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Chapter 15
When it came to Robs Bavarin, Dorothy knew a lot.
Having known him since his snot-nosed childhood days, Dorothy prided herself on knowing Robs well. To be precise, she was especially well-versed in his disastrous dark history. But honestly, knowing that much was basically knowing everything.
So maybe she should have seen this situation coming.
“Robs? He went on a business trip.”
Lexa Bavarin answered while roughly scratching her already disheveled hair.
“He probably won’t be back until next week. But Dorothy, why are you looking for Robs so early in the morning? Does he owe you money or something?”
“Exactly,” Dorothy muttered.
Robs was never around when you actually needed him.
Honestly, it was a mystery. Whenever Robs was looking for Dorothy, she was always there—but when Dorothy needed Robs, he was nowhere to be found. As Dorothy let out a deep sigh, Lexa shrugged.
“If you haven’t eaten breakfast, stay and eat.”
“I already ate, but I’ll eat again.”
Lexa snickered.
“A wise decision.”
“Turning down a meal from the Bavarin family is a sin worthy of eternal damnation.”
Lexa laughed again and nodded.
“Say that directly to Joseph.”
Joseph was the head chef of the Bavarin household. With his sturdy, muscular build, he created dishes that were practically works of art—a bewitching chef whose cooking unfailingly hit Dorothy’s exact tastes.
Dorothy and Lexa walked side by side toward the dining room. As they passed through the hallway and made the short trip to the dining room, Lexa yawned repeatedly. She said she’d been partying until late at night and only got home around dawn.
Seeing Lexa in her shabby sleep dress, hair a mess, scratching the back of her head, Dorothy hesitated.
With Robs gone, the only person she could discuss the life-threatening crisis she was facing with was Lexa. Their eyes met—Lexa yawning so hard her mouth looked ready to tear.
…Would Lexa really be okay?
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
Lexa asked, puzzled.
“Oh, right. Where’s my gift?”
“Gift?”
Lexa demanded it boldly. She was like this, but… it should be fine, right?
“You didn’t buy anything like a specialty from the County of Serin?”
“I couldn’t.”
Lexa blinked her large eyes several times, genuinely confused. Then she tilted her head.
“Hm. Dorothy… did you almost die or something?”
She blurted out something terrifying. Chills. How did she know?
“What?! How do you know that?!”
Dorothy shouted in shock, and Lexa stared back just as startled.
“What? You really almost died?”
“That’s scary! While I was gone, did you become someone who sees ghosts or something? How did you know?!”
This was terrifying.
So creeped out that she physically stepped away from Lexa. No matter how long they’d known each other, scary was still scary. Pretending not to notice Dorothy backing away, Lexa made a fuss, grabbed Dorothy’s hand, and hopped in place.
“I said it’s scary—and you’re getting closer!”
“Whoa, it’s obvious. People say someone changes when they’re about to die, right? Dorothy Sailor not shopping? That only makes sense if you were on the brink of death.”
When she put it like that… it did make sense.
“But seriously? You almost died? When? Where?”
At Lexa’s urging, Dorothy made up her mind. Fine. Since Robs wasn’t around, she’d work out a plan with Lexa alone.
“Let’s talk while we eat.”
Joseph’s artistic creation, When Death Separates Love 12, was his newest work.
A heart shape made from dark red beef meatballs, bandages represented with thick pasta noodles, and blood slowly dripping beneath—probably expressed with an aged red-berry sauce. Dorothy held a fork in one hand and a knife in the other, mercilessly carving into the bandaged heart and chewing every bite thoroughly.
“Art score: 100 out of 100—no, 111!”
Maybe Joseph’s intention was something like this: the taste of a heart bursting with juices is love, and that love is paradise. Wow—truly artistic.
“Joseph’s art keeps improving day by day.”
“He’s always grateful when at least you say that,” Lexa replied flatly, stabbing the exact center of the heart with her knife.
Lexa and Robs never really understood Joseph’s art. Especially when Robs was younger, he used to say things like:
‘You’re a weirdo who overcomes nightmares by interpreting them—that’s why you like Joseph’s cooking!’
And yet, even Robs liked Joseph’s food. He’d complain with his mouth while happily eating with the same mouth. Once you got used to his cooking, it was all over—Robs would mutter gloomily.
“It’s not just me saying this—it’s genuinely artistic. He should enter cooking competitions.”
“He’d just get cursed out for being creepy.”
Lexa replied while neatly twirling her pasta.
“More importantly, tell me how you almost died.”
“Where should I even start… So, I went to visit the Serin Count’s horse ranch, right? It was really well kept. Their coats were all shiny and glossy, so beautiful…”
Dorothy began her story, recalling the dazzling sunlight, the grasslands, and the lake. Lexa listened to Dorothy’s lengthy ode to horses with a face that said ugh.
Even when the story reached Lillie, the super-sparkly fairy, Lexa just listened.
But when a rude yet handsome man named Lyle appeared, Lexa clapped her hands in delight.
Of course, Dorothy edited out certain parts: throwing up in front of Lyle and the assassins, the Serin knights pretending not to notice her sleep tantrums, and her imitation of Rosi in front of the harem group.
She couldn’t give Lexa any more ammunition for teasing.
When she finally reached the part about the assassins sent by the House of Marven, Lexa spoke up.
“That’s strange.”
“What is?”
“Marchioness Marven definitely hates you enough to want you dead. But after you said you liked Duke Cameon, she left you alone, didn’t she? Why would she suddenly try to kill you?”
“Maybe she was waiting for an opportunity? Trying to kill me while I was out of the capital.”
Lexa clicked her tongue.
“Killing you isn’t that big a deal—why would she drag it out? And honestly, when you leave the capital, the harem group follows you anyway. Killing you inside or outside the capital wouldn’t make much difference.”
After thinking for a moment, Lexa asked,
“More than that, that guy Lyle seems suspicious. Who is he?”
“You’re just curious because he’s handsome, aren’t you?”
Lexa froze.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yeah. Me. Totally. Extremely.”
Lexa grumbled helplessly at Dorothy’s answer.
“There’s no such man in the Imperial Handsome Men Encyclopedia—a good-looking noble with brown eyes who’s great with a sword.”
“He might not be a noble.”
Dorothy argued.
“If the Marven household sent a whole assassination unit, the target must be a noble. Even if you happened to be alone with him, normally he’d have guards.”
Dorothy looked doubtful, but Lexa was firm.
“And it seems like the Marchioness Marven didn’t intend to kill you then. At that point, rumors were still going around that you liked Duke Cameon.”
Listening to her, Lexa’s argument did have some logic—even if Dorothy didn’t want to agree.
Still, the coldness Dorothy had felt when she met the Marchioness Marven face-to-face was real. She felt the woman could kill her anytime if given the chance. That was why Dorothy had been desperately claiming she loved Duke Cameon with her life on the line.
“Fine. Let’s say you’re right. But the important thing is that soon, rumors will spread that me liking Duke Cameon was a lie. I guarantee it—within a week, everyone will know.”
Dorothy said weakly, memories of her all-out acting flashing through her mind.
Sigh. I worked so hard.
“Then just kiss Duke Cameon this time.”
Lexa dropped the bomb casually—and clapped her hands.
“Wow. Amazing. Wasn’t I a genius just now?”
She looked deeply moved by her own trashy idea.
“Are you insane?”
“It’s the perfect solution! Really! You fight rumors with bigger rumors.”
Lexa was visibly excited.
“Can I watch when you kiss him?”
“Watch, my ass! How am I supposed to kiss Duke Cameon?!”
Dorothy glared at her in disbelief, but Lexa just grinned and patted Dorothy’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Dorothy. I’ll help you.”
“That’s not helping! How am I supposed to kiss Duke Cameon?!”
Lexa’s eyes sparkled—she practically looked like she was making sound effects. Boing. Her brain was clearly spinning happily at the thought of fun.
“All right! Let’s go to a party, Dorothy! I’ll take you somewhere nice—where Duke Cameon is likely to be!”
“That sounds terrible!”
And yet, Dorothy added,
“…But I’ll go to the party with you!”
“Look in a mirror. That face totally says you hate it,” Lexa teased.
She had been missing parties, though.
“Dorothy, don’t overthink it. If the Marchioness Marven really wants you dead, you’re basically guaranteed an early death anyway. If you’re going to die, you might as well have some fun first—it’s less unfair that way.”
Lexa said it like my death date was already set.
Honestly—calling that a friend. There was a reason their fifteen-year friendship was still as thin as paper.
“So,” Dorothy asked, “where’s this ‘nice place’?”
