SN Chapter 18

The escort knight standing with her in the office had become a senior knight two years before Rosaline. Kylo of Cobaltlant. He stared at her with round eyes.

Memory problems? Doesn't know anything? This was the first he'd heard of it. Rosaline had always been taciturn and composed, rarely showing emotion. Even if they'd never been assigned to the same squad, they'd passed each other for days, exchanging greetings—how had he noticed nothing strange? He couldn't tell if she was extraordinary or if his own obliviousness was extraordinary.

Kylo used the hand signals knights employed to ask if she was all right. Rosaline looked at the gesture and tilted her head. The expression on her face clearly said, 'What are you talking about?'

She'd forgotten even something this basic? And they're using her for escort duty now? His face went pale.

Many people came and went through the Second Prince's Moonstone Castle. Counts, marquesses, barons, messengers from various nobles, attendants bearing invitations, military strategists, tacticians, scholars, knights. Civil and military alike, regardless of rank, countless individuals passed through.

The castle's escort knights kept their nerves on edge to identify dangerous persons. But as time flowed smoothly without incident, their blades gradually dulled in the peace. Kylo barely suppressed a yawn trying to escape. Right now there weren't even any visitors—Rikardis was simply processing various documents.

Compared to the lower knights who conducted diverse training while guarding the castle exterior, the work of senior knights felt remarkably monotonous. Perhaps the physical conditioning to endure those long hours of standing still was the real training. Beyond peaceful, it verged on tedious.

Rikardis's break time arrived. After working three hours straight, he exhaled a long sigh—and at that signal, his chief secretary rang a bell. Shortly, an attendant entered pushing a tray. It was loaded with Rikardis's favorite black tea and light snacks to fill his stomach.

The attendant's hands moved busily as he poured black tea into an ornate teacup. He lifted a silver spoon, took a small sip of the steaming tea, and nodded. Nothing unusual. Rikardis relaxed into the long-awaited rest. Sunlight poured through the window, the room was warm, and the fragrance of tea filled the air. An afternoon worthy of the word rest.

Rikardis sat on the sofa, gazed out the window, then lifted the teacup and inhaled its scent. The moment his lips touched the cup—

Rosaline, who had stood motionless as a statue, moved swiftly. She grabbed Rikardis's wrist holding the teacup. Thunk. Black tea spilled over, staining his clothes.

"What rudeness is this, Dame Rosaline!"

Kylo cried out in shock. How dare a mere knight lay hands on His Imperial Highness! While someone else leaped about in substitute outrage, Rikardis merely smiled mischievously.

"What is it, Dame Rose?"

"Don't drink it. Something seems to be mixed in."

The atmosphere changed instantly. The room's temperature dropped sharply. Kylo's hand hovered restlessly over his sword hilt, and Rikardis looked at the attendant who had just poured the tea. Though he didn't completely trust Rosaline's words, even the attendant couldn't escape suspicious glances. The man holding the teapot turned ashen. Stammering, he forced words out with difficulty. He protested that he'd just tasted it himself—there was no poison or anything.

"Be-besides. Everyone knows poison doesn't work on Your Highness, so what would be the point of me doing such a thing?"

Rosaline spoke in an even, untroubled tone.

"Are you saying you'd do such a thing if poison did work?"

Hearing her words, Rikardis made an appreciative sound.

"That makes sense. Or perhaps they've created a poison that does work?"

"That's possible."

The attendant watched the two match wits perfectly, then his expression changed in an instant as he moved. The eyes that had been pleading innocence now flashed with killing intent. He tore at his left wrist with his right hand. A sharp hidden blade buried beneath the skin flew toward Rikardis. Kylo, who'd been watching the attendant warily, drew his sword—but Rosaline, who'd been talking with Rikardis, stepped forward first.

Clang!

Rosaline's thin blade deflected the flying weapon. So fast no one saw her draw. The attendant's eyes wavered. He was a master of hidden weapons even within Onyx Moon. To deflect something flying like the wind without batting an eye—this new escort knight had better skills than expected.

The heart that had wavered when his decisive strike failed quickly regained composure. The assassin didn't dwell on the failure and prepared his second move.

He drew a dagger from beneath his shoe sole and launched himself at Rikardis—after throwing the tray at Rosaline to obstruct her vision.

But the assassin never reached the Second Prince.

Crack. The dagger embedded in the ceiling. Rosaline's single kick completely bent and broke the man's wrist. The tray that had flown at her lay shattered, scattering through the air.

In that instant, through repeated training, the assassin accurately assessed his situation. Arm completely broken. Third and fourth moves discarded. Then he should prepare the next move, but—

He saw something strange before his eyes. Wasn't the black-haired escort knight boldly throwing away her sword? No, why the sword?

"?!"

"?!"

"?"

Why... why discard it? Even Kylo, even the chief secretary Itserion, even Rikardis looked slightly bewildered.

Rosaline paid no mind and charged at the attendant. The black-haired knight filled the assassin's vision. Behind her, the Second Prince's sparkling silver hair vanished from view.

Bang!

An unbelievable dull sound—as if body and body had collided. His body flew swiftly and slammed into the wall. The solid wall rang with the impact. Alert knights who'd noticed the disturbance appeared in a rush, swords drawn.

"...?"

The knights who'd entered with fierce momentum soon found themselves wondering if they should sheathe their swords. The assassin's attacks, rushing about like a moth to flame, were all being nullified by Rosaline alone. Clang, clang—she deflected well. Thud, thud—she struck well. They watched briefly, but the difference in martial skill was overwhelming.

Rosaline kicked the man who rushed at her. Urk. The flying assassin rolled to the feet of the senior knights standing at the door. As they tried to restrain him, they flinched and retreated at the sight of Rosaline striding toward them.

Amid all this noise and chaos, Rosaline focused entirely on the assassin. Her five senses stood razor-sharp. Compared to his battered appearance, his breathing was still calm. She could tell the assassin hadn't given up yet, was preparing the next move.

Rosaline narrowed her eyes. Though backlit, her eyes gleamed fiercely.

She grabbed the attendant sprawled on the floor by the collar and raised her fist. Thud, thud, thud. Each time her fist made dull sounds like a heavy hammer, the men trembled. She hadn't even cut him with a blade, yet blood fountained from his nose and mouth. The attendant's face became like kneaded mud after just a few punches.

Is he dead? Looks dead? As Rikardis frowned at the gruesome sight before him, Kylo snapped to his senses and shouted.

"Dame! Dame Rosaline, stop! He'll die!"

Rosaline glanced briefly at the tattered attendant at his words. She heard groaning and a heartbeat. Rosaline shook her head.

"He's not dead yet."

It sounded like she'd beat him until he was. Kylo was horrified. Rikardis recovered his senses relatively quickly. He hesitated, then called to her.

"We need to... find out who's behind this... Rose... no, Dame Rosaline. Hand him over and just... clean things up."

"Understood."

Rosaline grabbed the attendant's head and slammed it against the wall. Thunk. Something like a watermelon splitting. The attendant who'd been pretending to be unconscious in her grip truly lost consciousness. Knights watching through the open door flinched as they received the unconscious man from her. Though he seemed to lack strength to escape even without binding, they restrained him anyway and dragged him away. Blood traced a path where the attendant had passed. Maids who entered shortly after cleaned the bloodstains with trembling hands.

Rosaline exhaled—hah—and swept back her slightly disheveled hair.

The fight was over. Rosaline caught her breath with an expressionless face.

"How did you know?"

Rikardis's voice differed from usual. His normally languid drawl had risen a tone. He seemed quite interested in this situation.

At Rikardis's question, Rosaline reflected on the earlier situation. The man had scooped up black tea slightly with a silver spoon and swallowed. But to Rosaline, the sound of his throat moving felt somewhat artificial. She'd also seen the man spit the tea into his sleeve afterward—pretending to touch his disheveled bangs. It had happened in an instant, so ordinary people wouldn't have noticed.

But Rosaline had been wary of the attendant even before seeing that scene. The moment he entered the room, she'd smelled rotting blood. Not a scent that should come from a living person. The Onyx Moon assassin was wearing the attendant's peeled face-skin. Though treated with chemicals, it hadn't perfectly prevented decay. She didn't know what that smell was or where it came from, but she'd thought anyone giving off such a scent couldn't be an ordinary human.

"He pretended to drink."

"Good eyes."

"And it smelled of blood."

"Good nose too. Impressive—better than I expected."

"Thank you."

Rikardis stared at her intently, then shifted his gaze to the table. A few drops of blood from the assassin's nose or mouth, the teapot rolling on the floor. And despite all the commotion, the problematic black tea that had somehow avoided spilling and was slowly cooling.