Chapter 11
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 011
Chapter Title: Ambush (1)
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Someone gazing quietly down at my face was a horrific memory seared deeply into my mind.
The first assassin I ever killed. He crept up to my bed and stared at me for a long while, as if savoring the face of the man he was about to kill.
I fought him like a madman with the weapon hidden under my pillow. I slashed and slashed until he stopped moving.
After that, I never let a servant wake me. I might end up killing them otherwise.
That was why Rose staring at me so intently felt so uncomfortable. I'd never allowed anyone this close before.
A twitch.
My fingers moved on their own. I wondered how long I should keep pretending to sleep—or if it might be better to just force Rose back to bed.
"-This time."
A small, slender voice came from Rose.
"This time, definitely."
I could guess what words followed the ellipsis. I couldn't dare imagine the weight of that solitary vow she made to someone who wasn't listening.
I didn't move. No, I couldn't.
Rustle.
Rose returned to her place. Soon, even breaths filled the air as she fell silent. She had truly fallen asleep.
"......"
A strange sensation made my fingers twitch again.
It wasn't the urge to strike her down like before. It felt ticklish, precarious somehow.
'What is this?'
I pondered the feeling for a long time. Then, before I knew it, I drifted off to sleep.
Dane Schmichael brought the wine glass to his lips. The blood-red wine slid down his throat.
"-!"
Dane's eyes flew wide. No groan of pain, no feeble gesture.
Thud!
The next moment, he collapsed onto the table. And he didn't move.
Completely still.
"Your Excellency!"
"Kyaa!"
Screams erupted from all sides. People panicked and milled about in chaos.
"......Ah."
What had just happened?
Rose, seated across the table, stared blankly at the back of Dane's head.
He was a man who seemed like he'd never fall. His broad shoulders were like mountains, his sturdy forearms overwhelming.
His icy silver hair and even icier gaze resembled the snow-capped peaks of Schmichael lands. Sometimes, his stare felt like it could freeze her solid.
And yet... that man...
"Your Excellency! Pull yourself together!"
"Sir Joel, what is this?!"
That man had collapsed. No blood trickled from his mouth; his entire body had simply gone rigid.
He'd always been pale, but now his face was deathly white, utterly unfamiliar.
'Why?'
Rose couldn't comprehend the situation.
Countless assassination attempts, relentless raids, the sinister schemes of collateral kin—none had killed Dane. He endured, survived tenaciously, and reached his 22nd birthday.
Yet...
The man who stood unyielding like an ancient tree had toppled like a lightning-struck trunk. All from a single sip of wine.
Grip.
Suddenly, servants seized her arms, snapping Rose to attention.
"Come with us."
"Pardon?"
The servants had always been polite, if not kind. But now their eyes were ice-cold—hostile, even.
Rose was dragged away and thrown into the underground dungeon. Only later did she hear from a guard.
She'd been named the culprit. Dane hadn't woken. The poison was so vicious even Chief Physician Joel couldn't neutralize it.
Dungeon life was hellish. The occasional meals from the kitchen were her only solace.
"Poor thing, what a shame."
The neighboring cell held an assassin caught trying to kill Dane. Absurdly, Rose found this killer kinder than anyone she'd met in the castle.
'Am I going to die here?'
There seemed no way out. Rose had no proof of innocence, no one to defend her.
As she resigned herself, that man appeared.
"I'll help you escape."
"Why?"
"Because I know you're innocent, Madam."
With his help, Rose fled the dungeon. Staying meant certain death; she had to get out and find a way.
But mere steps from the castle gates...
"It's Rose Vicander!"
A man bellowed and charged at her out of nowhere.
"What are you doing?!"
"Here she is! She's here!"
The man ignored her pleas, pinning her brutally to the ground.
"Let... go!"
"Urgh! She's running!"
As she flailed to shake off the babbling stranger...
Stab.
Something hot plunged deep into her chest.
"......!"
Agony seized her body; she couldn't budge. Rose writhed on the ground.
"Got her?!"
"We got her! She's here!"
Guards with torches surrounded her and the man.
"Are you alright?"
"What happened?"
The man clutched his sleeve, gasping. Rose had never touched him, yet blood seeped from the torn fabric.
"She had a weapon. She tried to attack me, so I..."
In Rose's fading vision, she saw the dagger embedded in her chest.
'This...'
It was clearly the man's dagger—now somehow in her hand.
'I've been had.'
The realization hit like ice water.
Rose struggled to lift her lolling head. She strained to etch the face of her stabber into her memory.
'......Joel.'
In that moment, instinct told her everything.
Joel, the chief physician who smiled kindly by Dane's side, was behind it all.
Dane Schmichael's collapse on his 22nd birthday—it was all this man's doing.
'Please.'
If only she got one more chance.
She wouldn't be this helpless. She wouldn't live pathetically craving his love.
She wouldn't... love him.
With that thought, she painfully closed her eyes. As she mused that her painful life would end the same way...
"Rose!"
The sharp voice that always tore her heart to shreds jolted her awake.
"You really need to get it together! What are you thinking?"
Viscountess Vicander. The woman who took her father's side after her mother's death.
"Mom, don't be too harsh. It's an important day today."
A cheerful, chirping voice beside her. Her stepsister, always itching to devour her whole.
'That day.'
She had returned to that unforgettable day.
She'd heard that morning she'd become the eighth wife of the Schmichael family. Within hours, preparations were done, and she was off to Schmichael territory.
No rebellion, no refusal possible. A Rose Vicander's voice in her family mattered less than a drop in the ocean.
'The worst day.'
The rickety carriage was excruciatingly uncomfortable; by the time she disembarked, her whole body ached. After such a long journey, no one awaited her.
'His Excellency is away inspecting the mines.'
'Is the water not to your liking? This is all we have prepared.'
The absent master, the curt butler. Servants with icy wash water, a room devoid of welcome. Everything screamed she wasn't wanted here.
And now she'd returned to that day—right before departing for Schmichael territory, as she boarded the carriage.
'This must be...'
She didn't know how, but instinct confirmed it. She'd gone back in time. Gotten a new chance at life.
So, what now?
'Absolutely not.'
Rose gazed at the passing scenery outside the carriage, thinking it over and over.
'Absolutely, I won't love him.'
In her past life, she'd wasted endless time yearning for Dane's love.
Foolish. Not this time. She'd suppress all emotions, act solely for herself.
'No choice. I have to keep him alive first.'
If marriage was inevitable, she had to maximize the Dane Schmichael card—his family and power, precisely.
Dane never forgot grudges. He was also clear on rewards and punishments.
'He's not cold even to his lifesavers.'
Here, Viscountess Vicander and her stepsister's influence didn't reach. In this relatively free place, Rose planned to get what she needed and leave.
But...
'Why?'
Why was he out to greet her? With guards, knights, servants in tow.
It looked like a welcome for her—their tension suggested as much.
'Why?'
Why was he in the dining hall?
Signaling the head chef for tasty dishes just for her. Watching closely to see if she enjoyed them.
'Why on earth.'
Why had he come to the marital bedroom? Offering all the wine she wanted, acting like he could see right through her.
And moreover...
'A contract marriage.'
This aligned with much of what she'd planned.
Rose never imagined Dane Schmichael making such a proposal. Was this some imposter wearing his face?
"Don't cry anymore."
Things like that. Dane Schmichael flustered, wiping her tears.
How could this happen? If not a dream, what was it?