Apricot rain, pear clouds, morning light dawns, the sun hidden behind the clouds.
The room is silent and still.
She is wearing a champagne pink camisole, her mouth sealed with tape, tears streaking down her face. Her black hair is tangled around her delicate neck, her gaze fixed intensely on the door that's been knocked, her large fox-like eyes red and rimmed, but her pupils burning like volcanic rock.
Rosie Scott suffered such a terrible humiliation on her first night at Anderson Castle.
How could she endure it!
The door was opened the next day. The maid had knocked for a long time without anyone answering and had to find a key. She was there to deliver dresses, but as soon as she pushed the row of dresses into the room, she was shocked by the scene before her.
"Ah!!!!" The maid fell to the ground.
Through the gap between the dresses, Rosie saw the man stopped at the doorway. He was dressed in a formal suit, an exquisite custom-made ensemble, ironed to perfection, with a long neck and a slight protrusion of the Adam's apple. His face was clear and calm, his demeanor serene as he sat in a wheelchair.
"Ros... Rosie Scott, are you still alive?" The maid stammered, seeing Rosie lying on the bed without blinking, she was truly baffled by the sight.
She had been tied all night.
The maid untied the nylon rope binding her.
Rosie's shoulders were sore, her legs numb, she tore off the tape from her mouth herself.
The girl stumbled weakly, yet her eyes burned like a volcano, as she pushed all the expensive dresses away from in front of her.
"Charles Anderson, give me an explanation." She was furious, shouting at Charles Anderson.
After her outburst, the girl felt empty inside, noticing the man's eyes tremble slightly. She must have lost her mind to be mad at Charles Anderson.
But then the girl thought, given the situation in front of her, she had to get angry.
Otherwise, people would think she's a push-over, and how could she survive at Anderson Castle?
She had to be fierce, making people afraid to provoke her, forcing them to retreat when she walked.
The man moved the wheelchair with his hands, slight worry etched in his brows: "What happened here?"
"Thief!" Rosie weakly rested her hands on the man's wheelchair armrest, not caring how scantily she was dressed, glaring fiercely at him.
The man turned his head: "There can't be a thief at Anderson Castle. Miss Scott, please put on some clothes first."
Rosie lowered her eyes and saw the shallow exposure of her chest. She wasn't the shy type to cover up her chest with her hands when being looked at.
She lifted her gaze at the man, gentlemanly with his head turned to the side, a stuffy mix of emotions swelling in her chest. She grasped his face, saying one word at a time: "Then it has to be a mole."
Charles saw the girl's wrist wrapped in a bandage, blood seeping through it, the wound didn't look light. If not treated, it might get infected. With warm fingers, he gently took her hand into his palm.
"Julius, get the medical kit."
"Charles Anderson, I said there's a mole at Anderson Castle, aren't you worried?"
"Or perhaps, was this Mr. Anderson's doing?"
Rosie tried to pull back her hand, held in his grip, but despite her effort, she couldn't get free. She half-narrowed her fox-like eyes: Good, Charles Anderson, you're deflecting again, pretending, I see?
"Miss Scott, whether there's a mole at Anderson Castle, I'm more aware than you. As for Miss Scott being inexplicably tied to the bed, I think it's not good if this spreads. I'll have Jack Hugh investigate discreetly, and certainly give Miss Scott a satisfactory answer." The man spoke as he untied the bandage on Rosie's wrist.
The blood-stained bandage stuck to the flesh, his actions were gentle, yet pulling it off still hurt.
"Ah~" Rosie inhaled sharply, and Charles lifted his gaze to her.
Rosie leaned closer, their proximity narrowing the distance between their noses to mere centimeters, the girl half-narrowed her eyes looking into his eyes.
After a while, her tone softened: "Why still call me Miss Scott? One day apart and we're distant."
The man's face was composed, his lips faintly smiling: "Eat something, you sound weak."
"You care for me so much, why not feed me?" The girl's legs cramped from being leaned forward for too long, her body swayed and suddenly 'thud' — she kneeled before Charles Anderson.
Rosie felt frustrated, this damned low blood sugar caught her unawares, one moment she was defiant, the next she was weak and kneeling.
The contrast, even with her thick-skinned shamelessness, made her blush.
A low laughter came from above her head: "Let's bandage your wound first, then eat something."
Charles Anderson's actions were meticulous and detailed. He slightly lowered his eyes, holding a cotton swab between his fingers, dipped in iodine, wiping the stitched wound clean on her delicate wrist, only then did he see the injury clearly, stark against her snowy white forearm, like a rose blooming in a lily, blood-red and dripping.
Is this the wound from her attempted suicide?
The man laughed coldly internally, watching the fierce girl act was quite intriguing, despite her charm, those fox-like eyes always carried a hint of viciousness.
Rosie obediently sat on the sofa, if not for her hunger making her dizzy, she could continue arguing tirelessly.
Julius, the maid, tidied the 'battlefield,' picking up the fallen dresses and carefully checking them over, finding three custom dresses that were already damaged to different extents.
After calculating, she turned and saw how gentle the 'second young master' was with Rosie, full of jealousy in her heart, then arrogantly approached, loudly accusing: "Second Young Master, these dresses were personally chosen by you. I brought them for her to choose, but now three are ruined without even a selection."
Rosie touched the bandaged wrist, chuckling coldly inside, a mere maid dared to bully me?
A moment passed, the girl sniffed, lifted her head sorrowfully, tears streaming down: "I only came to Anderson Castle one day, and such a thing happened. I'm... scared, none of you cared whether I lived or died, only opening my door after so long."
"If... if you hadn't come, would I have died here... boo boo boo boo..." Rosie cried like a delicate flower in the rain, not forgetting to glance at Julius's face turning green, her teary eyes also carrying a hint of challenge.
She unceremoniously tugged at the white handkerchief on Charles's chest: "Darling~ you'll let her bully me just like this?"
Charles's eyes remained calm.
"Julius, go to the kitchen and bring a bowl of millet porridge. Swap the dresses for ones that can cover the hands and feet."
Julius was ready to cry, seeing that the second young master didn't blame her, but instead took such detailed care, she turned and ran out.
Rosie thought, just a maid, why did she dare act so arrogantly in front of Charles Anderson?
Was the maid perhaps Charles Anderson's mistress?
The girl continued to sob.
"Wailing like a banshee will just make you hungrier." The man grew irritated.
The girl froze at his words, her eyes wide: "Darling~ which ear heard me wail like a banshee? This is called soft sobbing."