When her roommate returned to the room, Rose didn't even have the strength to get up and greet him.
Not that she thought Dylan needed it anyway. That guy seemed to exist in his own world, where outsiders were forbidden entry.
So Rose limited herself to a slight nod and a brief:
"...Hi."
Dylan, as usual, said nothing in response.
He simply walked over to his bed and began to unpack his things.
Rose wasn't even offended. She didn't care. At all.
She continued lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, sighing languidly.
While her roommate went about his business in the background, Rose replayed the events of the last two days in her head. Meeting her brother, the conversation with her mother, the crazy ultimatum...
Her head was spinning.
She truly didn't know what to do next.
The worst part was that it seemed she would now have to stay in this academy. For an indefinite period.
Even though she hadn't planned this at all!
Rose groaned into her pillow.
Of course, she could disobey her mother and simply go home. But what would she tell the Countess? "Sorry, Mom, I couldn't handle it?" And then — sit and wait for the Valentino family to come for them?
No, that option wasn't good either.
Rose's thoughts gradually turned to the culprit of all their troubles.
Grandfather!
If back then the former head of the family, Albert de Rosmund, had simply and prudently accepted the money from the Duke Valentino and not acted like a paragon of nobility, his descendants wouldn't have to suffer so much now!
Seriously! Was it really that hard to take the money? It's just money!
If Grandfather had taken the gold back then, they'd be living comfortably now. No marriage contracts, no running away, and no disguises in men's academies!
"And why are all the problems because of men?" Rose muttered under her breath. "First Grandfather with his stupid nobility, then my brother with his running away..."
"Is something wrong with you?"
The voice came so unexpectedly that Rose jumped.
She turned her head and found Dylan standing right next to her bed.
When had he approached?
The guy looked down at her, and there was something... strange in his grey eyes. Concern? Rose wasn't sure.
"Nothing much," she quickly replied, trying to adopt a more decent posture. "Just the first day of classes. I'm a bit tired."
Dylan was silent for a moment.
"...I see."
Rose thought that would be the end of the conversation. Dylan would return to his business, and she would continue wallowing in despair.
But unexpectedly, the young man stepped closer.
In an instant, his handsome face was right in front of hers. So close that Rose could see every eyelash, every shade of grey in his eyes.
Her heart skipped a beat.
"What's this?" Dylan asked, and an unexpected seriousness sounded in his usually indifferent voice.
"What?"
"You're injured."
Rose blinked, trying to understand what he was talking about.
And then it dawned on her.
The bruise.
Because she was lying on the bed, the fringe of her wig had shifted, exposing her forehead. And on her forehead was that very bruise from yesterday's ball, which had already taken on an unpleasant greenish tint.
Rose was surprised that Dylan had even noticed it.
She hadn't expected this cold, detached guy to show such attention to someone else's problem.
"Oh, this?" Rose tried to put carelessness into her voice. "It's nothing. Just an accident."
"An accident?"
Dylan continued to look at her, and that gaze made Rose uncomfortable. It seemed he saw more than she wanted to show.
She had to explain.
Rose briefly, without unnecessary details, told him about yesterday's incident with the ball. About how three idiots were playing and hit her right in the head.
"...And that's it. But it's nothing. It'll heal in a couple of days."
To Rose, it really was nothing.
Yesterday, maybe she was angry about this bruise. But today, against the backdrop of all her other problems, this bump seemed like such a trifle that it wasn't even worth thinking about.
Dylan listened, was silent for a moment, and then uttered his trademark phrase again:
"...I see."
And he walked away.
The expression on his face became impenetrable again.
Rose sighed.
It seemed his interest was purely situational. He made sure it was nothing serious, and lost interest.
She returned to her gloomy thoughts.
And she got so absorbed in them that she didn't notice how the night flew by. She fell asleep only towards morning.
***
The next day, Rose trudged to classes as if going to hard labor.
Her eyes were heavy, her thoughts were muddled, and her mood couldn't have been worse.
But as soon as she entered the classroom, she immediately forgot about her fatigue.
Because she was met with a sight worthy of a surrealist painter's brush.
Zeke sat at his desk with his arm in a sling and his leg wrapped in bandages. Richard resembled a mummy — his entire body was covered in plasters and dressings. Dennis looked a bit better, but his forearm was adorned with a cast, and his neck was fixed in a special collar.
"What happened to you?!" Rose breathed out, forgetting even to greet them.
"Ah-ah-ah, Ruven!" Zeke perked up at the sight of her. "You won't believe it! Yesterday we were walking in the park, and a tree fell on us!"
"A tree?!"
"Yes! A huge, old tree! It was just standing there, minding its own business, and suddenly — bam! — right on us!"
Richard nodded gloomily, as much as his neck bandages allowed.
"I thought it was the end. Honestly. I'm lying under that trunk thinking: 'Well, that's it, I've had it.'"
"And my arm got crushed!" Dennis chimed in, showing his cast. "And I dislocated a vertebra. Now I walk like a robot."
"Well..." was all Rose could say. "You were unlucky."
"That's an understatement!" Zeke exclaimed. "If not for the guards who were passing by, they'd still be pulling us out from under that tree!"
Rose listened to their complaints and felt that, against this backdrop, her own problems seemed... well, not so catastrophic.
At least a tree hadn't fallen on her.
For the entire lesson, the trio didn't shut up for a minute. They discussed the details of the incident, argued about who was more injured, and constructed conspiracy theories (Zeke was convinced the tree was cut down by his rivals).
Rose sat nearby and listened with half an ear. Her thoughts were far away.
She looked out the window and thought about how to get out of this mess.
"Ruven," Zeke suddenly called out to her. "What happened to you?"
"Hmm?"
"You seem gloomy today. Even gloomier than us, and a tree fell on us. Did something happen?"
Rose looked at his sincere, worried face and almost laughed.
Did something happen?
Oh, a lot happened.
Her brother ran away from home and refuses to return. Her mother ordered her to find a fiancé in a men's academy. And she herself is stuck here indefinitely, risking her life every day.
But out loud, she only said:
"No. Everything's fine."
Zeke looked at her doubtfully but didn't press further.
Until lunch, Rose sat as if in a fog. She didn't even remember what lessons there were. Her brain refused to absorb information, focusing on a single thought: "What the hell am I supposed to do now?"
When the bell rang, Zeke, despite his injuries, decisively declared:
"Let's go to the cafeteria. We need to refuel."
"Maybe you'd better go to the infirmary?" Rose suggested.
"I've already been to the infirmary. Now I want to eat. Let's go, Ruven, don't argue!"
Rose didn't argue.
She didn't care anymore.
***
The Arden Academy cafeteria was mind-blowing.
A huge hall with high vaulted ceilings, long oak tables, and crystal chandeliers. It could accommodate several hundred students at once.
Rose sat with a plate in front of her and mechanically shoved food into her mouth. It seemed to be a stew with chicken and vegetables. Or something else. She couldn't taste anything.
Around her, students were noisy, plates clattered, forks clinked. Zeke and his friends were animatedly discussing something, but their voices reached Rose as if through cotton wool.
She was in her own world. A world of gloomy thoughts and hopeless situations.
Suddenly, someone tapped softly on the table next to her plate.
Rose slowly raised her head.
And almost choked on the stew.
Standing before her was Gilbert.
Her younger brother.
"We need to talk," he said quietly but firmly.