The Villainess's Secret Bedroom Service
Chapter 150: Fear And Trembling

Chapter 150: Fear And Trembling

Altair stood frozen, his resolve wavering in the face of the daunting task ahead. He had braved the decision to confront Rosalie and lay bare his innermost secrets, yet as the words escaped his lips, an unexpected fear, long dormant, reared its head, seizing him in its relentless grip.

It was not just Rosalie who trembled in fear now.

With a deliberate slowness, almost as if grasping for a fleeting moment of reprieve, he averted his gaze, fixating on the gleaming surface of the polished wooden floor. His mind, now a maelstrom of tumultuous thoughts, refused to yield to the gravity of the impending conversation.

Finally, after a moment of intense internal struggle, he gathered his resolve and addressed her in a measured tone, tinged with a hint of uncertainty,

"My abilities... they granted me a glimpse, Lady Rosalie. I saw everything."

Rosalie’s hands tightened into quivering fists, grappling with the overwhelming confusion that enveloped her. Altair’s revelation seemed to elude comprehension, yet its weight bore down heavily on her consciousness.

"But how can this be? Damien insisted that no one noticed anything amiss about me. So how–"

A solemn confession escaped Altair’s lips, laden with the weight of truth.

"Because my abilities, Rosalie, mirror yours. They were bestowed upon me by a demon."

A fresh surge of shock coursed through Rosalie’s body, engulfing even the most distant recesses of her being. It was as though her very essence had been drained, leaving behind an eerie emptiness, a chilling void.

Her lips, parched and quivering, barely formed the words of her next inquiry,

"What do you mean? This... it cannot possibly be real..."

Heavy silence lingered between them, as Altair struggled with the weight of his revelation. Rosalie, too, was hesitant to push him further, each avoiding the other’s gaze, as though fearing that even the slightest exchange might shatter the fragile tranquility that hung precariously in the air.

The weight of the silence became stifling, pressing down on the room, until Altair released a short, strained sigh. Rising from his seat, he positioned himself directly in front of Rosalie, compelling her to meet his gaze.

Then, in that charged moment, it happened.

Altair’s once long, sleek white hair transformed, turning into unruly waves of deepest black, resembling the wild mane of an otherworldly, formidable creature.

His pallid complexion, previously bordering on an unhealthy hue, now took on a warm, beige undertone, infusing his sunken cheeks with an unfamiliar, delicate rosiness.

His distinctive platinum eyes dimmed, suffused with an eerie, crimson radiance reminiscent of polished rubies.

It was a version of Altair she hardly recognized. And yet... she undeniably did.

Rosalie involuntarily recoiled, her body leaning back on her right hand, as she gradually adjusted to the startling transformation before her. Her head felt empty, her lips refusing to articulate a response. Amid the tumult of emotions, a singular thought broke through the chaos, crystallizing within her consciousness.

’He... it’s him! The man and the beast from my dreams! It was always Altair!’

Altair remained poised and motionless, observing the rapid succession of uneasy emotions contorting the lady’s pallid face. He wanted her to break the silence, bracing himself for any response, dreading the weight of the quiet. But she did not say a single word.

And so, he chose to shatter it once more.

"Are you afraid?" he inquired.

Rosalie’s body seemed to act on its own, answering with a gradual, almost imperceptible shake of her head, her voice barely audible as she whispered,

"But... how did you manage to deceive the Holy Temple?"

The question ignited a flicker of anger within him. Releasing yet another fleeting sigh, he raked his fingers through the disheveled mass of his newly transformed black hair before replying,

"The demon I forged a pact with was none other than Mephisto, the master of deceit. The High Priest lacked true Holy Power, hence his failure to discern my ruse. Yet, I saw through yours, Rosalie. Because we share a common bond."

"Why would you do such a thing? Why barter your soul to Mephisto, Altair?"

Altair slowly drew closer to the bed, resuming his place beside the duchess, averting his crimson-glowing gaze once more. The answer to her query was plain, yet each time he contemplated articulating it, it seemed inconceivably meaningless. Still, he knew he had to respond.

"Revenge. It was for revenge. I... was the leader of the Demonic Cult," Altair confessed, his voice laden with the weight of his admission.

Rosalie sensed her heart shrink once more, its thudding rhythm reverberating within her skull like the beat of a resounding drum.

Everything had undergone a profound upheaval, descending into a tangled web of confusion. Another character had emerged, one who, like her, had bargained their soul to a demon. More bewildering still was the revelation that he had successfully deceived the authorities of the Holy Temple, masquerading as a possessor of the requisite power while secretly leading the forbidden Demonic Cult.

A chaotic jumble of contradictions consumed her thoughts, leaving her sense of comprehension muddled. And yet, in some unfathomable way, it all strangely made sense.

After gathering her scattered thoughts, Rosalie turned her large, gray eyes toward the man and murmured, her voice still partially distant,

"So, the fugitive prisoners... the illegal border crossings, the magic beasts... all of it was your doing?"

Altair’s response came in the form of a simple nod. No meaningful words remained for him to offer. If the lady’s supposition was accurate, agreement was all he could provide. Yet, even that solitary nod was sufficient to widen Rosalie’s eyes, as a perilous realization took hold of her mind.

"Does this mean your aim is the Imperial family, along with... Damien?"

A vexing pang gnawed at Altair’s chest as the duchess spoke the Grand Duke’s name with profound endearment. If he still possessed the capability, he might have eradicated every remnant of Damien Dio from the world, desperate to banish the haunting echoes of that name. However, circumstances had shifted, aligning him with the very man he once despised with fervent fury, standing in defiance against the Demonic Cult he had since abandoned.

"It is the objective of the Demonic Cult, from which I have now distanced myself."

Rosalie’s realization of her own oversight only deepened her overall perplexity. Raising her eyebrows, she leaned closer to Altair, her burgeoning curiosity lending a slightly higher pitch to her voice,

"You left... So what implications does that hold? What prompted your decision?"

Altair met her gaze directly, his eyes unwavering, as he responded with conviction and resolve,

"I did it to help you, Rosalie."