The Villainess's Secret Bedroom Service
Chapter 121: Black Grapes

Chapter 121: Black Grapes

The Dio mansion’s hallway bathed in a brilliant orange glow, courtesy of the setting sun. This radiant light played upon Rosalie’s cascading, wavy hair, igniting a fiery dance within each of her resplendent locks.

Her delicate, pallid hands quivered, gripping the edges of the letter tightly. Her striking gray eyes raced frantically over each word, etching a deepening shadow across her countenance with every passing sentence.

In a distant corner of the hallway, the maids had gathered, discreetly observing their mistress. She stood there in silence, her eyes the only part of her that moved, tracing the crumpled parchment in her grasp. As the oppressive hush and mounting tension grew too much to bear, their muted whispers at last found their way into the world, breaking the silence,

"Do you think it’s bad news? She looks profoundly upset... Could something have befallen His Grace?!"

"Don’t jump to conclusions! I am quite certain it’s nothing grave. Her Ladyship is likely just concerned for our Lord’s well-being, nothing more."

Unaware of the maids’ anxious murmurs, Rosalie clutched the letter with even greater intensity, threatening to rend it apart, her restless mind awash in disquieting thoughts.

’It has happened much sooner than I had anticipated, but... How could he possibly commit such a heinous act against his own men? Nothing of the sort was ever written to in the novel; the High Priest should have intervened... Everything is spiraling into an utter state of chaos.’

Her inner musings were abruptly interrupted by the resonant and somewhat weighty footsteps drawing nearer from within Damien’s study. It was Felix, weary of lingering while his lady anxiously reread the duke’s letter in solitude within the corridor. He resolved to assist her in regaining composure and returning to her daily routine, particularly because there was already an urgent matter demanding their attention.

"My Lady, are you well? Do you intend to send a response? The messenger hawk must be sent before midnight to ensure the protective enchantment remains in effect."

Lady Ashter hesitated momentarily. The distressing tidings from the Northern border had struck at the very core of her being. The Army of Shadows was in shambles, its ranks damaged by both magical creatures and the wrath of Damien’s seizure. His Grace remained in an unconscious state, casting a shadow over the safety of all. As for the Crown Prince, Alexander’s message hinted at a moral crisis that left His Highness deeply troubled.

’I suppose that battle must have been truly harrowing if even Loyd’s sanity has been shaken... What can I possibly convey in response? Until Damien himself dispatches a letter, correspondence seems futile.’

With a wearied sigh, Lady Ashter slowly shook her head. She finally replied, her voice laden with the weight of her heavy heart,

"No, I shall abstain from responding. Kindly dispatch the messenger hawk promptly back to the North."

Rosalie meticulously folded the letter and gently nestled it within the envelope. She extended it toward Lord Howyer, who, in return, focused his silver eyes upon his lady. He observed her standing before him, visibly distressed yet striving to maintain a solemn expression upon her pale face. Adjusting his round spectacles, Lord Howyer released a protracted sigh and offered Rosalie a subdued yet reassuring smile.

"Have faith, My Lady. His Grace has faced far more perilous battles in the past; this is but a trifling challenge for him. As for his present state... He will triumph over it, of that I am certain. At times, it seems as though there is nothing in this world capable of besting him."

The duchess averted her gaze, taking a moment to gather her thoughts once more. She held a firm belief that Damien possessed the resilience to surmount any obstacle that obstructed his path. The narrative must persist, and for that narrative to unfold, his continued existence was imperative. Nevertheless, an undeniable pang of sorrow coursed through her. The sheer magnitude of suffering he endured with each trial, the monumental tribulations he faced to demonstrate his resilience—these injustices weighed heavily on her heart.

Yet, she recognized the futility of dwelling on this. It was not her place to fret over such matters.

Rosalie shifted her gaze to the window, her eyes tracking the gradual vanishing of the cold orange radiance as the setting sun conceded to the encroaching darkness of the evening.

In the Empire of Rische, the sun’s descent seemed to arrive prematurely—an ironic reflection of circumstances.

Then, she redirected her glistening eyes toward Felix, who stood there patiently, awaiting his lady’s response. With a voice marked by quiet sadness, she eventually spoke again,

"They are dispatching supplementary troops and hiring mercenaries for the North. The Emperor’s intent is to annihilate the entire Northern tribe for their repeated interference with beast summoning rituals."

Felix nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, dissipating the tension that had lingered in both his posture and the atmosphere between them. He then replied with a surprising air of composure,

"There is no way around it. The Continent Imperial Alliance has already sanctioned this course of action. We must exert every effort to safeguard our land."

Rosalie still remained an outsider in this unfamiliar world. While she had grown accustomed to many of its peculiarities, she found it increasingly challenging to discern any distinction between herself and the original Rosalie Ashter. Compared to those who had inhabited this realm before her, she remained ignorant of its intricacies. Consequently, no matter how unjust some of its conventions appeared to her, she had already learned that disrupting the established order could entail considerable risk. Thus, she had little recourse but to obediently adhere to its norms.

In the end, she released yet another sigh and conveyed her comprehension to the man with a subtle nod,

"Yes, indeed. We must."

At that particular juncture, their attention was drawn to the sound of another pair of footsteps descending the staircase. It was Sir Logan, who presented them with a genteel bow before addressing Lady Ashter.

"My Lady, the coach stands prepared. We await your departure."

"Thank you, Sir Logan. I shall join you shortly."

The duchess subsequently nodded at Felix once more, mustering a feigned, discreet smile.

"Well, Felix, please see to the remaining tasks. I will try to return as soon as possible."

***

Thanks to Rosalie’s remarkable success in championing her and Princess Angelica’s charitable efforts during the Imperial banquet, they had amassed a rather impressive cadre of supporters. These allies were not only eager to enhance their own standing and reputation but also aimed to forge valuable connections with the upper echelons of nobility.

With all their carefully laid plans finally set into motion, Princess Angelica had gathered a proficient team of trusted individuals to assist with the mundane details. The starting funds and initial donations had been thoughtfully allocated to both orphanages and the impoverished districts, ensuring a fair distribution.

Although their plans for renovating the Capital’s slums would have to wait until the winter’s end, Rosalie issued an order to arrange temporary warm shelters for the destitute, ensuring their comfort until that awaited moment.

The princess, meanwhile, had been entrusted with a weighty responsibility: overseeing the comprehensive overhaul and revitalization of the orphanages. Her tasks also included restoring proper maintenance protocols and hiring additional caretakers to ensure the safety and well-being of the children.

While Angelica harbored a desire to propose financial assistance for families willing to adopt orphaned children, Rosalie felt compelled to momentarily table this proposition. Her concern stemmed from the possibility of certain families exploiting the aid, potentially adopting multiple children only to subsequently neglect them.

As events unfolded, it became apparent that everything was progressing with remarkable smoothness. Thanks to these efforts, both House Dio’s name and Princess Angelica’s reputation were experiencing a resurgence in positive recognition, not only among the nobility but also among the common populace.

To celebrate their remarkable success, Lord Theodore Xarden extended a dinner invitation to Rosalie at his enigmatic estate.

Surprisingly, the Xarden family’s primary business, apart from their astute investments, revolved around wine production. Theo owned a multitude of vineyards scattered throughout Rische. Thanks to the ingenious invention of magical greenhouses, these vineyards yielded grapes year-round, preserving an astonishing taste and flavor that had made Xarden’s wine famous not only within Rische but also beyond its borders.

Rosalie found herself invited to be the inaugural taster of Theodore’s latest creation: a pink wine crafted from black grapes—a one-of-a-kind libation that had never before graced anyone’s palate. Although she was not particularly in the mood for celebration at the moment, given Lord Xarden’s considerable assistance, altering her plans at this late hour would have been egregiously impolite.

"Rose wine, huh? Rose and Rosalie... Sometimes, I can’t help but think how self-centered I can be. It is rather absurd."

The lady reclined in her plush seat, her cold hands finding refuge within the white fur muff adorning her winter coat. She then closed her eyes and let out a long exhale, surrendering herself to the brief respite that relaxation offered.

...

The white Temple carriage came to a halt before the imposing gates of the Dio mansion, disrupting the tranquil ambiance that had enveloped the estate. The carriage’s white horses exhaled clouds of steam and rhythmically struck their hooves against the frozen ground.

As Altair disembarked from the coach, he was promptly greeted by Richard, who hastened toward him, his breath ragged and heavy. Richard pressed his gloved hand against the left side of his chest, a gesture of surprise and slight distress.

"Good evening, Your Holiness! We were not anticipating your arrival today. Is something amiss?"

Altair laid a reassuring hand on the old man’s shoulder and bestowed upon him a somewhat soothing smile.

"Good evening. It seems both Her Grace and I have been quite occupied lately, and our usual treatment sessions have been postponed for some time. I realize it was impolite of me to arrive unannounced, but I could not help myself—I grew overly concerned about Lady Rosalie’s well-being."

Richard shook his head, still endeavoring to steady his heaving chest. He then responded with a hint of disappointment,

"Ah, what can one do, Your Holiness? Lady Rosalie has already departed to visit Lord Xarden!"