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But where there was activity, there was an opportunity for gossip, and rumors quickly spread. Victoria’s commendation of Rosalind had little effect. Instead, some started to whisper that Victoria’s personal approval might mean there was more to the story than just Rosalind being taken advantage of. This line of thinking slowly became the dominant one, as if someone were deliberately pushing things in that direction.
Even someone from Hell Monarch Estate stepped forward to speak on the matter. Witnesses who had been present at the academy also spoke up, explaining that Rosalind had been trying to protect the students and had been accidentally touched by the assailant in the process.
But the public wasn’t interested in truth or justice. They preferred stories of disgrace, tales that brought the mighty low.
The more illustrious Rosalind’s reputation had once been-her celebrated beauty, her impeccable lineage, her unmatched talents-the more vicious the slander against her became.
Old gossip was dredged up from the past, embellished and twisted into new narratives.
Some claimed she was aloof and arrogant, looking down on those who didn’t meet her high standards. They even brought up the incident at Eleanor’s banquet, claiming that Rosalind had deliberately misidentified a painting. It wasn’t by the famed artist Kyle, but she insisted it was. And since Trevor doted on his granddaughter, he followed along with her mistake, claiming the painting was Kyle’s.
People familiar with the incident said that Kyle’s insignia wasn’t even on the painting. Everyone present at the time could barely contain their laughter, but they held back out of respect, choosing not to expose her mistake.
Some claimed that all her poems and artwork were plagiarized, that none of it was really her work. It was all part of Trevor’s plan to build her reputation, hoping to marry her off to the most sought-after man in the realm, the Hell Monarch. But in the end, her hopes were shattered-Rafael would rather marry a woman who was once divorced than her.
Rosalind then settled for second best, hoping to marry the Farrell family’s eleventh son, Thomas. Luckily, Thomas wasn’t fooled. He saw through her and turned down the match.
These rumors spread everywhere. Even though Rosalind stayed confined to the estate and Trevor had strictly ordered the servants not to mention it, there were still people setting up tables outside the gate, eager to gossip and watch the drama unfold.
When servants from the estate tried to disperse them, one dramatic individual deliberately fell to the ground, crying out that the royal chancellor’s household was bullying commoners and acting above the law.
In the end, they couldn’t chase the people away, but they couldn’t let them stay either.
Trevor’s wife, Mildred, was already in poor health. Now, with all the commotion, she fell ill and had to stay in bed.
Soon, Sebastian personally came to Highstone Estate with his medicine box in hand.
When he saw the people outside still setting up their tables and harshly gossiping about Rosalind, Sebastian’s temper flared. He slammed his medicine box onto the table grabbed the storyteller by the collar, and delivered a sharp slap, the sound echoing through the air.
Slap!
Sebastian rarely resorted to hitting anyone, especially not slapping, because he knew his own flaw. He had an unrelenting streak of perfectionism, and even in anger, his hand instinctively sought the offender’s lips with unnerving accuracy.
The storyteller’s lips split from the repeated strikes, blood trickling
?t down as the thick emerald ring on Sebastian’s hand was stained red Though the ring was heavy and solid, the storyteller’s teeth remained miraculously intact-a testament to his supposed “iron jaws”
Staggering, the storyteller clutched his mouth, his attempts to cry out stifled by the searing pain. He wanted to shout, but he stopped to’s when he saw it was the renowned physician Sebastian who had struck him. Blood oozed between his fingers, and every effort to speak felt like his lips were being sliced with a knife.
Several men, clearly allies of the storyteller, stepped forward, ready to defend him. But Sebastian opened his medicine chest and pulled out a small bottle. Unscrewing the lid, he held it up.
“Come,” he said. “Let’s see who’s brave enough to test my latest poison.”
A sharp, acrid stench wafted from the bottle, and the mere mention of poison sent everyone into a panic. Onlookers recoiled, their bravado evaporating in an instant.
And with Sebastian’s reputation, who would dare to offend him?
It didn’t take long before the crowd dispersed, scattering like leaves in a gust of wind. Even the storyteller’s allies, pale-faced and trembling, hoisted him onto their shoulders and bolted. They knew they couldn’t afford to offend Sebastian. The Young family members thanked Sebastian profusely.
Sebastian turned to look at Trevor and said, “You care about reputation and appearances, but I don’t. It was Lady Sophie who asked me to come. She made the right choice in calling me.”
Indeed, it had been Sophie who summoned Sebastian.
In all of the capital, no one else held the kind of sway Sebastian did across every level of society. The aristocracy revered him, martial artists respected him, and people from all walks of life bowed to him.
After all, he was a legendary renowned physician.
In a crisis, he was nothing short of a lifesaver, a true miracle worker.
The banishment of the storyteller from the gates barely marked the end of one problem before another arrived on their doorstep.
Matchmakers began appearing in turn, each eager to arrange a marriage for Rosalind. The prospects they presented were enough to make Rosalind’s parents’ blood boil. These were men so far beneath their daughter’s station that even a passing glance in their direction would be enough to provoke a disgusted sneer.
It wasn’t a matter of low status or humble origins-it was their disgraceful behavior. Some had long ago fathered illegitimate children from concubines, while others spent their days drowning in gambling halls, addicted to the thrill of the dice and cards, regardless of how deeply they sank into debt. Some were regulars at brothels, and others kept secret mistresses on the side.
These were the kinds of men who usually wouldn’t dare approach the family for a marriage proposal. Yet now, they paraded forward, puffing out their chests as if offering Rosalind a great favor. They acted as if she had no other choice but to accept them, as if she were somehow indebted to them for their benevolent interest.
Trevor’s fury was beyond measure. He stormed through the house, broom in hand, driving the matchmakers out with such force that the scandal only grew. The gossip was relentless. People in the city couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.
“They act like she has options! If someone’s willing to marry her, it’ll only be because her ancestors accumulated some good luck for their family.”
“She’s been sullied by that brutish man. Does she still think she has any worth left?”
“She’s doomed to never marry. Let’s see who would want her. She might as well shave her head and become a nun. At least then she doesn’t embarrass other women.”
The remarks came from all corners-some from men, some from women. Whether they spoke out of cruelty or personal spite, there was no sympathy.
In the whole situation, Jocelyn was the happiest because she hated Rosalind. Kylie had asked her to make things difficult for Rosalind before, so she had already made Rosalind her enemy.
When Jocelyn heard of Rosalind’s misfortune, she wasted no time in seeking out her close friend, Cassidy. She thought they might gossip about the scandal together, perhaps enjoy some mutual satisfaction in seeing Rosalind’s downfall.
To her surprise, Cassidy kept avoiding the topic, changing the subject several times, and looked completely distracted and out of sorts.
Jocelyn became upset. “What’s wrong with you? Aren’t you happy to hear that Rosalind’s reputation is ruined? You’ve hated her for so long!”
Cassidy instinctively denied it. “I never hated her.”
“What do you mean by that?” Jocelyn said, staring at her. “You were the one who used to torment her the most, not like Hailey, who was always too afraid to act.”
Cassidy blinked, taken aback by the words. As the memories of how she had treated Rosalind flooded her mind, her eyes welled up with tears.
“Was I really that cruel?” she asked, her voice trembling. “I didn’t know. I never realized how monstrous and vicious I must have seemed.”
Jocelyn jumped up, indignant. “What do you mean by that? Are you saying that I’m cruel and vicious too?”
Cassidy quickly covered her face with her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. It took a long while before she could speak again, her words coming out in gasps.
“Ms. Young was trying to protect me when that man grabbed her. If it hadn’t been for her, I would have been the one assaulted. The people would have been talking about me now if that had happened. I might not even be here right now. if that happened. I could have been sent to a nunnery already.”
Jocelyn was caught off guard by Cassidy’s confession and froze. After a long pause, she slowly sank into a chair, turning her head as though trying to make sense of it. “She…did something like that?” “It’s true,” Cassidy sobbed. “A lot of people saw it. Hailey saw it too. If you don’t believe me, you can ask her.”
Her voice broke, her eyes red and swollen with regret.