Chapter 54

Chapter 54

There was nothing left to throw up, but every time Rose closed her eyes the memory she’d glimpsed through Grace’s ring brought fresh waves of nausea.

The screams from that vision mixed with James’s voice in her head, a chaotic, feverish whirl.

I underestimated them. Even though I have memories of being offered up as a sacrifice…

Horrific images flickered like lightning behind her eyelids, too fast and too clear to shut out.

Not only Betty, but the final moments of the other two corpses they’d found in the morgue replayed themselves in perfect, grotesque detail.

Like the flash of a camera going off, the scenes changed one after another, leaving her dizzy and sick.

A dank underground prison crammed with children; a wide space with pools of coagulated blood; the acrid stench of cheap paraffin candles burning; the droning chant of grim, eerie incantations.

She could almost smell the sickening copper of blood and the rot of decaying animal carcasses clinging to her nostrils.

Why… why is he looking at me like that?

James’s pale, stricken face wavered like a phantom in her dimming vision.

She had no strength left even to keep hold of consciousness.

The instant her eyelids fell shut, all sensation was cut off.

Rose blacked out completely.

Tok. Tok. Tok.

The cold sound of water dripping onto stone stirred Rose awake; she blinked and looked around, confused by her surroundings.

Wait, this place…

She was in an underground chamber finished with rough brick walls. It was the very prison she’d seen in Grace’s ring.

How did I end up here?

Startled, she glanced wildly around.

Tok. Tok.

The air was damp and frigid, the sound of leaking water echoing among maze-like corridors, mingling with the muffled sobs of children.

While trying to get her bearings, she heard the shuffle of footsteps behind her. She began to move, instinctively trying to hide, when she realized something important.

Reading memories from an object was like watching a film; it was a one-way recording, not something you could move freely within.

Which means… this is a dream.

Still cautious, she pressed herself behind a nearby pillar and watched as a blond boy in a white robe, large metal bracelets on his wrists, walked past carrying a tray piled with food.

The rounded back of his head seemed oddly familiar.

Carefully, Rose trailed after him.

He stopped in front of a dimly lit iron-barred cell tucked away in a corner.

Inside, though shadows hid their faces, she could make out two children roughly the boy’s age.

“Wow! Food!”

A girl’s excited voice rang out.

“Hey, come eat! Hurry up!”

“Okay, stop pulling me.”

In the cell’s gloom, another young boy rose hesitantly.

Rose crept closer to see what would happen next.

Just as she caught sight of the girl clutching the bars and humming in delight, a shrill screech like nails on a chalkboard ripped through her ears.

She jerked awake, gasping.

Of all the dreams…

Darkness pressed in from all sides, but her vision soon adjusted, revealing the blurry outline of her bed’s canopy.

Why would I dream that?

She covered her face with both hands, exhaling shakily.

“…Awake?”

“Ah! Oh my god!”

Rose practically leapt off the mattress at the sound of a man’s voice nearby.

Clutching her pounding chest, she turned wide-eyed to see the familiar silhouette.

“Good grief, James. It’s you.”

Her voice was rough and cracked from all the retching.

“Did I scare you?”

“Yes. Wait, no. Um.”

Still half-asleep, her mind scrambled for an answer and she just opened and closed her mouth uselessly.

“I mean, I was startled, but not too much. Anyway, why are you here?”

She realized she had no idea why he was in her room so late. The last thing she remembered was James calling her name over and over in a panic.

The thought of how much he worried for her sent a small, unsteady flutter through her chest.

“Why this late at night…?”

James met her gaze in the dark without hesitating.

“Because I was worried about you.”

His deep voice was quiet but utterly certain.

Rose was suddenly grateful the room was pitch-black; she could feel the heat rising uncontrollably in her face, her heart thudding once like it had dropped straight down from a great height.

“Is that not allowed?”

Maybe he mistook her silence, because his voice turned a little desperate.

“…Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No, no!”

Her voice caught, threatening to crack entirely.

Moonlight, breaking through a cloud, spilled across the floor and lit James’s face in silvery relief.

In this colorless night world, his blue eyes burned with the only vivid color, calm yet smoldering.

The look in those eyes held something different than usual—an unfamiliar urgency, a restless vulnerability.

The hush of night gave them permission to be bolder; Rose felt herself moving almost without thinking.

Her fingers reached for his face, tracing the sharp lines drawn by moonlight.

She felt his magic under her fingertips like a fine, buzzing current.

“James. Why are you looking at me like that?”

She’d meant to thank him, but the wrong words tumbled out.

His eyes wavered so deeply it made everything else fade to a blur, as if nothing existed in that dark room except the two of them.

James closed his hand around hers where it rested on his cheek.

“Because you’re my fiancée.”

He lifted her fingers and kissed them gently.

“My life depends on you.”

His power pulsed through that touch, warm and unshakable.

“You’re the one who will grant my wish.”

Every word was unreasonably tender, dizzyingly sweet.

“No, forget it. That’s not even it. There are a thousand reasons I could give.”

Rose couldn’t even twitch a finger.

She couldn’t quite grasp the meaning of those words—or even be sure she’d understood him correctly at all.

James let out a ragged breath at her stunned silence, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“Forget it. Just pretend you didn’t hear any of that.”

He gently lowered her back onto the bed and pulled the blanket up over her.

Muttering to himself about saying such ridiculous things to someone who was still sick, he ran a hand roughly through his hair.

“…Thank you.”

“Your throat is in bad shape. Don’t talk.”

He hesitated before smoothing her tangled hair back carefully with his fingers.

“Good night, Rose.”

She closed her eyes tight and nodded once.

But her hammering heartbeat made sleep impossible for a long time after.

James didn’t move until he was certain Rose had finally fallen asleep, despite all her restless turning.

Dawn was already breaking, the dim gray light gradually making the shape of her sleeping form clearer.

He reached out and brushed his fingers gently across her cracked, pale lips.

The roughness of them ached in his chest.

Careful not to wake her, he drew the curtains tight to keep the morning light from disturbing her sleep, then quietly stepped out of her room.

“……!”

James sensed something was off not long after returning to his study.

The unease came from a faint, unfamiliar flow of magic—one that didn’t belong.

As if to confirm his suspicion, a small swirl of wind stirred in the air, and a folded note dropped directly into the palm of his hand.

To JD
The time to use the transferred item is approaching. Be prepared.
—A2C

Before he could fully finish reading the message, the paper ignited on its own and disintegrated into fine ash.

“Really now… Not the most heart-friendly way to deliver a message.”

He had seen Rose exchange magical letters before—messages sent in haste, self-burning for security.

But he never thought he’d be the recipient of one himself.

And if the sender was that person…

‘So Rose and I aren’t the only ones who suspect there’s a zealot infiltrator in the Golden Raven Corps.’

Otherwise, there’d be no reason for him to use such a roundabout, high-security method just to deliver a message.

A regular letter might be lost. Visiting in person would draw attention. And there’s no one left he trusts enough to send in his place.