CHAPTER 77: WILL YOU... BE MY GIRLFRIEND?

Cassel — POV

That tiny gesture warmed me more than I wanted to admit.

Leaving Henry and his conflicted expression behind, I strode confidently out of the rundown shop.

The building groaned around us, its broken windows rattling in the wind.

"Boss!" Robin yelled after me. "I’ll bring Frederick too—after I gather enough stuff for my daughter!"

Idiot.

I exhaled a long sigh, refusing to dignify that with a response.

Outside, the world had turned dreary. Dark clouds hung overhead like bruises spreading across the sky.

The wind whipped through the empty street, dragging scraps of paper and ash along the cracked asphalt.

The faint scent of gunpowder and decayed flesh lingered in the air.

Rosalia’s intense stare drew me back.

She was gazing at me so intently that it almost made me falter.

"What is it?" I asked softly.

She startled, her eyes widening before she quickly looked away.

"No... nothing. Nothing at all."

I couldn’t help the smirk tugging at my lips.

"If it’s nothing, then why were you looking at me like you’re about to eat me?"

Her cheeks exploded with color.

"What do you mean eat you? I just looked for a moment."

She muttered under her breath, "How can a CEO like you be this stingy..."

I opened the car door and placed her onto the seat with extreme care, as if she might crumble under the slightest pressure.

"Well then," I said lightly, "as a CEO, I won’t be narrow-minded. I’ll give you my entire body—do whatever you want with it."

Her face turned crimson.

"You—You—YOU! How rude!"

She stuttered so hard she shook, trembling as a kitten shoved into a cold bath. Her hands balled into weak fists.

If I were truly rude, I would have—

No. I forced the thought down.

If I were that rude, I wouldn’t be standing here restraining myself for her sake, holding my breath just to keep from overwhelming her.

Forget it. Who told me to love her this much?

"Rosalia," I said quietly, "tell me—what happened between you and Liz?"

At that, her brows pinched together. All earlier embarrassment drained away, replaced by a deep, aching sadness.

She hesitated. She truly didn’t want to speak.

"Did Liz blame you about Henry?" I asked gently.

Her eyes widened—surprise confirming I’d hit the mark.

Liz hadn’t been controlled earlier—not fully. The zombie child had magnified her darkest thoughts, but her hatred, her pain... those were real.

Liz’s determination to kill Rosalia had come straight from her own heart.

How could I not understand?

I felt the same ugly flare of jealousy whenever Henry stood too close to Rosalia.

But unlike Liz... I could control myself. I would never let selfish desire dictate my actions.

"She... Liz just loves Henry too much," Rosalia whispered finally, her voice trembling like a fragile melody.

"Loving someone who doesn’t return your feelings is painful."

The sorrow in her words soaked straight into her bones.

"But I don’t understand why she’d misunderstand my relationship with Henry. She said he doesn’t look at her because of me. Henry and I don’t even talk that much—why would she think I’m the reason for her unhappiness?"

Her voice quivered. She genuinely felt guilty.

I wanted to take advantage of this moment, to make Henry look worse in her eyes.

But her sadness crushed that impulse instantly.

So I pulled her gently into a light embrace—careful not to hug too tightly, remembering her earlier complaints.

"Rosalia, you didn’t do anything wrong. Liz confessed, but Henry didn’t feel the same. She just hasn’t healed from it yet. That’s all."

Her fingers clutched my sleeve.

"Really?"

"Yes," I whispered. "So don’t feel guilty."

When she finally smiled, all the heaviness inside me melted.

But then, another thought struck me like a blow.

We still hadn’t defined our relationship.

Sure, we hugged.

Sure, we slept beside each other.

But since the day she confessed—begging me not to think of Mary—we hadn’t spoken a word about love.

Maybe it was jealousy.

Maybe it was the fear of Henry.

But I finally gathered all my courage.

"Rosalia," I said, "look at me."

She tried to turn away.

I cupped her cheeks firmly, guiding her gaze back.

"Do you remember when you saved Henry and fell unconscious for four days?"

She frowned. Her expression said, And? What about it?

I smiled gently.

"Back then, I asked why you hit Mary. You misunderstood. You thought I liked her."

She squirmed.

"I don’t want to talk about that. Move your face away."

"Why? Hm?"

I brushed my lips lightly against her ear.

"What do we do? I only want to talk about this."

She squeezed her eyes shut.

"Rosalia... be a good girl and listen."

Her lashes fluttered. Slowly, painfully, she opened her eyes.

My heart slammed in my chest.

"That day... I didn’t ask why you hit Mary because I liked her."

I leaned closer.

"I asked because I wanted to hear you say you did it for me."

Her breath hitched.

"Rosalia, the girl I loved, the girl I love now, and the girl I will love forever... is only you."

"I love you. I love you to a maddening, indescribable degree."

Her entire face went crimson.

"W-What... what are you saying?"

"I’m saying I love you to the poi—"

She slapped her hands over my mouth, trembling violently.

"Don’t... don’t say that."

Her panic was adorable.

So I stuck out my tongue and licked her palm.

She jolted like she’d been electrocuted.

"Y-You—you...!"

"I... I what?"

I teased, copying her stutter.

Her eyes filled with tears.

My heart cracked.

"Alright, alright. I’m sorry."

I pulled her into my arms, patting her back gently.

"Don’t cry. I was just teasing you because you’re too cute."

Slowly, she calmed in my embrace.

Then, with a quiet, steady voice, I asked:

"Rosalia... I meant every word. I love you. Will you accept my feelings? Will you... Be my girlfriend?"

No one knew this, but—

I was holding my breath.

Cassel Zancroft—who people feared, respected, and avoided—was trembling like a fool.

Truly... the world is round.