68. Side Effects of Fragrances

The sudden pain that had struck Roselia subsided just as quickly as it had come.

Panting slightly, she glanced around in confusion.

What… what was that pain I just felt in my chest?

Had the recent series of shocks and surprises taken a toll on her heart?

Though puzzled, Roselia brushed the thought aside, dismissing it as a fleeting discomfort not worth dwelling on.

As she turned to leave, a deep, rich scent lingered in the air around her.

It was a fragrance that only heightened senses could detect—intense and alluring. The nearby servants, seemingly entranced, unconsciously followed her with their eyes as she walked away.

Neither Roselia nor anyone else in the duke’s household realized that the chest pain and the lingering, intoxicating scent were harbingers of an imminent awakening.

* * *

Roselia’s expression darkened as she gazed out the window.

Lately, the chest pains had become more frequent, and the intervals between them were growing shorter.

Could it be some kind of fatal illness?

There had been no mention in the original story of Roselia suffering from such a condition…

Was this yet another side effect of deviating from the original plot?

As these thoughts swirled in her mind, Roselia’s eyes fell on Klaus, sitting on the terrace outside. He was sipping tea and reviewing documents in the sunlight.

It was unusual for Klaus, who typically buried himself in his office, to work outdoors, bathed in sunlight. The sight was dazzling enough to make her pause and stare.

She watched him absentmindedly until Klaus, as if sensing her gaze, looked up and met her eyes.

When he flashed her a charming smile, Roselia was startled and quickly turned away.

She left the room as if fleeing and found herself in the hallway. Another bout of chest pain struck, forcing her to clutch the wall for support as she pressed her hand to her chest.

“Ah…”

Cold sweat beaded on her forehead, and her entire body tensed.

Leaning against the wall with a pained expression, Roselia gasped for air as the pain gradually subsided, as it always did.

“Haa… haa…”

The episodes seemed to be getting closer together, with the pain lasting longer each time.

Roselia, drenched in sweat, leaned her back against the wall and let out a deep sigh as she looked up at the ceiling.

She needed to see a doctor.

She had gone through so much to avoid her original death, and it would be absurdly unfair to die from an illness now.

As she steadied her breathing and gathered her thoughts, Alejandro approached her with a concerned expression.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

His serious tone made Roselia force a smile and shake her head.

“No, no, just a bit of dizziness.”

Alejandro, seeing her composed demeanor, quickly set aside his suspicions and spoke curtly.

“Good timing. I have a message for you.”

“A message?” Roselia asked, her curiosity piqued.

Adjusting his silver-rimmed glasses, Alejandro observed her expression and spoke in his usual calm manner.

“There’s no need to worry about the painter Abello and his daughter Erlin. Per the duke’s orders, they are under strict protection.”

Roselia, already worried about them, felt a wave of relief at his words.

Since Count Bernas’s collapse and Nadia’s death, she had been anxious about their safety. However, she had refrained from approaching them out of fear that her involvement might worsen the situation.

It seemed Klaus had anticipated her concerns and taken steps to protect them, which filled her with gratitude.

“Of course, their daily lives remain undisturbed. I thought you’d want to know,” Alejandro added, mindful of Roselia’s dislike for being monitored too closely.

Roselia smiled warmly at him. “Thank you.”

At least with Klaus’s thorough protection, she could feel reassured that they wouldn’t face the same fate as Count Bernas.

In the original story, there had been no mention of misfortune befalling Abello’s family. Considering how recent events involving Count Bernas and Nadia had unfolded earlier than expected, Roselia wondered if incidents outside the original plot might have less of an impact.

It was a hopeful thought, albeit one born of wishful thinking.

As Roselia mused, Alejandro furrowed his brows slightly and asked hesitantly, “By any chance, have you been wearing musk?”

“What? Musk? What do you mean…?”

Caught off guard by the unexpected question, Roselia looked at him with wide eyes.

Musk? The kind of scent known for enchanting or stimulating others?

Was he saying she smelled like that?

“Do I… smell like musk?” she asked, perplexed, and sniffed herself instinctively.

Lifting her shirt collar and taking a cautious whiff, she found nothing unusual, but Alejandro’s face suddenly turned red as he looked down at her.

Embarrassed by his reaction, Alejandro cleared his throat and spoke hurriedly. “If not, that’s fine. It just seems like there’s a musky scent clinging to you. Perhaps it’s best to change your clothes.”

The scent was far too strong to have simply “clung” to her, but Alejandro, unsure of its origin, gave a vague response before hastily stepping away.

Watching him retreat, Roselia fell into thought.

Klaus had mentioned her scent before, as had the crown prince. However, neither Claucet nor the crown princess had noticed anything unusual, so she had brushed it off as a coincidence.

But lately, the remarks about her scent had become too frequent to ignore.

Could it really be… that one of her distant ancestors was connected to the Raphelios bloodline?

The thought crossed her mind that the Marquess of Euciliod, being a Raphelios descendant, might have more insight into the matter.

Resolving to ask the marquess about the scent when she had the chance, Roselia resumed her work to distract herself from her growing unease.

* * *

“It’s true? You’re saying His Grace and Antonio are… involved like that?”

In a secluded corner of the estate, Jacqueline, a servant of the duke’s household, asked in wide-eyed disbelief during their break.

Watching her with an exasperated expression, Denver responded. “I saw it myself. The atmosphere between them was definitely… unusual.”

Denver spat on the ground with a scowl, twisting his lips in disdain.

“Skinny like a girl, oozing seduction everywhere he goes—what a spectacle.”

“If that’s the case, shouldn’t you be careful about what you say? If he’s His Grace’s lover…”

Jacqueline’s cautious words were cut off by Denver’s derisive snort.

“Lover? More like a male concubine. Have you ever seen a noble in Rugbeljet keep a male concubine as the mistress of their estate?”

“No, I haven’t.”

Unlike female concubines, who often held some degree of recognition, male concubines were generally viewed as little more than slaves.

“That guy’s just a plaything, a little amusement for His Grace in the back rooms.”

Denver clenched his jaw tightly, his expression full of disapproval.

“And yet, he acts like he’s someone important, looking down on people.”

Jacqueline, noticing the tension in Denver’s demeanor, spoke cautiously. “I don’t think he’s ever done anything like that…”

At that moment, as if summoned by their conversation, Roselia appeared in the distance, holding a dry cloth and walking by.

Denver’s eyes lit up with annoyance as he stood abruptly.

“Stay here.”

Jacqueline tried to stop him, but before she could say anything, Denver was already striding purposefully toward Roselia.

Roselia, in the middle of cleaning the estate’s ornate decorations as assigned by Jeffrey, the head butler, was engrossed in her task. The vastness of the duke’s estate meant the job would take several days.

Approaching Roselia, who was wiping the decorations on a display cabinet, Denver loomed over her and began to sneer.

“Hey, Antonio. You missed a spot here.”

Roselia glanced briefly at Denver before silently wiping the spot he pointed out.

Watching her, Denver smirked mockingly and pointed to a higher shelf. “You missed this too. I guess you’re too short to reach up there? Should I lift you up?”

His mocking tone and condescending gaze made it clear he was intentionally provoking her. Roselia fixed him with a sharp glare but said nothing.

Unfazed, Denver shrugged with a sly grin. “Why not? You’re so light, I could lift you easily.”

As he reached toward her waist, seemingly intent on lifting her, Roselia slapped his hand away with force.

“Enough, Denver.”

Her warning tone didn’t deter him. Denver smirked again, leaning closer.

“I’m just trying to help. Why so prickly?”

“I get that you don’t like me, but this just makes ‘you’* look petty,” she retorted coldly.

Denver’s expression twisted in anger. “What? Petty?”

His face darkened with rage as he glared at her, but Roselia, keeping her composure, turned and began to walk away.

Her indifference only further enraged Denver. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Glancing back briefly, she replied flatly, “To fetch a step stool.”

With that, she continued walking as if nothing had happened. Denver clenched his fists tightly, trembling with suppressed anger.

Jacqueline, sensing Denver’s growing hostility, placed a hand on his shoulder. “Denver, maybe you should just—”

“Get off me!” he snapped, roughly brushing her hand away. Fueled by humiliation and anger, Denver stormed after Roselia.

In the storage room, Roselia located the step stool tucked in a shadowed corner. As she walked further inside, the door behind her suddenly slammed shut with a loud *thud.*

Startled, she turned around to see Denver standing at the door, his expression dark and menacing.

“If you’re done, I’d like you to leave,” she said coolly, trying to dismiss him.

As she turned her back on him, Denver suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her roughly against the wall.

Her back hit the wall hard, and she looked up at him with a mixture of annoyance and disbelief.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Her sharp tone didn’t faze him. Denver leaned in closer, his lips curling into a sneer.

“What do you think? A man like you, throwing yourself at His Grace…”

“What…?”

“You’re practically dripping with seduction,” he spat venomously.

As Denver leaned closer, he caught a whiff of her scent and licked his lips.

“Or maybe… you want other men to do this to you too?”

Disgusted, Roselia pushed hard against his chest, her expression full of revulsion. “Get away from me.”

But unlike Klaus, who would always step back when pushed, Denver didn’t budge. Instead, he pressed harder, using his strength to pin her in place.

Though she appeared to be a man, Roselia’s real strength was limited, and she couldn’t match his physical force. The realization of her vulnerability sent a wave of panic through her.

For the first time, fear flickered in her eyes.

Leaning closer, Denver inhaled deeply near her neck, his voice hoarse and uneven.

“You smell… amazing.”

 

 

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