Episode-247

Words : 1622 Updated : Oct 1st, 2025

Chapter : 493 “Are they?” Mina’s eyebrow arched, a gesture of sharp, Siddik skepticism. She pulled up another chair, seating herself directly opposite Rosa, forcing her younger sister to meet her gaze. “They are not irrelevant when they concern the honor of our house. They are not irrelevant when they speak of the new, and very public, alliance we have forged with the most powerful family in this Duchy. And they are certainly not irrelevant when they whisper that my own sister, the brilliant, powerful, and legendarily beautiful Rosa Siddik, is treating her new husband, the heir to the Arch Duchy, with a coldness so profound that he has been forced to sleep on a sofa since their wedding night.” The words were a direct, surgical strike, delivered with Mina’s characteristic, unapologetic bluntness. Rosa’s obsidian eyes narrowed, the air around her dropping a few degrees, a silent, instinctive release of her Spirit Pressure. “My marriage,” Rosa stated, her voice now dangerously quiet, “is a private matter.” “It is a political alliance,” Mina countered instantly, utterly unintimidated by her sister’s frosty displeasure. “And there is nothing private about it. Especially not when your husband has, in the space of a single month, transformed himself from a public disappointment into the most talked-about, most admired, and, if the rumors of his new business are true, soon-to-be wealthiest young nobleman in the entire city. The whispers are no longer just about your coldness, little sister. They are about your foolishness.” Rosa remained silent, her face a perfect, unreadable mask. But Mina was not deterred. She had been one of the few people in the world who had never been intimidated by Rosa’s icy facade. She leaned forward, her voice dropping, but losing none of its sharp, insistent intensity. “I have read the reports, Rosa. I have my own sources in the capital. I have heard the stories. Your husband, this ‘drab duckling’ you have so clearly dismissed, won the Ferrum tournament with a power and a skill no one knew he possessed. He publicly humiliated his treacherous uncle and solidified his father’s power. He has invented some kind of... miracle soap... that has the entire nobility in a frenzy and has earned him the personal, public endorsement of the King of Bethelham himself. He has gone from being a political liability to being the single greatest rising star in the entire Duchy.” She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in. “And you... you are still treating him like an inconvenient piece of furniture. You are still forcing him to sleep on a sofa. You are still presenting to the world the image of a fractured, unhappy, and fundamentally unstable, alliance.” She looked at her sister, her sharp, intelligent eyes searching Rosa’s impassive, veiled face. “I do not understand you, Rosa,” she said, her voice softening slightly, a flicker of genuine, sisterly confusion entering her tone. “I know you did not want this marriage. I know you see it as a cage. But you are a pragmatist. You have always been the most logical, the most strategic, of us all. Can you not see the opportunity you are squandering?” “He is no longer a weakling to be managed,” Mina continued, her voice regaining its sharp edge. “He is a power to be allied with. A man of influence, of wealth, of a strange, unconventional, but undeniable, brilliance. He is your husband. Your partner. Your path to immense, unprecedented power and influence, not just for yourself, but for our entire house. And you... you are pushing him away. You are actively, deliberately, antagonizing him.” She shook her head, a gesture of profound, almost weary, frustration. “Why, Rosa? Why do you persist in this... this foolish, self-destructive coldness? Why do you insist on ruining his life, and by extension, your own, your family’s future, if you have no intention of ever being a true wife to him?” Mina’s voice was sharp, a surgeon’s scalpel, cutting through the layers of Rosa’s carefully constructed indifference, aiming for the heart of the matter. “If you will not be his partner, if you will not support him, if you will not even grant him the basic respect of sharing his own bed... then what, precisely, is the point of you even being there?” The question, so direct, so logical, so utterly, undeniably, true, hung in the silent, herb-scented air of the sickroom. It was a question Rosa had no answer for. A question that demanded a reckoning with a logic that was not her own, but the cold, hard, pragmatic logic of the world. And for the first time in a very long time, the brilliant, powerful, and legendarily cold, Rosa Siddik, felt a flicker of profound, and deeply, profoundly, unsettling, uncertainty. Chapter : 494 The weight of Mina’s words settled in the quiet sickroom, a heavy, uncomfortable silence that was more profound than the usual respectful hush. Rosa remained still, her hands clasped in her lap, her veiled face an unreadable mask. But beneath the surface, her mind was a churning sea of conflicting data points. Mina’s accusations, her pragmatic and cuttingly logical assessment of the situation, were not wrong. Rosa knew this. She had seen the shift in Lloyd herself. The sudden confidence, the hidden power, the brilliant, unconventional mind that had created the AURA phenomenon. He was no longer the simple, predictable variable she had initially dismissed. He was an anomaly, a force, a rising power. And her continued, cold detachment was, from a purely strategic perspective, a foolish, inefficient, and potentially self-destructive, course of action. But logic was one thing. The cold, hard, and deeply ingrained reality of her own nature was another. The walls she had built around her heart were not made of simple ice; they were forged from years of grief, of fear, of a deep, abiding belief that emotion was a weakness, a vulnerability that would lead only to pain. The thought of lowering those walls, of engaging with him, of becoming a true ‘partner’ to this strange, perplexing, and increasingly powerful man... it was a terrifying prospect. It felt like stepping off a familiar, frozen shore into a deep, turbulent, and uncharted ocean. She was saved from having to formulate a response by a sudden, cheerful, and utterly unapologetic, interruption. The heavy door to their mother’s chamber was pushed open, not with a quiet, respectful click, but with a boisterous, energetic shove that was completely at odds with the somber atmosphere of the room. “Sisters! I’m back! And you will not believe the news from the capital!” Yacob Siddik, their twelve-year-old brother, burst into the room like a small, sun-drenched hurricane. He was a whirlwind of youthful energy, his dark hair a chaotic mop, his cheeks flushed from running, his eyes—the same sharp, intelligent obsidian as Rosa’s—shining with an excitement so pure it was almost blinding. He was the youngest of the Siddik siblings, the baby of the family, and the undisputed, and often doted upon, source of light in their otherwise quiet, sorrowful household. He skidded to a halt in the center of the room, his gaze falling upon their mother’s still, sleeping form. The boisterous energy instantly softened, replaced by a flicker of the familiar, shared sadness that was a constant shadow in their lives. He walked over to the bed, his movements suddenly quiet, gentle. He leaned down and pressed a soft, quick kiss to his mother’s pale, cool forehead. “Hello, Mother,” he whispered, his voice thick with an affection that was simple, pure, and heartbreaking. “I brought you a sun-daisy from the garden. It’s your favorite.” He gently tucked a small, bright yellow flower into the folds of her silken sheets, a small, hopeful offering against the vast, silent sea of her illness. He then turned, his youthful ebullience returning as if a switch had been flipped, his gaze falling upon his two elder sisters. “Mina! Rosa! You’re both here! Excellent! I have so much to tell you!” He practically bounced on the balls of his feet, his excitement too large to be contained by his small frame. “Yacob,” Mina said, her own voice softening, the sharp edge of her earlier confrontation with Rosa melting away in the face of their brother’s infectious energy. “You are supposed to be with your swordsmanship tutor. Not bursting into Mother’s chambers like a rampaging griffin-cub.” Her tone was scolding, but her eyes held a deep, undeniable fondness. “Oh, Tutor Valerius let me go early!” Yacob declared, waving a dismissive hand. “He said my parries were ‘adequate’ and that I needed to work on my footwork, but the news, Mina! The news is far more important than footwork!” He turned his bright, excited gaze on Rosa. “Rosa, have you heard? About brother-in-law?” Rosa stiffened almost imperceptibly. Brother-in-law. The title felt strange, formal, almost absurd on her young brother’s lips. She simply tilted her head, a silent, questioning gesture. Yacob didn’t need any more encouragement. He launched into his story, his words a breathless, chaotic torrent of youthful admiration and second-hand gossip, a story that was a perfect, unfiltered reflection of the new legend that was being forged around Lloyd Ferrum in the streets and halls of the capital. “He is a hero, Rosa! A true hero! All the other boys at my junior academy are talking about it! They say he is the ‘Silent Lion of Ferrum’! They say he is the most brilliant, most powerful young lord in the entire Duchy!” Yacob’s eyes were shining with a hero-worship so pure it was almost painful to behold.

Episode-247

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