ILTDAMH | CHAPTER 27

 Chapter 27

“If, three months from now, I’m still by your side… will I be allowed to kiss you then?”

Luciane sat frozen on the floor, utterly stunned by Ruan’s sudden appearance.

“My lady,” Ruan began, his voice deceptively calm, “I truly tried to hold myself back. Whatever the reasons, you are still my wife’s elder sister and part of her family by blood. I cannot count the times I bit my tongue for that alone. But the moment you laid hands on her last time, you should have known. You should have understood—mercy from me would no longer be yours to ask for. I trust you heard what Madam said just now. If it had been me who heard it first, I would have taken back everything I ever gave you. But my aunt has a far kinder heart than I do… so you should do exactly as she told you without another word.”

Unlike the warmth in his tone when he spoke to Mercian, the gaze he now fixed on Luciane was so cold and unyielding that she felt certain he might draw a sword and cut her down where she stood. 

Her entire body began to tremble.

“Your Grace, you’re… You’re mistaken. I… that is to say…”

“Mistaken?” His voice was low and sharp. 

“My lady, my patience is not so generous. Leave my sight. Now. And one more thing—do not contact my wife again. As she said, she has nothing more to do with the House of Beanoman. From this moment on, she belongs to the House of Canoluf. Whether I live or die makes no difference. Do you understand?”

Is this man truly someone fated to die in a few months?

For the first time in her life, Luciane realised that death’s chill could be felt without a single blade being drawn—just through words.

His body was thin to the point of fragility, his skin pale as paper, yet the killing intent in his gaze was suffocating. 

She could no longer even process his words.

The only thought left in her mind was to escape—to get out of here, now.

“Do. You. Understand?”

Luciane gave a quick, jerking nod, his voice like a final warning ringing in her ears.

“Y-yes… then, I… I’ll be going…”

She scrambled away on all fours, nearly tripping over herself to flee the room.

Now that the pest was gone, he could finally enjoy some time with his wife.

Ruan, eager to see Mercian’s face—concerned for him—deliberately furrowed his brow a little as he turned around.

“My lady—?”

But instead of running into his arms like before, Mercian was being fussed over by Olivia, who was carefully inspecting her from head to toe.

“Heavens, what would we have done if that pretty face of yours had been hurt? Truly, are you certain you’re unharmed?”

“I’m fine, Aunt. Really. Luan took the kettle for me, so I wasn’t hurt at all. But… you must have been startled.”

Even as Mercian spoke with concern, her eyes went to Ruan. 

But Olivia seemed to have no interest whatsoever in his well-being—she simply kept checking over Mercian’s dress, frowning.

“No, it wasn’t fear so much as irritation—this fellow dawdled so long getting here that you were nearly in trouble for nothing. As for him? Don’t bother worrying. He’ll be dead in four months anyway. What’s the difference if he dies a bit sooner? And if a man about to die ends up with a burn on his face—what of it? You’re the one I’m concerned about.”

…What?

Ruan blinked in disbelief. 

He was the one who took the teapot. 

He was the one who drove out that insect, Luciane. 

So why was no one looking at him? 

Why was no one concerned?

And since when were Aunt Olivia and his wife this close?

“Aunt… even so, I nearly got burned—”

“You didn’t, in the end, did you?” Olivia gave him a perfunctory glance up and down. 

“Besides, I saw it clearly—the viscount’s daughter has no strength in her arms. The teapot didn’t even come close to Mercian. It hit the floor long before it reached her. Honestly, with Mercian sitting so far back, there was never any danger at all. And yet here you are acting like some heroic saviour. Tsk. I was going to let it go, but really… it burns my foot. Mercian, let’s go downstairs now. We’ll look at the dishes, and dinner’s on me tonight.”

“…Yes, Aunt. Ruan, come down too.”

Led away by Olivia, Mercian descended to the first floor with her.

For the first time in his life, Ruan found himself resenting his aunt.

On the shop floor, Mercian and Olivia listened to Clea and the shopkeeper describe various plates and dishes.

“Aunt, I could pay for these—”

“No need. I can certainly buy you something like this. Have them sent to the ducal house.”

“Yes, ma’am. My lady, and… I must apologize again for my earlier rudeness.”

The shopkeeper, remembering his slip of the tongue to Clea earlier, bowed repeatedly to Mercian. 

She smiled warmly in response.

“It’s fine. We’ve bought from you today because my aunt and everyone else came along… but I don’t intend to use this shop again.”

“Oh dear, madam, I’m so sorry.”

At the shopkeeper’s apology, Mercian didn’t reply. 

She simply walked out of the shop without a word.

Clea and Charles gathered up the purchased dishes and headed back to the ducal residence, while Mercian, Olivia, and Ruan made their way to a nearby restaurant for dinner.

“Welcome, madam—it’s been far too long. And Your Grace, it’s been ages since we last saw you as well.”

The moment they stepped inside, the restaurant owner himself came out to greet Olivia, Ruan, and Mercian with a broad smile.

“And this must be the Duchess. A pleasure to meet you. I’m Jeff, the owner of this restaurant.”

“Yes, a pleasure,” Mercian replied politely.

“Please, right this way.”

Jeff beamed as he led the three of them into a private room at the back of the restaurant.

“Jeff, bring what I ordered earlier,” Olivia said.

“Yes, madam.”

Jeff stepped out, and before long, the food began arriving at the table.

“Mercian,” Olivia said with a fond smile, “I had them prepare the dishes you usually enjoy. I’m not sure if they’ll be to your taste here, but I hope they are.”

“Thank you, Aunt,” Mercian replied, her eyes lighting up as she glanced over the plates being set before them.

When all the dishes had been served, Ruan carved the meat himself, placing generous slices onto the plates before Olivia and Mercian.

“The meat is tender and soft—perfect for eating,” he remarked.

“Thank you, Ruan.”

Olivia’s gaze lingered warmly on the two of them before she poured wine into Mercian’s glass.

“Mercian, listen carefully. You are one of our family now.”

“…What?”

“Even if that man dies, your place in our family will not change.”

“But…”

“So, no matter where you go, no matter what anyone says—never shrink back. Never lower your shoulders in shame. You are part of us now. Never forget that behind you stands the House of Canoluf. Forget the people from that viscount’s household. If you need parents, I’ll be them for you.”

“Aunt…”

“Forget everything Susan and your sister said earlier. They only spoke that way because they don’t see your true worth. Remember, outward beauty is just a shell—it’s not what makes a person. And I don’t say this because you’re unattractive. After all, you aren’t. Believe it or not, to my eyes, you are beautiful.”

Something warm and overwhelming rose in Mercian’s chest at Olivia’s words.

These were the very words she had once longed to hear from Penelope and Lucianne… Yet it wasn’t from them, but from Olivia—someone she had known for only two months—that she was finally hearing them.

“Shh, don’t cry, my lady,” Ruan said gently.

“Aunt is right. We’re your family now. And we won’t let anyone lay a hand on you. Do you understand?”

“…Thank you. Both of you.”

Mercian wanted, just for this moment, to forget that in four months she would have to part from them.

Right now, that future felt unthinkable—because their kindness filled her heart so deeply, because for the first time in her life, she truly felt she had a real family.

That evening was, for Mercian, one of the most joyful meals she had ever known.

***

Prince Harmon returned safely to the capital, and just as Ruan had predicted, the Emperor ordered him to marry Princess Patricia of the Kingdom of Allomande.

As Ruan had said, the match with a powerless princess from a kingdom that had barely recovered from war met with little opposition from the nobles who supported the Empress, and the marriage was arranged swiftly.

Two weeks later, Prince Harmon departed for the Kingdom of Allomande with the imperial envoys to bring back his bride.

Meanwhile, peaceful days continued to flow quietly in the House of Canoluf.

Perhaps Olivia’s warning had worked, because Susan never breathed a word about the incident at the crockery shop. 

No rumours about Mercian spread through the Empire.

Not that it would have mattered much—Mercian rarely left the house these days anyway.

Two more weeks slipped by, bringing the day of the home party ever closer.

“Madam, the menu for the home party is all set,” said Jang.

Merciann nodded. “This time, it’s a celebration for my aunt and everyone in the ducal household. Let’s make sure we include dishes the servants enjoy as well.”

“Yes, madam.”

***

The last day of December arrived, and for the first time, the Canoluf Ducal House hosted a home party. 

Olivia, Ruan, and everyone from the estate gathered around a long table, sharing dinner, trading stories of the year gone by, and enjoying each other’s company.

“Now, tonight, we forget everything else.” 

Edward declared, raising his glass. “Let’s set aside the sad things and remember only the joys.”

Everyone lifted their wine glasses high, voices mingling in a jubilant toast.

“Oh, this wine is delicious!”

Mercian, who normally had little taste for alcohol, blinked wide-eyed at the sweet, barely tart flavour. 

Ruan chuckled.

“Careful, madam. Just because it tastes good doesn’t mean you should drink too much. This wine is stronger than it seems.”

“Oh… right.”

Dinner came to an end.

Olivia excused herself early, saying she was tired, and left the mansion. 

The rest of the household carried bottles of wine back to the servants’ quarters, determined to keep the night going.

“Oh? Everyone’s gone? But… Ruan… Why are there two of you?”

“Oh no. My lady, I did warn you this wine was strong. Did you drink the whole bottle?”

“Me? Oh, come now. I only had… let’s see… one with Clea, one with Charles, one with Aunt, and one with Ed and Jang… Oh. I suppose that is quite a lot. Hehe…”

“Madam, I think it’s time to stand up.”

When Ruan tried to help her to her feet, Mercian shook off his arm.

“Don’t worry, Ruan. I can walk on my own. You don’t have to… Oh. Oh?”

She rose, took two steps, and promptly plopped down on the floor.

“Ruan, something’s wrong. The floor—the floor is approaching me. Oh! Tell me—who’s the real Ruan?”

Oh, gods.

This was ridiculous.

He shouldn’t laugh—but the sight of her, flushed and tipsy, rolling on the floor in a daze, was unbearably endearing.

He wanted to watch her like this a little longer. 

But if he left her here, she’d catch a cold.

Sighing, he scooped her into his arms, carried her to her room, and settled her gently on the bed.

“Ruan… tell me honestly… Why are you so kind to me?”

“Why indeed?” he said, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Don’t be. Don’t treat me so well. If you do… I’ll just end up giving you my heart. And we… we can’t. You’ll be gone in three months. So please… don’t be so kind to me.”

“What if…” His voice was low now, steady. 

“What if, three months from now, I’m still here? Would it be all right for me to treat you well then?”

“What…?”

“If I don’t leave your side… Could you love me?”

“What are you…”

“Madam,” he murmured, leaning closer, “in that case—if I promise not to leave you—can I kiss you now?”