She was “Rosie Moulton”?
The one who killed him in the classroom was “Rosie Moulton”?!
This revelation struck the girl’s mind like a thunderbolt, her body trembling uncontrollably as she sat on the floor.
After the immense shock, an inevitable surge of wild joy rose within her.
No matter what, this information meant this world was connected to her original one. If she could cross over here, there might be a way back.
Of course, the prerequisite was surviving the immediate crisis.
Rosie suppressed the mix of fear and excitement, forcing herself to stay calm. “I don’t know why there’s a portrait of me here.
It could be a smokescreen the killer threw out to divert attention.”
In this moment, with Donahue Bobby’s corpse lying nearby, her words sounded feeble.
Herman chuckled, his tone casual. “Oh, sorry, to be precise, Miss Moulton, you’re not exactly the same as the person in the painting.
Your hair is a cooler tea-brown, and your eye color is different too.
Do you have a twin sister, Miss Moulton? If not…”
He pressed the gun barrel forward again, his voice cold. “You’ll still have to die here.”
If Herman truly wanted to kill her, why bother with all this talk?
After the emotional rollercoaster, Rosie’s mind became unusually clear.
This man, who had been fawning over her earlier, now acted cold. His words, tone, and actions were heavy with performance—a negotiation where he positioned himself higher to gain the upper hand.
She pursed her lips, cutting through the pretense. “Mr. Rhys, what do you want? Just say it.”
Herman raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised.
A girl who couldn’t remember names was sharp in other ways.
He eased the gun back slightly, praising her. “I like dealing with smart people.
Miss Moulton, making me believe you is simple. Just agree to do me a small favor.”
A small favor? Money, power, or…
Recalling the painting’s moonlit, captivating beauty, Rosie felt a chill.
This wasn’t leading to some defeat CG, was it?
A true man stands tall between heaven and earth, never bowing beneath others.
Such a request—Lin Yu would die before agreeing!
While her thoughts ran wild, the man stated his demand.
“Simple. Help me enter Bredek’s aristocratic social circle.”
Bredek?
What a coincidence—Rosie’s sparse memories held relevant details.
The capital of the Soth Kingdom, Bredek, a bustling metropolis of over four million.
“Rosie Moulton’s” coming-of-age ball was held there, and after the social season began, as the eldest Moulton daughter, she’d return from Glenn City to Bredek.
That’s it?
Not just helping Herman enter the aristocratic circle—if he let her go now, she’d play wingman for any noble lady he fancied.
But she couldn’t seem too eager, lest it cheapen the request.
Rosie “hesitated” for a moment before “reluctantly” nodding.
“Fine, I agree.”
“Deal, Miss Moulton.”
Okay, she’d barely passed this hurdle. Before Rosie could relax, a thud came from the floor.
Her peripheral vision caught a brown glass bottle rolling to her thigh’s side.
Herman’s annoying voice sounded again.
“For our pleasant future cooperation and to prove you’re not the mastermind, please drink this potion.”
Potion?
Rosie’s mouth parted slightly, her tongue brushing her dry, rose-colored lips. “What potion?”
Herman answered honestly. “Poison.”
Rosie: “!!!”
Poison?! She wished she were the mastermind so she could tie up this opportunistic jerk, castrate him, kill him, then castrate him again!
Noticing her resistance, the “kind” Mr. Rhys explained.
“Don’t worry, Miss Moulton. Though this poison is lethal, it’s not instant. It’s a slow-acting poison.
It takes about seven days to take effect, so no need for such heavy psychological pressure.”
Rosie: “???”
Don’t talk like it’s a due date for a baby!
She fell silent before asking, “Why do I have to drink it?”
“While I personally believe you’re not behind this,
the painting’s existence is a fact.
Since the parchment’s redemption ritual lasts only five days,
our outcomes are one of two.
One, we cooperate, foil the enemy’s plot, and escape the castle together.
Two, the enemy is craftier, our escape fails, and we die here.”
Ignoring the ice-cold aura radiating from the noble lady before him, Herman continued confidently.
“In outcome one, we cooperate smoothly, and you’ll have time to take the antidote.
In outcome two, well, at least you’ll have someone to chat with on the way to heaven, right?”
A chat buddy?!
Why not outcome three: you die in the castle, and I escape safely?
What, we have to be tragic lovers, not born on the same day but dying together?!
No, this guy’s got her all wrong—they’re no lovers!
Rosie’s chest heaved, clearly fuming at this “tyrannical contract.”
Calming herself, she turned her head, pretending to look at the glass bottle on the floor, but her gaze fell on her arm by her thigh.
Beneath the soft fabric hid a cold dagger.
Rosie lowered her eyes, her heart racing wildly, as if trying to burst from her chest.
What was that saying from her past life?
Beyond seven steps, a gun is faster; within seven steps, a knife is quicker.
Should she trust Brother Yan Shuangying’s wisdom and take the gamble?
“Fine, I’ll drink.”
Rosie spoke, reaching with her right hand toward the poison—and the dagger strapped to her left arm.
If Yan could do it, so could she.
Today, Rosie would ascend to the realm of the land war god!
Knife, come!