The Black Rabbit (2)
"I'm sorry, could you repeat that? I don't think I heard you correctly."
"No, you heard me just fine."
I smiled.
"I asked how many times you touch yourself."
"……."
Roseline's eyes wavered as if an earthquake had torn through them.
The tips of her ears flushed crimson in an instant, and her fingers tightened around her arms.
"You are truly… truly out of your mind."
"I hear that so often it doesn't even faze me anymore."
"This is not a question."
"It is a question."
"What does that have to do with the exam?"
"I said I'd ask as many questions as you get wrong. I never said they'd all be about the exam."
Roseline tried to argue back, but no words came, and she pressed her lips shut.
"Not going to answer?"
"It doesn't deserve an answer."
"Then you're breaking your promise."
"Don't twist it like that."
"I'm not twisting anything, I'm confirming it. Roseline is someone who keeps her promises, after all."
The tips of Roseline's fingers trembled.
Whether it was the bunny-girl outfit or not, her face — already red — looked redder still by comparison.
"Lady Isabel."
Roseline called for Isabel as if pleading for rescue, but Isabel merely lowered her head with a troubled expression.
"I apologize, Lady Veloa. In this matter I too would like to dissuade my lady… but the terms themselves do leave room for interpretation in your favor."
Roseline froze, as though despairing at the realization that even Isabel was not entirely on her side.
I waggled a finger.
"Now. Answer."
"…None."
"None?"
"…Yes."
"Not even once a day?"
Roseline's eyes sharpened.
"Wasn't the first question already finished?"
"Ah. That's right."
Roseline gritted her teeth.
"Then move on to the next question."
"Gladly."
I raised one more finger.
"Then, second question."
Roseline's face stiffened again.
"Where do you think I'm looking right now?"
The question itself was simple. Where my gaze was pointed.
The choker wrapped around her throat. The stockings hugging her thighs. The outfit that covered only the barest essentials.
And my gaze, crawling over every inch of her.
Only then seeming to register all of those eyes on her, Roseline's face flared even redder in an instant.
"That question doesn't deserve an answer either."
"Then it should be easy to answer."
I rested my chin on my hand and looked at Roseline.
"You'd have to meet my eyes to know where I'm looking, wouldn't you?"
"…My face, presumably."
"Wrong. Too bad."
"…."
"Incorrect."
Roseline's hands clamped tighter around her arms.
"Then where on earth—"
"Want me to tell you?"
"Don't."
"You look curious."
"I am absolutely not. Don't jump to conclusions."
"Then answer the question."
The gaze Roseline fixed on me was a tangle of fury, contempt, shame — countless emotions all at once.
"Answer."
Roseline couldn't open her mouth for a long while. How long did I wait with patience? At last, she spoke in a tiny voice, almost a whisper.
"…My body. You think you're looking at my body."
"Tell me exactly where."
"My lady."
"What."
"That seems to go beyond the scope of the second question."
"Your answer's far too vague."
I smiled at Roseline.
"'Body' covers a lot of ground. Your face is your body, your hands are your body, the tips of your toes are your body."
"You really…"
Roseline gritted her teeth.
"You really are beyond vulgar. Utterly revolting."
"Mm. Which is why — be precise."
I flicked my fingers lightly as I spoke.
"Where do you think I'm looking?"
Roseline's throat bobbed.
Because she had curled in on herself, the place she was trying to shield stood out all the more clearly.
"Don't want to say it?"
"Of course I don't."
"Say it anyway."
"……."
"It's the promise. You will answer, Roseline. Won't you?"
At those words, Roseline's eyes sharpened again.
She glared at me for a long moment, then, as though resigning herself, spoke in a low voice.
"…My chest."
The sound was so faint I could barely hear it, but I waited without smiling.
Roseline seemed to notice, and bit her lip.
"And…"
The words stopped.
Her gaze dropped downward for a fleeting instant, then snapped back up.
"And?"
"…My legs."
"Where on your legs."
"Serena. Please, enough of this…"
"Your answer isn't finished yet."
The rims of Roseline's eyes turned red.
Angry. Humiliated. And yet she never once left her place, never lowered her head, and kept her eyes on me to the very end.
And at last she said it.
"My thighs and…"
Her breath caught once.
"…between them."
As the parlor sank into silence, I slowly drew in a breath.
So this was her limit.
"Correct. To be precise, I was looking at the place you kept trying to cover."
"……."
"Trying to cover it only made it more visible."
"Are we finished?"
Roseline's voice was low and trembling.
"Second question — done."
"Then ask your final question."
She wanted to finish quickly and escape this situation.
And yet she didn't run.
How very like Roseline.
I raised one more finger.
"Third question."
And as I lifted that last finger, I spoke.
"What do you think I think of when I look at you?"
Where my eyes had been. What images filled my mind. How she must appear, reflected in that gaze.
"…I don't know."
"There's no way you don't know."
"I don't."
"Then guess."
Roseline gritted her teeth.
"How could I possibly know what someone like you is thinking?"
"You've been looking the whole time."
"I was not looking because I wanted to."
"You looked all the same."
I smiled.
"Including the way I look at you."
Roseline's face grew redder still. Her hands pressed harder against her arms.
"You… you must be thinking… those kinds of things. Looking at my body."
"Those kinds of things?"
Roseline's lips went rigid.
"Don't make me say it."
"You have to answer the question."
"……."
"Roseline."
A long moment later, Roseline spoke in a voice so low it was nearly inaudible.
"You're looking at my body… and lusting after it. Aren't you."
The parlor fell quiet.
For a moment, I couldn't answer.
Because I was pleased. Because I was so very pleased.
Roseline seemed to find that silence even more shameful, and turned her head away — but she couldn't avert her eyes to the end.
I smiled slowly.
"Yes."
Roseline's face burned redder.
"Correct answer."
"The third question is finished."
"A shame."
That would be all for today.
I nodded, lifting my bound hands.
"Good. We're done."
Only then did Roseline release the breath she'd been holding.
"Then I'll change."
"Already?"
"You said we were finished."
"A shame."
"I am not the least bit disappointed."
Roseline returned to the adjoining room without waiting for any further reply from me.
Right up until the door closed, the little rabbit-ear ornament swayed gently.
I stared at that door for a long while, unable to wipe the smile from my face.
After Roseline had slipped into the adjoining room, the faint whisper of fabric against skin drifted out from behind the door.
I kept my eyes on it. Then Isabel quietly spoke.
"Are you satisfied now?"
I didn't answer.
"I don't believe toying with a person like this is right. And treating someone who hasn't fully recovered in this manner…"
"That's enough."
My cold voice cut her off, and silence settled over the parlor.
I slowly turned my head to look at Isabel.
"Enough, Isabel."
"……."
"I've tolerated quite a lot from you for some time now. Being at the Academy, it seems, makes you forget you stand on the same line as me."
"I apologize, Mistress."
At that form of address, the air in the room shifted, if only slightly.
The heat in my head cooled again.
"I'll permit you to remonstrate with me in the future as well."
"……."
"But hold the line. How much I indulge you depends entirely on my mood."
"Yes. I will keep it in mind."
I rested my fingertips on the armrest of the chair and sank into thought.
Something was wrong. When it came to Roseline, my head used to burn so hot I couldn't hold onto my reason. Wasn't that how it had always been?
No. The me of the past wouldn't have been worked up this much over something so trivial. The past? Did I know Roseline in the past?
It was as though my memories were shattering into fragments, leaving me unable to tell which ones were real.
Hoo. Calm down. Let's piece it back together from the beginning. This is the Academy. I am Serena Arzen, and I torment Roseline… why do I keep thinking of it as tormenting her?
That isn't torment.
It's making her keep her word.
Roseline accepted those terms herself, and all I did was collect on them.
And yet, strangely, the justification scattered in my mouth like sand.
Is that really all there is to it?
I wanted to see Roseline.
The Roseline who blushed with shame yet never once bowed her head. The Roseline who hated me yet never broke her promise.
That, without question, was what I had wanted.
But the words I'd just spoken to Isabel.
"Mistress."
A form of address I should have long since grown used to.
Isabel Lowen was my handmaid, and I was Serena Arzen. There was nothing the least bit strange about Isabel calling me her mistress — so why did something in my chest curdle at the word?
As if I were someone who should never have said what I'd just said. As if someone who wasn't me had borrowed my mouth to speak.
"My lady."
Isabel called out cautiously.
The same person who had addressed me as mistress mere moments ago was now calling me my lady.
At that small change, I felt a relief so strong it was almost unsettling.
"Are you quite all right?"
"I'm fine."
Isabel asked nothing more. She simply bowed her head and took a single step back.
"Isabel. Forget what just happened."
"Is that an order?"
"…No. A request."
At those words, Isabel's eyes wavered, ever so faintly.
I didn't know why I'd said it either.
Seconds ago I'd told her to hold the line. Told her that indulging her was up to my mood. And now, of all times, a request.
Laughable.
Isabel bowed her head once more.
"Understood."
Quiet returned to the parlor.
From the next room, the rustle of fabric still sounded. Roseline was changing back into her own clothes, it seemed.
Roseline Veloa. The original female lead.
The reason I'd read that trash novel to the very end — and the person I had to claim in this world.
No.
Claim?
Even that phrase, surfacing just now, felt off.
I loved Roseline. I wanted her. I wanted to break her, to make her look only at me.
That much I knew.
And yet beneath the bedrock of those emotions lay something old, something I didn't recognize.
Jealousy. Contempt. Inferiority.
Why you. Why always you. Why does everyone —
Deep in my mind, someone's voice scraped past like a blade over stone.
I stopped breathing.
Those aren't my feelings.
No —
Are they really not?
I hold Serena Arzen's memories. Her business acumen, her instinct for noble society, her etiquette, her way of handling people — all of it comes from Serena's memories.
Then what about the feelings?
How much of the emotion clinging to those memories is actually mine?
This sticky obsession I feel toward Roseline — is it truly all mine?
Or —
Am I simply calling Serena's old malice toward Roseline by a different name?
"Ha."
A laugh escaped me.
The reason I'd thought of it as tormenting Roseline —
That was probably why.
The original Serena tormented Roseline.
Within the original story.
And the me standing here now —
"I'm different."
I murmured it, so quietly.
Quiet enough that Isabel couldn't hear.
Different.
I'm not like the Serena of the original story, who wanted to destroy Roseline outright.
No —
Is that really true?
I want to watch Roseline break.
But she mustn't die.
Even when she crumbles, it has to be in front of me.
Even when she cries, it has to be in front of me.
If she reaches out her hand, it has to be toward me.
How different is that from the Serena of the original story?
Before I could reach a conclusion, the door opened.
Roseline stepped out.
Back in her usual, composed attire, she looked considerably calmer than before. But a flush still lingered on her face, and her fingertips trembled ever so slightly.
The moment I saw her, the static that had been scrambling my thoughts went still.
Strangely enough.
"I have fulfilled every term of the agreement. So never summon me this way again."
"I can't promise that."
"Serena. However much you may humiliate me, I will never become yours."
At those words, the thoughts that had been wavering moments ago came to a halt.
Roseline's voice was still firm.
She had been embarrassed, furious, swallowed her humiliation — and yet she had not broken.
The instant I saw those eyes, I knew.
Ah.
Of course.
This was the face I had wanted to see.
This face, at least, was not Serena Arzen's memory. It was what the present me had wanted.
"Is that so?"
I smiled.
"Then it'll take even longer."
"For what?"
"For you to realize you're wrong."
Roseline's expression hardened into disgust.
"You are beyond salvation."
"I know."
"You know, and still you carry on?"
"Mm."
Roseline said nothing more and headed for the parlor door.
Watching her retreating back, I spoke.
"Your face today — I liked it. And not because of the outfit."
Roseline didn't turn around.
"The face you made, blushing with shame and still watching me to the very end."
"That is precisely why I despise you. You speak of even the expression I hate most as though it belongs to you."
"Mm."
"Don't delude yourself."
Roseline turned her head.
Those eyes still had not bent.
"The reason I looked at you today was not because I was drawn to you."
"……."
"It was because I hate you."
I smiled.
"That's good enough."
Roseline stared at me, baffled.
"What is?"
"It means you still have a reason to look at me."
Roseline offered no reply and walked out through the door.
The confusion that had been spinning my head in circles hadn't vanished entirely — but at least one thing had become clear.
It didn't matter where my feelings for Roseline began.
Serena Arzen's old malice, the desire I carried into this body, the obsession of the reader who'd devoured the original novel —
Right now, all of them were pointing in the same direction inside me.
"Are you truly satisfied this time?"
I looked at Isabel for a moment before answering.
The distance between us seemed to have grown since earlier. I would have to close that gap again someday — but not today.
"Yeah. Let's call it here for today."