Chapter 3.1

The carriage jolted, the door flung open, and an assailant stormed in.

The family’s knight was nowhere to be seen, possibly already subdued, and Rosaline and Aria were dragged out by a masked assailant who made sure their faces were hidden.

Rosaline’s memory after that was a blur. She reached for her throbbing forehead, only to realize her hands and feet were bound. Not tightly enough to hurt, but firmly enough to make moving difficult.

She scanned the pitch-black surroundings and called out, “Aria?”

“There is no Aria Rensier here.”

“…Who are you?”

Instead of answering, a man lit a lantern. The sudden light stabbed at her eyes. She squinted through the pain.

“Rosaline Rensier.”

She looked up. A young man stared down at her, his crimson hair falling to his neck, his deep green eyes sharp against pale, clear skin.

If dressed properly, he could easily be mistaken for the young master of a noble house. But Rosaline instantly knew he was the one who’d locked her in here.

He noticed the flash of hate in her eyes and smiled.

“Took some effort to kidnap you without using magic. Can’t risk drawing that bastard’s attention, not in the capital.”

“…”

“Lift your head. I want to get a good look at the Rose of Rensier.”

The Rose of Rensier.

That was what they called her. They said it was because she was as beautiful as a rose, and the name suited her, but no one missed the deeper meaning behind it. What they were comparing her to wasn’t the flower, but the thorn-covered stem.

The title “Rose of Rensier” didn’t mean she was pretty like a rose bloom. It meant she had a sharp personality, like the thorns on its stem.

And that part of her didn’t fade, even when she was kidnapped to a place she didn’t recognize.

“Where is my sister Aria? Who are you, and what have you done to her?”

She nearly shouted. The man raised a hand, waving off her panic.

“Calm down. Your sister’s still safe.”

“What?”

“Still”? Does that mean he planned to hurt her later?

The man frowned, cocking his head. “You really… don’t know who I am?”

Rosaline shook her head.

She was certain she’d never seen him before. She wasn’t the best at remembering faces, but even she could be sure of that much.

He wasn’t as striking as Synox, but he was still undeniably handsome. His face was the kind you wouldn’t forget.

“…So that bastard did turn out just like his father.”

He muttered bitterly, venom thick in his voice. She had no idea who he meant.

Soon after, the kidnapper explained just enough of the situation to make her blood run cold. He didn’t give his name, but he had no hesitation describing her circumstances.

Not that Rosaline could interrupt, he gagged her before she could scream or talk back.

“This is the western edge of the capital. Your precious elder sister? She’s over in the east.”

Rosaline couldn’t speak, so she answered her kidnapper with a fierce glare.

“There’s a fire-based magic array beneath each location. Big enough to scorch everything within range.”

“…”

“Not even the Imperial Mages could dispel it in under thirty minutes. But Synox Aphlenta? He can just smash through any magic array in one blow.”

He said it with a mix of admiration and loathing.

“By now, Synox Aphlenta will have located both of you.”

“….”

“There’s one hour left before the arrays activate. He can’t be in two places at once. He’ll have to choose. One sister gets Synox, and the other gets an Imperial Mage.”

Rosaline inhaled sharply.

It was obvious who Synox would choose. He loved Aria, and that’s what this was about. A man forced to choose between the woman he loved and her sister.

Aria was sick.

Even Rosaline, if in his shoes, would’ve run to her first.

And that was fine. The Imperial Mage would come for her. The Rensier family wasn’t a powerful noble house, but they were prominent enough for the palace to respond to something this serious.

But why separate the sisters at all?

Frowning, Rosaline narrowed her eyes. The man noticed.

“Oh, right,” he said, as if remembering something. “If anyone besides the original caster touches the array, the magic will corrupt, and that corrupted energy will seep into the hostage’s body. Half an hour of exposure is enough to cause permanent internal damage.”

“…”

“After that, they’ll be nothing more than a cripple, mana leaking from their body until there’s nothing left.”

His grin was crooked, mocking.

Rosaline thought, lunatic. She would’ve said it out loud if she weren’t gagged.

He reached out and gently traced her cheek with his fingers.

“All thanks to the ‘saint’ of Aphlenta, because of his choice, one of you will spend the rest of her life broken.”

That was why he’d split the hostages. That was the trap.