Chapter 7.

“Oh my God! Oh my God! Seriously? You went home alone last night?” Lyka exclaimed almost in a shout, tugging at Roxane’s arm nonstop. “What I remember is—you were with a guy last night! He was even the last one I saw talking to you. He’s the one who took you home, right? Maybe you should ask Aunt Beth—she might know how you got back!”

Roxane scratched her head, trying hard to recall what had happened the previous night, but her memory came in fragments—like a movie reel with damaged tape.

“But never mind that for now,” Lyka said as she moved about in a flurry—folding clothes, brushing her hair, and jumping around in nervous haste. “Fix yourself already, we’re gonna be late, eeek!”

“Fine, fine…” Roxane groaned as she limped toward the bathroom. Her body felt heavy, as if she’d survived an earthquake the night before. Each step she took seemed to whisper a clue about what had happened.

Lyka’s eyes widened, then she covered her mouth—but couldn’t help bursting into giggles.

“Oh my gosh! Don’t tell me you lost your virginity last night! That’s why you’re walking like that!”

Roxane’s cheeks flushed red, but she didn’t turn back. Deep inside, she was screaming, “Shut up, Lyka!”—though even she didn’t fully know the truth of her own night.

“This is your fault! Why did you even leave me with that guy? And who exactly are you talking about?!”

Her voice trembled with a mix of anger and confusion. She couldn’t tell which emotion was stronger—fear, anxiety, or shame.

“And another thing, stop assuming!” she went on, forcing a firm tone. “I’m still a virgin, okay?!”

She tried to sound brave, even though something deep inside her was uneasy.

“I’ll just take a quick bath…”

She stepped back calmly, but behind the bamboo bathroom door, her hands trembled as she slowly undressed.

And there—there she saw what shattered her world.

There was a stain of blood on her underwear.

And not just that—her womanhood was sore, bruised, as if something had forced its way in.

Her eyes widened. Her whole body went cold.

“No… no, this can’t be…”

She whispered shakily, barely audible. Her knees gave out, and she sank onto the toilet seat, trembling.

“My dream… that’s impossible! It can’t be real! How? Who? How did this happen?!”

Her gaze drifted toward the mirror—where she saw a version of herself she barely recognized.

Everything moved in slow motion. Her chest tightened. She drew in a deep breath, but even that felt stuck, like a thorn caught in her throat. There was a weight pressing on her heart—growing heavier with every second.

“Roxane! Come on! Oh my God, it’s already seven o’clock!”

Lyka’s voice shouted from outside, knocking on the bamboo door.

Roxane flinched. Reality snapped back—but her world still felt like it was collapsing. She hastily wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“Y-yeah, just a minute!” she shouted back, forcing her voice to sound steady.

Despite the chaos in her mind and the ache in her body, she forced herself to stand straight.

“I can’t break down now,” she whispered to herself as she splashed cold water on her face, trying to wash away the memories of a night she couldn’t remember.

“Even if someone took my virginity… my family still needs me.”

Her breath quivered, but her resolve hardened. She didn’t have the right to stop—not now, not while people depended on her.

With that, she composed herself—covering the traces of pain and confusion on her face. She straightened her back, fixing her posture, wearing courage like an actress putting on a mask.

When she opened the door, she stepped out as if nothing had happened. As if the world hadn’t just fallen apart inside her.

But within, there was a scream she couldn’t release. A wound no mask could hide.

Thirty minutes later, Roxane and Lyka arrived at Vella-Vellamonte Vellage—a grand mansion born of luxury and power. Every corner spoke of wealth—the manicured gardens, the gleaming marble floors, the towering columns that seemed to remind them how small they were in this world.

Their fellow new hires were already there, standing in perfect formation—backs straight, chins up, like soldiers being drilled in discipline.

The line stretched long, silent, and straight—like a train track leading to something unknown.

Only Roxane and Lyka were late, and the others’ eyes were already on them—curious, irritated, judging.

“Told you so, eeek,” Lyka muttered with a grimace, walking with a slight limp, still nursing the soreness between her legs as she discreetly swayed her hips on their way forward.

“Still hurts?” she teased Roxane with a mischievous grin. “You could’ve at least invited me when that hot guy pounced on you last night…” she whispered with a wink, trying not to burst out laughing.

Roxane didn’t reply.

She only gave her a cold glare—and then swiftly stomped on Lyka’s foot.

Suddenly, the area fell silent. Someone had arrived.

From the mansion’s entrance emerged a woman with a commanding presence—the housekeeper. She wore a crisp white uniform, a clipboard in hand listing all the accepted applicants, and her sharp eyes seemed to pierce through everyone she looked at.

“Attention. Listen,” she ordered in a firm tone. The bodyguards behind her stood straighter, signaling that this was the start of something serious.

The housekeeper continued, her words formal and respectful.

“I present to you the pillars of the Vella-Vellamonte Vellage—”

“Mrs. Vellama Vellamonte…”

An elegant woman stepped out—aged, yet radiating authority. Dressed in luxury, she didn’t need to speak for her presence to command respect.

“Mr. Vellamonte…”

Next came a serious-looking man, lips sealed, exuding power and influence.

“And their only son, the heir to the Vellamonte estate…”

The housekeeper paused, heightening the tension.

“…Mr. Dark Nathaniel Vellamonte.”

As the grand doors opened, a tall figure appeared.

Fair-skinned. Well-dressed—in a black long-sleeved shirt, slacks, and polished leather shoes. But what captivated everyone wasn’t his attire.

It was his presence—cold. Dangerous.

And in an instant, their eyes met.

Roxane froze. She didn’t know why, but something flickered in her memory.

“I’ve seen him before…” she thought.

“Or maybe… he’s the one from my dream?”

She even managed a quiet laugh at her own thought—one only she could hear. But Dark caught the sparkle in her eyes.

He looked at her again. And this time, Dark Nathaniel gave her a faint, tender smile.

“Sh*t… she’s here,” he muttered under his breath.

Dark’s heartbeat quickened. “Thank God she made it on time,” he thought, trying to steady his composure.

“Even after what happened between us last night… thank God. I was about to blame myself.”

He exhaled slowly, calm on the outside—but his gaze never left Roxane.