Madness.
Pure, unadulterated madness.
This thought pulsed in Rose's head like an alarm bell as she lay on the bed, staring at the dormitory ceiling.
Her own mother had just ordered her, while in a men's academy disguised as a guy, to seduce... another guy.
Rose even smirked at the absurdity of the situation.
It seemed the Countess was firmly convinced that her daughter, being the only girl in a men's academy (even if in disguise), would automatically become the center of universal attention and adoration.
At the same time, it never crossed her mind that at least half of these "potential suitors" had long been betrothed to other noble ladies. And that the other half, most likely, weren't interested in marriage at all, because they came here to study, not to look for brides.
But the Countess was unstoppable now.
"...Rose, don't you understand?" she continued. "If Gilbert's wedding to the Valentinos falls through, and it seems it will, the Valentino family will not forgive us such an insult. They will destroy us. Grind us to dust. And in that situation, we will need support. A powerful patron. An influential husband for you, who can protect our family!"
Rose was silent, digesting what she heard.
Her mother spoke calculatingly. Coldly. Almost cynically.
This was the side of the Countess that Rose rarely saw. Usually soft and anxious, she had now transformed into a strategist, calculating moves on the chessboard of survival.
"You want to use another person and their family to solve our problems?" Rose asked quietly.
"Use?" hard notes sounded in her mother's voice. "In such dark times for our family, it's not the time to think about morality. We are fighting for survival, Rose. Or are you suggesting we just sit and wait for the Valentino family to come for us?"
"But still..."
"Besides," the Countess interrupted, "you need to get married anyway. You're not a girl anymore, you're twenty. And you still don't have a single candidate! If not now, then when will you find a fiancé?"
Rose bit her lip.
In this, her mother was right. The situation with her marriage prospects was indeed dire.
But using a disguise in a men's academy for this?..
"Mother, I still don't think this is right..."
"Trust me," the Countess's voice softened. "I've lived longer than you and I understand a thing or two about life. And besides... you remember that fortune teller's prediction, don't you? Perhaps this is exactly that chance she spoke of!"
Rose groaned.
"Mother, how can you believe in such nonsense?!"
"Twenty gold coins, Rose! I paid twenty gold coins for that session! Such money cannot be spent on idle chatter!"
Rose clutched her head.
Twenty gold coins for outright fraud! Her mother was ready to believe anything, as long as it provided an explanation for her daughter's misfortunes.
She opened her mouth to continue the argument, but the Countess interrupted her:
"That's it, the decision is made. You are not coming home empty-handed. Either you find a way to bring your brother back, or you find yourself a fiancé. There are no other options."
"Mother...!"
"Rose, you have always been an obedient daughter. Listen to me now as well. This is for our family."
And the Countess disconnected, citing urgent matters.
Rose remained lying on the bed, clutching the now-silent communicator in her hand, feeling utterly crushed.
She had planned to be here for a week at most.
A week! And now, because of this sudden maternal ultimatum, she would have to stay here for who knows how long.
What was she supposed to do now?
Two tasks. Two impossible missions.
The first — bring Gilbert back.
Rose didn't even want to think about it. Her younger brother, that selfish little shit, had run away, abandoned them to their fate, and renounced his family.
So let him go to hell.
For the first time in her life, Rose felt ready to give up on her brother. If he had made his choice, why should she run after him and beg?
No. Plan A was discarded.
The second — find a fiancé.
Rose winced.
This task was no better than the first. Even worse. Because while trying to bring her brother back, she risked only her time and nerves; trying to find a fiancé in a men's academy, she risked her life and freedom.
One wrong move — and she'd be exposed. And then — prison, execution, or exile. Not many options.
And yet her mother seemed absolutely confident in the success of this crazy plan.
Rose remembered what the Countess had mentioned in the conversation and frowned.
The fortune teller's prediction.
Did her mother really believe that nonsense?...
But, recalling that strange visit a year ago, Rose involuntarily pondered.
***
The story of Rose's failures in marriage was long and sad.
In all her twenty years of life, not once — not ONCE! — had any man shown interest in her.
Not a single candidate. Not a single suitor. Not a hint of sympathy.
While her peers from noble families at this age were either betrothed or already married, Rose remained in proud solitude.
And she had no idea why.
Her appearance was quite attractive. Her figure — not bad. Her character — not ideal, but not terrible either. Her mother said she was even cute when she wasn't angry.
Maybe it was the family's poverty?
But Rose had seen with her own eyes how girls from families of the same, or even lower, standing got married and made good matches. Some even managed to snag suitors from families of higher rank.
So what was the problem then?
It remained a mystery.
In aristocratic society, it was customary to conclude marriage agreements almost from the cradle. "Purebred" girls and boys were snapped up like puppies from an expensive kennel.
So did that make her a mutt?
Her mother, despairing of finding a rational explanation, had latched onto mysticism. She was firmly convinced that a curse of celibacy had been placed on her daughter. That someone had cast an evil eye on the count's eldest daughter, so that she would never marry.
Rose didn't believe in curses, but arguing with her mother was useless. Especially when she had already decided to take her to the capital's most famous fortune teller.
That was a year ago.
Rose was nineteen, she didn't have a single promising suitor, and her mother was dragging her down some dark alley where, according to rumors, dwelt a seeress capable of peering into fate itself.
The fortune teller turned out to be a middle-aged woman with piercing eyes and overly theatrical manners. She sat them down at a table, lit incense, stared into a crystal ball, and began waving her hands over it with an expression as if she were summoning spirits.
"I see..." she intoned in a mysterious voice. "Your daughter is indeed under the influence of something."
The Countess gasped and clutched her heart.
"So it really is a curse?!"
"Not exactly..." the fortune teller shook her head. "Rather, it's a matter of human factors. In other words, your daughter simply hasn't met her destiny yet."
"Destiny?" the Countess repeated hopefully. "You mean to say that my daughter has a person destined for her by fate itself?!"
"Exactly so," the fortune teller nodded importantly. "And that is precisely why she cannot meet anyone — because the men who cross her path are not her destiny."
The Countess listened, holding her breath.
Rose, however, was frankly bored. She sat, propping her cheek with her hand, wondering how much longer this circus would last.
"Young lady," the fortune teller suddenly addressed her.
Rose startled and looked up.
"Ah? What is it?"
"Listen to me carefully," the fortune teller's voice changed. Became more serious. Almost... threatening. "In the near future, you will meet a certain person. He is your destiny. This person will have hair as black as a raven's wing and grey eyes. And, of course, he will be incredibly handsome. This person is the one meant for you."
Rose blinked.
"But before you meet him," the fortune teller continued, "don't even think about dating anyone else! He is your one and only betrothed, and if you give your heart to someone else..."
She paused, and something strange flickered in her eyes.
"...they will kill me."
"What?" Rose frowned. "What did you say?"
She thought she heard the fortune teller mutter something else, but the woman was already waving her hands:
"Nothing, nothing! Just keep in mind: your destiny is a dark-haired, grey-eyed handsome man. Wait for him. And don't waste yourself on others!"
The session ended.
The Countess, utterly enchanted, counted out twenty gold coins to the fortune teller.
Rose, however, left the dark alley with the firm conviction that they had simply been swindled.
The girl forgot about this prediction the very next day.
And now, a year later...
She lay on the bed in the men's academy dormitory, pondering her hopeless future, when suddenly...
The door swung open.
In the doorway stood her roommate, Dylan.
Hair as black as a raven's wing.
Grey eyes.
And a face that, even under the most critical scrutiny, could only be described with one word — beautiful.