There’s a novel series I adore called “The Ill-Fated Rosalind.”
I’ve read all the published volumes, story development materials, side stories, spin-offs, and manga adaptations, and memorized their stories word for word, illustration by illustration.
Since birth, I’ve rarely shown emotion, but the young female protagonist of this novel, Rosalind, taught me to love, empathize, anger, and grieve, awakening in me a desire to help.
Early this morning, I rushed to the bookstore to buy the newly released final volume. Unable to wait until I reached my hideout, I sat on a roadside stone bench and devoured it under the gloomy sky, completely losing my guard.
Normally, I’m never this careless, but I was intensely curious about the story’s ending. Would Rosalind find happiness? Would her past struggles be rewarded?
However…
“Why…”
As I finished reading, I mumbled, strength draining from my body, letting the novel slip from my hands onto the pavement.
“Why is the ending so terrible!?”
Something warm trickled down my cheeks. I wiped it with my hand—tears.
Except for when acting, it was the first time I’d shed real tears.
By the way, I’m a spy for a country, codename Raptor, nameless, twenty-four years old. An orphan, the country’s intelligence agency took me in, and have been involved in espionage activities before I turned ten, sometimes participating in sabotage, leading revolutions, assassinations, VIP protection, and pulling strings—all missions I’ve accepted have been successful.
Because I completed every mission, I was given the codename Raptor (Predator Bird). It’s like a title bestowed upon the most outstanding spy in my agency.
I’m an emotionless person, trained, given missions, and completing them. My heart was always empty, like a soulless husk.
However, the ill-fated Rosalind in the story shook my emotions. I had stumbled upon this work by chance for work purposes, but looking back, it must have been fate.
It made me harbor anger, hatred, and murderous intent even more than towards the military trainers who imposed brutal, life-threatening training or the commanders who assigned seemingly impossible missions.
It gave me joy and excitement that I couldn’t feel when completing missions, getting promoted, or being given the codename Raptor.
And it evoked in me—who had never thought deeply about my circumstances or those of unfortunate people—feelings of sorrow and pity.
“The Ill-Fated Rosalind” is a story that begins with the birth of the protagonist, Rosalind Bellclant, in the Kingdom of Albion, a medieval European-style realm inheriting Roman architectural traditions.
Rosalind—born into the Marquis Bellclant family, one of the ten great noble houses of the Kingdom of Albion—was born with snow-white skin and hair, ruby-red eyes, and a strange condition that made her prone to sunburn. In other words, she was an albino.
People with albinism were discriminated against in the Kingdom of Albion and called unlucky. Marquis Edward—Rosalind’s father—was no exception, believing in this baseless rumor. He was an arrogant man who greatly valued honor. Not wanting the world to know his daughter was ill, let alone an albino, he forced the midwife to write a false diagnosis stating Rosalind had died young, though, in reality, she was imprisoned in the dungeon beneath the mansion. The name Rosalind had been chosen before her birth.
The members of the Marquis Bellclant family included: the head Edward, his wife Izabella, and their eldest son Wyatt. Edward was beyond discussion, but even Izabella—Rosalind’s birth mother—hated the child, wanting to forget her existence. As for her brother Wyatt, he viewed her as a family disgrace, feeling disgusted at the mere thought of sharing blood with her.
If the masters were like this, the servants were no better. Except for the head maid Olivia, who was tasked with caring for Rosalind, every servant looked down on the girl, often calling her a “dirty rat.” A complete bunch of trash.
Speaking of the head maid Olivia, she was a kind, attentive person who not only cared for Rosalind but also taught her to read, write, and speak, and showed her how to exercise by walking around the cell to prevent her legs from atrophying. However, she passed away from illness when Rosalind was nine. By this time, Rosalind had grown into a breathtakingly beautiful young lady, with looks rivaling those of a fairy.
However, Rosalind’s new caretaker—Mary—cursed the girl every time she came to care for her, becoming the first character to spark murderous intent in me. It was because of her that Rosalind closed off her heart and lost trust in humanity.
When Rosalind was eleven, the head of the family, Edward, died of an epidemic. The eldest son—Wyatt—became the new head of the Bellclant family. After he inherited the domain and title, Rosalind was treated even worse than during Edward’s time. She was fed only once a day, and her meal consisted of just a piece of bread and a bowl of vegetable scraps soup. Not stopping there, whenever Wyatt was irritated, he would go down to the dungeon to abuse Rosalind.
One could say Wyatt was the dog I hated most bitterly, to the point where I had imagined countless times using every bit of knowledge I had to torture and kill him.
When Rosalind was fifteen, the Kingdom of Albion was defeated in an invasion by the neighboring Kingdom of Gustaf and was annexed. All former Albion nobles were either executed or stripped of their assets and demoted to commoners. Even turncoats like the Bellclants who bent whichever way the wind blew were no exception; Wyatt and his mother were hanged for treason.
Although Rosalind was pardoned due to her circumstances, after years of imprisonment and malnutrition, she was so frail and emaciated that she could barely stand. She was then thrown into the slums of the capital.
Fortunately, there she was protected by a lone seventeen-year-old girl named Nisha, notorious for her strength in the area. At that time, Nisha was worried about her future when she happened to meet Rosalind in a similar situation, so she empathized with her.
Later, Rosalind and Nisha caught the eye of Prince Karl Wolff, heir to the Gustaf Kingdom’s throne, who was in charge of governing Albion as the Grand Duke of Albion. He was exploring the capital out of curiosity. The two girls were taken to live in Albion Castle by the prince.
Due to the influence of her past environment, Rosalind trusted no one except Nisha, but thanks to Karl’s kindness and Nisha’s devoted care, she gradually regained her health and trust in humanity.
Both Rosalind and Nisha fell in love with Prince Karl. However, at that time, Karl’s political fiancée—Princess Berlicka of the Martin Kingdom—came to visit Albion Castle.
Berlicka loved Prince Karl from the bottom of her heart. Seeing through this quickly, Nisha promptly withdrew, but Rosalind refused to give up, thus forming a love triangle.
Between Rosalind and Berlicka, who would Prince Karl choose? Or would he choose both? The answer to that question lay in the final volume I had just finished reading.
“What a crappy ending! Is there something wrong with the author’s head!?”
In the end, the prince chose Berlicka over Rosalind. After losing her love, Rosalind leaves the castle, leaving behind a letter that reads: “I pray for a happy future for Prince Karl, Nisha, and Princess Berlicka,” and throws herself off a cliff whispering, “Why was I born…?” End of story.
“This is ridiculous…!”
This author is known for writing slowly, evidenced by the fact that there are more side stories and spin-offs published than the main story. It’s been years since the penultimate volume was published before this final one was released.
Does he know how eagerly I’ve been waiting for this final volume? And after all this waiting, this is the ending I get?
Cursing under my breath, I pulled out my phone and called headquarters using the emergency line.
“Hello, this is headquarters. Raptor, what’s the matter?”
“I’m surrounded by enemy forces. I worried I wouldn’t be able to escape.”
Glancing around, I could see hundreds of eyes aimed at me from every corner, killing intent palpable.
It’s not that I couldn’t escape, but after reading that ending, I had no reason left to live.
“Raptor, you can’t escape?”
“Not exactly… I’m just tired…”
My mind was blank now… just like Rosalind’s.
“I wonder… why was I born…?”
“Raptor?”
“It’s nothing… Don’t worry, I won’t reveal any information. I’ll activate the self-destruct device.”
“Raptor, thanks to you, this country has been saved many times, countless lives have been saved…”
What’s the use of saying such things to me? They can’t reach this heart. Even if I saved millions or billions of people, if I couldn’t save Rosalind, it’s meaningless to me.
“Do you have any last words?”
“…”
As I entered the activation code for the high-performance micro-bomb hidden in my coat, I pondered my last words. But after much thought, I could only come up with one sentence.
“If I…”
“If you what?”
“If I had been there, surely Rosalind would have found happiness.”
And with that, I pressed the button. Along with a blinding light, a massive, earth-shattering explosion occurred. From that point on, I was no longer aware of anything.
