The Villainess's Secret Bedroom Service
Chapter 110: Vermilion

Chapter 110: Vermilion

Rosalie struggled to maintain focus, but her vision was utterly shrouded in an all-encompassing abyss of darkness. The atmosphere that enveloped her seemed to be steadily growing warmer, each breath she took searing her lungs as though they were submerged in scalding liquid.

"What is happening? I can’t discern anything, and the mere act of breathing feels like an agonizing ordeal."

In a futile attempt to dispel the relentless darkness, Rosalie vigorously rubbed her eyes. Yet, to her dismay, the impenetrable veil persisted, and an escalating sense of restlessness and trepidation bore down upon her chest and shoulders. It encased her, thick and ponderous, like a suffocating cloak of uncertainty. Her own heartbeat now reverberated in her ears, resonating like an echoing drumroll, a loud and ominous prelude to an enigma yet to unfold.

At last, in the distance, a fleeting flash of crimson momentarily dazzled Rosalie. Simultaneously, she perceived the loud, ponderous footfalls advancing from a distant point ahead, accompanied by a wheezy, avaricious respiration that appeared to manifest as lengthy, billowing plumes of white vapor with each exhalation.

Straining her eyes once more, Rosalie finally discerned its source—a pair of slender, incandescent vermilion orbs, unblinking and agitated, locked onto her perplexed face. Their possessor steadily neared her, the resonance of their weighty strides amplifying, and their labored breath now nearly grazing the young woman’s skin.

Then, the enigmatic creature came to an abrupt halt. Its scarlet gaze remained fixed upon Rosalie’s countenance, unblinking and unwavering. Slowly, it parted its jaws, revealing its lengthy, ivory fangs that dangled from its maw like twin, elongated swords poised for an ominous revelation.

"Why don’t you join me, Rosalie?"

Lady Ashter widened her eyes as the creature’s voice, low and harsh, penetrated the depths of her hazy mind, unsettling her to her very core. She swallowed hard, summoning the courage to respond.

"What... Who are you?"

"I am a part of you, as you are one of us. Pay him what you owe and embrace our ranks."

With a start, Rosalie’s eyes fluttered open, revealing the familiar expanse of a white ceiling before her. Though the lingering tendrils of unease from the enigmatic dream still gripped her, she knew she was now definitely back in her bedroom within Damien’s mansion, lying beneath the soft, comforting blanket that still bore the faint scent of soap. The sun had yet to grace the sky, suggesting the early hours of morning. Turning her gaze to the right, she sought the view beyond her window, only to feel a chilling sensation trickling down her cheek and lips.

"Huh?"

Instinctively, she reached out, her right hand grazing her face, and she almost jolted upright, her eyes locking onto the dusky hue of her fingertips.

"Blood? Did I have another nosebleed?"

A shiver coursed through the lady as an uncanny sensation crept behind the window. Swiftly, she turned her gaze once more, only to find emptiness and silence, save for the faint, haunting echoes of winter’s winds in the distance.

***

Altair stepped into his bedroom, his pale platinum eyes entranced by the unhurried ballet of snowflakes and their delicate choreography guided by the gentle hand of the wind. Despite the pristine blanket of snow just beyond the cold thick glass, his room seemed to possess an underlying somberness, growing darker as he lingered in its tranquil embrace. The silence, once serene, now enveloped him in a suffocating embrace, its hush steadily amplifying.

At last, Altair tore his eyes away from the window’s enchanting view. His voice, though hushed, carried a note of contentment as he broke the silence,

"So, he still hesitates to forge ahead without his loyal mad dog, does he?"

He adjusted the angle of his pale eyes, shifting their focus slightly to the right, where the room’s darkest corner lay. A smile graced his features as the obscurity resonated with a subdued, raspy response.

"As per the reports from the tribe’s scouts, the Army of Shadows appears to be holding back their advance due to the inclement weather. The barbarians can prolong the army’s progress further by enlisting the aid of the mystical beasts. However, the absence of one of their seers is proving to be a significant hindrance. While they are renowned as beast tamers, their powers are not omnipotent in this regard."

Altair’s smirk deepened as he ran his fingers slowly along the nape of his neck, hidden beneath the shimmering silver cascade of his long hair. For a fleeting moment, his platinum eyes took on a subtle crimson gleam as he continued to speak, his voice carrying a hint of contemplation,

"Hmm... This entire undertaking presents yet another opportunity for me to rid myself of the Crown Prince and his crazy dog, Dio. I suppose it is time to employ any means necessary. Dispatch a raven to the tribal leader, instructing them to summon the mightiest beast at their disposal. Be prepared to engage in combat this time."

"... Yes, My Lord."

The room fell into a hushed stillness once more and Altair redirected his gleaming gaze to the wintry panorama beyond the window. He allowed the tumultuous thoughts in his mind to gradually recede, breathing slowly until the weight upon his chest lightened. When he reached a point where he felt capable of drawing a full breath again, he released a protracted, wearied sigh while his voice, measured and subdued, slipped into the air,

"Let them meet their fate. Allow them all to perish. I can undertake this endeavor in solitude. In fact, it is even better if I do it alone. This anguish shall not relent until I’ve seen this through to the end."

The tranquil ambiance of the room was abruptly disrupted once more, this time by a faint, rhythmic tapping against the sturdy, brown wooden door. It was followed by a quiet male voice, tinged with deference.

"Revered Altair?"

The man swiveled his entire body around to address the unexpected interruption.

"What is it?"

"I beg your pardon for the intrusion, but you have a guest today. It’s Her Grace, Grand Duchess Dio."

Altair’s brows knitted together, his entire face darkening at the mention of such a disconcerting title paired with Rosalie’s name. However, he accepted the situation with a resigned exhale and replied,

"Very well... I shall attend to her shortly."