Chapter 36

Chapter 36

‘A furious little rabbit from an ancient family… how curious.’

After Rose ran away, Crowley had kept only the bare minimum of staff—just George the butler and Annis the old nurse—to maintain the estate for her eventual return.

It seemed the house was only barely being kept up, with dust covers draped over furniture in every room.

Even so, it couldn’t entirely hide its innate dignity and grace.

For example, the portraits lining the walls quietly testified to how long and storied the Stellania family history was.

The Stellania Taylors were not a great power at the heart of Endore’s kingdom these days.

But on Hilsey Island, they were undeniably an old, established family with deep roots.

James looked slowly around the room, then set down his teacup.

“I wonder if I’m keeping you from spending time with people you’ve truly missed.”

“No, not at all.”

Rose shook her head firmly, dismissing the worry with a wave of her hand.

“We didn’t come here for nostalgia, remember? I’m just here to collect my things.”

She glanced at the clock and rose from her seat.

“Please wait here a moment. I’ll pack quickly and come back down.”

But just as she was about to leave the drawing room, something caught at her heart, stopping her in the doorway.

She turned back to James, her tone suddenly adopting the air of the estate’s rightful mistress.

“James. I just thought I’d ask… would you like to look around the house?”

James didn’t hesitate.

“I’d be honored.”

He had absolutely no reason to decline.

If she hadn’t invited him, he would have been stuck leafing through the same newspaper he could read back at the hotel or admiring the antique decorations on the walls.

It wasn’t that those were terrible options—but it would have been a waste of time, especially when he was here.

More than anything, James wanted to know more about Rose.

It sounded grandiose, but she was the only woman who had ensnared both the body and soul of James R. Dautryche with a single night.

More than that, she had dragged him into a fate so vast he couldn’t even measure its scope.

He wanted to know everything about Rose Stellania Taylor.

He found himself imagining her as a child, running through these halls.

A little Rose he’d never seen before seemed oddly endearing.

‘Honestly. I’m well and truly caught up in her now.’

“The stairs are pretty steep. Be careful.”

Rose led the way, cautioning him as they climbed.

The old wooden staircase was covered with a worn but clearly high-quality red carpet.

Even the faded silk wallpaper didn’t feel dirty but somehow retained its elegance, speaking of its age in a way that was almost impressive.

Rose stopped outside a door.

“This is my room. Next to it is the second study, and across the hall is my parents’ bedroom.”

“You have more than one study?”

“The main study downstairs is for guests and non-magical books. Any Mythos family of decent standing keeps them separate.”

She explained this point of Mythos culture as she opened the door.

It was, after all, her own room for the first time in five years.

Rose glanced back when she realized he hadn’t followed.

“James. Why aren’t you coming in?”

“It’s rude to enter a lady’s room without permission.”

“…Says the man who just waltzed into my hotel room whenever he wanted. Why so polite all of a sudden?”

“Because I’d rather not get branded a scoundrel in your own home.”

He remembered George the butler and Annis the old nurse, whose wary politeness had been clear enough—if not as obvious as their astringent tea.

Rose huffed.

“Well, the room’s owner is giving permission. Come in. In fact, help carry my luggage.”

“Ah. That was your plan all along.”

James chuckled and stepped inside.

It was neatly kept, but immediately obvious that it wasn’t the stereotypical room of some refined young lady.

There was no embroidery hoop, no dainty little writing desk, no ornate vanity.

Instead, a towering bookshelf crammed with thick tomes dominated the space.

At the center of the room sat a large desk piled with items that looked like they came straight out of a fairy tale witch’s workshop: a black iron cauldron, twisted glass flasks, reagent bottles, intricate scales, and even an armillary sphere.

James let out a thoughtful sound.

“Hmm. Even more than I imagined.”

“Right? The nurse said she kept it tidy for me all these years. Everything’s exactly how I left it.”

“…I see.”

Rose chattered while walking over to the big desk to start sorting her things.

“The cauldron has to come. The distiller and scales are essential too. The reagent bottles… maybe it’s more efficient to restock in Romberton?”

James watched her seriously sorting these suspicious-looking items and reflected on how much he had changed.

Just a few months ago, he wouldn’t have believed any of this.

His business had been booming thanks to education and mass production, the very peak of modern science and industry.

And now look at him.

His entire worldview had been turned upside down.

Mythosi, Logosi, this new category of Revis to which he himself now belonged.

He had tried to act unfazed, but it was a profound, even shocking, clash of worldviews.

‘People… not all the same kind of people.’

‘And the royal family, the top officials—they all knew.’

Most astonishing of all was James R. Dautryche himself, who had begun accepting all these irrational truths.

Rose’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“James. I’ll need to check the study too. The nurse probably put all my textbooks back in there.”

She headed off down the hall.

“If you’re bored, feel free to read anything while I’m looking.”

When she opened the door, light flooded in from the tall, carefully designed windows.

Heavy velvet curtains protected the books from sun damage.

The walls were lined with massive bookshelves crammed with volumes.

The faint scent of old paper and ink filled the room, a testament to careful, loving maintenance over generations.

Rose scanned the shelves.

“Magical Theory… Magical Theory… ah, found it!”

While she muttered to herself and picked out volumes, James wandered, looking over the unfamiliar spines.

Mythos and Logos: Their Origins and History by Charles Dargilius.

Theosophy and the New Theology by Gabriel Quivier.

A Dictionary of Allegorical Interpretations of Ancient Teachings by Albert Robinet.

He hadn’t even heard of these titles.

Past the dense, alien concepts, he found himself in a corner where the wall bore faint crayon marks.

[ROSE. I’M ALL GROWN UP NOW!]

The scrawled letters and notched lines, complete with dates and numbers, marked Rose’s height as she grew.

James realized then that he was standing in one of the most intimate spaces of this old house.

He also realized how deeply she had been loved.

‘She really is nothing like me.’

He remembered how fiercely she had vowed revenge for her parents.

Now it made more sense.

If you had warm memories with your parents, that bond would be unbreakable.

‘I’m not like that.’

Who had even measured his height?

Besides the family doctor who visited monthly, had anyone else ever bothered?

He gently touched the wall where her name was written, careful not to smudge it.

Packing didn’t take long. But as if to spite them, the sky turned dark, wind and rain lashing the windows.

There was no hope of calling a carriage in that weather, so the two of them decided to stay the night at the estate.

“It’s so good…”

Rose let out a happy little moan at the dinner table, enjoying her meal in the dimly lit, antique dining room.

“Yes. It’s excellent.”

“Right? Nurse’s stew on a rainy day is the best.”

Thankfully, dinner wasn’t marred by any “astringent tea”-level pranks.

James was able to savor the wonderful stew too.

But not entirely.

Because in the low, flickering lamplight, Rose’s cheeks and lips were flushed with happiness.

And James felt a fierce, unspoken desire surge within him—something he dared not show on his face.