39. Distancing from the Duke

“You heard those men. They’re targeting Roselia. If she had figured out Lugvela’s clue and come here like you did, she would’ve been captured.”

Roselia had to admit Klaus was right. She could have been caught by those men while trying to uncover Lugvela’s identity. Judging by their conversation, they intended to capture anyone searching for Lugvela, not just Roselia.

Lowering her head, Roselia spoke in a subdued voice.
“I’m sorry. I thought you didn’t care about Roselia’s troubles, so I wanted to find out myself…”

Klaus let out a light sigh, gazing down at her.

“I didn’t want you getting involved in this.”

Roselia looked up at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. Her heart wavered unexpectedly. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, looking away from him.

“I’ll make sure Roselia is warned to be careful,” she said, trying to sound indifferent.

Klaus frowned.

“If they find out you’re her brother, they’ll target you too. Please, stay out of trouble for now.”

He looked at her with a piercing gaze. “That’s an order.”

Roselia had no intention of putting Antonio in danger. Klaus’s concern for both Roselia and Antonio was clear, but Roselia just nodded reluctantly.

While Klaus focused on protecting Roselia and Antonio, Roselia was determined to distance herself from the Duke as quickly as possible.

Being so easily swayed by his words and actions was a bad sign. The scandals, the unknown enemies targeting her, it was all because of her association with Klaus and the Crown Prince. The only way to lead a peaceful life was to repay her debts and leave the Duke’s estate.

* * *

To escape this complicated situation quickly, Roselia needed to repay the Duke’s debts and secure funds to stand on her own.

To do so, she needed to find the yet-to-be-discovered artists from the original story.

With a deep sigh, she stood in front of Nadia’s modest house as Antonio.

She had come to deliver the Crown Princess’s patronage funds to Nadia. Normally, she would visit as Roselia, but given the current circumstances, it was safer to visit as Antonio.

After hesitating for a moment in front of Nadia’s door, she knocked.

After a while, the door opened, and Nadia looked her up and down suspiciously.

“Hello, Nadia,” Roselia said.

“Who…?” Nadia’s voice was filled with suspicion.

Roselia smiled as warmly as she could. “I’m Roselia’s brother. She isn’t feeling well, so I’ve come to deliver the patronage funds on her behalf.”

Despite Roselia’s words, Nadia continued to eye her warily. Suddenly, Nadia’s expression shifted to one of recognition.

“Ah-ha!”

Roselia tried to decipher the meaning of Nadia’s exclamation, but before she could, Nadia opened the door wider and gestured for her to come in.

Caught off guard, Roselia entered the house, noting with relief that Nadia’s living conditions had improved since their last visit.

“We’ve met before, haven’t we?” Nadia asked.

“What?”

Roselia was puzzled.

Nadia smiled slyly. “You look familiar. I’ve seen you with Roselia before, haven’t I?”

Roselia’s heart skipped a beat. Trying to maintain her composure, she replied.

“Perhaps. I often accompany my sister.”

Nadia’s smile widened.

“I thought so. You have the same eyes.”

Feeling a mix of relief and anxiety, Roselia handed over the funds.
“Here is the Crown Princess’s patronage. She sends her regards and hopes you continue your work.”

Nadia accepted the money, her eyes lingering on Roselia.

“Tell Roselia I’m grateful. And take care of her, will you?”

Roselia nodded, feeling a pang of guilt.

“I will.”

As she left Nadia’s house, Roselia couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. She quickened her pace, heading back to the estate. The sooner she could sever ties with the Duke, the better.

 

Roselia was startled by Nadia’s sudden question.

“You visited me at the tavern last time, remember?” Nadia asked.

“Ah… yes, I remember. I came to help because I happened to see your artwork,” Roselia replied, forcing a laugh.

“Hmm… but you really do look a lot alike. Must be because you’re siblings,”

Nadia murmured to herself, scrutinizing Roselia with sharp eyes.

Her discerning gaze made Roselia tense up.

“People often say that we look alike,”

Roselia said with a forced smile. She saw no need to correct Nadia about their non-blood relation to Antonio.

“Hmm…”

Roselia tried to maintain her composure under Nadia’s meaningful gaze.

“Alright, so where’s the patronage fund?” Nadia asked, seemingly unfazed.

Caught off guard by Nadia’s nonchalant response, Roselia quickly handed over the patronage fund and exchanged a few words about recent events before stepping out of the house.

As Roselia was about to leave, Nadia spoke in a leisurely tone, “That look suits you too.”

Roselia turned back, puzzled by the remark, but Nadia only gave her a sly smile.

* * *

After leaving Nadia’s place, Roselia made her way to the street to hail a carriage.

As she scanned the area for a ride, a loud commotion reached her ears.

“If you don’t have money, get lost! You filthy beggar!” a man shouted, roughly dragging an old man by the arm and throwing him to the ground.

The elderly man, undeterred, yelled back at the restaurant owner. “You bastard! I’m not penniless! I swear I had money…”

He fumbled through his shabby pockets, but it was clear he had nothing.

The restaurant owner spat in disgust before disappearing back inside.

Roselia hesitated, but then sighed and approached the old man. Raised by her grandmother, she had a soft spot for the elderly.

“Sir, are you alright?” she asked kindly.

The old man, looking ragged, turned his head and snapped, “Do I look alright to you?”

Despite his rough tone, Roselia smiled and helped him to his feet. “Let me help you up.”

“Leave me alone! I can get up by myself!”

“Sure, sure. Where is your home?”

“You think I don’t have a home?!”

This old man was something else, Roselia thought, but she continued to help him.

“Let me escort you home.”

“I said I can manage!”

“I’d feel better if I knew you got home safely. Where do you live?”

Her grandmother had also become irritable due to dementia before she passed, so Roselia felt a strong urge to help.

“Why do you want to know where I live? Planning to steal something?”

“No, no… Just give me your address, and I’ll send you in a carriage.”

“A carriage to my house?”

“Yes, please give me the address.”

“…Bronx Street, Number 6.”

The old man grumbled.

“It’s Bronx Street, Number 6, but I can’t remember how to get there…”

It was clear he had dementia. From his shabby appearance, he seemed to be a poor, lonely old man.

Thinking of her grandmother, Roselia couldn’t leave him alone. She hailed a carriage and helped him inside, finally reaching their destination after piecing together his fragmented directions.

When they arrived, Roselia was stunned. A grand mansion, surrounded by trees, stood before them.

“Sir, I think you gave me the wrong address…”

She began, but the old man walked past her, limping into the mansion.

Roselia stood frozen, then noticed the family crest on the entrance gate.

It was the mansion of Count Bernas, a genius artist renowned in the original story.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you coming in?”

The old man called out, looking back at her.

Still in a daze, Roselia followed him inside, her voice almost a whisper.

“Are you the owner of this mansion?”

“Of course, whose house do you think it is?”

He snapped, as he opened the door and stepped inside.

Roselia noticed the mansion was in a state of neglect, with dust and leaves scattered everywhere.

“Where are the servants?” she asked cautiously.

The old man kept walking, answering without turning his head.

“Can’t you see? Those bastards took off with anything valuable when I forgot to pay them for a few months.”

“Oh… you forgot to pay them?”

“I forgot the combination to the safe.”

“…”

Roselia was speechless at the old man’s casual confession. The mansion’s condition could be overlooked, but his tattered clothes were a mystery.

“Why are you dressed like this?”

The old man finally looked down at his attire and grimaced. “I don’t know. When I came to my senses on the street, I was wearing this.”

“…”

“Don’t ask for details. My memory is fuzzy.”

Perhaps he had been robbed while suffering from dementia.

Sighing deeply, Roselia surveyed the mansion, noting the absence of any paintings or artwork.

Despite his disheveled state, Count Bernas was known for creating masterpieces celebrated across the continent.

Gathering her courage, Roselia asked.

“Do you paint, sir?”

The old man turned to her with a strange expression.

“I know how to paint?”

That’s what I should be asking you… Roselia thought, feeling defeated.

“Who are you, and why are you in my mansion?” he asked, looking puzzled.

Roselia felt overwhelmed. The road ahead seemed endless.