Roxana
Chapter 64
Chapter 64
The Way to Protect the Female Lead’s Older Brother
Chapter 64
Roxana’s gaze remained fixed outside the window.
Before she knew it, the winter sun had fully set, and a deep darkness settled over the sky.
The place she occupied now was the head office used by the leaders of Agriche for generations.
Until only yesterday, this space had belonged to Lant.
Perhaps that was why the sharp, acrid scent of the stimulants Lant often smoked still lingered throughout the office.
Roxana moved her hand, picking up the crystal glass resting upon the luxurious mahogany desk.
Inside swirled a red liquor exuding a faint fragrance.
Sitting in the very chair Lant had used, drinking within his office, was quite an exceptional sensation.
Having just visited Lant in the Room of Punishment—and on her way back, having personally cleaned out a portion of the filthy vermin who deserved death—the drink tasted all the sweeter on her tongue.
Across Roxana’s pale cheek, half-submerged in shadow, a thin red streak of someone else’s blood was drawn.
It had splattered onto her in the training quarters she had visited beforehand, right before Jeremy and her other half-siblings ran rampant.
Roxana leisurely tilted her glass and spoke toward the man who had just slipped soundlessly through the office doors.
“I don’t recall giving you permission to enter.”
Yet, as always, Deon did not so much as blink.
As if he hadn’t heard a word she said, he took another step forward, closing the distance between them instead.
“Well, whatever… I’m in a good mood today, after all.”
Roxana had not truly expected Deon to turn around and leave in the first place.
Leaning deeper into the backrest of the chair, she permitted his approach.
“Care for a drink?”
Whether her claim of being in a good mood was genuine, Roxana showed Deon a rare gentleness. But Deon refused her coldly.
“No need.”
“Is that so? What a pity. An opportunity like this will only come today.”
Deon’s gaze had been fixed on a single spot for some time now.
The room was dim, illuminated only by the faint light filtering in through the window. Yet to Deon, that seemed to pose no hindrance at all.
Roxana also noticed where his gaze was pinned.
“You recognize it.”
She set down the glass in her hand, the corners of her lips curling upward.
Having not yet changed, Roxana was still in her going-out attire. But the outer coat draped over her shoulders was, by any measure, not hers.
“Cassis gave it to me.”
What Roxana wore over her dress was a men’s coat with an exceedingly broad frame.
When she drew the collar a little closer, her slender figure appeared nearly swallowed by the fabric.
“I liked it, so I kept it on.”
Draped in the garment, Roxana smiled brightly at Deon.
“Does it upset you to see me wearing this?”
Deon gave no reply, only casting a frigid gaze upon her.
Cassis Pedelian, whom she had met before departing Yggdrasil.
There was no need for confirmation; he was the very man occupying both Roxana’s and Deon’s thoughts at this moment.
“Every time you make that face, I still find it somewhat fascinating. Lately, it feels as though you look at me with nothing but anger.”
Whispering in a languid tone, Roxana reached back toward her glass.
Deon continued to watch her in silence.
“I…”
Then, slowly, Deon parted his lips.
“I don’t regret killing Asil.”
The hand that had just brushed the rim of the glass went still.
Gradually, the smile began to drain from Roxana’s face. And it was not merely her smile that vanished.
“Even if I were turned back to that day, I would slaughter that bastard again without hesitation.”
Every trace of emotion, down to the faintest thread, evaporated from her features, leaving behind only a dry, brittle emptiness.
“Only this time, I would sever his neck right before your eyes.”
An endlessly calm, flat voice resonated low within the desolate office.
“You were so thoroughly shaken by nothing more than a mere illusion.”
“…”
“Then what would happen if you saw the real Asil die with your own eyes?”
Murmured softly into the darkness, Deon’s words almost sounded like a monologue spoken to himself.
“I’ve always wondered about that.”
Roxana looked at him with hollow eyes, harboring neither searing rage nor sharp hatred.
The air inside the office was chilling.
Yet on the faces of the two who normally would have been far colder, there was no frost sharper than the northern wind today.
“Whenever I think of that, I even feel a sense of regret that I already killed Asil with my own hands.”
Deon was not speaking these words to seek vengeance against Roxana.
“Though thinking so is futile. That bastard is already dead. That was why, next, I wanted to kill your mother right before your eyes.”
Nor had he brought this up to threaten her.
“And knowing that, you entrusted your mother’s protection to my own mother.”
Roxana knew this as well.
Though neither wished to admit it, in a sense, within the walls of Agriche, they were the only two people who understood each other best.
“That day, you said you knew what I wanted.”
Their memories drifted back three years.
Back to the day they had first stepped into the mire that bound them even now.
“How ridiculous. To think you knew what even I didn’t.”
Who could have known back then? That this day would lie in their future.
Even Roxana had never imagined such a moment in those days.
That the day would come when Lant Agriche was cast down, and she would share such a conversation with Deon within his office.
Surely, the same was true for Deon.
Suddenly, a restless commotion could be felt from outside. Had something unexpected occurred, someone would have come seeking Roxana.
Seeing that no one came, Jeremy seemed to be carrying out the tasks she had instructed beforehand without issue.
Roxana slowly lowered her gaze.
“…Perhaps you and I share a few similarities.”
Her long eyelashes caught the faint light streaming from the window, glistening softly. Roxana’s eyes fixed upon the red liquid pooled inside the glass.
“You know… until now, I thought there was no particular reason I struggled and clawed so desperately to survive in this gutter.”
It was a strange night. Or perhaps it ought to be named a special night, an unusual one.
Certainly, today was a day worthy of being called the most meaningful of all the days she had lived, and this night, having only just begun, would be longer than any other.
“It’s true, isn’t it? I simply didn’t want to die like Asil. If I had to put it into words, survival itself was the objective.”
At any rate, it was a night unlike the others. Perhaps a moment that would never come again.
That was precisely why Roxana and Deon could lay down the sharp thorns they held against each other and speak of such things.
“Yet thinking about it now, I don’t believe that was my ultimate purpose.”
Much like Deon a moment ago, Roxana’s voice felt, in some sense, like a monologue.
Though speaker and listener had traded places, there was no awkwardness between them.
“Perhaps, having survived so tenaciously, there was something I truly wanted to do.”
The atmosphere between the two was quiet enough to make one wonder if there had ever been such a moment before.
“Do you know what that is?”
Roxana asked in a quiet voice. Deon’s eyes, harboring a tranquil light, watched her steadily.
“I know.”
After a short pause, Deon answered.
A faint smile drifted onto Roxana’s lips.
“Right… The truth is, even at a moment like this, I’m still confused.”
That was why Roxana had said they might share similarities just a moment ago.
Though they could effortlessly see through the desires of others, they could never give a definitive answer regarding their own.
The noise outside grew slightly louder. The collective presence of many people moving at once could be felt.
“If I give you what you want.”
In the deepening darkness, Deon spoke slowly.
“Will you give me what I desire as well?”
Roxana watched him silently without a word.
Deon quietly looked into the eyes meeting his, then turned and left the room first, as soundlessly as he had entered.
Left alone, Roxana turned her gaze back out the window.
A night swallowed by darkness. She knew what lurked beyond it.
Flutter.
Before long, a single red butterfly drew near, hovering around the solitary wine glass.
“The time has come.”
The brief celebration was over.
Roxana rose from her seat and opened the door Deon had slipped through moments ago.
A moment later, the door clicked shut, and a dense darkness settled over the freezing room.
Outside the window, white snowflakes were already scattering across the night.