Chapter151 – Mrs. Rose
That evening, Clarissa entered the grand hall, hand in hand with Atticus.
The room was already full. Everyone had arrived.
She recognized Dorian and Lyra instantly—but there were others too. Faces from her past, and some she’d never seen before.
Lawrence was among them, his smile familiar and warm. Beside him stood another young nobleman. Across the room, a bearded man in a black trench coat stood with arms crossed, watching everything with unreadable eyes.
A beautiful woman in a black dress caught Clarissa’s eye. She wore a red rose hat tilted just so and fanned herself lazily with a black lace fan. Two tall, muscular men flanked her like shadows.
And then, there was the youngest—a breathtaking girl, no older than twenty, dressed not in the Western ball gowns everyone else wore, but in a stunning Japanese kimono embroidered with cherry blossoms that shimmered with every step.
Clarissa leaned in close to Atticus and whispered, “This feels… off. Something about this gathering isn’t right.”
Their gazes were heavy, their smiles thin. The way they sat, spaced far apart—it didn’t feel like a vacation or a party.
She glanced at Lawrence again. He met her eyes and smiled softly.
She smiled back—only for Atticus to pull her into his arms.
Her body tilted, nearly falling into his lap.
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
Atticus’s hand snaked around her waist. His lips curled into a smile, but there was pressure now behind his grip.
“What am I doing? Sister’s been eyeing other men since the moment we walked in. Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?”
He leaned down, brushing his lips near her ear. “Is Lawrence that good-looking? Better than me?”
Clarissa blushed and shot him a glare. “Stop it. I was just being polite.”
But Atticus didn’t let go, pulling her closer.
She tried prying his fingers off her waist, but it was no use.
Clarissa sighed inwardly and gave up resisting. Her eyes drifted to Atticus without meaning to.
Tonight, he wore a fitted suit and tie, his hair styled back with a touch of wax. The usual laziness in his features was replaced with something sharper. His unruly charm was only amplified by his elegant attire.
Atticus felt her gaze and turned slightly, his lips curving with that familiar smugness. “So… finally realizes I’m more handsome than that Lawrence guy, huh?”
Clarissa rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Why are you dragging other people into this? I was just thinking—you’re graduating soon. Maybe it’s time we freshened up your wardrobe.”
He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear, his voice low and teasing. “Alright…I’ll be in your hands, Sis.”
His breath on her skin made her shiver slightly. A subtle, electric tingle spread from her ear down her spine. Her voice was soft, nearly a whisper. “Okay…”
Atticus grinned, devilish and hungry. Then, without warning, he leaned in and gently bit her earlobe.
“Then after we’re married,” he murmured, voice husky, “I’ll be leaving everything to you…”
Clarissa’s whole body trembled. Her face flushed hot. “You—you’re talking nonsense…”
Atticus just chuckled, enjoying every second of her reaction.
Before she could say more, footsteps echoed down the grand staircase.
All heads turned. The butler, David, had stepped forward and bowed slightly, making way for someone behind him.
And then he appeared.
The man descending the stairs had a beauty that didn’t seem human. His features were delicate, almost too perfect—his pale, nearly translucent skin contrasted sharply with the deep crimson of his lips.
His long golden hair, tied with a ribbon, flowed behind him like silk with each step. His eyes—an unusual shade of violet-grey—were clouded, like frosted glass. He wore a Rococo-style nobleman’s coat, and though his frame was slight, he carried himself with a cold, commanding grace.
Everyone was watching him.
Clarissa stared, entranced. This had to be the master of the castle.
There was something unsettling about him, something ethereal.
The man took his seat at the head of the long table. David remained by his side, then introduced him with a respectful bow.
“This is my master, Gabriel—head of the Loxley family.”
Gabriel gave a soft, polite smile and spoke in elegant, fluent French. “Bonsoir. Thank you all for coming.”
He paused, letting the room settle.
“Before dinner begins, I have something to announce. This will be the last time the castle opens its doors. After tonight, if my wish remains unfulfilled, Farfadat will be closed forever. No more guests.”
“Now… please enjoy the Loxley family’s first course.”
At his gesture, uniformed maids appeared from all sides, swiftly and silently placing the first dishes in front of each guest.
Clarissa looked down at her plate. Smoked silver carp. Oysters. Raw.
The smell alone made her stomach twist.
She noticed the others had already started, so she suppressed her discomfort, cut off a tiny piece, and forced it into her mouth.
But Gabriel’s words were echoing in her mind. This wasn’t just a vacation. Dorian and Lawrence… none of them had come here for fun.
She turned to Atticus, wondering if he had known all along.
But before she could speak, he met her gaze. “What’s wrong?” he asked gently.
He noticed her untouched plate and reached for his fork. “Not to your taste? Let me eat it.”
“Atticus—”
But he was already helping himself, completely unfazed, acting like they were the only two people in the room.
Under the table, his hand found hers and squeezed it lightly. “Clarissa,” he said in a low voice, “relax. We’re just here to travel.”
How could she possibly relax in this kind of atmosphere?
The next course arrived—beef blood soup.
Clarissa’s stomach turned. She didn’t touch it.
By the time the last of the eight dishes was served, she was still barely full.
After dinner, the real night banquet began.
“How many of these people do you actually know?” Clarissa asked softly, eyes scanning the opulent room.
“All of them,” Atticus replied calmly, pointing out a few figures with casual precision. “That man in the black coat—his name’s Massimo. He’s with the mafia from Country B.”
His eyes shifted to a woman fanning herself with dramatic flair. “The one with the black lace fan is Mrs. Rose. She married into European nobility when she was young. Her husband died seven years ago and left her a multi-billion-dollar inheritance. The two bodyguards flanking her are hers.”
“And that girl in the kimono? Her name’s Yuriko Nomiya. She’s the heir to a prominent medical family in Country R. Nineteen this year.”
Clarissa listened quietly, her eyes flicking back to the ongoing stage performance. “What about earlier? You never told me what David wanted when he called you away.”
Atticus gave her a lazy smile. “I made a deal with the master of the house.”
“A deal?” Clarissa turned toward him, brows furrowing. “What kind of deal?”
His smile only deepened, his voice low and secretive. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
“So mysterious?” she asked, frowning more. “Atticus, are you really here for fun—or are you like them?”
Atticus saw the shadow of doubt in her eyes and reached out, gently squeezing her hand. “I’m here to be with you. The rest of them—whatever they're after—it’s not my concern. I just want to see you smile.”
He shook her hand playfully. “Clarissa, my sweet Clarissa. Don’t look so serious. Smile for me, won’t you?”
His teasing voice, soft and flirtatious, made her lips twitch despite herself. “You...”
Just then, a sultry voice interrupted them.
“Are you two here because of the rumors about the Loxley family?”
Mrs. Rose appeared before them, swaying gracefully, her heels clicking faintly on the marble floor. Her red-lacquered nails curled delicately around her fan as she approached and slid down between them like silk.
“Rumors?” Clarissa echoed.
Mrs. Rose said smoothly, “of the Cursed House.”