The Villainess's Secret Bedroom Service
Chapter 151: Decision To Leave

Chapter 151: Decision To Leave

"How do you intend to help me?" Rosalie questioned, her skepticism and bewilderment unabated. The conversation between them seemed to spiral into increasing complexity with every spoken sentence.

Meanwhile, Altair’s demeanor shifted, settling into a composed and collected state. His voice, now steady and unwavering, maintained its confidence as he continued,

"To provide the aid you require, we must depart from Rische."

The duchess could not suppress her astonishment, her mouth agape in disbelief.

"Depart? And go where, precisely?"

"Izaar."

Once more, Rosalie lapsed into a contemplative silence. It marked the second occasion someone had mentioned Izaar as the destination she needed to seek, leaving her with an unshakable sense that this was no mere coincidence; rather, it seemed fate had intricately woven this path for her, leading her to this place, perhaps to seek refuge from the unfortunate twists of her destiny.

"Why Izaar?"

In response, Altair delved into the pocket of his long Temple uniform, producing a weathered, folded piece of parchment with a faded yellow hue. Carefully unfurling it, he revealed its contents to the lady.

"My father was arguably the most well-versed individual in Rische when it came to demons and accords with them. I stumbled upon this amidst his myriad of documents."

Rosalie accepted the paper from his outstretched hand, endeavoring to decipher the enigmatic inscriptions. Yet, whether due to lingering bewilderment or a temporary mental fog, the meaning eluded her grasp.

Observing her struggle, Altair retrieved the paper, directing her attention to a series of sentences highlighted in vivid red ink. With a composed demeanor, he explained,

"Amarath, a resident of Izaar, assumes the role of a demonic judge."

"A judge?"

"Yes. As per my father’s annotations, he aids humans in renegotiating the terms of their demonic pacts, provided he finds their pleas compelling. If he takes compassion on your plight, he might assist you in rescuing the child."

"A demonic judge..."

The lady mumbled these words under her breath, fixing her empty gaze on her own feet as she looked down. And although it still seemed somewhat unbelievable, she was hopeful.

"So, this demonic judge... How does one even begin to approach him?"

Altair could only shake his head, his own understanding no more definitive than hers.

"I’m afraid I lack an answer. My father’s writings only touch upon Amarath in passing, leaving me with scant details. Yet, I believe the people of Izaar might offer some guidance."

His words held a certain truth. Izaar remained an enigmatic entity among the surrounding Empires, welcoming individuals of all backgrounds and ensuring their freedom. Perhaps it was this inclusive nature that accounted for its status as the most tranquil realm on the continent - enigmatic yet steeped in an enduring peace.

Despite the burgeoning temptation to embrace this newfound direction, Rosalie found herself grappling with numerous unanswered queries.

"Why are you so invested in helping me, Altair?" she inquired, her gaze unwavering.

Altair hesitated, his posture shifting slightly in his seat. Initially, he had contemplated revealing the truth—that his affection for her ran deep and that, even if it meant departing from her side eventually, he could not bear to witness any harm befall her. Love had finally taken root within him, and he was determined to honor that sentiment until the very end.

Yet, the pragmatic voice within him resonated louder. He recognized that baring his heart would only serve to complicate her already tumultuous circumstances. Consequently, with a heavy heart, he found himself compelled to revise his own truth.

"I used to believe my purpose lay in striving for a specific, significant goal. However, as I drew nearer to you, as I observed your resilience amid the shadows that confined you, I came to realize that my own existence lacked true meaning and purpose. Rosalie, I yearn to transform that. I yearn to undertake something truly significant. I aspire to be like you. I simply... wish to meet my end as a human, not as a creature," Altair confided.

Rosalie felt her heart fracture once more. These words did not belong to Altair. They were reminiscent of the lines Damien had spoken to Evangelina in the novel, as he bared his soul to her, pleading for her to believe in his worthiness of being saved by her power. She had always regarded those words as the most melancholic she had ever encountered, and it pained her profoundly to know that another soul was ensnared in the desolate confines of a similar curse.

Even if his curse was self-inflicted.

Contemplating Damien’s well-being led Rosalie to an important realization about their previous Acme exchange.

’What if Damien experiences another seizure? The High Priest’s abilities fall short, and akin to the battlefield, he might be confined to his bed for weeks. I can’t bear to witness him endure such suffering again...’

Almost as though attuned to her thoughts, Altair furrowed his brow and released a brief, somewhat exasperated sigh.

"You need not concern yourself with anything other than your well-being, Rosalie. If we proceed methodically, we should be able to resolve this swiftly and return. Assuming, of course, that Amarath is willing to hear us out."

Rosalie nodded, acknowledging his point.

"Should we accompany the Izaarian delegation then?"

"No, there isn’t sufficient time for such arrangements," Altair replied with a heavy sigh. He raked his long fingers through his hair before explaining further, "The delegation’s departure is scheduled for tomorrow. The Demonic Cult plans to strike the Imperial Palace soon after they cross the border. It’s advisable for us to make our exit amidst the ensuing chaos."

"So soon... it’s all happening so soon."

Seeking to impart some reassurance, Altair gently covered her small, pale hand with his own, offering her a subtle, supportive smile.

"If you were to leave so abruptly, there is a risk the Crown Prince might grow suspicious of both you and the Izaarian delegation, potentially linking you to the uprising. To be honest, that was our initial intent – to implicate Izaar in aiding the revolt. So, if we depart separately, we might avoid dragging another Empire into this affair."

Rosalie averted her gaze once more, acknowledging the validity of Altair’s point. Disappearing amid the turmoil could lead observers to conclude she had been taken by the Cult members. With Altair harnessing borrowed demonic abilities, slipping across the border unnoticed could indeed facilitate the plan’s success.

Taking a moment to compose herself, Rosalie prepared for her next question, recognizing that it held the key to her fate. When she finally felt a firm footing beneath her, she met Altair’s gaze and inquired with unwavering determination,

"So... When is our departure scheduled?" Rosalie inquired.

"In three days. Stepping down from my leadership role, the Cult may require extra time to reconsider their tactics. However, I doubt we will be afforded any more time than that. I will make my exit from the temple first, awaiting you in the northern forest. Once the Demonic Cult launches their assault, the Grand Duke will have to depart to defend the Imperial Palace. That will be our opportune moment to depart as well."

Rosalie pressed her hand against her chest, keenly aware of her racing heartbeat pulsating beneath her skin.

Three days. Merely three days remained for her to make the most difficult decision of her life.

The decision to leave.