ILTDAMH|CHAPTER 97

Chapter 97

Potato Soup

Olivia thought she knew what Ruan liked best, the food he always ate eagerly—but in truth, the one dish Ruan truly despised in the world was potato soup.

When the Duke and Duchess both died in an accident, Ruan was barely five years old. 

Even now, he couldn’t recall what kind of people his parents had been, what they looked like, or how much they had loved him.

All he had were the portraits hanging in the ducal hall, showing what they looked like, and Olivia’s occasional stories, which revealed how deeply they had cared for him.

The only memory that stuck was of his mother, Ellensia Canolup, who couldn’t cook anything at all—except potato soup. 

But it was an atrociously bad potato soup. It had no seasoning, a faintly fishy smell, and an unidentifiable taste. Yet his father, Reinold, had eaten it as if it were the most delicious soup in the world, and young Ruan couldn’t understand it at all.

After learning of his parents’ deaths, Ruan went days without appetite or food. When Olivia finally asked if there was anything he wanted to eat, one memory flashed unbidden: Ellensia’s potato soup.

“Potato soup… I want potato soup,” he said.

Olivia prepared it for him, and Ruan ate it hungrily, scraping every last drop from the bowl.

The funny thing was, Olivia’s potato soup was nothing like Ellensia’s—it was rich, savory, and truly delicious. For the first time, Ruan realized that potato soup could be good, yet he still wept over the memory of his mother’s tasteless, fishy version.

Olivia, seeing his tears, mistakenly thought her soup tasted the same as Ellensia’s and continued to make it for him for some time. Ruan, seeing her joy, couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth. 

Olivia had become the only adult he could rely on after losing his parents, and he didn’t want to risk her dislike. Gradually, the taste of Ellensia’s soup faded entirely from his mind.

Yet today, when Mercian served him potato soup, a single sip brought back the long-forgotten memory of Ellensia’s soup.

It was strange. 

Mercian’s soup was far richer, more delicate, and more flavorful than Olivia’s, yet why did the taste of Ellensia’s unpleasant, fishy soup surface? Was it because he was moved by Mercian’s thoughtfulness, taking the time to figure out what he liked? Or was it simply that he was happy someone had done something for him? Luane didn’t know.

For the first time in a long while, he ate, scraping the bottom of the bowl like the little five-year-old he once was.

After that, the dishes Mercian brought weren’t exactly foods Ruan liked—they were the dishes Olivia had made for him. Afraid that fussing over food might make Olivia hate or abandon him, he had always eaten whatever she served. Olivia, in turn, assumed they were all his favorite dishes, and so over time, they became what Luane “liked.”

Now, these same dishes prepared by Mercian were filled with care, made with thought for what he truly enjoyed. 

Ruan ate them without complaint, moved silently by her effort.

It was strange. He remembered thinking these were similar to the dishes his aunt had once made… but were they really so delicious? Mercian’s cooking was so good that Ruan couldn’t help but convince himself he genuinely liked it.

“Is it good? I know your aunt made delicious food, but I tried my best. Please don’t leave any behind,” Mercian said.

“No, it’s perfect. Honestly, even compared to your aunt’s chef, your cooking is a hundred times better,” Ruan replied.

“Oh, good! There’s plenty, so eat more,” Mercian said with relief, joy brightening her face. Ruan felt the urge to hug her tightly but restrained himself, finishing the dish silently.

Yet why was she suddenly cooking for him? The question turned his contentment into unease. Could it be that she didn’t want to marry him? Was this perhaps their last meal together?

Trying to calm himself, Ruan asked gently, “What’s the occasion? I’m happy, but also… a little nervous.”

“I’ve thought about it sometimes. What if I hadn’t accepted that proposal? What if I hadn’t married you, Ruan? I’d probably still be trapped in the marquess’ household, berated by my mother and Lucy, blaming myself and thinking I was miserable,” Mercian said quietly.

Ruan stared at her, stunned. Did he hear that correctly? Was she confessing to him? Confessions weren’t usually something men received.

“…Ruan. Will you marry me?”

He blinked. Did she just… propose? Was he dreaming?

“Are you confessing to me right now?” he asked, dazed.

“Yes. Ever since before our marriage at the Duke’s house, I always received from you and gave nothing in return. When you came back for me, I tried to let you go. After all, I had nothing, and I was no longer a noblewoman. Yet you begged for forgiveness and stayed. Living with you made me realize… I cannot leave you either.”

Taking a steadying breath, Mercian looked into his eyes.

“So when His Majesty officially allowed our marriage, before any noblewoman could declare love to you, I decided to take you first. I may seem bold or shameless, but since I married you first, I can claim responsibility—even without crossing the line, since we’ve shared a bed. I will hold you to that responsibility.”

Not a dream. Ruan pinched himself multiple times to be sure. Yet here she was, confessing again and again with her small, perfect lips.

He could no longer contain himself. He stepped forward, wrapping Mercian tightly in his arms.

“Are you proposing while making me delirious with all this delicious food?” he whispered, half in laughter, half in awe.

“Yes. That’s exactly it. So… will you marry me, Ruan?”

“What if I said no?”

“Hmm… I didn’t expect that answer. But if you said no… you’d be defying the Emperor’s command. And now that I have the Crown Princess as a strong older sister, I could use her to… at least bind you and bring you to the wedding. To be precise… if you said no, I would still marry you, even if I had to tie you up!”

Ruan couldn’t resist the adorable, bold way she said only what she wanted him to hear. 

Overcome, he pressed his lips to hers before she could finish speaking.

“Now that I’ve sealed your words with my lips, you can’t take them back. I am yours, my lady. Never abandon me,” he said.

“Ruan, marrying you doesn’t make you my property,” Mercian replied softly.

“You’re mistaken, my lady. You have everything. Even though you’re a duchess, you’ve never used your position to belittle anyone. Your kindness made the ducal household prioritize you over me. You’ve visited my aunt weekly, bringing her happiness, and now she favors you more than me. And above all, you taught me love—an emotion I didn’t understand—and through it, my curse was lifted. You, my lady, are truly extraordinary. Having you as my wife is my honor.”

“Ruan … thank you for valuing me so. I love you,” Mercian said, shy and radiant.

Unable to resist, Ruan kissed her once more. 

When he hesitated, she grabbed his sleeve.

“Ruan, if you see me as a woman, don’t stop,” she whispered.

He glanced at her nervously. “Are you sure, my lady?”

“I’m scared, but I want you…!” she squeaked.

Gently, he laid her on the bed, holding her close. 

“If you allow me, I’m ready for anything. But if you want me to stop, just say so. I’ll stop immediately.”

“I… I want you too,” she whispered.

With her consent, Ruan carefully removed his outer clothes and began undressing her with trembling hands.

“Lady, I’m inexperienced too. But don’t worry—I’ve read about this. Even if I’m clumsy, please understand,” he said softly.

“I… I don’t know if you’re clumsy or not either,” she admitted.

“I’ll do my best to be gentle,” he promised.

As he helped her out of her dress and undergarments, Mercian lowered her gaze, blushing.

“Look at me, my lady. I truly love you,” Ruan murmured.

She lifted her head, and he kissed her softly. His lips traced a path downward, making her body shiver with each touch.

In the quiet Canoluf Duke mansion, the night deepened, filled only with the whispered intimacy between Ruan and Mercian.