Chapter 44
“Until my lady forgives me, I’ll beg and beg again.”
“Old friend or not, the man’s gone mad. And really—after being so thoroughly rejected, why in the world is he still running back to her? A man like Ruan could win the favor of any fine lady if he wished.”
Harmon grumbled, rubbing at his throat as he rose from his seat.
Tablo, watching him, gave a rueful laugh.
“Well, according to him, he’s already a villain and scoundrel in her eyes. So, shamelessly, he plans to throw himself at her feet, begging again and again until she relents.”
Harmon’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“Begging? Ruan? That Ruan? The same man who, even when captured in war and tortured by the enemy commander, didn’t let a single word or groan slip from his lips? And now he’ll bow and plead with a woman who can’t even lift a sword? He may be fearless on the battlefield—even the gods couldn’t scare him there—but when it comes to women…”
Harmon trailed off, his face creased with worry.
Tablo nodded vigorously.
“Exactly. That’s just it. Our Ruan knows nothing—nothing—about women. That’s why he swears he’ll use his ‘connections’ to exploit the lady’s weakness.”
“Exploit her weakness?” Harmon’s expression twisted in distaste. “By the heavens, no matter how desperate, isn’t it disgraceful for a man to prey upon a defenseless woman’s soft spot?”
“Normally, yes. But he’s past caring about pride. He said if he worries about dignity now, he’ll lose her forever. Who could have imagined it? That Ruan, of all people, would stoop to such pettiness—because of a woman.”
Harman frowned, curiosity sparking.
“And just what is her weakness?”
Tablo gave a helpless shrug.
“Your Highness, even as his friend, how could I know? When I stayed at his estate, he’d glare daggers at me if I so much as exchanged a friendly word with the duchess. It was as if he’d kill me on the spot.”
Harman tilted his head.
“So the duchess is truly that captivating?”
Tablo smirked slyly.
“Are you that curious, Your Highness?”
Before Harmon could answer, a voice rang from the entrance of the training hall.
“Oh? Crown Prince Consort—what brings you here?”
Both Harmon and Tablo jumped to their feet in alarm as Patricia entered, their faces stiff with unease.
Harmon hurried forward.
“I thought I’d stretch my limbs a bit. But perhaps I’ve come at the wrong time. I’ll take my leave—do enjoy your discussion about the duchess’s charms.”
“No, no, please!” Harmon blurted, panicked at the thought of her walking away. “Patricia, I suddenly find myself longing for a duel with you again.”
Patricia arched an elegant brow, her lips curving with faint amusement as she turned to go.
At his words, she paused, her eyes gleaming.
“Oh? Truly?”
Seeing that fire light in her gaze, Harmon instantly regretted speaking.
He forced a strained smile and gestured to a nearby attendant.
“Of course. Fetch us practice swords.”
As the attendant scurried off, Tablo leaned in close, whispering with grave concern.
“Are you certain, Your Highness? You’ve never once bested her. What nerve drives you now?”
It was true.
Unlike Patricia, who had practically been born with a sword in hand—training from childhood and even instructing knightesses of the Alomand Kingdom before marriage—Harmon’s skill was acquired late, secretly tutored only three or four years ago at Biseluk’s request.
At first, he’d arrogantly assumed no woman could best him.
He’d challenged her—only to be utterly crushed.
Since then, he had avoided sparring with Patricia whenever possible.
But today, when she had come seeking him, eager to see him, how could he bear to let her leave disappointed?
To hold her here, a duel was the only tether.
Patricia took the wooden practice sword from the attendant, twirling it lightly as she approached.
“Then today, let’s use these. At least this way, I won’t risk skewering Your Highness by accident.”
Harmon swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry as she closed the distance with a smile.
***
Duke Canoluph’s Estate.
“What did you just say? You’re moving?”
At Edward’s startled question, Ruan nodded and unfurled a map across the table.
“This place here.”
Edward leaned over, his eyes widening.
“Isn’t this… Phenomenon Village?”
“That’s right. It’s where my lady has been living all this time.”
A smile broke over Edward’s face, unrestrained delight lighting his expression.
“My lady? So that’s where she was—out here, so far from the capital. No wonder we could never find her, no matter how we searched!”
Beside him, Clea frowned, puzzled.
“But… Why are we moving here? Don’t tell me Madam truly has no intention of returning to the duke’s estate. Is she saying she doesn’t even wish to see us anymore?”
At Clea’s words, Edward waved his hand vigorously as though such a thought were impossible.
“Of course not, Clea. It’s not that Madam doesn’t want to see us. She simply cannot forgive the master for deceiving her. That’s all.”
Charles nodded in agreement.
“I think so too, Steward. If my husband had tricked me and pretended to be dead, I don’t think I’d ever want to see him again either.”
“Charles! You don’t even have a husband yet, so what do you know?” Clea scolded, then sighed. “But… I can’t deny you’ve got a point. The worst man in the world is one who lies to his wife. And a fake death of all things… Honestly, it’s only because Madam is kindhearted that she sent the master back to us in one piece. If it had been me—well, let’s just say he’d be missing a leg right now.”
Charles clapped her hands, eyes sparkling.
“Exactly! Head Maid, I was thinking the same thing.”
Edward, who had been listening with a grave face, suddenly clasped Clea’s hands tightly.
“Don’t you worry, Clea. I will never deceive you. Not now, not ever.”
“Of course not. Edward, if you ever did… you wouldn’t survive it.”
Listening to the three bicker, Ruan muttered under his breath in disbelief.
Good grief.
You do all realize I’m still standing here, don’t you?
Then he straightened, his voice low and firm.
“Yes, I know. I know I’m the villain here, and that I don’t deserve forgiveness. Which is why I went to His Highness today and requested leave. Within six months, I swear I’ll win back my wife’s forgiveness and bring her home. But… she’s too angry now. I can’t manage this on my own.”
Edward nodded solemnly.
“Then we’re ready, Master. Just tell us when we’re leaving.”
“What?” Ruan blinked at him in surprise. “Already ready?”
Smiling, Clea explained.
“The Great Madam came by a few days ago. She said, ‘Knowing the master’s temperament, he’ll never manage to earn Madam’s forgiveness alone. Sooner or later he’ll come begging for help—so pack in advance.’ She also warned us that unless all of us go down, it would be impossible to persuade Madam to return. So we’ve already chosen who will go: Edward, Charles, Jean, and myself. Our luggage is already loaded in the carriage—we can depart the moment you give the word, Master.”
Sometimes… Aunt really does scare me.
Ruan gave a slow nod.
“Very well. We leave tonight.”
“Yes, then I’ll see to preparing food for the road,” Clea replied.
“Oh, and Master—there’s something you ought to start reading in the meantime.”
“What’s this?”
Edward stacked a pile of books onto the desk with a proud flourish.
“A little something we prepared for you. Five Hundred Ways to Soothe the Anger of the One You Love. Words That Make a Beloved Smile. The Man Who Never Existed Until Now: A Husband Who Lives Only for You. And this one’s especially popular across the Empire: The Moment You Embrace Life as Her Slave, You Become the True Victor. It’s said to be essential reading for any man desperate to win back a lady’s heart. Please, take a look.”
“Edward! Surely you can’t hand the Duke such trash!” Cassel, just entering the study, scowled at the stack of gaudy books.
But Ruan accepted them with surprising reverence.
“Thank you, Edward. I’ll make sure to read every single one.”
“Yes, Master. Then I’ll finish the rest of the preparations.”
Once Clea, Charles, and Edward left, Cassel stared at Ruan in disbelief.
“Duke… you’re not seriously thinking of reading those books, are you? Those are the sort of cheap novels read by idle noblewomen and spoiled young ladies!”
Wait… what? That look in his eyes… is he actually serious about this?
Rising abruptly, Ruan clutched the books as though they were priceless treasures.
“Cassel, if these can help soften my wife’s heart, I’d read a hundred of them without hesitation.”
Cassel’s mouth fell open. “But… are you certain about this? Didn’t you say Madam rejected you completely?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll beg, and beg again, until she forgives me.”
“You—you’ll beg? The Duke of all people, begging Madam?” Cassel could hardly picture it.
“Of course,” Ruan replied without hesitation.
“If it means bringing her back, I’d even become her dog—and be happy to do it.”
Damn that Ruan.
He really is a lucky dog.
Cassel heaved a sigh, his expression darkening as he recalled the sight of Ruan always nestled in Mercian’s arms, barking happily whenever he appeared.
If he wanted to cling to his wife so badly, he should’ve just listened to Sir Tablo or to Madam Olivia from the very beginning.
Tsk, tsk.
As he brooded over Ruan’s stubborn refusal to heed Olivia’s advice, a voice cut through his thoughts.
“Cassel, I am the one who wronged my wife. Not you.”
Ruan’s gaze was cool, his tone steady.
“Of course I regret ignoring Tablo and my aunt’s words. But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to sit here and be scolded by you as well. Enough pointless thoughts—why don’t you take your leave?”
Wh-what the—? Did he just read my mind?
Cassel stiffened, unnerved by how perfectly Ruan’s words echoed his unspoken thoughts.
Desperate to change the subject, he forced a polite smile.
“Of course not, Your Grace. In that case, I wish you success with your plan. I’ll take my leave now and see to my duties at the palace.”
The duke’s voice, sharp and glacial—so unlike when he spoke of Mercian—left no room for further conversation.
Cassel bowed hastily and slipped out of the study.
***
Phenomenon Village — Mercian’s house.
“Am I… dreaming?”
“Madam! Oh heavens, it really is you! Do you know how much I missed you after you left without a word? I thought I’d never see you again—oh, Madam!”
Charles, spotting Mercian standing dazed in her doorway, burst into tears and flung herself into her arms.
“Charles… is it really you?”
Mercian blinked, as if her eyes alone couldn’t trust what they were seeing.
Charles nodded vigorously, still clinging to her.
“Of course it’s me! Head Maid, Steward, Chef—they’re here too. Madam, it truly is you!”
“It really is Madam!”
“Madam!”
At Charles’s cry, Edward, Clea, and Jean—who had been carrying luggage—abandoned their tasks and hurried over, faces alight with joy.
“What on earth are you all doing here so suddenly?” Mercian asked in bewilderment.
“Oh, we moved here today,” Clea answered matter-of-factly.
“What? You… moved?”
While Mercian stood dumbfounded, Jean strode forward with a basket brimming with fresh ingredients.
“Madam, we can explain everything later. For now, where’s the kitchen?”
“The kitchen? Oh, um… it’s that way.”
At her reply, Edward gave a brisk order.
“Jean, start with preparing breakfast for Madam. She must be hungry.”
“Yes, Steward. Madam, please wait just a moment—I’ll show you what I can do after so long away.”
“Oh… thank you, Jean.”
Wait, no—that’s my kitchen, in my own house…
Mercian trailed off helplessly, watching Jean march straight into her kitchen as if he owned the place.
