The Villainess's Secret Bedroom Service
Chapter 123: Golden Cage

Chapter 123: Golden Cage

Darkness had become Rosalie’s unwavering companion, a constant presence in her current life.

When she opened her eyes, her thick black lashes unveiled a world cloaked in unending obscurity. Oddly enough, amid this endless void, she could now perceive her own body. She found herself clad in a flowing, velvety burgundy dress, its off-shoulder design accentuated by loose sleeves, and a delicate velvet belt of matching hue, cinching her waist with a graceful bow at its center.

Seated upon the frigid, black ground, a desire to move stirred within her. Yet, an unseen force seemed to thwart her efforts, akin to bindings that tethered her wrists and ankles, perhaps to some imperceptible and unyielding entity.

As her attempt to move her own body failed, the girl tried to turn her head to the side and was immediately hit with a strong, bone-crushing headache that seemed to be mincing her brain while splitting her skull in half at the same time.

’Ugh... Even blinking causes me enormous pain... What the hell happened to me?’

For the very first time since this perplexing dreaming experience began, Rosalie found herself able to discern that she was, in fact, ensconced within a dream. Oddly enough, the sensation no longer carried the surreal, disconcerting aura it once did. It was as though she had grown accustomed to these peculiar dreamscapes. However, this newfound self-awareness discomfited her somewhat, for she had long harbored the belief that acknowledging the dream state might jolt her back to wakefulness. Yet, amidst this disquiet, a certain solace washed over her agitated consciousness, as she realized that, in all likelihood, she now possessed a modicum of control.

"Rosalie? Can you hear me? Can you see me?"

All of a sudden, within the encompassing darkness, a distinctively low, masculine voice resonated, calling out her name. Rosalie turned her head once more, dismissing the throbbing pain in her head, and there, emerging from the inky abyss, strode a tall, robust figure. This man possessed long, black locks, a complexion pale as moonlight, and eyes aglow with a fiery crimson hue. As he walked, his deliberate, weighty steps reverberated in the obscurity. Yet, his countenance betrayed a profound concern, perhaps even a genuine fear.

In that moment, a realization, or perhaps a mere surge of intuition, finally descended upon Rosalie – the approaching figure was someone she had undeniably seen before.

"It is definitely him, the man from my previous dream, the one who valiantly attempted to shield me from the enigmatic stranger with a white blindfold. But could he also be the one I shared that enchanting dance with at the Harvest Festival?"

Desiring to confirm her suspicions, she longed to speak, yet her efforts were thwarted once more. She struggled to part her lips, only to find herself trapped in silence, as though her very voice had been stifled and her lips sewn together.

Seemingly cognizant of her dilemma, the enigmatic black-haired figure gracefully crouched before her. He allowed his deep red eyes to sweep over her form for a lingering moment before he gently spoke, his words carrying a soothing reassurance,

"Rosalie, there is no need for fear. I have come here to help you."

The duchess fixed her gaze upon the man’s face, her large gray eyes brimming with silent bewilderment. Without pause, the man continued, his voice steady and resolute,

"The perilous predicament you find yourself in carries great danger, especially with your husband’s absence. At this moment, there is no savior but me. Rosalie, I implore you to place your trust in me. I harbor no ill intentions toward you. However, to render you assistance, your steadfast trust is indispensable."

Rosalie hesitated, briefly diverting her attention to her immobilized form. She made a futile attempt to move her limbs or to articulate her thoughts once more, but her endeavors yielded no result. Turning her gaze back to the man before her, she grappled with her inner turmoil, striving to dispel the vexing tension that gripped her mind.

On one hand, the situation remained enigmatic to her. As far as she could discern, she might merely be entangled in a disconcerting dream, and nothing more. Yet, on the other hand, an uncanny resemblance in this man’s face stirred a deep connection within her, a sense of trust that transcended bewildering circumstances.

Observing Rosalie’s growing restlessness, the man tenderly enfolded her hands with his own. A subtle, kind smile graced his lips as he spoke in a soothing tone,

"Please trust me, Rosalie. I swear, I will help you. Just let me help you. No, allow me to help you. I need your permission first."

’Permission? Permission to help me? What is that supposed to mean?’

His words added yet another layer of confusion to her already frazzled state of mind. However, despite the tumultuous emotions swirling within her shattered psyche, an undeniable compulsion urged her to place her trust in this enigmatic stranger. Moreover, if this surreal ordeal were indeed just a dream, then accepting the man’s assistance could carry no real harm.

With a deep inhalation, Rosalie filled her lungs and fixed her gaze on the man’s eyes. Slowly, she nodded, silently conveying her consent for him to lend a helping hand.

In response, a fleeting glimmer in the man’s dark red eyes betrayed his gratitude, and in the blink of an eye, everything dissolved into an encompassing blackness once more.

***

Rosalie labored to lift her heavy eyelids, and it took a while for her blurry vision to gradually sharpen into focus. As clarity returned, her pupils widened with disbelief at her surroundings.

"A golden cage..."

Indeed, her body found itself ensnared within a sprawling golden enclosure, reminiscent of those employed to confine exotic avian creatures. What struck her even more profoundly was the sight of herself draped in the identical burgundy velvet gown from her dream. Her delicate, pale wrists and ankles bore the weight of secure shackles, their gleaming metallic chains extending from the red wall behind the cage, while her mouth remained firmly muzzled beneath a soft, white swath of fabric.

"So that wretched scoundrel had the audacity to imprison her in this manner? That damned lunatic."

She made an effort to shift her position, causing the shimmering chains to produce a distinct clinking sound. With a measured crawl, she drew closer to the gilded bars of her confinement. Her pale hands grasped the metal, providing her with a point of stability as she proceeded to scrutinize her surroundings.

The room housing the expansive golden cage remained shrouded in dimness. Soft, amber-hued lights within peculiarly shaped sconces offered only meager illumination, casting eerie, elongated shadows across the towering crimson walls.

The room itself appeared almost bereft of furnishings. The deep red walls featured sizable golden frames which had no paintings inside them. Thick black velvet drapes cloaked the tall windows, obscuring any hint of the outside world. On the floor, a plush, crimson carpet gave the unsettling impression of an animal pelt steeped in dark red blood.

In the midst of that peculiar room, the cage ensnaring Rosalie’s body held center stage. It stood solitary, accompanied solely by a single black velvet-draped chair. Its placement seemed deliberate, as though intended to provide a comfortable perch for an observer, one eager to admire the captive beauty ensnared behind the lofty golden bars.

’Seems he has been orchestrating this scheme for quite some time... Has he always harbored such an obsession with Rosalie? To abduct her and confine her in this cage while Duke Dio is absent. The audacity of this imbecile.’

In that very moment, an unexpected sound emanated from the tall black door at the room’s far end. Moments later, the door swung open, inviting in none other than Theodore Xarden himself.

As Rosalie’s gray eyes fell upon the man, a singularly tranquil thought nestled within her mind,

’I must act naturally. It is imperative that he remains convinced I am Rosalie. Any inkling of suspicion could put her body in danger.’

Wearing a sly grin, Theo advanced toward the cage at a measured pace. His narrow eyes remained unwaveringly fixed upon the girl within. As Lady Ashter shifted uneasily in response to his approach, her anxiety and fear were unwittingly unveiled, much to the man’s twisted amusement.

Finally, Lord Xarden came to a halt before the large golden cage. He crouched down, aligning himself with Rosalie’s position. After a brief pause, during which he meticulously scrutinized her nervous face, he graced her with an expansive, almost jubilant smile. With the back of his right hand, he tenderly caressed her cheek and began to speak,

"Awake already, Lady Rosalie? It appears my timing was not as impeccable as I had hoped, a regrettable turn of events. Your slumber graced you with an ethereal allure, and that serene smile upon your sleeping countenance—oh, how I yearned to savor its beauty a while longer."

Rosalie instinctively recoiled, her face contorting with palpable displeasure at Theo’s unwelcome touch. A stifled groan escaped her covered lips—a mere fraction of the response she wished to convey.

Lord Xarden reacted with a mocking scoff. His hands gripped the gilded bars of the cage adjacent to the girl’s pallid palms. Shaking his head, he continued, his tone growing colder and laced with a subtle undertone of menace,

"Hostility will not get you anywhere, Lady Rosalie. Welcome to my collection."