AWLITEB Chapter 16

Rosalie stretched both arms out to the sides and held her breath.

This was the sub-toilette room, used for trying on clothes roughly before dressing properly or when they'd shopped so much the toilette room ran out of space.

Gina quickly approached, measured the circumference of Rosalie's chest, waist, and hips, then stepped back.

Only then did Rosalie exhale. Huuu.

"Your waist has decreased by 0.5 inches. Congratulations, ma'am."

Gina bowed her head to Martha, who was watching, and spoke.

Martha smiled broadly and approached, firmly grasping her proud daughter's hand.

"Well done, Rosalie. Mother is so proud of you."

Martha even kissed Rosalie's cheek, but Rosalie's expression remained dark.

"What's wrong, my daughter? Are you feeling unwell?"

"Something's strange, Mother."

"Strange?"

Martha asked worriedly, and Rosalie's gaze turned to Gina standing nearby.

Gina, whose ears had perked up with curiosity, hurriedly lowered her head.

"Leave us."

Martha commanded in a voice sharper than a needle.

Gina hid her disappointment and left the room.

"Strange how?"

"The imperial ball is tomorrow, but there's been no contact whatsoever from His Grace. Does that make sense?"

Rosalie poured out words in an anxious voice.

"He should have come to our estate to ask how I'm feeling, to tell me when he'll come pick me up. At the very least, he should have sent a letter or a bouquet. Something's strange. I'm anxious, Mother."

"Oh, Rosalie."

Martha pulled Rosalie into a tight embrace.

Rosalie clung desperately to Martha's arms, her eyes glistening like a child's.

In truth, Martha had been thinking something similar to Rosalie.

At this point with the imperial ball approaching, surely the Grand Duke would have many things he wanted to tell Rosalie.

Yet until the night before the ball, the Grand Duke had taken no action at all.

Not a single contact with Rosalie since the tea time at the estate on the day Isabella disappeared.

Something was definitely strange.

However, she couldn't rashly sully the Grand Duke's name with hasty judgment.

The White family was now in-laws to the imperial family, so they had to be careful in all their actions.

"Rosalie. Don't worry too much. What good will it do if your face swells from crying?"

"Yes, Mother... but."

"This is the man who entered a salon with his male body just to have your dress made. What are you so afraid of?"

"...But shouldn't a man come to soothe his bride-to-be's fears the night before announcing their marriage? Unless he's a bastard of a fiancé, everyone does that."

"But is your husband-to-be an ordinary man? He's imperial royalty, bearing tremendous responsibility for this empire. He must be busy. Go to bed early for tomorrow, Rosalie. Tell Irma to warm your bed."

"..."

"Rosalie?"

But Rosalie's expression still hadn't cleared. She couldn't hide her look of anxiety unto death.

Martha forced strength into the corners of her mouth to smile and grasped Rosalie's shoulders, releasing the embrace.

"What are you so afraid of when you're even wearing the blue diamond?"

"...Will I really be able to marry His Grace without any problems?"

"Of course. Naturally."

"But the dress hasn't arrived from Evelyn's salon either. Mother, I'm suddenly anxious. Did His Grace really visit the salon for my sake?"

"Maybe he wants to give you a surprise gift. He might send a butler early tomorrow morning to gift you the dress."

"My waist has decreased a lot since then. It should arrive at least the day before so we can repin it. Did His Grace not think that far because he's a man? Yes?"

Rosalie's voice began to contain growing anxiety.

When she even started biting her smooth nails with her front teeth and gnawing on them, Martha sighed and pulled down her daughter's wrist.

"Rosalie, calm down."

"Yes, Mom. It'll, it'll be fine. Not long ago when we met his paternal cousin together, he seemed perfectly normal. So it'll really be fine, right?"

Paternal cousin?

Martha instinctively frowned.

"Cousin?"

"I told you before. I went to the imperial palace with Elena and saw His Grace."

"You never mentioned meeting a cousin? Don't you know you have to tell Mother everything?"

"...I was so happy to see His Grace that I forgot to mention it. Why, why, Mother? Is something strange? She, she said she lost her husband and lives doing volunteer work. She seemed insignificant, so I'd forgotten about her..."

Martha could feel something unsettling.

But she couldn't show it to the already unstable Rosalie.

"No, it's not that. I just want you to tell your mother everything. How wonderful, meeting His Grace's cousin."

"Yes, Mother. Because I was being introduced to family. But, but Mother. Come to think of it, shouldn't I have gone to the imperial palace before the ball to meet His Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty? The more I think about it..."

"Rosalie, I think you should go rest now."

"...There really isn't anything wrong, is there?"

"Of course. Who wouldn't see the love in His Grace's eyes when he looks at you?"

Martha soothed and reassured Rosalie.

At Martha's sincere words, Rosalie finally managed to steady her mind.

Martha had Gina escort Rosalie out. Then she secretly summoned the head butler.

"Secretly find out if the Grand Duke has a paternal cousin. Pay attention to the fact that she's a widow."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Investigate as quickly as possible."

"Understood."

The head butler quickly answered and left the room.

An uneasy premonition kept eating away at Martha.

And as if knowing that fact, a letter arrived at the White estate early the next morning, carrots and all.

It was a letter Paile had personally ridden over to deliver with proper courtesy.

"Miss. It's a letter from His Grace."

Emma, who had received the letter outside, walked quickly to Rosalie, who had just emerged from her bedroom into the corridor. Emma was still limping because her ankle, injured by Ethan, hadn't fully healed.

"What? From His Grace? Give it here!"

Rosalie snatched the letter from Emma's hand, shouting.

Emma gave a silent scream—ah—as the paper cut her finger.

But afraid that expression might annoy Rosalie, Emma quickly turned her head.

"What does it say, hmm?"

Martha rushed to Rosalie and asked.

Rosalie urgently tore open the envelope without even a paper knife. And as Rosalie rapidly read, a smile appeared on her face.

"It was needless worry, Mother!"

"Why, what does it say? Tell me quickly!"

"His Grace says he had matters to attend to in the Grand Duchy for the past few weeks. He says he's very sorry."

"See? There had to be a reason. He wouldn't be silent for no reason."

Martha smiled.

She considered canceling the task she'd given the head butler, then decided against it. The head butler had already left the estate to carry out his orders anyway.

Rosalie quickly read the rest.

"Also, he has matters to report to His Imperial Majesty, so he'll be at the imperial palace early today. So he can't go to the imperial ball together, but he'll send the dress by late morning instead. How wonderful! I'm so happy, Mother."

Rosalie jumped up and down, clutching the letter tightly.

It was a moment when all her worries melted away like snow.

"Is it really okay to be so happy without any wariness?"

Ethan's voice interjected.

The face of a girl drunk on happiness disappeared, and Rosalie glared at Ethan with a coldly frozen expression.

"What are you talking about?"

"Think about it. A Grand Duke about to announce his marriage had no letters, no visits, and even on the day of the marriage announcement he's going to the imperial palace separately? Don't you find that ridiculous even to yourself?"

"If you're going to throw cold water on this, get lost. Don't even come to the ball!"

When Rosalie raised her nails and lunged to scratch Ethan's face, Martha blocked her.

"Rosalie. Is that how you treat your brother? Ethan, you too. What kind of talk is that to your tender sister?"

"I'm just stating facts. I didn't mention it before, but even at that tea time, His Grace's gaze at Rose was too cold?"

"What nonsense are you spouting? His gaze dripped with tender affection!"

"Really? What I saw was an actor with excellent skill. Good enough to stand on a theater stage right now."

"Ethan, you son of a b*tch!"

Rosalie thrust her hand sharply over Martha's shoulder.

Rosalie's nails scratched across the cheek of Ethan, who had been giggling.

A thin wound was drawn, and blood trickled down his cheek.

"Good heavens, young master!"

A young laborer who had just finished arranging new furniture in the room shouted in surprise. He was a new worker who'd started recently.

Stupid fool.

Emma thought, glancing around nervously before slipping away.

"This fucking..."

Ethan brought his hand to his cheek. Blood smeared on his palm.

Martha shook her head and sighed as if exhausted.

"Why are you two still in puberty? Will you ever become dignified young adults and modest young ladies? Am I asking too much?"

Rosalie doubled over laughing.

Ethan's face turned bright red.

"So why did you provoke me?"

Rosalie shrugged.

The laborer, still not rid of his boyish air, watched nervously, not knowing what to do.

When siblings fight, who should I protect and stop? The laborer was pondering that.

But it was a completely useless concern.

Ethan's punch was aimed at the laborer.

"Ahhhhk!"

At the sudden punch, the laborer tumbled to the floor.

Ethan straddled his waist and threw punches, and the laborer raised both hands, trying desperately to protect his face.

"Rosalie! You f*cking! B*tch! Having! You! As! A! Sister! Makes! Me! A! Criminal!"

Ethan screamed at the top of his lungs, venting on the laborer.

After a while, when the laborer's body went limp, Ethan finally stood up, panting.

"Don't get cocky."

"Hmph."

Rosalie shrugged her shoulders primly and headed to the bathroom.

Martha wrapped her arm around Ethan's shoulders, calming him, and the laborer was dragged out by maids who'd been hiding and holding their breath.

At the breakfast table simply set with warm-baked bread, salted butter, berry jam, baked eggs and vegetables, Genos and Isabella sat facing each other.

An air of solemnity inappropriate for a couple announcing their marriage today flowed over the table.

Genos's knife blade tapped the glass salt shaker. Tok tok.

Isabella took a deep breath to concentrate, then reached out her hand.

The salt shaker shook for a moment, then was sucked right into her palm.

This time Genos tapped the pepper shaker. Tok tok.

Again Isabella took a deep breath after and reached out.

The pepper shaker flew into her hand even faster than before.

Isabella opened her eyes wide like a rabbit and shook her hands wildly, clutching the salt and pepper shakers.

"Success! Success! I finally succeeded with both at once!"

"You'll have to bathe again."

"Pardon?"

At Genos's words, Isabella discovered the countless salt and pepper grains that had spilled onto her hair and skirt.

"Ugh... I'm sorry. I'll put it back."

"You're not suggesting I eat eggs seasoned with salt that was on your head, are you?"

"Ah..."

Isabella made her lips into a square, expressing her embarrassment.

When she'd been locked in the basement, each piece of food had been so precious that she'd scraped up even fallen crumbs to eat.

One of those basement habits that Genos kept ordering her to discard had suddenly popped out.

"Shake it on the floor. The maids will clean it up soon anyway."

"Yes."

Isabella shook out her hair and skirt with embarrassment.

Then—knock knock—the sound of someone knocking on the dining room door.

When Genos told them to enter, Paile bowed his head politely and opened his mouth.

"Your Grace's formal attire and Miss Isabella's dress for today's party are ready."

"Is that so?"

The Grand Duke drained the water in his wine glass and rose from his seat.

When Isabella also tried to stand, Genos naturally passed by her seat and pressed down on her shoulder, making her sit.

"Did you forget you have to finish eating before getting up?"

"No, I didn't."

Isabella had no choice but to pick up her fork again.

"There's plenty of time, so shower slowly and try it on."

"Yes, Your Grace."

As Genos left Isabella and exited the dining room, he asked Paile:

"It arrived at the White estate too, didn't it?"

"Yes, Your Grace. I just received word."

"The White estate?"

Just as the door was about to close, Isabella popped out and asked.

The Grand Duke looked back at her.

"I prepared something to make you feel good."

The Grand Duke spoke in a light tone.

"What do you..."

"You'll find out when you get to the ballroom anyway, so go finish your plate, Bella."

The Grand Duke grasped Isabella's shoulders, spun her around lightly, and pushed her inside with a thump. It was an easy movement, like handling a pillow.

The moment she was pushed back into the dining room, Isabella's eyes widened.

Did he just call me...?

Isabella whirled around to look at the Grand Duke, but at that moment the Grand Duke had a nearby maid lock the dining room door.

"Uh, huh? Your Grace!"

Isabella knocked on the door in confusion, and Genos's voice came through.

"I'll open it when you finish your plate. You're still so thin, what use are you? If you go to the beach, they'll mistake you for an anchovy and catch you."

Genos clicked his tongue—tsk!—and left.

An anchovy.

Isabella looked down at her forearm in confusion.

She had no rebuttal.

"It is kind of like that."

Isabella muttered and returned to the table. But she couldn't easily pick up her utensils.

Bella.

The pet name Genos had called her kept circling in her head.

Aside from the pet name the White family used to call her in pretense, this was the first pet name someone else had called her.

"I'm really normal."

The corners of Isabella's mouth lifted.

The thought that she was a person properly standing with both feet in this world, someone worthy of being called by a pet name, made her heart pound.

And thinking that today at the ballroom she'd encounter Rosalie, Martha, and Ethan all together made her heartbeat even faster.

Bella reached out with a smiling face.

The salt shaker stuck perfectly to her palm.

Bella laughed pleasantly and sprinkled salt unnecessarily over her egg dish. Tok tok.