Despite Rosalie's fears, the day of the Imperial Bnquet approached in a blink of an eye.
Standing before the mirror, the girl marveled at Aurora's skilled handiwork, which had transformed both Lady Ashter and her gown into an exquisite, harmonious duo.
Her porcelain skin was shimmering with a light touch of powder and blush, contrasting greatly with the rich rose-red color of her plump lips and thick black lashes. Her long hair was carefully gathered up, leaving several light wavy strands to fall out of the ensemble, giving her a somewhat nonchalant look, while still gracefully exposing her long slim neck.
The long red dress, salvaged from her brother's destructive outburst, was skillfully readjusted to Rosalie's slender frame. It cascaded effortlessly down her thighs, pooling elegantly around her feet. The fitted corset provided a convincing illusion of curves, its intricate golden lace depicting a captivating array of flowers and leaves. While this dress couldn't rival the grandeur of the one destroyed by her brother, Rosalie's stunning appearance elevated it to an accessory enhancing her overall enchanting aura.
"Lady Rosalie, what should we do about your neck? It looks rather empty..."
The maid stood before her lady, presenting two sets of necklaces, her head tilted to the side as she considered the possible options. Suddenly, the door to Rosalie's bedroom swung open with a resounding creak, revealing Raphael's imposing figure as he approached them, holding a long box enveloped in green velvet.
"Put that garbage away, Aurora. I cannot allow my lovely sister to wear the same jewelry twice."
He ordered Aurora to leave the room, but she was reluctant to do so until Rosalie offered her an encouraging nod, ensuring her that she would be alright. Once the maid closed the door behind her, Raphael opened the velvet box and took out a strikingly beautiful gold necklace, ornamented with small, red, tear-shaped jewels that were hanging down the thin gold chain like little droplets of blood.
He then stood behind her, wrapping the necklace around her thin, pale neck, and the girl felt his cold fingers sliding over her skin like disgusting snakes. As he fixed the chain, her brother leaned closer, looked over her left shoulder, and whispered, his lips brushing over her exposed flesh,
"You look so good in red, Rosalie. So good that it makes my blood boil at the mere thought that it was meant for some gawking imbecile."
His hot lips moved down her neck, leaving damp kissing traces all the way down to her collarbones as he continued his whispering,
"Do not worry too much. Meeting Young Duke Amado is just a formality. Your brother will take care of everything afterward. You know that, right?"
Raphael's lips curled into a vile smile that sent shivers down Rosalie's spine. She swallowed a hard lump stuck in her throat and forced out a single word, uttered in a weak, hoarse voice,
"Yes."
"Good girl."
At last, the man pulled his grinning face away from her body and placed his hands on the girl's shoulders, turning her whole body around.
"And do not worry about the Hunting Loot Ceremony. I have caught a lot of magic beasts this time, you will not be disappointed."
Rosalie forced herself to smile and nodded.
"Yes. Thank you, brother."
Satisfied with his sister's behavior, Raphael planted a light kiss on her forehead, then wrapped her tender arm around his, and said rather enthusiastically,
"Let us depart then."
***
The Imperial Palace was a grand architectural marvel of the whole Empire of Rische and stood as an awe-inspiring testament to grandeur and power. Its majestic facade stretched across the horizon, adorned with intricately carved stone pillars and glistening marble walls. Towering spires pierced the sky, their golden tips gleaming under the sun's radiant rays.
Lavish gardens, meticulously landscaped, surrounded the palace, their vibrant blooms and fragrant scents welcoming visitors from all around the Capital. A grand entrance beckoned with ornate gates, guarded by knights clad in resplendent uniforms. As one approached, the rhythmic clatter of hooves echoed from the courtyard, where nobles and courtiers arrived in elegant carriages.
According to the novel's plot, the banquet was supposed to celebrate the Crown Prince's successful return from the Hunting Trip, thus, the first part of the event took place in the Imperial Gardens behind the Palace, where the noble gentlemen had an opportunity to parade their spoils and present it to the noble lady of their choice, expressing their affections and allegiance.
Rosalie, escorted by her brother, entered the Imperial Gardens and her breath nearly caught in her throat as she beheld the magnificent spectacle before her.
The main Garden unfolded in a verdant tapestry, a serene oasis where nature's splendor intertwined with human revelry. Lush, manicured lawns stretched as far as the eye could see, dotted with vibrant flowers in a kaleidoscope of colors. Towering trees offered respite from the sun's rays, their branches swaying gently in the breeze.
Meandering pathways led to hidden alcoves and picturesque gazebos, where noblemen found shelter from the annoying summer heat. Laughter and merriment filled the air, mingling with the delicate melodies of musicians performing in the distance.
The Imperial Gardens, just like the author described, provided a haven of beauty and joy, an enchanting backdrop for the noble gathering.
As her gaze wandered through the exquisitely attired nobility, Lady Ashter couldn't shake a sense of detachment. In the novel's world, Rosalie was an outcast, a solitary figure shunned from social gatherings and celebrations. Now, burdened with the presence of an even greater outsider within her, the weight of loneliness pressed upon her, almost overpowering.
'I guess I should not care about socializing regardless of my identity. After all, I would not recognize the person anyway unless I hear their name.'
Her train of thought was abruptly halted by Lord Ashter's raspy voice, calling her name in a tone that bordered on reprimanding. Snapping back to reality, Rosalie's attention shifted to a figure standing nearby—a rather diminutive and slight man, seemingly in his late twenties. His pallid complexion and sparsely scattered blond hair added to his overall pitiable appearance.
"Rosalie, I would like you to meet His Grace, Young Duke William Amado, the eldest son of Duke Vincent Amado."
William stretched his thin lips into a wide smile, revealing his unexpectedly large and slightly misaligned teeth. His clammy, cold hand reached out to grasp Rosalie's, pulling it closer to his mouth in an attempt to bestow a greeting kiss upon it.
As his lips retreated from her skin, Rosalie mustered a smile, all the while suppressing a powerful urge to recoil in disgust. Lord Amado, however, interpreted her expression as a sign of warmth, prompting him to embark on their conversation.
"My Lady, I have seen you at the formal gatherings before, but now that you are standing so close before me, I feel entirely blessed by your ethereal beauty."
"Well, yes, thank you... My Lord."
His saccharine words made Rosalie cringe in repulsion. She kept staring blankly at him, his continuous and mindless chatter was no longer the focal point of her interest as she was only waiting for it to be over, when all of a sudden, it seemed like every single person in the Gardens was simultaneously involved in the shared and rather lively conversation.
"Is that really him? Is that really Duke Damien Dio?"
The nervous whispers and hushed murmurs reached Rosalie's ears, piquing her curiosity. Sensing the collective gaze of the crowd, she instinctively turned her attention in the same direction. At that moment, her eyes widened, and she felt her heartbeat reverberating in her ears, quickening with anticipation.
'... It's him... Damien Dio. He really came.'
It would have been impossible not to recognize him. Just by looking at his appearance alone, one would instantly know that they are in the presence of the Male Lead.
Tall, muscular frame – an indication of great health and impeccable strength, accentuated by the custom-made black formal attire, adorned with gold details that went perfectly well with the slightly tanned color of the skin, a testament to his frequent exposure to the sun.
His raven-black hair was neatly styled back, with a few stray strands falling over his perfectly-shaped black eyebrows. His captivating golden eyes were carefully framed with naturally thick lashes, the ones that evoke envy in both women and men; the high bridge of his flawlessly sculptured nose was the epitome of a "sharp symmetry", while his sensual lips bloomed with the enviously natural softness.
In the novel, Grand Duke Damien Dio was portrayed as the epitome of perfection, as if he had been gifted to mankind by a divine force itself. And indeed, he lived up to that description.
As she caught a glimpse of the Duke, Rosalie instantly recalled what had transpired between him and the original Lady Ashter. The Imperial Banquet was the time when the readers first learned what happened to Damien during the fit of his Fever. Right before the presentation of the prey, overwhelmed by an intense surge of body temperature and excruciating pain, Damien broke away from the company of guests, seeking refuge behind the dense foliage of the wild rose bushes, afraid that his episode would escalate into a tumultuous display of madness.
Rosalie observed Damien's distressed state and, without fully comprehending the consequences, approached him recklessly. Unbeknownst to her, her own Acme Flow reacted to his condition, overwhelming her ability to maintain control. In a desperate attempt to alleviate his suffering, she impulsively sought physical contact, unknowingly triggering his deeply rooted and horrifying trauma. This ignited a surge of anger within him, leading him to lunge at her with violent intent, nearly bringing about her untimely demise.
That encounter was her first and last attempt to approach Damien Dio as what followed afterward eventually lead to her tragic ending.
'I don't know if I will be able to control my Acme this time, after all, I have absolutely no idea what it does to my body, however... If I want to succeed, I have to be extremely careful. There is no room for even a single mistake. This is my only chance.'
Rosalie anxiously observed Damien's behavior, desperately hoping that the unfolding events would align with the original novel's plot. To her amazement, as if guided by magic or an incredible stroke of luck, her prayers were answered. Duke Dio's complexion turned unexpectedly pale, his forehead glistening with tiny beads of cold perspiration.
He shielded his eyes with his right hand, while the other hand clutched his chest in an attempt to alleviate the evident agony coursing through his body. Oblivious to the world around him, he hurriedly fled towards the refuge of the wild rose bushes, seeking solace in their secluded embrace within the vast expanse of the Imperial Gardens.
'Now, this is my chance!'
With a resolute voice, Rosalie briefly yet politely excused herself from her current company, effectively interrupting Young Lord Amado's still-ongoing meaningless prattle, and followed after Damien, ignoring William's vigorous verbal attempts to make her halt.
At first, Rosalie feared that she had taken a wrong turn and lost sight of him, as no matter how many times she circled around the small rose bush garden, the Duke was nowhere to be found. However, her determination had finally paid off, as a familiar black jacket peeked from behind one of the thick shrubs and Lady Ashter heard a loud, heavy groan that reminded her of the desperate cry of a fatally wounded wild beast.
The girl slowly approached Damien with quiet, feather-light steps, clutching the hem of her skirt in her shaking hands, trying to avoid any unnecessarily startling noise. And what she witnessed as she stood before him, shook her to the core.
The man was sitting on the ground, drenched in profound sweat, his large hands were desperately clutching the grass beneath them, its sharp, thin green blades cutting through his skin, smearing it with both blood and dirt. His eyes lost their golden spark and were now mudded with a dirty mixture of black and red, and his massive strong body was shaking as if subjected to an internal earthquake.
He was engulfed in pain. He was miserable. It was a pitiful display.
Suddenly, as if enveloped in an invisible but suffocating veil, Rosalie felt her head grow cloudy and her chest tighten, vigorously refusing her attempts to fill her lungs with air. Her whole body turned hot and heavy, and she felt a strong, uncontrollable urge to get closer to Damien, as if she was being pulled toward him by thousands of invisible strings.
Scared and confused, Lady Ashter nearly lost her balance, seeking rescue by leaning against a tall birch tree that was standing conveniently nearby, and, after a dozen of failed attempts, when she finally managed to take control of her breathing, the girl wiped the cold sweat off her forehead and swallowed dryly, pushing down the hard lump stuck inside her throat.
'So this is what it feels like... This is the reaction of the Acme Flow.'
I'd like to express my thanks to
peaches_april
ShadowWalkerGirl
Sum_Hee
sadnovelist
Thank you, guys, for your continuous support!
Komentar Paragraf
Fitur komentar paragraf sekarang ada di Web! Arahkan kursor ke atas paragraf apa pun dan klik ikon untuk menambahkan komentar Anda.
Selain itu, Anda selalu dapat menonaktifkannya atau mengaktifkannya di Pengaturan.
MENGERTI