ILTDAMH |CHAPTER 39

• Chapter 39

 The Husband Who Returned From the Dead

Ruan looked at Merciane standing before his eyes and made a vow.

My wife, I will never let you go again.

The next day—

“What? You want to buy a house? But the place you’ve chosen is a little far from the village…”

At Pierre’s hesitation, Cassel smiled.

“No, that’s fine. In fact, I’ll buy up all the houses around this one.”

“What? But then… are you planning to buy this house as well?”

Pierre pointed to Merciane’s home. 

Cassel shook his head firmly.

“No. That house, I will never buy.”

“I… see.”

To Pierre’s astonishment, it took less than a month for every home surrounding Merciane’s to become Ruan’s property—except hers.

“When will you finally show yourself?” 

Cassel asked.

“Well… I thought I should at least let her know I’m alive first—”

“Ruan? Ruan, where are you?”

Hearing Merciane’s gentle voice calling his name, Ruan, who had been speaking with Cassel inside the carriage, instinctively reached for the door handle to leap out. 

But Cassel grabbed his hand in alarm.

“Your Grace, you can’t go out now! What if the lady sees you?”

“But—she’s calling me. She’s calling out for me with such longing… my wife! I must go to her this instant—”

As the two wrestled at the carriage door, Ruan suddenly froze. 

A small dog came bounding up to Merciane, tail wagging furiously, full of playful energy.

“Ruan! Where on earth have you been? Just look at you—covered in dirt again! What am I going to do with you? Come on, let’s get you washed.”

Though she scolded in exasperation, Merciane’s gaze was nothing but warm as she scooped the little dog into her arms and carried it inside.

Ruan’s hand slipped helplessly from the handle, his face falling in dismay.

Good heavens… The dog’s name is Ruan?

How could she give that name—a duke’s name—to such a tiny, cutesy creature?

Cassel couldn’t hold back a laugh.

The image of the brawny duke and that sprightly pup was just too mismatched.

Still, it was obvious the duke was sulking, and with his nerves already frayed these days, Cassel wondered how on earth to soothe him.

“Your Grace, please don’t take it too hard… really, it’s nothing—”

“Cassel,” Ruan interrupted, eyes burning with conviction, “clearly my wife hasn’t been able to forget me. That’s why she chose to raise a dog that resembles me. Thank heavens! It seems I’ll be able to win her heart back faster than I thought. You saw it too, didn’t you? The way she looked at that dog—exactly the way she once looked at me, long ago. I don’t need to hesitate any longer. Tomorrow, I’ll stand before her. I’ll tell her to stop calling out to that dog, and to call my name—the name of her living husband—instead!”

Cassel stared, horrified, at the duke who gazed reverently at the door through which Merciane had disappeared, his eyes full of emotion.

Did I hear that right? Resemble? Who’s supposed to resemble whom?

Standing nearly one meter ninety and broad-shouldered at that, how on earth could he possibly resemble that tiny creature—barely thirty centimeters tall?

Why Lady Mercian had chosen to name her dog “Ruan,” he had no idea. But whatever the reason, it was certainly not the one His Grace had convinced himself of.

Cassel kept silent. 

Watching Ruan’s face light up in blissful fantasy as he gazed after Mercian, he hadn’t the heart to break it. 

Wordlessly, he turned the carriage back toward the ducal estate.

A few days later.

“My lord, are you finally going to her?”

At Jang’s words, Edward’s eyes brightened. 

Ever since Ruan’s return from Phenomenon village, the man had seemed to regain something of his old self—just as he had been when Lady Mercian still lived within these walls. 

Now, dressed impeccably, he stood there radiating confidence.

“Ed, wait a little longer. I’ll be bringing my wife back with me.”

“Then please, my lord—make sure you truly bring her home.”

Certain that Mercian would come with him, Ruan climbed into the carriage. 

Amidst the staff’s encouragement, he and Cassel set off toward Phenomenon.

“Your Grace, forgive me, but I don’t think appearing without warning is wise,” Cassel argued the entire way.

“As I said before, perhaps we should first let word spread—that you are alive—before you face her directly. Wouldn’t that be wiser?”

But his cautions fell on deaf ears. Ruan, brimming with certainty, could hear nothing else.

“No, Cassel. At first, I intended to wait, to proceed slowly. But after seeing her the other day, everything changed. She still longs for me—I know it. Why else would she name her dog after me? I feared she might have forgotten, but now… now I see hope.”

That’s not it at all.

Cassel nearly groaned aloud. 

How could a man be so utterly blind when it came to women?

Yes, perhaps it had been for the Empire, but Ruan had deceived her—made her watch him cough blood, then swallowed poison before her very eyes. 

What woman alive would forgive that so easily?

No matter how kind Lady Mercian was, if she overlooked such things without hesitation, that wasn’t kindness—it was foolishness.

And to think this man was the Empire’s great war hero.

In politics and war, he devised strategies so brilliant they bordered on genius… and yet, when it came to love, he was a complete simpleton.

Perhaps the gods were fair after all. 

For if a man with that face, that body, that wealth, that power and perfect romantic sense existed, surely he wouldn’t be a man at all—he’d be a god.

No, Cassel thought grimly, I should be grateful he isn’t.

If Lady Mercian doesn’t throw him out on the spot, shouting at him to leave her house at once, it’ll be a miracle.

But he knew there was no persuading Ruan now. 

Some lessons had to be learned through pain.

“Wait—Your Grace, are you saying you’ll barge in this very morning? Please, just listen—!”

Ignoring his steward’s desperate protests, Ruan leapt down from the carriage and strode confidently toward Merian’s open door.

Cassel let out a strangled cry.

“Good lord, just listen to me for once, you fool! Ah, fine—do whatever you want! Get struck, get thrown out—see if I care anymore!”

Cassel watched from the garden as Ruan knocked on the front gate, muttering under his breath.

“It’s been a long time, my lady. You’ve grown thinner… Who has made you suffer so?”

Thinking it was Zelda at the door, Mercian opened it—only to be met with a radiant smile, the kind one might give to someone parted just yesterday. 

But it was Ruan standing there, greeting her as though nothing had happened. 

Her expression froze in disbelief before she cried out:

“Ru… Ruan? Is it really you? You—you’re not dead?”

Her husband, who had once been laid to rest, had returned.

Alive.

And not weak and frail as before, but tall, broad-shouldered, full of life.

What in the world was happening?

As Ruan stepped toward her, Mercian instinctively staggered backward. 

And in that moment, little Ruan—the dog—burst into fierce barking, snarling at the man who dared cross the threshold.

“Ru, Ruan, quiet! Ah—no, not you… I mean, I’m not dreaming, am I? How is this even possible? I—I was the one who laid you in your coffin. I was the one who closed the lid with my own hands. No, that’s not even the point right now… Are you truly alive?”

“I’ll explain everything, but… could you please restrain that dog first?”

Ruan’s face twisted awkwardly as the little dog barked at him without mercy. 

Mercian turned to the creature in her arms.

“Ruan. Come here.”

At her voice, the once-fierce little guardian scampered straight into her embrace, though its eyes still glared at the intruder.

“Good boy. Stay here just for a moment.”

She cradled the dog gently, her voice soft and warm. Watching her, Ruan couldn’t help but think—how he wished to be the one held in that embrace, to be the one basking in that tenderness.

No—he was sure of it. 

Once he explained everything, those same warm, loving eyes would be turned on him again.

“My lady…” he began carefully.

“First, explain. Everything.”

Her tone was cold—so different from the gentle murmur she had just given the little dog. 

And as her gaze settled on him, distant and demanding, Ruan felt an unexpected wave of tension wash over him.

“My lady, then… shall we sit down for a moment and talk this through?”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not exactly in the mood to sit side by side with my supposedly dead husband and sip tea this morning. Keep it simple. Explain.”

“K-keep it simple, you say? Well… the truth is, I wasn’t poisoned at all. My body had been cursed—terribly cursed. As you know, I was given six months to live. But… somehow, the curse was lifted. And that’s how I stand here before you.”

A curse? Not poison—but a curse?

Mercian’s eyes narrowed, her voice edged with suspicion.

“All right then. If what you say is true, and it wasn’t poison but a curse, when exactly was it lifted? Before you died? Or… did you die first, and then the curse was broken, bringing you back?”

“Ah—no, no. The curse was lifted that very day… at the bookstore. When the Crown Prince—well, he started spouting nonsense to you and… ah, forgive me. My tongue slipped. Anyway, the day I collapsed and later woke—that was when the curse was undone.”

“You’re saying the curse ended that day? Then why didn’t you wake up for days afterward?”

“That… that was because my body was too weak. I simply lacked the strength to rise.”

“And what about the blood you coughed up afterward? Was that some kind of aftereffect of the curse being undone?”

At her unrelenting, cool interrogation, sweat beaded on Ruan’s brow. 

This was not the gentle reunion he had imagined.

“No. That day… in order to stop the Crown Prince’s rampage, I had no choice but to feign death. So I pretended to cough blood, and a week later, staged my death.”

Pretended? He only acted like he had died?

So all of it—all of it—was a lie?

“Ruan… if I’m not hearing this wrong, you’re telling me the blood, the death—it was all fake? Impossible. When you were lying in that coffin, you weren’t breathing. Your whole body was cold, just like a corpse. I checked over and over myself. How could that possibly be?”

At her sharp demand, Ruan forced himself to answer calmly.

“Do you remember, my lady, the man who came with Tablo the day I collapsed?”

At that, Mercian recalled—the older physician who had come alongside Sir Tablo.

“Yes… Tablo brought him, claiming he could heal you.”

“That man was highly skilled with medicines. He gave me a concoction that could halt my breath and chill my body for five days—making me indistinguishable from the dead. That’s how I could remain a corpse throughout the funeral rites. After those five days, I awoke, waited through the two-week mourning period… and on the day of Prince Harmon’s wedding, I used the false evidence I had planted to expose the Crown Prince’s treason—and strike him down.”

For a long moment, Mercian only stared, dazed, struggling to process his words. 

Finally, she spoke, her voice taut.

“So… to sum up: the curse was lifted the day you collapsed at the bookstore, and then—to eliminate the Crown Prince—you deceived everyone by staging your own death?”

“As expected, my lady… your mind is as sharp as ever.”

Was it true then?

Had Euan truly never died at all, but lived, standing here before her now?

For an instant, Mercian felt joy—raw, overwhelming joy—that her husband still breathed.

But at the same time, fury welled up within her.

He had deceived her.

So perfectly, so completely—

He had made her mourn a lie.

“Then why didn’t you tell me? There were plenty of moments when you could have given me even the smallest hint. Am I wrong? Did no one in the ducal household know?”

At Mercian’s sharp question, Ruan answered carefully.

“At first… only Cassel, Tablo, and Prince Harmon—no, Crown Prince Harmon, as he is now—knew the truth. But later… my aunt, Edward, and Clea also came to know.”

What? Then that means… out of everyone close to Ruan, the only one left in the dark about his false death—was me.