couldn’t deny it.

‘He really did design it for her… it suits her perfectly.’

Swallowing the bitterness rising in her chest, Laila forced her trembling hands to lift the gown carefully.

It had been made for a woman like Roselina — a rose in full bloom. Crafted from rich, sensual red fabric, it was adorned with tiny diamonds that glittered like stars and caught the light with every movement. Its radiance seemed to reflect Roselina herself: dazzling, unattainable, and destined to shine.

Laila knelt on the floor, holding the gown open for Roselina to step into. A pair of smooth, perfectly groomed legs slipped gracefully through the fabric. Without raising her head, Laila could feel Roselina’s mocking gaze upon her.

It was humiliating, but she endured it. This was precisely what Roselina wanted: to strip her of her dignity and make her feel insignificant.

“Yes. That is exactly where you belong.”

“…….”

The words struck like a slap. Although she had expected them, Laila still flinched before she could stop herself, remaining on her knees at Roselina’s feet.