Chapter 48
To You, I Was Nothing More Than a Sleeping Pill
Ruan?
What on earth was Ruan doing in this shop all of a sudden?
And… an employee? When did I ever hire an employee?
“Rosaline, an employee? Did you hire someone without telling me? And such a handsome man, at that. I must say, I like the look of him.”
Zelda’s eyes widened as she glanced at Ruan, then leaned close to whisper to Marican.
“Zelda, that’s—”
But Marican faltered, her words trailing off as Zelda shifted her gaze between her and Ruan.
He stood there, glaring at the young male customers in the shop as though he might kill them all with a single glance.
Zelda drew a sharp breath and whispered in her friend’s ear.
“Don’t tell me… he’s the one?”
Marican glanced at her and gave the smallest of nods.
So that man is the “master” Clea had spoken of?
No wonder she wanted more male customers gathered here.
Zelda studied Ruan with keen interest as he strode boldly into the shop.
At nearly one meter ninety, his height alone was enough to overwhelm every man inside.
And then—those raven-black locks, his skin pale as though untouched by sunlight, and features so sharply carved they seemed sculpted from stone.
Despite the plain clothes of a commoner, there was no disguising the cut of his figure, the muscles that stretched beneath the fabric.
Clothes so ordinary should never have looked like that, yet somehow they did—turning heads with their sheer elegance.
None of the men in this town could possibly compare.
“My goodness. If it were me, I’d have forgiven him on the spot,” Zelda muttered. “I thought that Sir Cassel fellow was handsome enough last time, but next to this one? I’d hardly call it handsome at all. No wonder you’ve never cared for the village youths. Living with a man like that, how could anyone else catch your eye?”
Marican gave a bitter smile.
If only she knew.
Back then, his body was nothing like this.
Not long ago, it was a miracle he was even breathing.
When I first married him, he was so thin that I was larger than he was.
Now, somehow, he’s grown broader than me.
Marican murmured under her breath as she looked at Ruan—bigger now than any cloak could ever conceal.
“That’s not it. He… he wasn’t always like this.”
“Ah, right. You said he was sick back then. So? You decided to give him another chance, just like I said?”
Zelda’s words barely reached her, for Marican’s attention was caught by the men in the shop, who were now hurriedly paying for sandwiches and making their escape under the weight of Ruan’s deadly stare.
She sighed.
“Zelda, let’s talk about that later. Selling the sandwiches comes first. And please, give me just a moment.”
At her words, Ruan’s murderous expression softened instantly into the gentlest of smiles.
He nodded and followed Marican outside.
Peter, who had been standing frozen under that same terrifying gaze, finally managed to breathe again.
He approached Zelda, worry etched all over his face.
“Zelda… that man, is he really an employee here? Why on earth would anyone hire someone so frightening? And is it really safe to leave him alone with Rosaline? What if he tries to hurt her? Should I go and stand by her side?”
Zelda gave a wistful little sigh. “It’s a shame, really.
That tender look of his isn’t for me.
Peter, I’ll be blunt: even if every young man in this village fought him at once, none of you would win.
And Rosalind is safest right by his side.
Don’t worry.
In fact, Peter, I think it’s time you gave up. Against that man, you don’t stand a chance.”
Peter frowned, disbelief clouding his features.
“Who is he, that you’d speak of him like that? I heard Rosalind’s first husband was dead…”
“Peter,” Zelda cut him off gently. “It’s her private life. Don’t pry too deeply. Let go of your feelings for Rosalind. It’s better to move on.”
“But… I’ve never seen him before. Is he from the next village?”
“No. He just moved in yesterday.”
“To our village? Where?”
“You’ll laugh. Right across from Rosalind’s house.”
“No… that’s impossible. But still—how does Rosaline even know such a frightening man?”
“Peter, enough. Take this to Henry on your way. Rosalind just made it.”
Reluctantly, Peter took the sandwich and left, still unable to mask his worry.
Zelda shook her head. “Hmm. He seems better than I expected…” she murmured, tidying the shop.
Meanwhile, Marican turned to Ruan.
“Why are you here so suddenly, Ruan? And an employee? This tiny shop doesn’t need one. Zelda helps when necessary—it’s more than enough.”
Ruan glanced around at the storeroom, eyeing the heavy ingredients stacked there.
“That can’t be right. These sacks are heavy. Thinking of you carrying them all by yourself… it pains me, Madam.”
“What? Ruan, I’ve told you before—I’m stronger than most people. You might not remember, but that day in the bookstore, I carried you onto the carriage and up to your bed at the duke’s estate.”
What am I even saying? It sounds like I’m bragging about my strength…
Flustered, Marican felt her cheeks heat.
“I was deliberately losing weight at the time,” Ruan countered smoothly.
“That’s not the point. You suddenly appear at my shop, calling yourself an employee—what on earth are you saying?”
Ruan bowed his head respectfully.
“Please, Madam. Just one month. Give me that chance.”
“Ruan, isn’t that already a closed chapter?”
But his expression was so desperate as he pleaded, “At least hear me out. If, after I speak, your heart remains unchanged… I’ll leave quietly.”
“I’ve heard enough already. I don’t wish to hear more.”
“Madam—this is the last time. Please.”
Marican sighed, looking at his imploring face.
“…Truly?”
“Yes.”
“…Very well. Wait here.”
She left him in the storeroom and returned to Zelda, who was finishing the cleaning.
“Did it go well?” Zelda asked.
“Sorry for making you do this, Zelda. What about the sandwiches?”
“All sold. And I’ve closed up early. Wrote it on the door.”
“Thank you.”
Zelda smiled faintly. “I’ll head back to my real work now. If anything happens, call me. I’m family to Rosaline now.”
“Thank you. Always.”
When Zelda left, Marican locked the shop, then returned to bring Ruan out.
“What about the customers?” he asked.
“The sandwiches are gone, so I closed early. Sit.”
She poured chamomile tea and placed it before him.
“What is it you want to say?”
Ruan stared at the cup.
Chamomile.
The very tea she used to make for him at the duke’s estate when his insomnia plagued him.
A flicker of hope lit in his chest.
Perhaps she might listen, after all.
At first, he had come simply to help with her shop.
But the sight of so many men inside—men free to express their feelings for Marican—had filled him with panic.
Unlike them, he had not even earned her forgiveness.
If one of them were to win her heart…
No.
That cannot happen.
If it comes to it, I’ll use the last, most shameful means I have left.
His throat dry, he sipped the tea and met her eyes.
“I wish to tell you my story. Something I have never spoken of to anyone. It may be long, but please… hear me through to the end.”
Marican blinked in surprise.
His story? Why now?
He took another sip, gaze unwavering.
“You must hear it to the very end.”
At his earnest request, she gave a reluctant nod.
And so, Ruan began.
He spoke of the carriage accident long ago that killed his parents.
Of the insomnia that plagued him ever since, worsened by living with Olivia.
Of the Alomande War, when Sinclair was used as bait and a curse was laid upon him.
Of the six-month death sentence he received, and how he feigned poisoning to draw out Damon.
Then came Olivia’s scheme—seeking a six-month bride for him, choosing Ruan precisely because he had no power.
And how, though no medicine ever helped him sleep, he found deep rest only beside Marican, sharing her bed under the excuse of consummation.
“So you mean,” Marican asked slowly, “you shared my bed not because your aunt was spying, but because you could only sleep peacefully at my side?”
“Yes, Madam.”
“Then all that time… you never once took a sleeping pill?”
“Not once.”
She laughed in disbelief, shaking her head.
“So in the end, to you, I was nothing more than a sleeping pill.”
“No, Madam, that’s not it. Please, let me finish.”
Marican wanted to storm out then and there.
Yet she remembered her promise to hear him through.
She sat stiffly, eyes cold.
“Fine. Continue.”
Ruan did.
He spoke of how he had deliberately staged acts of rebellion to provoke Damon.
Of how he had first intended only to pass those six months, yet found himself developing true feelings for her.
Of how the curse—that only a love willing to die in the other’s place could break it—had been lifted through her.
“It was thanks to you that the curse broke.”
He leaned closer, eyes intense.
“I’ve never been a man of emotion. Cold, detached—that was me. But with you… always with you, my heart betrayed me. That day in the bookstore, when the Crown Prince held you—I swear, if I had not collapsed, I would have cut him down with my sword.”
His words summoned the memory of him declaring his love, desperation in his eyes.
“Ruan. Tell me one thing. That day in the bookstore—did you know you wouldn’t die?”
“No. I thought I would. That’s why…”
That’s why I confessed—my first and last chance to bare my heart to you.
But those words he swallowed, unable to speak them aloud.
Marican, however, felt a quiet relief bloom inside.
At least then, his feelings were real. …Wait.
Why am I glad about that?
She forced her expression back to calm detachment.
“And why,” she asked coolly, “are you telling me all of this now?”
