4. In the Room Left Alone
4. In the Room Left Alone
The afternoon schedule ended earlier than expected.
Since it was the first day, there wasn't much that could be called class. After going back and forth to the auditorium listening to orientations, a dismissal notice came down, and the students scattered in their own groups. Some were looking over their dormitory assignment sheets again, while others were already laughing and sticking together as if they were close friends.
I quietly slipped out in that gap.
The exclusive upper noble dormitory building was built separately on a hill a little away from the main building. Red roofs with white stone walls, unnecessarily wide hallways. It looked more like a small annex palace than a student dormitory.
As soon as I entered the room and closed the door, a long breath escaped me.
"Haa...."
Only then did it become quiet.
The late afternoon light hung by the window, and dust floated through the gaps in the curtains. The bed was wide, the sofa was plush. On the desk, organizing tools and writing instruments engraved with the Edelhardt Ducal crest were neatly arranged.
It was an unfamiliar room.
But the air inside the room was too still, and in that stillness, today became clearer. The sensation remaining at my fingertips, the heat clinging to the back of my throat—none of it would cool down easily. The inside of my collar felt strangely suffocating, and my hands inside my gloves were oddly hot.
I stood there for a long time without even taking off my gloves before finally sitting on the sofa.
I had tried to let it pass quietly. To avoid touching Roseline, to just observe the situation and find a line that wouldn't deviate from the original work.
But I couldn't even last a single day.
Calling her name, talking to her, even touching her wrist—now looking back, none of it felt light.
At that thought, my fingertips flinched involuntarily.
I slowly looked down at my hands. It was useless just staring at the gloves. The sensation of touching Roseline's wrist kept resurfacing inside my palm. The slender bones, the soft skin, even the brief stiffening movement at the moment of contact.
My throat went completely dry.
"...Crazy."
Even after cursing, it didn't feel any better.
Roseline was clearly displeased. She was flustered and on guard. But still, she didn't back down.
That kept coming back to me.
Roseline was tougher than she looked. She couldn't hide her displeased expression, yet never lost her manners to the end. That attitude strangely got under one's skin.
I pressed the back of my hand against my eyes.
Don't do it.
Don't think about it anymore.
Even as I resolved, my head pulled out today on its own. The moment our eyes first met in the auditorium, the steps she halted in the hallway, the expression asking why I kept looking at her.
Especially the last one was the problem.
Why do you keep looking at me.
Her flustered but unflinching eyes, and her face that was uncomfortable yet determined to hear the answer—the memory made my breath shorten.
I slowly crossed my legs, but there was no sign of settling down. The inside of my body was slowly heating up and growing heavy. My fingertips brushed across my thigh, and it was after they had descended close to my lower abdomen that they stopped.
I had to pull them away immediately.
My head thought that, but my hands wouldn't readily obey. The heat transmitted beneath my palm was unfamiliar. So unfamiliar that it was more distinct, simultaneously bringing up every sensation I had been trying to ignore. As the moment of brushing Roseline's wrist resurfaced, the area below my waist slowly stiffened.
I bit the inside of my lip.
My fingertips hesitated on the fabric, unable to go any lower. It was closer to wanting to stop but not being able to fully withdraw.
The scene of Roseline pulling back her wrist came to mind again. Her wary eyes, the redness spreading to her ears, her lips that held out to the end.
I covered my mouth with the back of my hand and closed my eyes.
This wasn't a normal reaction.
It couldn't be explained simply as a preference, or interest, or being shaken by seeing my favorite character from the original work. It was closer to saying that my body remembered Roseline before I could understand Serena.
What bothered me more was that this fact wasn't just disgusting.
My fingertips weakly clenched against the fabric. The thought that I should stop and the desire to hold onto the sensation a little longer tangled together.
Eventually, I pulled my hand away and bent forward. I tried to calm my ragged breath, but it wasn't easy. Heat had risen all the way to my ears.
"Haa...."
Even the sound of exhaling was embarrassing.
If this is how it is on the first day, what about the future?
I gripped the sofa armrest tightly. No answer came, but it didn't seem like it would end well. If I kept going like this, I would sink deeper and deeper, and someday there would come a moment when just holing up alone in the room and regulating my breath wouldn't be enough.
That's when the door rang twice, lightly.
Tock, tock.
I straightened up almost as if springing upright. I brought my hands up over my skirt and forcibly suppressed my disrupted breathing.
"...Who is it?"
A calm voice came from outside the door.
"It's Isabel Lowen, Young Lady."
I couldn't answer right away. As I checked one by one whether I could open the door now, whether the heat on my face had subsided, and whether my breathing had returned to an even enough rhythm not to be noticed, those few short seconds stretched long.
"In a moment."
I barely managed to say that, and the outside went quiet for a moment.
"Understood."
The sound of footsteps faded away.
Only then did I take a deep swallow. My fingertips were still hot, and residual heat remained inside my body.
It was the worst.
And yet, what remained in my head wasn't just regret. Roseline's wrist, stiff beneath my fingertips, and her face looking up at me demanding an answer—they wouldn't easily fade.
This is a big problem.
I sat there for a while, then finally got up.
Feeling like I couldn't go on like this, I went to the washbasin to cool down my face at least. Cold water droplets ran down my skin. Still, the heat didn't disappear easily. Seeing the water streaming down my wrist only brought up the spot I had touched earlier.
Why of all places the wrist.
The fact that I had briefly brushed against such a thin, delicate area, not somewhere else, lingered long. The slender line where I could feel the bone, the soft flesh beneath it, even the stiffening reaction.
I pressed the edge of the washbasin hard with my wet hands.
Get a grip.
Roseline is the female protagonist.
I have possessed the villainous young lady who torments that Roseline and meets her ruin.
Looking at the situation, it was already tangled enough. But what bothered me more than the ruin route was the fact that my body reacted first whenever I thought of Roseline.
"Haa...."
After letting out a short breath, I pressed my face with a towel. Only then did the heat around my eyes subside.
The hallway was quiet. I couldn't even feel Isabel's presence outside the door.
I checked the mirror one more time. My eyes seemed somewhat calm, and the color of my lips had faded a bit. If not for the remaining redness around my ears, I would be passable.
"Come in."
As soon as I gave permission, the door opened.
Isabel Lowen was, as always, immaculate. She wore a light outer layer over her student uniform, and in one arm she carried a document folder and a small box. As soon as she entered the room, she scanned my face once and the washbasin area once.
"Your complexion doesn't look good, My Lady."
"I'm just tired."
"It is the first day, after all."
Her reply was calm. Still, her gray eyes were those of someone not fooled at all.
I walked over toward the desk for no reason and asked.
"What's that?"
"The basic class assignment sheet starting tomorrow and dormitory life regulations. Also, dinner will be held in the communal dining hall in one hour."
"The communal dining hall?"
"Yes. Although it's exclusive to upper nobles, most students in the same grade familiarize themselves with each other there."
I flipped through the documents and stopped.
"A few Class A students will also come."
"Do you think I'm looking for someone?"
"Even if you aren't looking, I thought your gaze would naturally go that way."
I raised an eyebrow slightly.
"You've become bold."
"Considering what you did in the hallway earlier, this doesn't even count as bold."
I was at a loss for words for a moment.
What I did in the hallway—pushing aside those two young ladies and standing before Roseline.
And that voice asking why I kept looking at her.
I covered the papers and asked.
"Have rumors already started spreading?"
"Yes."
As expected.
"First, that His Highness the Crown Prince has taken an interest in the Vellois Young Lady. Second, that the Edelhardt Young Lady personally spoke to the Vellois Young Lady. And third—"
Isabel paused for a moment.
"Say it."
"There is also an interpretation that My Lady has set her sights on the Vellois Young Lady."
I let out a short laugh. It was ridiculous.
It's the first day, and it's already gotten that far?
No, the original work was like that too. Once the Crown Prince approached, those around him first assigned meaning to it, and once Serena cast a glance, those around her first layered malice onto it.
I was silent for a moment before asking.
"And Roseline?"
"They say she was torn between going down to the dining hall or having a meal sent to her room."
Something in my chest sank strangely.
Today must have been overwhelming for her.
The Crown Prince's attention and the whispers of the young nobles, even the approach of the notorious Serena Val Edelhardt.
Thinking about that, for just a moment, a feeling crossed my mind—that perhaps I had moved too fast.
But right behind that, another emotion followed.
Is she trying to avoid me?
Because of me?
The back of my throat grew strangely hot.
It really was the worst.
Isabel pretended not to notice my state and placed the box on the desk.
"These are clothes for you to change into before the meal."
"You think I'm going to the dining hall?"
"You must go."
Her voice was firm.
"If you lock yourself in your room from the first day, it might be passable with the excuse of being tired, but worse rumors could attach themselves. Especially on a day when attention is focused on you like today."
"So you're saying I should obediently go out, smile like a proper noble young lady, and act appropriately elegant."
"Yes. My Lady used to be best at that."
It was a remark that could sound like praise, but to me, it felt closer to pressure.
Serena was originally good at it.
The problem was whether I could manage it.
I opened the clothes box. The dress prepared for dinner was lighter than the daytime one, but it had plenty of dignity and imposing presence. Deep purple silk close to black. A restrained design that didn't overly reveal the neckline while still catching the eye.
"...Your taste is certainly distinct."
"It suits My Lady well."
Isabel's answer had no superfluous words.
As I picked up the clothes, I suddenly asked.
"Isabel."
"Yes."
"What do you think of Roseline?"
Isabel looked at me for a moment. It was a gaze weighing the intention behind the question.
"She seems like someone who endures better than she appears."
I had no immediate retort.
Isabel lowered her gaze and added.
"And people like that tend to shake more noticeably once a crack appears."
"...."
"She seems like the type My Lady would find interesting."
At that moment, I had no choice but to laugh genuinely.
"You certainly say all sorts of things."
"Am I wrong?"
She wasn't wrong.
I didn't ask further and dismissed Isabel. In the room left alone, as I changed clothes and fixed my hair, the face in the mirror was, as always, cold and composed. My expression, tone of voice, and gait—none of them showed any noticeable disturbance.
But just thinking of Roseline made some part of me hot again.
Feeling like I absolutely couldn't endure it with bare hands, I put my gloves back on.