I Became a Side character in a BL novel

69- Succession

Rosetta's POV

I sit at my desk, staring out the window in front of me. The southern wilds looked still almost depressed today.

Behind me, Arron sat on the bed. He hasn't said anything in a long while. We're both wrapped in black clothes. The Countess's funeral was only hours ago.

I close my eyes for a moment, and she comes to my mind.

The Countess.

Rosetta and Christopher grew up together in the palace before the Duke and the Emperor's fallout. Rosetta was not engaged to Christopher, yet the whole palace treated her as the next empress silently. For no one was a better fit to be the future empress than her.

During those years, she and Christopher would frequently bunk their lessons and escape the palace gates and run off to sit by a lake. But when caught they were scolded like anything. And the harshest out of them all was none other than the Cecilia Evermore, the Countess.

"You could have been kidnapped! Is this the appropriate behavior from the heirs to esteemed families such as yours!?" She scolded us fiercely.

Neither the young Rosetta, nor Christopher could say a word to her. She was one of the strictest people in the palace.

"It is not a game! Do you understand?"

Young Rosetta and Christopher had nodded like obedient kids.

But even in her anger, her eyes betrayed her relief. Her voice shook at the edges. And after the lecture, she hugged both of them tightly. A strict guardian, a kind heart. Tough, stubborn, protective.

That was the Countess from Rosetta's memories.

I swallow hard, blinking the memory away. To think that same woman ended up lying in a coffin this afternoon feels unreal.

Why would someone do this to her?

The question latches into my chest, but the answer that surfaces makes my skin grow cold.

Property. Inheritance. Power.

The same reason my husband and my stepbrother once tried to have me murdered.

My hand tightens around the edge of a notebook. I force myself to breathe, to steady the shaking in my fingers.

And yet, even with that dread twisting through me, my thoughts keep circling back to the reason she invited us here. Her insistence on the treasure hunt- The golden fruit's poem. She believed it. She believed someone would find it.

I open the notebook and lean forward, then slowly I write down the golden fruit's poem from my memory.

"𝓛𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓽 𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓬𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓲𝓻𝓻𝓸𝓻,
𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓭 𝓸𝓪𝓴 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝓼𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓼.
𝓦𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓻𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓼 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭,
𝓕𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓦𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼.

𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝓻𝓸𝓪𝓭𝓼 𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓬𝓱 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓼-
𝓕𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓷-𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓮𝓹𝓼.
𝓑𝓮𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓵 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓭𝓸𝔀 𝓵𝓪𝔂,
𝓕𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓼 𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓽, 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻-𝓵𝓲𝔃𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓼 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝔂.