Shattering the Eternal Rose
💥Boom! The thick oak door of the private room was ripped clean off its hinges. Dust and smoke curled up from the carpet. I stared calmly through the shattered doorframe. A man stepped inside, crunching over the debris. With an irritated kick, he shook off the dirt from his shoe soles and sharply scanned the room.
He's known in the academy as the Ice Rose—a rose blooming in the snowy fields. In the game, he's called the eternally cold flower, Eternal Rose. Or, since he acts like a total puppy only around the original game's heroine, we fans dubbed him Pink Doggo. The original story's sub-male lead and Rozalia von Bloomhart's own brother: Kirian von Bloomhart.
His lush, voluminous pale pink hair parted at the center and swept over his forehead. His deep purple-tinged eyes wavered with a precarious, almost broken intensity. The usual icy rationality was long shattered. What stood before us was a razor-sharp, neurotic pink-maned wolf.
Fuck, he's insanely handsome. I cursed inwardly. Any tiny hope that I might have a sliver of that romance-fantasy male lead charm? Gone with a sigh. The original story's key players exuded a different aura from the start.
From now on, I'm just a squid. A squid deluded into thinking it's hot shit. A wave of gloom and inferiority washed over me. Sweet yet dangerous charm? What the hell kind of combo is that?
But why'd he bust in here like this? He looks pissed as hell.
I turned my head. Sitting beside me, I poked Rozalia's soft cheek with my index finger. It yielded so nicely. Always felt great no matter when I did it.
"Hey. Know anything about this?"
In that instant, a chill ran down my spine. Kirian's feral killing intent from the doorway stabbed straight at me—like he was ready to slice off the finger poking her cheek right then and there.
Ah. It's because of this guy.
—But the real danger wasn't at the door. It was right next to me.
Rozalia's gaze had gone ice-cold. Her signature hollow, emotionless golden eyes fixed on her brother. Not a shred of joy at seeing him. Just pure, venomous cynicism at our precious moment being interrupted. An attitude numb to death itself.
Her gaze locked on Kirian at the door. I read her eyes perfectly. He's done for. In Rozalia's twisted fantasies, Kirian was already a gruesome victim in some murder file. Shredded to paper-thin scraps in a grinder, the ballroom soaked in her brother's blood turning into a slaughterhouse scene. Her delicate, beautiful fingers twitched faintly. Ominous as hell.
If this kept up, forget netorase play—we'd hit a family murder bad end. We had to protect our poor sub-male lead.
I spun around quick, shielding Rozalia with my back like a knight guarding his lady.
"!!!"
Rozalia's golden eyes went wide as saucers. Her frozen gaze blankly took in my broad back. Her lips parted slightly. Heat flushed wildly from her nape to her cheeks. Flustered by my sudden move, she twisted her hands together. Perfect misunderstanding.
"So, which punk bastard... stole away my—our—little sister, Rozali, huh?" His low, heavy baritone rumbled. Kirian's thick brows twisted. "Hmph. Looks like a lowly baron's whelp with no sense of his place."
He yanked an ornate longsword from his belt and hurled it roughly at me. Clang. It skidded across the carpet. Then he gripped the hilt of a ceremonial sword nearby. Shing. The silver blade slid free. He stroked the flat with his gloved hand, and like engraving a seal, red sword aura wrapped the blade, blazing menacingly.
"Draw."
Kirian aimed the tip at me. "I'll make sure you never approach my sister again... half-crippled before you even enroll."
A small hand tugged at my collar from behind. "Darling... let me handle it."
Rozalia whispered. "The original story's veering off... probably 'cause I survived."
Famous for her empire's top doting dad, and now a severe siscon brother. What a tiring family. A chuckle slipped through my lips. When a girlfriend overflowing with that kind of appeal offers pure devotion, who cares about a little swordplay?
I turned back, smirking slyly. "Pfft. Don't worry. I'll win."
I reached out, stroking her pink crown. Pat pat. "So just wait nicely."
I leaned down to meet her eyes. "Win or lose, don't forget my kiss."
A romantic situation has been detected.
You have acquired 1 Netoright.
Ah ha. I nodded inwardly. This is what they call a romantic situation in romance fantasies. Up close, Rozalia's state was a sight. Hands neatly cupped over her cheeks, face beet-red, totally at a loss. Ripe beyond belief, utterly melted in love. Insanely easy... for real.One hell of a slut.
She immediately sank into delusion, giggling like an idiot. Her unfocused eyes wandered as her twisted hands flailed in the air, then dipped downward. Rustle. Slender fingers gripped her skirt hem, slyly burrowing inward. Her thighs rubbed secretly through the thin fabric. A sweet, intoxicating breath escaped her.
My eyes twitched. Whoa?! Crazy bitch. Not here...!
🌸 Clang! A sharp metallic ring struck the private room's wall. My hand tingled lightly.
The Bloomhart Count family. Southern frontier lords who ground their blood and bones to repel endless invaders. Their swordsmanship was ruthlessly practical, optimized for butchering humans. To survive, knights collaborated with mages—engraving magic seals on blades, computing complex forbidden spells in real-time to enchant them. Thus was born their family secret technique flickering ominously before me: Rose Swordsmanship.
A beautiful yet horrifyingly cruel flower. Red petals infused with mana scattered in the air. Kirian's sword lashed out like a serpent. I twisted my torso. A petal grazed my collarbone, slicing cloth and sprinkling faint blood droplets.
Fast.
I exhaled sharply. But the wound was shallow. Three minutes into the duel, anxiety brewed in Kirian's eyes. At first clash, the gap was heaven and earth. He was sure one strike would send this rural baron's scrub flying. And indeed, the opening exchange flung me back helplessly.
But as second and third clashes followed, things twisted bizarrely. Kirian slashed diagonally, then snapped his wrist for a downward smash. Rose petals bloomed from the red aura, binding my escape from all sides. An impossible-to-dodge trajectory.
In that moment, my sword traced a graceful arc. Cling! The deadliest central axis—heavy with power. My blade tip flicked it away with pinpoint precision, minimal force. Kirian's strike interfered with mine and fizzled out. The incoming petals, caught in my sword aura's wind, soared harmlessly and shattered.
Trajectories. Mana flows. He dismantled it all perfectly, like he knew every counter. I was taking apart Rose Swordsmanship step by step, cheat sheet in hand.
Kirian's lips twisted into a faint arc. A genius? The pest he expected to cripple in one blow was matching his lifelong mastered art. At this rate, he'd lose. Ignoring reason's warnings, ecstasy and bloodlust mingled in his eyes. As if grasping the technique's essence, he abandoned defense, charging ferociously like pursued prey.
A lethal, perfect strike no mere form could parry. It streaked, trailing sword light. Thin, razor cuts scored Kirian's shoulder and thigh. Cling! Clang! Blades screamed. Aura sprayed wildly. A mutual destruction frenzy.
Identical wounds marked both bodies. Kirian smiled faintly. At first, just a fly on the Bloomhart flower. But his assessment changed. Watching this man dive into Rose Swordsmanship earnestly, he had to acknowledge it.
"You seem to know the Bloomharts' sword quite intimately."
Kirian lowered his blade, feigning leisure. "Then you know you've already lost. The moment those wounds etched you, victory was mine."
Casual outside, frantic inside. Not genius—adaptation monster. He grew sharper every instant. How did he interfere with the mana petals? Counters nullified old moves. Should've ended it in one. Reason warned coldly. No more time for that monster.
Pre-engraved words on his sword: 『Erosion』, 『Residue』, 『Explosion』. The guy's body was riddled with shallow cuts.
"I've already won. Give up."
Kirian tilted his chin. "Your wounds are already etched with mana petals." He added kindly, "Bloom. One word, and it's over. Explosions from the cuts will shred your flesh, flowers bursting out."
Sneer. Kirian mocked. Survive this? He'd respect that grit. That's how Bloomharts repelled invaders—shallow wounds turned fatal venom. No flaying flesh or archmage intervention could save you. Foes crumbled in bomb-waiting terror. No knight faculty dared spar him.
Silence. Blood dripping, my lips curled open. "Thanks."
A deflated laugh mixed in. Kirian's smile froze. Purple eyes quivered faintly. What?
I flicked the ornate longsword in my grip. "And, senpai. Thanks for the sword. Won thanks to this."
Ominous premonition flashed. No way. Impossible for an outsider to trigger the seal—
"Bloom."
My voice chilled the room. Kirian's body erupted in chained red blasts. Wounds from my sword clashes spewed Bloomhart red mana madly.
"Guh...! Kk, aaaagh—!"
His uniform shredded. Flesh burst, blood spraying. His family secret art tearing his own body—a horrific contradiction. Massive shock hammered his skull. Crumpling to the floor, eyes rolling back, he forced his lips open in fading consciousness.
That bastard too—drag him down with me, damn it.
"Blooo... m..."
The activation word leaked from his bloodied lips.
🌸