Chapter 96: Laugh.

I knew it, or so I think.
Is it arrogant to say that?

It’s not quite that I “expected” it, nor that I “knew” it.
I simply can’t find the right words.
Yet if I must force it into language,
“I knew” feels the closest.

Rosette had known that he would come to her.

×　×　×　×

“Good day, Rosette-sama.”

“…Good day.”

A smile that makes anyone like him.
An expression beautiful and adorable, transparent with apparent goodwill toward her.
Gently narrowed eyes, lips curved in a perfect arc, even the mild tone of his voice; everything is composed of kindness.
Anyone would think he bears Rosette nothing but favor.
And the person herself would surely believe he holds at least some affection for her.

Rosette should have thought so.
She should have been able to think so.

(But my spine is freezing.)

She has seen countless kinds of affection offered to her.
Her life has contained far more adoration than hatred.
That is precisely why she became sensitive to the substance of people’s feelings:
how she is seen, how she is thought of, what is desired of her.
No one understands the excellence of the antenna forged by her position and environment better than Rosette herself.

So this sensation is surely not mere imagination.
That smile, perfect to the point of perfection, does not carry the meaning its appearance suggests.
The fangs of a beast hiding beneath beautiful skin possess the power to crush her in an instant.

Experience whispers: Do not step back.
If she retreats even a single step out of fear of that chilling smile, it will be over.
She has a baseless yet unshakable conviction of that.

Suspicion almost surfaced on her face; she forced strength into her cheeks, producing what was surely just as perfect a smile as his.
She is practiced at false smiles.
She must not scatter affection carelessly, but the skill of instantly pasting one on is essential.
It proves useful at moments like this.

“I’m sorry for suddenly addressing you. I must have startled you.”

“No, not particularly.”

For a single instant, something distorted in his expression at her calm reply.
A faint but unmistakable sign of agitation.
Yet it did not seem to deal any damage beyond what he had anticipated.
The mask did not peel away, nor did his composure waver; the young man before her—Yulan—continued speaking as though nothing had changed.

“As expected of a princess of an entire nation. You anticipated that I would come, didn’t you?”

Insolent courtesy.
The thorns hidden in those words were far too clear, and that clarity allowed her to understand:

So even a pampered little princess has that much brains, huh…

He keeps smiling, smiling without a single crack, flawless and never loosening.
That pasted-on “smile” tells her everything:
he does not trust her in the slightest.

And he knows that she has realized it.
Which means she, too, must never let her guard down.

“Oh my… I had assumed you were deliberately making it obvious.”

Plain provocation would be pointless against him.
Against someone who harbors no feeling whatsoever toward her, neither provocation, nor empathy, nor persuasion will reach him.
An opponent who would at least get angry is far easier to deal with.
Indifference is the most troublesome and terrifying thing of all.

Without the slightest hint of irritation, he tilted his head slowly, perfectly demonstrating the textbook way to smile, as if asking, Whatever do you mean?

He has no intention of revealing a single piece of information until she strikes the core.

“I heard you have been asking many people about me. I thought you were being rather roundabout.”

“I had no such intention… Everyone simply adores Rosette-sama, so I was merely listening to their heartfelt feelings.”

“Still, it felt like rather indiscreet prying to me.”

“If I have made you uncomfortable, please accept my apologies.”

He bowed his head without the slightest hesitation, yet not a fragment of sincerity could be felt.
Am I being too suspicious?
Only moments ago she had believed that sincerity could be shown not just in words but in posture;
now her own instincts overturned every value she had cultivated.
Sincerity, integrity—none of it applied to this person.

“However, I couldn’t help but become a little curious.”

As if affirming her impression,
the man before her twisted into a vivid sneer.

“—About the fact that you, the ‘fiancée’ of Prince Claudia,
have been approaching her.”

For an instant, the sacred golden color seemed to cloud with thick, viscous darkness.