Mad Rosetta - Chapter 124

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Rosette Gone Mad
Chapter 124
The Child of Confession (7)
* * *
“Sigh… Lady, the tears won’t stop coming.”
The oppressive silence of this desolate place had driven my boredom to its absolute peak.
Sing had left early that morning to meet with the Emperor.
Since I had no idea when Jeremiah would venture out, he had been leaving at dawn for days on end with no intention of returning before dinner.
‘Good heavens. I never realized how poorly suited I am to simply waiting like this…’
Had he encountered my treacherous brother today?
If they had crossed paths, I was desperately curious whether he would keep his mouth shut.
As I tasted the full weight of this tedium, an unexpected hunger gnawed at me.
Since having someone to share meals with and then losing that companionship struck a heavy blow, I found myself remembering the breakfast I had set aside without eating, saving it for lunchtime.
Strength flows from sustenance. I needed to eat first before I could muster the energy to plan what to do alone for the rest of the day, so I forced myself up from the Bedroom.
“When I received it from the staff, at first glance it looked like butter…”
…butter scones and dried meat strips, I thought.
Where on earth had my meal gone?
The tray I had ostentatiously placed in the center of the table sat empty.
I didn’t need to wander about wondering if I had mistakenly left it somewhere else.
“…I, I definitely didn’t eat it?”
With utter audacity, someone had consumed it, and the area around the tray bore the unmistakable marks of their feast.
In that instant, my entire body erupted in goosebumps.
I wasn’t even contemplating which wretch had dared to not merely consume the precious provisions from the Winter Mountain, but had left the place in such disarray as though a vagrant had passed through.
Someone had broken into this Cabin.
I reached that singular conclusion, and I swiftly surveyed my surroundings.
‘…Blast. Calm down. Calm yourself. First, the door…’
…Why is it open?
Sing would never have left without closing it.
Whoever this audacious thief was, leaving the front door open like that would let the cold wind pour in.
Gripped by mounting dread, I scuttled sideways like a crab, and finally seized a kitchen knife from the Kitchen.
Since this was the first time in my life I had ever held a kitchen knife, I gripped the handle firmly lest I drop it.
With a single weapon in hand, I felt a surge of strength coursing through me.
“I, I’ve faced all manner of madmen in my time, you know…? If you’re coming out, then come on out!”
No! Better yet, don’t come out at all!
Like a beast puffing itself up, I had been shrieking desperately, but only for a moment.
Rustle…
At that strange sound emanating from somewhere within this Cabin, I found myself raising my voice once more, but for an entirely different reason.
It was the moment I desperately wished for Sing to return.
* * *
When I asked for his thoughts, Jeremiah offered no response.
Sing met his gaze without flinching, despite the confusion and fear that clouded it, and spoke in a measured tone.
“I merely asked how it felt to ascend to the position Mother so desperately desired, yet you offer no answer.”
“You… you…”
“I asked out of genuine curiosity. Once your shock subsides, would you share your thoughts with me?”
“…How dare you! How dare you mimic someone right now!”
Thrashing about, or recoiling in shock.
Or crying out to retreat, as though suffocating under the weight of fear.
Though I prided myself on anticipating any reaction, Jeremiah’s sudden outburst—rising with genuine indignation—caught me off guard.
‘…I thought he already believed. Was I mistaken?’
The peculiarity of it struck me, and irritation flared unbidden within me. Sing twisted his lips.
“How disappointing, Jeremiah.”
“You… shameless-”
“Surely you don’t still see me as Fordicus?”
“Cease that vile tongue at once! You cannot be ignorant that what you do now constitutes lèse-majesté against the Imperial Family!”
His pupils trembled violently, following the sharp edge in his voice as he struggled to contain his rising fury.
Whether their eyes wavered together or through his own doing remained unclear.
– “…Is that you, Theo?”
– “…”
– “Theo, Theo, come here. I’m sorry. I was wrong, I’m sorry. Please, take me with you too.”
– “…”
– “Please, please kill me too…”
Ah, how foul this feeling had become.
The ghost that I had become was not there.
Jeremiah had clutched at empty ground, repeating the same words countless times.
At first, I had merely found it contemptible, so Sing busied himself urging him to end his own life, his voice consumed by rage.
After repeating that farce for months, one day he stood before his own portrait and, as though driven mad, poured alcohol upon it.
Then, when his vision grew so clouded he could barely see, and he crawled out alone at dawn only to cause a commotion with the Imperial Guard, a question arose: “Why?”
– ‘If he would live so wretchedly, then why…”
More than the shock of being betrayed and killed by one he loved, I resented how my own life had been stolen by someone so pathetically weak.
It was unjust.
I refused to understand Jeremiah’s heart—he who wept as though he too were the victim.
This remained true even after learning that Jeremiah had been Carina’s pawn.
The reality that I could not bring myself to think this calamity had occurred because he had never once defied his mother filled me with resentment.
– “…Why do you not spend time with the First Prince?”
– “The First Prince does not resemble His Majesty greatly. If you were to walk together, surely it would be quite picturesque-”
– “Nonsense.”
– “…”
– “The very reason the First Prince is a threat lies in that point. I cannot fathom how such foolishness escapes your clever lips.”
At His Majesty’s insinuation that perhaps something sinister had persuaded me to speak thus, Sing felt a chill.
If both parents despised him for resembling his father, then whose child was he?
Sing was one of the few people who understood Jeremiah’s position within the Imperial Palace better than anyone else.
Endlessly unpleasant, suffocatingly unpleasant—as if trapped within a sealed well.
Sing could not help but occasionally feel that same wretchedness.
Every time I assured myself that I would have been different had I been born as Jeremiah, it felt like a thorn lodged in my throat.
Perhaps it was because I knew all too well that I had never once experienced such degradation.
“I know not what scheme you’ve concocted, but interrogating you or your father might yield answers. How dare you—of all people—show contempt for the late Former Emperor?”
Yet why do you burn with such genuine fury?
Sing suddenly found himself thinking this, and despite having already resolved his course of action, he felt a profound sadness.
“Drunk on wine, you came to me….”
“What?”
“You did not come to me asking me to keep time with you, did you?”
“…What are you saying now?”
“You asked how it felt to live as a sovereign lord, praised me for attending to state affairs as much as I have, did you not….”
I regretted not seeing Jeremiah’s reaction, having lowered my head in an attempt to conceal my expression.
Since I had no intention of squeezing out tears, Sing spoke through gritted teeth, as if grinding his words.
“You said that even in death, we would not meet in the same place. No, brother. As you can see, I am like this.”
“….”
“Neither living nor dead, yet we face each other in this form…. How can you say we are not in the same place?”
It was then that Sing thought it was good he had not brought Rosetta.
Whether it was frustration or a hint of guilt—he did not wish to show her such a contemptible display of tears.
“Theo?” came a voice calling out.
Hearing it with his ears alone, the voice sounded so pure and childlike that Sing let out a hollow laugh despite himself.
When he raised his head again, Jeremiah—his face drenched in bewilderment—was gradually drawing closer to him.
‘…My weapons were confiscated outside.’
Sing remained vigilant, wondering if Jeremiah might draw a sword concealed within his voluminous robes.
Contrary to such suspicion, the Emperor of an entire nation knelt without dignity.
“Is it really Theo?”
Clinging to the legs of Youngsik as he spoke.
“Why, why? How could you….”
“…Today I have come because I have something to tell you, so please rise.”
“Speak. Why did you come to see me in the form of Youngsik of House of Montague?”
“It is a long story to explain, so first….”
Sing suddenly paused, turning Jeremiah’s words over in his mind.
Something felt oddly familiar.
If I appeared in Fordicus’s form, it would certainly be shocking enough.
Given that he was so different from the younger brother I knew, it would have been stranger not to be surprised.
‘…Why, of all things?’
Perhaps he was simply reacting too sensitively.
Yet the faintly accusatory tone, the peculiar combination of words that somehow did not align with the context.
Sing suddenly arrived at a truly horrifying conclusion and raised his voice without restraint.
“Did you know?”
“…What?”
“That Fordicus Cessia is the Empress Dowager’s illegitimate child!”
“….”
“That he’s your half-brother! Did you know that?!”
Jeremiah said nothing.
Yet strangely, I felt as though I had heard his answer.
His shoulders hung in helpless defeat, and though his gaze was fixed upon me, his eyes seemed to look through empty air….
Like an abyss I could never hope to reach.
That was what I felt so acutely.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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