Chapter 68

Chapter 68

“When you say ‘Madam,’ do you mean James’s mother?”

“Yes, of course.”

In Rose’s dreams, the mother and son had never even looked at each other. Maybe that really had been nothing more than a dream.

“Madam cared for the young master deeply—in her own way.”

Maria spoke with a faint, wistful smile.

“The reason all these photos were taken and arranged into albums was because Madam gave the order.”

Page after page was filled with James as a growing boy.

How expensive must it have been to take so many photographs? Even for a wealthy family, it was proof of considerable affection. Surely James’s mother must have cherished him.

“So he really did know how to look excited when he was young! His cheeks are about to burst from smiling.”

“That was taken during the Lunasaad Festival in Egarde. Speaking of which, the festival will begin soon—why not attend with the master? After all, his birthday falls right in the middle of the celebrations.”

“Ah—his birthday.”

Rose’s heart jolted. She hadn’t even known James’s birthday.

Even if theirs was only a one-year contract engagement, wasn’t it wrong for her to know so little about him?

Anxious that Maria might notice how shallow their relationship really was, Rose quickly nodded.

“Thank you for the suggestion, Maria.”

From the Lunasaad photos onward, the album brimmed with festival memories taken each season.

One especially charming photo captured the costume ball during the Samhain festivities.

James, clutching a fluffy toy rabbit and dressed in a matching rabbit outfit, looked adorably disgruntled, his expression full of sulky protest.

Wait. Why does this feel so familiar?

Tilting her head, Rose studied the photo closely. Maria, sharp-eyed, offered an explanation.

“Rabbit dolls were very popular back then. I imagine you had one yourself, Miss Taylor.”

“Ah!”

In a flash, Rose remembered her own seventh birthday photo. She wasn’t sure, but the rabbit doll in her arms back then might have been the very same kind.

That must be it. That’s why it felt so familiar.

Nodding, Rose returned her gaze to the picture, eyes drawn to the worn, much-loved toy.

It looks so well-used. He must have played with it often, even though it doesn’t suit the image he puts on.

She imagined young James, trying to act grown-up, yet still falling asleep clutching that soft rabbit.

For once, maybe she could counter his endless teasing—if she had that rabbit doll in her hands.

“He told us never to touch it, saying it was a gift from his savior.”

“His savior?”

“The kidnapping incident, of course. We were so grateful he came home safe. He said the toy was lent to him by the child who was with him at the time, and that he had to keep it safe until they met again. I believe it’s still in the Romberton estate.”

At Maria’s words, Rose felt her chest sink.

The thought of James holding on to that toy for fifteen years—cherishing it, never letting go.

How deep must his feelings for that girl run? Was it just gratitude to a savior… or something more?

This isn’t fair. I can’t use this as a weakness against him.

Her solar plexus ached as if pierced.

Just as she tried to turn the page and feign indifference, a sudden stab of pain shot through her skull.

“Ugh!”

“Miss Taylor, are you all right?”

“Ah, it’s fine. I think… I think my hair just got in my eyes for a second.”

She couldn’t very well confess to a vanished headache, so she lied quickly.

“By the way—aren’t there any photos of James with his mother?”

So far, the album contained only pictures of James alone, from age ten into his teenage years.

“Ah…”

Rose had expected Maria to fetch another album, but instead, her reaction was different.

Maria hesitated, then lowered her voice to a near-whisper.

“Has the master not told you yet?”

Rose blinked, baffled.

“Told me… what?”

“How the young master came to live in the Dautryche estate in Romberton.”

Rose carried both the letter she had been drafting to Iris and the photo album of James back to her room.

This had once been James’s childhood bedroom. To think he had given her such an intimate space, yet she knew so little about him—it left her unsettled.

One fragment of his secret, cautiously revealed by Maria, nagged at her relentlessly.

So James entered the Dautryche estate… does that mean he lived somewhere else before? How?

Were there conditions one had to meet to be allowed into that household?

She had wanted to ask Maria outright, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

This is something I should hear from James himself.

But could she really ask?

It wasn’t like casually asking about his birthday; this was intruding into the very core of his family history.

Is this something I even have the right to know? Maybe the reason he hasn’t told me… is because I don’t need to know.

Rose’s curiosity was just on the verge of becoming doubt about its own legitimacy when—

“Ahh!”

The finger that bore the blackened ring clenched in pain. Her right index finger throbbed sharply, as if she were forcing on a ring far too small, until it felt like her finger might be torn off.

“What is this…?”

Every time her ring had hurt like this, disaster had followed.

The moment she had almost become Robert Burns’s fifth victim. The moment his accomplice had appeared.

Panic rising, Rose’s eyes swept around the room.

But nothing was different. The room was only a room.

The absence of any sign made the dread worse.

“Mother… is this your warning through the ring?”

She clutched the band and scanned every corner of the chamber.

Flutter.

“Kyaaah!”

A flicker of movement at the edge of her vision made her scream before she realized—

“…Oh, come on. Just the curtain.”

The culprit was nothing more than the breeze playing tricks through the open window.

“Miss! Are you all right?!”

“It’s fine. I—I just mistook something I saw.”

Her shriek had been loud enough to send a servant rushing in, which only deepened her embarrassment.

Even after steadying her breathing, the dull ache in her finger kept her from relaxing.

It was probably hopeless to try finishing her letter to Miss Iris Brown tonight.

On impulse, Rose bent down and traced a small protective sigil beneath the rug by her bed.

It wasn’t much, but at least it was something.

Casting a larger ward was impossible here; too many eyes.

She could have locked herself in and worked as she had at the Dautryche estate, but in Trident Mansion, the household was far too intent on fussing over her.

To the staff, their little master had grown into the head of the house and brought home a fiancée—even if only a fiancée on paper. Naturally, they were endlessly curious.

Maria in particular had hovered around her since the very first day, never letting her be alone.

This well-meaning meddling, typical of the countryside, made it impossible for her to perform any significant magic in secret.

I’ll just have to wait until everyone is asleep. Hopefully nothing happens before then…

But contrary to her fears, the throbbing subsided, and the long day slowly wound to its end.

After closing her door and extinguishing all lights, Rose opened her father’s red leather notebook.

By the faint glow of conjured light, she flipped to a marked page.

“Here it is. Physical and magical defense.”

Drawn there was the defensive array she had personally modified.

It wasn’t an ingenious reworking, but it would at least buy her enough time to escape an intruder.

As a Neutral who had always suffered from chronic mana shortage, Rose had learned early on to adjust and refine magical formulae.

Her father, Albert Taylor, had been a renowned formula architect in the Golden Ravens; that talent, it seemed, had passed on to her.

Her mana shimmered across the carefully inked circuits, tracing each line until the array rose from the page, flaring in a shower of sparks like a miniature firework. Starlike trails scattered through the room before settling into place.

The ward was set.

“Phew… this should be enough.”

Perhaps her fears had been unfounded; nothing had happened all evening.

Still… what had that sudden pain in her finger meant?