Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Rose had twisted her ankle in the fall and was now less being escorted and more clinging to James as they made their way down to the hotel’s first-floor lobby.

“Miss Taylor. Are you listening?”

“Huh? Yes, I’m fine. I mean—yes. I’m fine.”

But she was already half out of it.

As a Neutral, Rose had never once experienced her Umbelt—the vessel that held her magical energy—being full.

It had always been about three-quarters empty.

Having lived her whole life in a state of magical deficiency, the surge of mana filling her body now brought her an overwhelming sense of euphoria.

‘So this is how everyone else has been living?’

A rush of confidence and exhilaration followed her.

Even as she stepped onto the footboard of the carriage—twisted ankle and all—her steps felt impossibly light, as though she were walking on air.

James climbed in after her and knocked twice on the ceiling; with the clatter of hooves, the carriage set off.

“Miss Taylor, I must confirm this one more time. Are you truly agreeing to return to Romberton and allow me to stay at your estate?”

“…Excuse me?”

Rose Taylor.

What have you done?

What exactly was said in that elevator ride from the top floor down to the lobby?

Rose stared blankly at him, stunned by the words coming out of James’s mouth.

“I thought so. You weren’t listening to a word I said.”

James covered his mouth with one large hand, clearly trying to stifle his laughter.

The moment he had touched her again for the first time since that night, something overwhelming had burst forth—an uncontrollable energy flooding out of him and pouring into her like a dam breaking.

The rush of sensation, the exhilaration that swept through her—it had been dizzying.

Her mind and body, which had long been running on empty, were finally breathing again.

It was an indescribable pleasure.

If even just holding her hand felt this good to him, if they were to—

No. No matter what had happened between them, her consent came first. There were still lines to respect, as a gentleman.

He composed his expression, locking away the dark thoughts that tried to surface.

Feigning nonchalance was something he excelled at.

“Didn’t Minister Crowley say it himself? Until the issue is resolved, it’s most efficient for us to stay together.”

“Yes, but… it would be improper for an unmarried man and woman to live under the same roof.”

“Why worry? If you sign a marriage certificate, that gives us all the legitimacy we need.”

“Mr. Dautryche!”

Rose let out a sharp cry, utterly flabbergasted.

“Hmm. If marriage sounds too daunting, we could always go with an engagement. Not a bad compromise.”

“Please be serious. Are you really okay with all of this?”

“‘Mr. Dautryche’ is fine, but it does sound a little cold. How about ‘James’?”

His unchanging expression as he so casually deflected her serious concerns made her head spin.

“Haaah… I don’t even have the energy to be angry anymore…”

Rose slumped against the seat of the carriage, collapsing sideways in defeat.

“Miss Taylor?”

Grrrrrgle.

Now that she thought about it, she’d eaten almost nothing all day—just a few dry biscuits with watered-down tea that morning and some overly sweet tea during their meeting.

“…It’s a bit early, but should we eat something first?”

“Food…”

Her voice cracked, but she managed to echo his suggestion.

Though she only said the word food, the meaning surrounding it was clear enough without further explanation.

“To Ganymede on Main Street, please.” James slid open the side window and gave the driver instructions.

“Yes, sir.”

The carriage, which had been headed toward her office, changed direction.

“Let’s see… Feels like I’m forgetting something.”

James rested his chin on one hand, thinking.

“Ah, of course. I forgot about Philip.”

He’d left a report to the police with his somewhat unreliable but loyal chief secretary. How was he supposed to explain this situation to him?

Well, maybe there was nothing to worry about.

He might just be picky, but Philip was still the chief secretary of Dautryche Company.

Minister Crowley had said the situation had already been shared with the police, so it should be fine.

Or… he could just wait and see how Philip handled it.

While James entertained those idle thoughts, the carriage arrived at Ganymede, Linden’s finest restaurant.

It would be another full two hours before Philip Bonard, anxiously awaiting news, finally received a telegram from his employer, James Dautryche, confirming his safety.

Is this really okay…?

To be wined and dined like this by a capitalist, just accepting whatever’s thrown my way?

Rose lay stretched out across the dreamlike softness of a deluxe room bed in the Bellamont Hotel – Linden Branch, operated by Dautryche Company.

The meal at Ganymede had been exquisite.

She’d all but abandoned her dignity and devoured the food, but that didn’t diminish the incredible flavors and aromas.

It had begun with a warm, velvety potato soup, followed by tender beef in rich gravy, and ended with a sweet pudding.

What was the name of that fruit with the pudding again? He told me…

No—get it together, Rose Taylor.

This isn’t the time to be drooling over the menu!

She tried to shake herself out of it, but the warmth of the bed and the fullness of her stomach melted her thoughts into mush.

She vaguely recalled nodding along as James carved her meat and offered it to her, spoonful after spoonful.

Somehow, every word out of his mouth had felt so persuasive, so reasonable. Her shriveled stomach had soaked up the soft, hot food like a sponge.

“Let’s leave Linden behind and return to Romberton.”

Nod, nod.

“The office is too dangerous. You should stay at my hotel until we leave.”

Nod, nod.

“Take your time. I’ll cut the meat into small pieces for you.”

Shake, shake.

“It’s really no trouble. Here you go.”

Nod…

“AAAAAHHH!”

Suddenly, the memories returned in vivid clarity, and Rose screamed, flailing at the empty air.

What on earth was I thinking?!

“What kind of person just accepts food from a strange man like that, then lies down in the room he arranged—!”

But her rant was abruptly cut off.

The small side door of the room—which she had completely forgotten even existed—quietly opened.

“A ‘strange man’? That’s a little hurtful, Miss Taylor.”

The man who entered was none other than James Dautryche—the very one who had been cutting up her steak just a few hours earlier.

“Or do Mythos customs say even someone you’ve spent the night with still counts as a stranger?”

“Mr. Dautryche…”

“James.”

He cut her off firmly, correcting her again as he strode toward the bed, where she was still flailing in embarrassment.

“Wait—! You can’t just barge into a lady’s room like this at night!”

“I knocked several times, but it was so quiet I thought something might’ve happened.”

“…I see.”

“Though I must say, calling me a stranger while practicing swimming strokes in bed is quite the contradiction.”

“Excuse me, James—sir.”

“Fascinating technique, really. I’d like to learn it myself someday.”

“You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

He maintained a completely neutral expression; clearly, he was a master of deadpan humor.

“My apologies for interrupting your nightly swimming session. I came because I forgot to deliver this.”

Rose glared at him as he handed her an envelope.

“Director Crowley asked me to give this to you.”

She accepted the envelope, inspecting the unbroken wax seal.

For a long time, she said nothing, simply staring down at it.

Though her eyes were hidden beneath long lashes, it was obvious—this letter had shaken her more than James had expected.

Silently, he left the room, giving her space to be alone.

Back in his own room—or rather, the suite that was technically his—James showered in hot water, then changed into his nightshirt.

It was still hard to believe everything that had happened.

But the results… were substantial.

To be honest, fully accepting the talk of Mythos, Logos, and all the rest still felt impossible.

Having the foundation of his entire worldview ripped out from under him and replaced with a new truth—it was a disorienting experience for anyone.

Well, there’ll be time to verify all that moving forward.

Any entrepreneur who became too rigid in their thinking would see their company stagnate and crumble.

Keeping the door open to possibility was always best.

The doubts and suspicions still lingering in his heart would surely be clarified in time—especially with ongoing contact with Miss Rose Taylor.

The Logos, the Mythos, this “Revis” business… I’ll sort it all out eventually.

More than anything, he’d managed to have a private audience with the Minister of Land and Development and receive valuable insider information.

As a mere businessman—even the most powerful in the kingdom—it had been an extraordinary opportunity.

And the outcome was a successful and satisfying negotiation.

“Goddess of fortune, or goddess of misfortune?”