Chapter 43
Why are these people here?
“No, don’t apologize. The apology you’re making now isn’t for me—it’s for yourself. To ease your own heart. Still, thank you. Thank you for telling someone as plain and insignificant as me that you loved me. And thank you for desperately searching for me. But when you died before my eyes, the bond between us ended. So please, go back now. Go back to where you belong… and find a noblewoman who suits you, someone you can marry.”
It was the first time.
The first time he realized words could be more terrifying, more painful than a sharp blade piercing the heart.
Every word that left Merisian’s lips stabbed through Ruan’s chest like a sword.
What have I done… to someone so gentle and so dear?
And because every word she spoke was true, he couldn’t argue—no, he couldn’t even make an excuse.
Or rather, his mind was flooded with excuses, but his mouth clamped shut as though sealed, refusing to let a sound escape.
He remembered Olivia and Tablo warning him—telling him that if he deceived Mercian, he would regret it, that of all people, he must tell her the truth.
And now, he realized just how foolish, how utterly stupid his choice had been.
Unable to utter another word, Ruan left Mercian’s house.
“…Hhhuuuk.”
Mercian, who had stood with a cold expression until Ruan was gone, collapsed as soon as he stepped outside.
Her legs gave out beneath her.
Why… Why did his face look so unbearably pitiful?
The face of a man sinking into despair at her words, the hand that half-reached for her but could not hold on, the lonely figure on his back as he turned without saying a word…
No. No, Merician, you did the right thing.
She had resolved never to return when she left the capital.
That decision didn’t change just because Ruan was alive.
Here, she would live as Rosaline.
Mercian slowly stood, gathered up the scattered newspapers, and tucked them neatly into the chair.
She had cut him so deeply with her words, surely whatever lingering affection remained had been severed.
He would not come back again.
It was really, truly over.
She would never see him again… would she?
Ah.
She hadn’t asked him why his insomnia had gotten worse…
She hadn’t asked whether he knew that taking too much of that medicine could really kill him…
She hadn’t asked whether the curse was truly broken, or if it might return…
She hadn’t asked after Charles, Clea Ed, the duke’s household, or her aunt—whether they were all well.
She had wanted to know.
She’d wanted to ask them all.
Mercian suddenly rose, took a few steps toward the door—only to sink back down again.
God, what am I doing?
I just told the man who confessed his love for me that I would never forgive him, that I would never see him again.
And here I am… worrying about him.
No. Forget it.
Forget everything.
I’m not Mercian Canoluf anymore, nor Mercian Beanoman.
I’m Rosaline.
Be strong.
She wiped the tears that fell despite her will, and to chase away the thoughts crowding her mind, she cleaned the house from top to bottom late into the night.
The next day.
Mercian stood hesitating at her front door, unable to step outside.
If I open the door… surely he won’t be there, right?
Yes.
I said all those things yesterday.
He must have left.
Or… is he lying awake again, taking more of those pills?
Should I go check, to see if he took them before falling asleep?
Wait—did he even eat after waking yesterday?
Mercian, what are you doing?
You’re standing at the door, unable to leave for work…
Luciane was right.
You really are hopeless.
“Woof! Woof!”
“Sorry, Ruan. I know, I’ve been standing here forever, haven’t I? Fine, fine, I’ll go…”
Her dog barked as if urging her to hurry and open the door.
Mercian took a deep breath, cracked the door open, and peeked outside.
He wouldn’t be there. Surely not.
When Mercian opened the door and stepped outside, to her surprise, Ruan was nowhere to be seen.
Huh? He’s not here? Could he be asleep? Or… did he leave?
She hesitated in front of the house across the way, hand hovering over the door, but then quietly turned back and headed to work instead.
From that day on, Ruan never appeared again.
As if he had never existed at all…
So he must’ve left after hearing what I said.
Good.
That’s better.
Now he’ll live his own life.
“Haah…”
“Rosaline, sighing like that won’t make the earth collapse, you know?”
“…What?”
“Your husband—no, the Duke—he’s gone, isn’t he?”
“…Ah. Yes.”
“I thought so. You’ve had that shadow over your face for days now, sighing nonstop. So it was because the Duke left, wasn’t it?”
“No, no. It’s not that. I just… I feel like business hasn’t been going so well lately.”
“What are you talking about? Yesterday and today were the best sales you’ve had all month.”
“Ah… really?”
Feeling awkward under Zelda’s gaze, Mercian grabbed a rag and began wiping down the tables inside the shop.
“Rosaline, are you truly telling me there’s no feelings left for the Duke?”
Mercian kept her expression composed, her hand steadily wiping as if the answer were obvious.
“Of course not. I left everything behind the day I walked out of the ducal house. Even my name—I left it there, so I could forget him.”
“Then why have you been sighing like this for days? You got exactly what you wanted: the Duke is gone, and your shop is thriving. Before he ever showed up, you would’ve been overjoyed with this much success.”
“Zelda, I am happy now.”
“Happy? You look like you’re about two sighs away from crying.”
“No, really, I’m fine.”
“Rosalind, don’t brush me off. Tell me honestly—just to me. Do you really have no feelings left for him? Do you truly want him to forget you and move on with someone else?”
Mercian nodded as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Of course. Honestly, Ruan only married me because he was terminally ill. Otherwise, someone like me could never have dreamed of him. Now that he’s recovered, he deserves someone who truly suits him.”
“Is that really what you believe? Because, Rosaline … your face tells a different story.”
“…Honestly, I don’t know anymore. I thought I only wished for him to marry a lady befitting his rank and live happily. But now that he’s gone, I can’t understand why my heart feels so restless. Zelda, I’ve always been quick to give up on what isn’t mine. Since I was little, everything good always belonged to my sister. Mother treated every wish of mine like a sin. After Father died and our family declined, she pinned all her hopes on my beautiful sister, saying she would marry well and restore our house. So everything—everything good—was for her alone.”
“That’s outrageous. She was your mother—how could she do that? And what about you, Rosaline? What was so wrong with you?”
A bitter laugh escaped her lips.
“Compared to my sister, I was ugly. And fat. At least that’s what Mother always said. And my sister believed it too—that the best of everything naturally belonged to her. So once I decided something wasn’t mine, I never let myself linger or hope for it. But now… why can’t I do that with him? When he was dying, I didn’t think much about standing by his side—it was only a matter of time before he’d leave. But now it’s different. He’s a Duke, a hero of the Empire, while I’m no longer even a viscount’s daughter—just an ordinary commoner. How could I possibly stand beside him? That’s why letting him go should be the right thing. And yet… I can’t. And I hate myself for it.”
Hearing her confession, Zelda suddenly pulled Mercian into a tight embrace, patting her back firmly.
“Rosaline … your mother and sister were truly cruel. To raise children with such blatant favoritism—unforgivable. Even if your sister is the most beautiful woman in the Empire and marries into the finest house, they have no right to treat you that way. If I’d known back in the capital, I wouldn’t have let them get away with it. And listen—this comes from someone who’s lived a little longer: love has nothing to do with titles or status. Isn’t that true? Besides, the Duke is the one chasing after you, not the other way around. And what’s wrong with you, Rosaline? I’ve told you before—maybe the capital was different, but here in Phenomenon Village, every young man has his eye on you. Do you know how many have begged me to introduce them to you?”
“Zelda…”
Tears welled up in Merician ’s eyes, spilling over as her friend’s warmth broke down the walls she’d built around herself.
Zelda only hugged her tighter, her voice gentle and soothing.
“Love, as I see it, is all about timing. If you truly can’t forgive the Duke, then that’s your choice. But if that’s not the case… maybe give him one more chance.”
…He doesn’t want such a chance.
He’s already gone.
“No… it’s over already, isn’t it?”
Mercian murmured faintly in response to Zelda’s words.
“Oh my, look at the time. Sandwich-shop girl, stop frowning, clean up, and get some sleep. Who knows—maybe tomorrow morning the Duke of yours will show up again to confess his love.”
“Zelda!”
Mercian shot her a glare, but Zelda only smiled playfully.
“If I’m right, you’d better give him a real chance, understood? Anyway, poor me—never courted by anyone—will take my leave. See you tomorrow.”
“…Thank you, Zelda.”
After Zelda left, Mercian sat there for a long while before finally rising to her feet.
The next morning.
Am I dreaming right now?
Why on earth are they here?
Drawn by the commotion outside, Mercian stepped out and stared blankly at Charles and Clea Edward as they busily unpacked their belongings in the house across the street.
***
Imperial Training Grounds.
“Oh dear, my arm gave out—are you all right?”
“Ruan! You—”
Harmon froze as the chill of a blade skimmed dangerously close to his throat.
Ruan, without the slightest trace of remorse on his face, muttered an insincere apology and helped him back to his feet.
“Your Highness, I truly apologize. The curse has been completely lifted, but perhaps as an aftereffect, my arm sometimes goes weak, and the sword slips out of control.”
Damn that Duke…
It has been a week already.
After Damon was executed, Ruan had run rampant, nearly out of his mind, scouring the land in search of Mercian.
And now, out of nowhere, he appeared calm, declaring that he would hand over all his duties to Tablo and Cassel.
Harmon had refused his resignation, only to have Ruan brazenly appear at the training grounds, volunteering to teach in Tableau’s place.
This was the result: a lesson that was more torment than training.
Not just fencing lessons, either—Ruan bungled every official duty with suspicious “mistakes,” each blunder clearly a wordless threat: Dismiss me, if you dare.
From what Tablo had confided, Mercian had flatly rejected Ruan for deceiving her.
And yet, had he truly not abandoned his feelings for her?
When startled knights and attendants came running, Harmon raised a hand to wave them off, only for Ruan to grasp that very hand and hoist him up himself.
“My apologies again. It seems a curse leaves traces even after it breaks. Now then, the fundamentals of channeling sword-energy are—”
“Go.”
“…Pardon?”
“Take leave. Go to your wife. But you must return within six months. That is the only condition on which I’ll release you.”
“Thank you, Your Highness. Then I’ll see you again in six months.”
Handing his sword to Tablo, who was watching with a troubled face, Ruan vanished from the training ground like the wind.
