Chapter 25
I hesitated for a moment.
If Rosé had heard I met Gabriel, then it was surely from Gabriel himself. I had met him earlier, so naturally, Rosé must have encountered him after that.
But…
Why now? Why bring that up of all things?
What I chose to do was simple: pretend I didn’t know.
If I couldn’t untangle this twisted mess of threads, I didn’t want to touch it at all.
Oblivious to my inner turmoil, Rosé pouted in frustration.
“I heard you met him—it’s been forever, right? What did it feel like?”
I furrowed my brows.
“What do you mean?”
“The feeling, Sister! It’s been 12 years of just letters going back and forth.”
That was exactly what I wanted to ask her. What kind of “feeling” was she expecting me to have… toward her fiancé?
It became hard to meet her bright, sparkling gaze.
Was she interrogating me, or was she expecting… something else? I couldn’t tell.
“Yes, I met him. But it was by coincidence. It’s not something I’d have feelings about.”
So don’t misunderstand, I nearly added.
But just as I was about to reassure her, Rosé suddenly leaned in and whispered with a kind of excited urgency, eyes wide:
“That’s not what I meant! I mean… don’t you think Gabriel’s changed a lot? Like, after seeing him again after all this time… didn’t his whole aura feel different? His eyes were practically blazing!”
I blinked, taken aback by her fiery tone.
Wait—what’s gotten into her?
Still, maybe it was because of what she said that I found myself recalling Gabriel’s face more vividly than I meant to.
It’s true he’s changed.
Gabriel had always looked like a porcelain doll as a child. The type to grow up without a single awkward phase—and he had.
After a bit of thought, I shrugged and said bluntly:
“He didn’t change much.”
“R-Really?”
“Yeah.”
Rosé fell silent for a moment.
Her expression looked almost… flustered? I tilted my head in confusion.
What’s wrong? Was that not the answer she wanted?
It wasn’t intentional, but my thoughts slowly drifted back to Gabriel.
He had become more defined, more grounded in presence—but his face still carried that same stunning symmetry.
And his muscles were—
My expression hardened immediately.
Wait… why do I remember Gabriel in such detail?!
Remembering how I usually can’t recall anything I’m not interested in made my ears burn for no reason.
” Didn’t you think he got handsome or that your heart started racing or anything like that…”
“No. Why would I?”
I quickly blurted out my denial. Rosé rolled her eyes.
“Still, wasn’t it kind of touching that he dropped everything to come here…?”
“No way. What if he gets scolded at the imperial palace for that? Since when does a commander return alone like that?”
“R-right…?”
My face twisted in irritation.
Maybe I was too blunt—an icy silence fell between us.
I glanced at Rosé, wondering if she was upset because I’d criticized someone she liked, but she just looked a bit awkward.
Hard to read that expression… Though she doesn’t seem exactly upset, either…
Then Rosé suddenly scratched her cheek and gave me a mischievous grin.
“You know, I just thought it meant the Hillingtons and Belkius were really close. Close enough that he’s staying at our capital residence.”
Could it be… that Father had meant it that way, too?
Even now, I couldn’t quite understand why he’d given that house to Gabriel—of all places, why that one?
It feels… excessive.
Too bold, too familiar.
Like he couldn’t stand being even a step away. And they’re not even properly engaged yet.
But at the same time, the nobles might hear about this and assume that Hillington and Belkius were on far better terms than rumors suggested.
“It’s not like we’ve gotten closer. Even if we’re both from ducal houses, he’s a war hero now. People might start objecting to the engagement.”
“Hmm… I see…”
I brooded over it. There were pros and cons.
This could be both a strength and a danger for Rosé.
I placed my hand on Rosé’s shoulder—my poor, dear little sister.
Could this cheerful girl really hold her own in a world full of aristocratic young ladies with maxed-out social combat skills?
She’d better not throw a punch…
There was only one conclusion: Knowledge is power.
I clenched my fist firmly, then took Rosé’s hand and gave it a determined squeeze.
“Rosé.”
“Hmm?”
“So from now on, let’s take your lessons more seriously.”
“Huh? How did we suddenly end up here…?”
“No more skipping classes with random excuses. You’ll listen to your big sister, right?”
Rosé wiggled in place and whined in protest.
“B-but come on, sis! I’m actually really busy too. I mean it! I’m seriously swamped!”
“Quiet. Do you even know how to dance properly for the ball?”
“I have a solution!”
“What?”
Rosé grinned broadly. And then, as if it were the most brilliant idea ever, she boldly declared something completely ridiculous.
“I just won’t dance. Problem solved—ow!”
“You little—!”
I smacked her shoulder, and she flopped dramatically across the bed like she was dying.
Am I talking to a five-year-old right now, or to my twenty-year-old twin sister?
The more we talked, the more I started to worry.
What if she ends up dancing with Gabriel and knocks him over with her brute strength? What if she stomps on his foot in rhythm with the music?
I could never stand to hear anyone badmouth my sister.
In the original story of “The Young Lady is Sweet,” there were characters who disapproved of Rosé’s engagement to Gabriel.
They went out of their way to sabotage the couple’s betrothal.
And in the process, the original Rosériel endured no small amount of humiliation.
There was even a kidnapping episode…
My expression hardened.
“I won’t let that happen to you.”
“Huh? What are you talking about all of a sudden?”
I just want you to be happy.
This girl—how much she’s helped me in this life that could’ve been so cold and bleak—I can’t even begin to express.
If it weren’t for Rosé, could I have survived in this family the way I have?
Maybe I’d still be unable to even look our father in the eye. Even now, I’m not exactly warm with him or the household staff, but still…
“Rosé. I’ll make sure you don’t go through anything painful. Because I love my sister more than anyone.”
Rosé, who had looked a bit dazed, soon gave a gentle smile. It was a look truly befitting of her blessing.
“I love you too, sis. And I hope you don’t have to suffer either. Because everyone actually li—”
“Thanks.”
Rosé would sometimes tell little white lies like that, perhaps bothered by how people weren’t always warm toward me.
“Such a sweet girl, my Rosé.”
“No, I mean it this time—really…”
Even though I’d long stopped caring about things like that, she was still so kind.
As I gently ran my hand through her soft hair, I felt myself finally relax.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
The Mielle Empire had long prospered thanks to the divine blessings—known as “prophetic words”—and the supernatural powers granted through them.
Because of this, the empire practiced a monotheistic faith that worshipped the deity who bestowed those prophetic gifts.
The origin of this god, and the language they used, remained unknown to ordinary people. That’s why, since ancient times, the role of understanding, interpreting, and conveying the divine message had been entrusted to a select few.
The High Priest.
And the High Priests referred to the one god with a single title:
“Yeon-nim.”
Seated in a circle, young novice priests with innocent faces attentively listened to the current High Priest, Chris, a man who had served in the temple for many years.
“Feel free to ask me anything you’re curious about.”
“Me! Me! High Priest Chris, me!”
Smiling gently at the unusually energetic child, Chris nodded. The little novice’s eyes sparkled.
“Why is it Yeon-nim, of all things? It’s hard to pronounce! Where does the word come from? What does it mean?”
Amused by the child’s pure enthusiasm, Chris chuckled softly and patted the round head of the young novice.
The touch was so gentle that the little one flushed with embarrassment.
“We don’t know.”
“Wait, even you don’t know?”
“Because the language of the god is not something we can truly understand. At best, we can guess, but we can never claim certainty or make assumptions.”
The children all frowned at once. Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?
“Here’s what you should remember, everyone. We are the ones who love the god. If we can’t even utter their name properly, then that’s something to be ashamed of.”
The young novices began mumbling “Yeon-nim, Yeon-nim” to themselves. It still felt difficult. Like speaking a foreign language that wasn’t meant for them.
But then they looked at each other and burst into giggles. They felt proud just knowing they were being taught directly by the High Priest, receiving the divine words.
“Is it very difficult for you all?”
“It is—but it’s fun! Not just anyone gets to hear this, right?”
“That’s a good attitude.”
Nothing spoken here would ever leak beyond these walls.
Priests were born into their role—but it was as if love and reverence for the god had been etched into their souls since birth.
That’s why, no matter their age, it was only natural for them to learn from the High Priest, to receive the god’s teachings, and to revel in them.
They worshiped and loved their god—because they were priests.
“Have you ever been afraid when giving a prophecy, High Priest Chris?”
The quietest of the children, who had been shyly sitting with downcast eyes, suddenly raised a hand and asked.
The room fell silent. All the children held their breath.
Prophecy.
That was ultimately the most important duty of the priests—to deliver the divine messages spoken in the god’s language.
“I… I’m scared.”
The novices started murmuring, holding each other’s hands tightly. Me too. Yeah, me too!
After a moment of silence, Chris finally spoke.
“Is it because giving a prophecy feels like deciding someone’s fate?”
His eyes narrowed slightly, and the child who had spoken flinched under his gaze.
“Young one. We are only messengers of the god’s prophecy. Have we ever fabricated a prophecy that didn’t come from the divine? If not, then why should we be afraid?”
The child’s face turned pale.
