The Emperor Is My Brother's Best Friend

Chapter 84

Shing.

The knight frantically withdrew his sword. He couldn’t have imagined how the strange man had managed to successfully hide a sword on his person, but he couldn’t risk injuring his young lady by carelessly swinging his sword.

Rose gazed at the man's face, which remained concealed by the cloak.

Would it seem odd to Rose now if a man's hand didn't evoke fear?

She lowered her gaze and observed the man's sizable hand clasping her own.

She could discern the calluses on his skin.

Nevertheless, she didn't consider her own hands to be coarse, regardless of how well she might be taking care of them.

The man turned his head towards Rose, and his hand exhibited momentary strength.

"Oh!"

After a brief exclamation, her body pivoted towards the man.

She had been led by him and now stood face-to-face with him, allowing her to catch a glimpse of the visage concealed beneath the cloak.

The cloak cast a dense shadow, but from among the initial features Rose discerned within that obscurity were eyes reminiscent of twinkling amethysts, and Rose finally identified the man's true identity.

"Huh?!"

Startled, he let out a small hiss, his voice so low that only Rose could hear it.

"Be careful next time, Rose."

Upon hearing his words, Rose nodded in acknowledgement.

Russell's eyes formed a gentle smile.

"Well then, take care."

Releasing Rose's hand, Russell swiftly turned and vanished into the crowd. She kept her gaze fixed on him until he had completely disappeared.

It was only when Anne, Barry, and the knights gathered around her that she snapped back to reality.

"Apologies, Lady Rose. The assailant's movements were too swift to prevent him from apprehending the young lady."

The knight, who had clashed swords with Russell, bowed deeply. Rose waved her hand dismissively.

"Nothing happened. Are you okay? And he's the one who found my wallet, so don't feel too bad about it."

What would happen if the knight discovered that the individual he directed his sword at was the emperor?

Rose believed it was imperative to keep this knowledge from the knight, even if nobody else was privy to it.

"Let's return to the mansion. I'm feeling weary."

Anne guided Rose to the carriage.

Rose climbed in and stowed the money she held back into her wallet. Upon sealing her wallet, Anne initiated a conversation.

"By the way, what did he say to you earlier, Lady Rose?"

"Earlier?"

"Yes."

Rose nodded.

"It sounded like a threat, didn't it?"

Anne asked curiously.

Certainly, what Russell had just done resembled a robbery.

It was only natural for Anne and everyone else to feel concerned and vigilant.

Rose let out an awkward laugh and shook her head.

"No, he merely advised caution."

"Why does he seem so dangerous then?"

Witnessing Anne snort as she spoke, Rose reclined atop the carriage seat.

"Anne, I'm quite tired, so I intend to catch a bit of sleep. Could you wake me when we arrive?"

"Ah, of course! Just close your eyes for a moment."

No matter how unaware Anne might be of the person she cursed, Rose couldn't bear to witness her cursing the emperor.

She chose to halt the conversation by briefly shutting her eyes.

With her eyes closed, she recalled the moment with Russell, the man she had recently encountered.

She wondered how they could cross paths again.

A memory stirred in her mind—tthis situation had occurred before.

Was he the person who donned a cape and frequented the square?

In retracing their prior meeting, Rose detected something unusual.

Russell has changed since then.

It wasn't merely a shift in his outward appearance for others. There was a transformation that took place within him.

"Mmm."

Rose's eyes widened, and she stifled the noise as she considered Russell's changes.

"Oh!"

Her sudden exclamation startled Anne, who sat across from her and asked her with concern.

"Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?"

"Oh, no! Have we not reached the mansion yet?"

"Yes, because it's evening, the carriages don't move as smoothly. The plaza is quite crowded with people leaving work."

"Indeed, I understand."

Rose gently closed her eyes, recognizing the déjà vu triggered by Russell's presence. The déjà vu was mostly centered around his hair color.

Russell's usual hair color resembled molten silver, which glinted as much as his eyes. However, she recalled the hair hidden beneath the cape that was distinctly blue.

"Did he wear a wig?"

Rose mused.

"That’s not his natural hair color. Although I couldn't observe it closely, the blue hue complimented him well. However... why did he choose that color?"

The sight of the blue hair propelled Rose into the past, to the very day her regretful first love commenced.

"I moved on from my lingering sentiments for Elliot a while ago. Yet, the reason I can't seem to let go of that day... is perhaps because I pitied myself for falling for him due to his act of saving me. Yes, that must be it."

---

Wells, who had departed for the port, returned soon after, and the butler upheld his promise to Rose, refraining from mentioning her outing.

"Rose, this is a gift I’ve brought for you."

Upon arriving at Honeywell Manor, Wells visited Rose before his shift at the Imperial Palace and presented her with a gift.

He offered a bracelet adorned with a blue sapphire jewel and a postcard featuring a seascape.

"Thank you, brother."

"Alright, so tell me, do you like them?"

"Well, of course I do! But brother, are you taking a day off today?"

"No, I need to return to the Imperial Palace."

"I understand, but take care. You must be fatigued."

"Your concern warms my heart, sister. Let's have dinner together tonight. We haven’t had dinner together in such a long time."

Wells lightly kissed Rose on the forehead before hastily leaving for the Imperial Palace.

Back in her room, Rose settled down at the desk, opened a drawer, and extracted a neatly arranged album.

The album brimmed with postcards, all united by a common motif: a backdrop of the sea.

In one corner of the postcard, she inscribed today's date before placing it within the album.

In this manner, Rose, who had never laid eyes upon the sea, experienced its essence indirectly through these postcards.

"If I go to the sea with my brother later, I'll finally have the chance to choose the postcards myself."

Rose's gaze lingered on the sea depicted on the postcards as she flipped through the pages when a knock interrupted her thoughts.

"Please, come in."

Anne, who had gained permission, entered the room and handed something to Rose.

"Lady Rose, a letter has arrived."

"For me?"

"Yes, it's from the Count West residency."

Rose's hand hesitated for a moment as she accepted the letter from Anne. She managed to feign composure, and she thanked her.

After Anne left the room, she finally unsealed the envelope.

[To Honeywell,

Tristan's Gloria candidates have expressed favorable opinions regarding the teatime event. It's scheduled for next weekend and will be hosted by Count West's family. I will send you a formal invitation the day before the event.

Nina West ]

What was anticipated has now transpired. The encounter with Nina carried a touch of uneasiness, but Rose sealed the letter agan, finding solace in the fact that it wasn't just the two of them.

---

In the following week, an invitation arrived from Count West, addressed specifically to Rose Honeywell.

Anne was thrilled upon receiving an invitation to a tea gathering from another family.

She painstakingly selected a dress as if Rose were preparing for a grand celebration at the Imperial Palace.

This time, Rose didn't intervene and stop her excitement.

Instead, she chimed in from the side, sharing her preferences, such as her fondness for a particular dress color and her desire to wear jewelry showcasing a certain gemstone.

Anne's lips curled upward at Rose's favorable response.

"It's wonderful to see that you have been vocal about your preferences lately."

"I have...?"

"Yes, I even heard you've been letting the butler know your food preferences."

"Hmm... That's true. If I recall correctly, it was something I genuinely wanted to eat. But isn't my behavior the same as always?"

Rose furrowed her brow, not perceiving any significant change, but Anne shook her head in denial.

"It might be just my personal observation. However, I'm quite certain about this. The young lady has been expressing her opinions more frequently these days."

"I see."

Rose acknowledged the changes Anne had observed, though she didn't necessarily agree.

Among the people who knew Rose best at Honeywell Manor, there were only three: her beloved brother Wells, the butler, and Anne.

Anne, having been close to her for a long time, seemed to detect changes even Rose herself might not be conscious of.

If Anne has picked up these changes, then it’s likely true.

If it were true, Rose didn't mind.

In fact, it made her feel better.

Maybe there was a positive change happening within her.

As Anne arranged the dress and accessories for the next day, ensuring they were easily accessible, Rose headed to bed.

Her lush blonde hair spread across the bed, carrying its fragrance into the air.

"Young Lady Rose, are you turning in for the night?"

"Yes, it’s about time I focus on getting some sleep."

"As you wish, I'll put out the lights. Sweet dreams, my Young Lady."

"Sleep well, Anne."

Anne switched off the room's light and softly exited.

Left alone in the dark room, Rose tossed and turned before finally settling on her side.

...When I meet Nina West tomorrow, I need to figure out a plan to inquire about Ilya's whereabouts.

Rose closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.

The thumping of her heart echoed in her ears, making it hard to discern if it was due to tension, excitement, or some other emotion.

---

"Good night, miss."

The lady-in-waiting bid farewell to the young lady before leaving the room.

Nina, roused by the sound of the door's closing, stirred in her bed.

After blinking and staring at the ceiling momentarily, she got up and settled herself at the dressing table.

Reflected in the mirror was the reflection of another Nina.

A woman with red hair and green eyes.

She scrutinized her reflection as she lightly ran a brush through her hair.

Her hand moved through her hair easily as the fiery red began to fade with each caress.

A few more gestures, and her hair entirely lost its crimson hue, adopting a soft brown shade… but it wasn't just her hair that transformed.

Her petite face subtly matured, and her height lowered and shrank.

As her overall appearance shifted, the image of 'Ilya Titonsser' emerged in the mirror. Ilya studied her own features with interest.

"You know, aesthetically, Nina West is more appealing than Ilya Titonsser. It's a shame that Nina West isn't a real, living person."

Ilya rose from her seat and made her way to the terrace. As she opened the door, a refreshing spring breeze swept in.

The night breeze brought a rejuvenating feel.

After closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, Ilya took a step onto the terrace.

She leaned on the railing, surveying Count West's mansion.

Today, Ilya stayed up late.

Both Countess West and the mansion's staff had retired for the night, leaving her as the only conscious person.

The wind tousled Ilya's hair and clothes before dying down. The surroundings turned hushed and so serene that even her gentle breaths sounded loud.

Feeling a sense of desolation, Ilya gently clasped both hands around her neck.

During the Imperial Palace's coming-of-age celebration banquet, she’s fed on human souls, yet that ravenous hunger was quick to raise its greedy head.

"Even if I stepped out now, no one would notice."

She moistened her lips but eventually shook her head.

"Nevermind, my next meal is due tomorrow anyway. A brief touch, and my hunger would seize for a moment."

Ilya, leaning on the terrace railing with both arms, looked down at the terrace floor and then raised her vicious gaze.

The focus of her gaze settled on the location of the Imperial Palace of Tristan.

"There’s not much time left. The day to exact revenge on the descendants of those who tore my body and soul apart… Ha! For that day... for this sea of fire..."

A wicked smile curled at the corners of Ilya's mouth.