ILTDAMH | CHAPTER 42

Chapter 42

“You should never have done that to me.”

Zelda had been far kinder to her than her own blood relatives ever were.

At just a single warm word from Zelda, Mercian felt her entire body grow warm.

Knock, knock.

“Who could it be at this hour?”

Zelda rose from her seat and opened the door. Standing outside was Cassel, who looked at her and asked,

“Is the Duchess of Canoluph inside?”

At the word Duchess, Zelda hesitated briefly, then broke into a smile.

“The Duchess… you mean Rosaline, don’t you? Then you must be the Duke himself? My goodness. Rosaline, he’s far too handsome! If it were a man like this, I’d forgive him even if he sold off the whole country.”

Mercian, who had been following Zelda out, greeted Cassel warmly.

“Hm? Oh, Sir Cassel. What a surprise—it’s been so long.”

“It truly has, my lady. In fact… no, I suppose this isn’t the best time for pleasantries.”

Cassel, flustered by Zelda’s misunderstanding, bowed slightly when he saw Mercian emerge.

“You’re not the Duke? Ah, forgive me.”

“N-not at all, my lady.”

Zelda laughed lightly.

“My lady? Oh, come now. To call a commoner like me that—please, just call me Zelda. You seem to have something to discuss with Rosalind, so I’ll be on my way. 

Rosaline, I’ll take my leave. Call me if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Zelda.”

Once Zelda departed, Cassel stepped into Mercian’s home.

“Please, have a seat.”

“My thanks, Madam.”

“Sir Cassel, I’m no longer the Duchess. Please, just call me Rosalind.”

Cassel gave a gentle smile.

“To me, Madam, you will always be the Duchess.”

At his words, Mercian blushed faintly and set a teacup before him.

“Is this about Ruan?”

“Yes. I stopped by the house across the way just now, but His Grace was sound asleep. So I thought I might speak with you instead—if I’m not intruding.”

“No, it’s quite alright. But… how long has Ruan—how long has His Grace—been unable to sleep?”

“You knew of his insomnia?”

“Yes. I’ve long known he struggled with it. But when he was with me, he often took a draught and fell into a deep sleep, so I never thought it was so serious. Yet this morning, by chance, I saw him outside. In the middle of our conversation he collapsed. I panicked and summoned the elder, who told me he’s been relying on medicine. And not ordinary medicine—potent concoctions brewed by a sorcerer.”

“I see…”

“Has his insomnia grown worse?”

“His insomnia…?”

Cassel hesitated. 

He wondered whether he should tell her the truth—that it wasn’t medicine, but her very presence that had allowed Ruan to sleep peacefully.

“Madam, as you know, I can’t interfere in the matters between you and His Grace. Nor can I speak truths that he himself has chosen not to. And I know this time you are deeply angry with him. I didn’t come here to defend him today. I came because I need you to read this.”

Cassel placed a bundle of newspapers, printed in the capital over the past five months, before her.

“What are these?”

As Mercian looked at the stack, Cassel’s expression turned incredulous.

“Then… you truly didn’t know. I hadn’t realized you’d settled in a village cut off from the Empire’s papers. Please, just read them.”

“And what good will it do me now, reading these papers?”

At her dismissive glance toward the bundle, Cassel’s face hardened.

“You remember the contract, don’t you? The one we made when I first entered the Duke’s household—that after six months, I would leave?”

Cassel nodded gravely.

“Of course. I haven’t forgotten. But after watching you and His Grace these past five months… it seemed to me that your bond was no mere contract.”

“Especially since, thanks to you, the Duke—who once claimed love was nothing but a waste, the most inefficient of all human follies—was able to break his curse.”

Cassel thought of Mercian, grieving as if the world had ended when she believed Ruan had died. 

He had been certain then—she loved him.

And Ruan? 

When Mercian was gone, he nearly lost his mind searching for her.

So desperate was he, Cassel thought, that if he’d had the power, he would have gone down into hell itself to bring her back.

After all, this was the Mercian he had fought so hard to find again…

Cassel feared that if they lost this chance, Ruan might truly die. 

His desperation to bring Mercian back to the ducal house was no less than Ruan’s own.

It was for Ruan to beg forgiveness, yes—but Cassel wanted, at the very least, to grant him the chance.

And he believed—no, he trusted—that the Mercian he knew would not cast him aside without hearing him out.

Clutching at this final straw, Cassel spoke with quiet urgency.

“Madam, I know your heart. But even so… please, I beg you, read these newspapers.”

His earnest plea left Mercian with little choice. 

Reluctantly, she accepted the bundle from his hands.

“Thank you, Madam. Then, I shall take my leave.”

Cassel rose, bowing politely. 

But as he turned toward the door, something struck him, and he faced her again.

“Madam… one more request, if I may.”

“Yes?”

“Whether you forgive him or not—that is yours alone to decide. But if, after reading these papers, your heart stirs even a little… I beg you, grant His Grace one more chance.”

“A chance? What do you mean?”

“I know you have suffered greatly. But the Duke, too—ah, no. Please, just… read them. That is all I ask. Farewell.”

Newspapers…

What could be in them?

Mercian gazed down at the bundle left behind, hesitated, then slowly began to unfold them one by one.

The papers began from the end of the mourning period. 

The very first told of Prince Harmon’s wedding—how the Crown Prince had appeared to kill him, and how Ruan had stood against him.

The reports were horrifying.

The Crown Prince, masquerading as a wealthy young noble, had ridden his carriage into town to buy women who lived alone. 

He would spend the night with them blindfolded, but if they glimpsed his face, he beat them to death. 

This same prince, envious of the younger brother who outshone him, had plotted to assassinate Prince Harman.

It was then Ruan had feigned death—baiting the Crown Prince into the open, only to strike him down.

And in the papers that followed… Mercian saw her own name.

Articles plastered with her portrait, offering ten thousand gold coins to anyone who knew her whereabouts. 

Reports of over a hundred women each day claiming to be her, swarming the Duke’s estate. 

Satirical columns mocking the so-called “hero of the Empire,” returned from the grave, now reduced to a madman wandering the Empire in search of a runaway wife.

For four months, the Empire’s papers had been filled with nothing but her.

The ridicule alone would have broken most men. 

Yet through every smear, every jeer, every cruel headline—her portrait still appeared. 

His search never stopped.

He… he searched for me this much?

Why? Why would he?

They had only lived together for five months.

They had never even shared a bed in the truest sense—merely slept side by side.

Why me? Why would he chase me like this?

Knock, knock.

Mercian hastily wiped the tears that had begun to fall as she absorbed the desperation in those pages. 

She opened the door.

And there he stood.

“Ruan…”

“Madam—who has made you cry?”

Though he had slept more than six hours, exhaustion still clung to his face. 

Even so, he looked only at her, worry etched deep in his features.

And for some reason, that worried look filled Mercian with anger.

Why? Why do you do this to me? 

Why make me bear the pain I tried so hard to bury? 

Why tear open the wounds of someone who’s struggling just to forget?

“Madam, are you alright?”

Seeing her tears, Ruan stepped forward, alarmed, reaching out—only for Mercian to rip herself free of his grasp and point to the newspapers on the table.

“Why? Why did you search for me like a madman? You’ve broken your curse, haven’t you? You could marry any noble lady suited to your station and live as you should! So why? Why me? What am I to you? We were only ever a couple bound by a six-month contract!”

Her cry tore through the room, raw and shaking. 

Ruan pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as he whispered desperately against her ear:

“Because I love you, Mercian. I love you more than my own life. Because in this world, my only wife, my only woman, is you. Because I can no longer live without you.”

Love me? More than your life?

And yet… this same man had acted out a lie, feigned death before her eyes?

What did he take love for—a game, a tool, a performance?

Did he expect her to forgive because it was “unavoidable at the time”? 

Did he think declaring undying love now would erase the betrayal?

Was she a fool to him? 

Or simply easy prey?

Mercian tore herself from his embrace, stepping back to face him.

“Love? Did you just say you love me? How simple love must be, for you.”

“Madam, I…”

“The day you collapsed in the bookshop—you confessed then, too. Not with words, but with your lips, when no sound would come. And that was the moment… that the feelings I had locked away burst out. That whole week you lay unconscious, I was terrified. Terrified you would leave me forever.”

Her voice trembled, sharp with pain.

“But if you truly loved me—then when you woke, you should not have coughed up false blood before my eyes. If you truly loved me, you would have told me the truth.”

“Madam, forgive me. I know you will not believe this, but once I destroyed the Crown Prince, I meant to come to you immediately—to tell you everything. I never intended to deceive you.”

Ruan reached toward her, his face pleading. 

Mercian stepped back again.

“Ruan… all my life, I thought the only man who ever loved me was my father. Not even my own mother, not even my sister, could see me as anything but different, lesser. They called me useless, worthless—spat words that cut like knives.”

She let out a bitter breath.

“At the time, it broke me. Later, I almost felt grateful. Because of them, I learned to harden myself. Words that once would have wounded me… now leave no scar.”

Her eyes softened, yet her voice carried a deep ache.

“But in the Duke’s household… things were different. Those people believed in me. They loved me. They valued me—more than my own family ever did.”

As Mercian spoke through trembling lips, tears welling in her eyes, Ruan stood frozen, unable to find the words to answer.

“Of everyone in the Duke’s household… it was you. Always you. The warmth, the gentleness in your eyes whenever you looked at me—I cherished it. We never exchanged words of love, and yet you respected me, accepted me exactly as I was. For the first time since my father’s death, I felt someone’s sincerity. I trusted you. Perhaps that’s why, even knowing our marriage was meant to be temporary, I… I found myself loving you. And that’s why forgiving you now… is so much harder.”

Her emotions overwhelmed her, and her breath came ragged, as though she were suffocating. 

Ruan hurried into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water.

“M–Madam, please… drink this.”

But Mercian pushed it aside, closing her eyes and steadying her breath until her voice returned, low and unsteady.

“If it had been my mother or my sister who lied to me, I would not even call it betrayal. I would not waste my forgiveness on them, because I never expected anything different. They’ve always been that way. But you—” Her voice broke, trembling with anger and grief. “You should never have done this to me. If only you had never confessed your love. If only you had let it be one-sided—mine alone. Then I might have forgiven you for using me as part of your plan. But you told me you loved me. And because of that, when you died, I suffered unbearably. And when you returned—when I saw you alive again—I could not welcome you with joy. Instead, I was shattered.”

“I am sorry, Mer.” Ruan’s voice was hoarse with remorse. “It was the Crown Prince. His threats against you—I could not endure it. I wanted to destroy every shadow that ever dared to harm you. And only after… only after returning whole and safe, I wished to stand before you again.”

Mercian’s eyes, once soft with tears, turned cold as she met his gaze.