7. The First Coil
7. The First Coil
Roseline Vellois.
To wedge myself into that hard, solid gap, I first need to clear away the trash around her.
Yes. That filth surrounding my lovely one. The ones who chatter with cheap curiosity, mock, judge arbitrarily, and dare to reach out.
In the original work too, Roseline overcomes all kinds of trials and pain and ultimately seizes victory. And by her side, there were clearly allies and friends. People who laughed together, trusted each other, and sometimes pulled her hand.
But isn't it strange?
The more I recalled such scenes, instead of feeling at ease, my insides sank coldly.
The fact that someone stands by Roseline's side, the fact that someone believes they understand her, the fact that someone holds her hand and offers comfort—none of it sat well with me.
Seeing them talk about my Roseline with those filthy mouths, touch her with light hands, and smile familiarly without any qualification twisted my insides.
To the point where I wanted to cover their mouths, break their wrists, and make sure they never come close again.
No.
That kind of easy method won't do.
Cutting them away and disposing of them is something only amateurs do. It feels good for a moment but doesn't last. Roseline wouldn't want that either. She's not the kind of person who would be happy being protected that way.
So it has to be more sophisticated.
Make them shut their mouths, make them withdraw their hands, and naturally make their footsteps drift away. The state where no one was forcibly pushed away, but by the time they realize it, only I remain by her side. That is the most beautiful.
I slowly rubbed my fingertips over my gloves. The touch from the practice match earlier still seemed to linger. The moment my wrist was grabbed, the breath that brushed close, the gaze that never wavered to the end.
I didn't like it.
That's why I want her more.
Roseline wasn't looking my way. She was walking toward somewhere at the end of the corridor, and low laughter and whispers still continued around her. Every one of those trivial noises irritated me. To the point where I wanted to yank out their tongues each time they opened their mouths.
"—Youngee-nim."
The voice cut off once from afar.
"Young Lady-nim. Are you alright?"
It was Isabel.
I blinked a beat late. I had already stopped walking and was standing in the middle of the corridor. There was too much strength in my fingertips, and the wrinkles on my gloves were deeply creased.
Isabel quietly examined my face.
"You don't look well."
"Have I ever?"
"Now it's different from usual."
I let out a short breath.
"It's a bit noisy."
"The corridor?"
"My head."
At that, Isabel asked no more. Instead, following my gaze, she looked toward the end of the corridor once. Roseline was just turning toward the stairs.
"Is it because of the Vellois Young Lady?"
"You're asking something obvious."
"I thought it would be better to confirm."
I laughed lowly.
"What's the point of confirming?"
"So I can stop you before you cross the line."
"Do I look that bad?"
"Yes."
An immediate answer.
I looked toward Roseline again. Even mixed in among the crowd, she caught my eye strangely. It seemed like she was standing quietly, but whenever she lifted her gaze, the air around her changed just a little.
That face, which was so noticeable yet unaware of it herself, really didn't sit well with me.
"Isabel."
"Yes."
"Look into the people around Roseline."
Isabel's eyebrow moved very minutely.
"Are you referring to the students who are close to her?"
"Even the ones who act close."
"May I ask the reason?"
"They're annoying."
I wondered if I was being too honest, but Isabel showed no particular reaction. She just swallowed a very short sigh, as if accustomed to it.
"Understood."
"Start with the ones who stick lightly."
I said, resting my fingertips on the corridor railing.
"Who talks to her, who takes a seat next to her first, who puts on a needlessly kind face. Things like that."
"I'll compile them."
Isabel paused for a moment.
"Young Lady-nim."
"What."
"When you say such things with that expression, it's quite frightening."
"I said it to sound frightening."
"Even to the Vellois Young Lady?"
I didn't answer that question right away.
Because Roseline turned back once just before disappearing down the stairs. It was a brief movement, ambiguous whether it was coincidence or not. But even in that short moment, our eyes met.
It was really brief.
Yet my heart beat one beat stronger for no reason.
What a simple body this is.
I raised the corners of my mouth just slightly.
"No."
"Then to whom?"
"To the ones around her."
Isabel lowered her eyes slightly, as if understanding then.
"You're going to clean up first."
"It's no fun touching the center from the start."
"It doesn't seem like a matter of fun."
"It's important to me."
The corridor was still filled with talk about the practice. Who was strong, who was unexpected, who became a laughingstock. Amidst that noise, I became clearer instead.
Yes.
There's no need to rush.
To have Roseline Vellois, I first have to uproot the air around her. I have to remove, one by one, everything that seems like she could lean on and rely upon. Everything that approaches under the names of comfort, kindness, and goodwill. It's enough if only I remain in the end.
Thinking that, my breath settled strangely.
This is right, after all.
To make Roseline look back on her own, to make her seek me out, to make her unable to shake off my hand even though she's displeased and wary at first—I need to go in more slowly, more carefully, more deeply.
Even when a snake coils around its prey, it doesn't apply force from the start. It exploits the gaps created every time the prey exhales and gradually tightens the pressure.
"Would you listen if I stopped you?"
"No."
At that point, Isabel seemed to know it was already useless and didn't stop me further.
"Lunchtime is almost over."
"I know."
"Will you head straight to the dining hall?"
I turned my body a beat late.
"The Vellois Young Lady is probably going there too."
At that, a laugh escaped me.
"Good to know."
"You don't look happy at all."
"Right now."
I brushed the tip of my glove once.
"I'm just about to become happy."
The corridor leading to the dining hall was more crowded than I expected. The talk about the morning practice seemed to have already spread, and low voices continued here and there.
Who was strong, who was unexpected, who was humiliated. Everyone lowered their voices as if being cautious, but they couldn't hide their glances.
"Will she already be in her seat?"
Isabel asked beside me.
"Who?"
"The person you've been looking for since a while ago."
I chuckled.
"Your intuition is annoyingly sharp."
"Because You're not trying to hide anything, Young Lady-nim."
The dining hall was much noisier than yesterday. The residual excitement from the morning practice still lingered among the freshmen, and low laughter and evaluations were exchanged at every table.
"Ah, found her."
She was by the window again today.
This time she wasn't alone—she was sitting across from two young ladies who seemed to be in the same class. Rather than speaking at length, Roseline was the one giving short answers to their questions.
As I sat down, Isabel silently placed a teacup and plate in front of me.
"Your meal will get cold."
"I'm eating."
"You haven't even touched the bread yet."
"I'm watching."
As soon as those words came out, Isabel didn't ask further. She had the face of someone accustomed to this. Instead, she quietly adjusted the fork and knife positions and stepped back one step.
Just then.
A young lower servant passing through the middle of the dining hall suddenly lost their balance. The tray carried soup and tea all at once, and when their toe caught on a chair leg, the weight tipped heavily to one side.
Someone gasped shortly, and someone else pushed their chair back.
The tray tilted.
Hot soup spilled toward Roseline's table by the window. Thick broth spread across the tablecloth, and one teacup toppled over, hitting the edge of a plate. The servant quickly twisted their hand to keep the bowl from falling, but soup had splashed onto the back of their hand, judging by how pale their face turned.
"I'm... I'm sorry."
The voice was almost tearful.
One of the young ladies sitting across had already furrowed her brow.
"How dare you, where are your—"
The end of her words didn't come.
Because Roseline had stood up first.
Even though it didn't take even half a beat for her to confirm her own sleeve was wet, in that short gap, Roseline's gaze had already dropped to the servant's hand. Soup stains spread over the reddened skin.
"Your hand."
Roseline said lowly.
The servant blinked, their face frozen.
"Ah, no, I'm fine. Your clothes, Young Lady—"
"I can change my clothes."
Roseline's voice wasn't loud. Yet the whispering that had been going on until just now died down as if by magic.
Roseline took out a handkerchief and wrapped it around the servant's hand first, not her own sleeve. There was no hesitation or exaggeration in that movement. It wasn't the action of someone pretending to be kind because others were watching—rather, it was like she had immediately judged which side was more urgent.
"Go toward the cold water."
"But I—"
"Your hand comes first right now."
The servant almost got dragged along as they rose, following Roseline. Roseline turned her head slightly as she walked toward the sink along the dining hall wall.
"I'm sorry, but could you bring some water?"
At those words, the surroundings belatedly began to move. Another servant quickly ran over with water, and two nearby students got up from their seats to clear the wet tablecloth. The young lady who had been frowning earlier just pursed her lips, looking embarrassed.
I watched that scene with my chin rested on my hand.
Her own clothes were wet, and her dignity had taken a slight hit in the middle of the dining hall. Yet Roseline pushed all of that aside and attended to the weaker party first. And her speed in reassuring the other person was fast.
By the sink, Roseline was personally pouring cold water over the servant's hand. The servant flinched as the stream of water touched them, and Roseline bent her head slightly and said something small to them. It was too far to hear clearly, but the meaning was easy enough to read.
Isabel spoke lowly beside me.
"She's a good person."
"That's the problem."
"I see."
"Yeah."
I answered without taking my eyes off her.
"People who hold out like that are the most troublesome."
Isabel seemed to understand my words immediately.
"So even if you embarrass her, she'll just swallow it and move on, is that it."
"Pfft, she wouldn't even blink at embarrassment."
I muttered, watching Roseline who didn't even care about her wet sleeve.
"The type who prioritizes others over themselves and postpones their own share. People like that don't waver when you just throw a difficult situation at them."
"Then that makes it harder, doesn't it."
"Well."
It was quite a while before Roseline returned to her seat. The servant kept bowing, and Roseline only left a short "it's fine." The wet sleeve was still damp, but her expression didn't change at all. Rather, the two young ladies sitting across looked more awkward.
One of them carefully spoke up.
"Shouldn't you go change?"
"This much is fine."
"But still..."
"I'm really fine. Thanks for worrying."
With that short answer, she wrapped up the situation and picked up her spoon again, as if deliberately not dwelling on what had just happened.
I picked up my teacup and then put it back down.
"Young Lady-nim."
Isabel said lowly.
"Are you really not going to do anything today?"
"Why."
"Because your expression doesn't look good."
"It means I don't like it that much."
"What."
"The way she acts like that."
Even after having hot soup spilled on her in the middle of the dining hall, she sees the other person's wound before her own dignity. She's the kind of person who nonchalantly postpones her own discomfort.
People like that are generally annoying.
If you try to push them down, they stand up straighter. If you block their path, they find another way. If you hurt them, they silently tuck it away inside. If they have the habit of embracing even other people's burdens, they hold out even longer.
I slowly rubbed my fingertips over my gloves.
"Isabel."
"Yes."
"Send someone to check on the Vellois family matter."
Isabel asked back with no significant change in expression.
"How far are you referring to?"
"Not the rumors floating on the surface—the side where you can actually squeeze their neck."
Isabel's gaze briefly dropped to my fingertips and then came back up.
"Debts?"
"Yeah."
The answer was short.
"Noble families on the decline usually manage to hold on outwardly, after all. The mansion remains, and even if they've reduced servants, they can't cut them off completely, and they can't abandon their dignity. But when you open up the inside, it's different."
I continued, keeping my eyes on the window side.
"If business failures and poor harvests have overlapped in succession, there's only one reason the Vellois family is still breathing... Either someone kept buying them time, or the ledgers haven't been blown open immediately and are being held together."
Only then did Isabel quietly say.
"Young Lady-nim speaks as if you already know everything."
I didn't laugh.
"I have good intuition."
"Young Lady-nim's intuition is usually correct in troublesome directions."
"So just confirm it."
Isabel was silent for a moment, then asked.
"Are you telling me to find the creditors?"
"Buy them up if you can."
At that, Isabel's eyebrow moved very minutely.
"Are you referring to the Vellois family's debts?"
"Don't move overtly under the Aren name."
I slowly traced the rim of my teacup.
"There are plenty of ways to circumvent it, whether through a trading company or an agent."
"It is possible."
"Not just possible—it has to be done."
Isabel looked at me for a moment, as if calculating whether to stop me. But when she finally spoke, she had already reached a conclusion.
"Do you intend to sweep it all up?"
"Not all."
I tilted my head just slightly.
"That would be too fast. Roseline would notice immediately, and the Vellois side would also have time to struggle."
"Then where do I draw the line?"
"Keep them barely breathing."
Isabel repeated my words as if mulling them over.
"Don't kill them—just make it hard for them to breathe."
"Yeah."
I laughed lowly.
"Just that much is good."
The noise in the dining hall lay in the distance. I could hear who was laughing, who was putting down their fork, and who was murmuring lowly, but strangely, only the window side was clear.
"Don't touch the urgent debts first—tie up the ones that are holding on through extensions."
I spoke without taking my eyes off Roseline.
"Rather than debts big enough to topple the house immediately, the ones that are barely being rolled over each month work better. When one business partner is cut off, one extension disappears, one deadline is moved up—the dignity remains intact, but the breathing gets tight first."
Isabel quietly bowed her head.
"I'll also block new credit."
"Yeah. But don't openly shut the door."
"You mean make them believe they still have options."
"They have to believe."
I slowly rubbed my fingertips over my gloves.
"Only then will they keep holding out until the end."
"And then you'll extend your hand at the last moment?"
I didn't answer that question right away.
Because Roseline happened to lift her head then. Our eyes met briefly again. Shorter than before, but the wariness was more distinct. Her face still held traces of the words heard in the corridor.
Good.
That's enough.
"I don't know yet about the end."
I said, withdrawing my gaze.
"However, I can decide whom Roseline thinks of first when she's truly out of breath."
Isabel was silent for a long while. A brief silence settled in the air, mingled with the smell of cooled soup and tea.
"Young Lady-nim."
"What."
"That will take quite a long time."
"I don't care."
"Are you planning to break the Vellois Young Lady?"
I didn't laugh.
"Not yet."
The answer was unexpectedly calm.
"For now, I'm planning to make it so she can't hold out alone anymore."
Even after hearing that, Isabel didn't raise her head—probably because she knew that pressing further wouldn't yield the answer she wanted to hear.
"Prepare it."
"Yes."
"And find someone who can tamper with the Vellois ledgers as well."
"A servant? A trading company?"
"Both."
I leaned back in my chair and said lowly.
"Who opens their mouth first isn't important. What's important is finding out where the last rope that the Vellois family still believes they're holding onto is tied."
By the window, Roseline pressed her sleeve end once with a handkerchief. It was a very minor action, yet my gaze stuck there. Even the way she casually adjusted the wet cloth was excessively calm.
A person more noble and beautiful than anyone else.
That's why it was better.
I gulped down the cold tea.
It was bitter.
"Young Lady-nim."
Isabel quietly asked.
"Are you really going down that path?"
"Yes."
"You won't regret it?"
"What is there to regret."
I looked at the window and smiled very slowly.
"We haven't even started yet."