I Refuse This Life, Your Highness! - Chapter 55

The Grand Duke looked perfectly fine, and I felt guilty for even showing my exhaustion. All I had done was sit in his arms as he carried me, yet I was utterly drained. All I wanted now was to sink into a steaming hot bath and sleep until my body felt whole again.

“…Are you very tired?”

“No, Your Majesty. I’m more worried about you…”

“Go in and bathe. I’ll join you shortly.”

I nodded and made my way to my chambers. Resilie and Bohein were already waiting. Their presence trailed behind me as I walked, and as I reached my door, I felt a strange sensation of familiarity. It had only been three months since I lived in the Grand Duke’s castle, yet it felt like coming home.

The news of our arrival must have preceded us; a bath and a meal were already prepared. I thought my appetite had fled far away, but after bathing, the ache in my body was replaced with hunger.

A light meal and a glass of wine later, drowsiness overwhelmed me. Without realizing it, I dozed off on the chaise lounge while waiting for the Grand Duke. I stirred to the sensation of someone gently adjusting my clothes. When I opened my eyes, he was there.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Your Majesty. When did I fall asleep…?”

“About ten minutes ago, they said. Rest properly when I’m done here.”

“Yes…”

My head still felt heavy. The Grand Duke lingered silently for a moment before suddenly asking:

“Are you alright?”

“…”

I wasn’t sure how to answer. He wasn’t asking about the fatigue from our ride. There was a weight to his question, something deeper.

“Yuraine.”

“…”

“Someone taught Erma how to replicate your blood.”

I couldn’t respond. I froze.

“There are only four people who know how to synthesize your blood.”

“…”

“Erma, myself, and… Count Airdren and his heir, Rievein Sierra.”

I closed my eyes. My family had always protected me. They loved me. They believed in me.

“It wouldn’t have been Father or my brother. There must be some other…”

There had to be another explanation. My family would never betray me like that. Yet, the Grand Duke remained silent, his expression unreadable.

“Yuraine.”

“…”

“You knew, didn’t you?”

His voice was quiet, his face strained with anguish.

“…Ah.”

It should have been me feeling this pain, not him.

…Yes.

I had known all along. I had fought so hard to deny it, to tell myself I was loved, that I was cherished, that I belonged. But deep down, I had always known. I was an anomaly in my family—a weed among roses.

Airdren’s family had never borne a Lamia, and my birth was a disgrace to our name. The Emperor had not yet ascended the throne when I was born, but even then, a Lamia’s existence was considered a scandal.

And this Lamia had inherited the magic that should have gone to the eldest son. My parents resented me for it. My brothers were kind but distant. They treated me as a pitiful child, abused by our parents, but never as their true sibling.

Perhaps they had struck some deal with the Emperor during this ordeal, just as they might have in my previous life. Maybe they were betrayed and led to the gallows, just as I had been.

I couldn’t find the words to respond. My thoughts were tangled, stumbling over themselves, as I looked up at the Grand Duke. And then I froze.

“Your Majesty?”

The Grand Duke’s face was pale, his hand pressing against his forehead.

“…Don’t cause a commotion. Not yet. Call Nyian and Reya. Immediately.”

His hand tightened on my arm as he spoke, and then he collapsed. A thin trickle of blood escaped the corner of his mouth.

I couldn’t afford to panic. I couldn’t cause a commotion. Doing so would jeopardize the Grand Duke’s plans. Forcing myself to stay calm, I quietly summoned Nyian, the court physician, and Reya. My nails dug into my palms, leaving angry red crescents behind.

Nyian arrived, surprisingly composed, and began to examine the Grand Duke. He lay on my bed, his pallor ghostly, his breaths faint. Every exhale felt like it might be his last. After a tense silence, Nyian exhaled a relieved sigh.

“How is His Majesty?” I asked.

“Do not worry too much. With rest and medication, he should wake in two days.”

“And the poison…?”

Though I didn’t explicitly mention it, Nyian likely already knew that the Grand Duke had ingested my blood. He nodded slightly before responding:

“It’s not as potent as you might fear.”

“How is that possible?”

“That, I don’t know. But His Majesty informed me beforehand that he would ingest Airdren’s poison. He had been taking an antidote in preparation.”

It had all been part of his plan. Yet, my blood wasn’t a simple toxin to neutralize. As I struggled to process this, Reya stepped forward.

“There is one situation where your poison has no fatal effect,” Reya said, his tone firm. “Only one.”

“What is it?”

“Send the physician and attendants away. This is something I must discuss with you alone.”

Reluctantly, I dismissed everyone. Sitting across from Reya at the table, I cradled a cup of tea in my hands. The warmth helped steady my trembling fingers, but the drink was tasteless.

After a long silence, Reya finally spoke.

“First, Your Grace, your poison does not kill someone you truly love. At most, it puts them to sleep for a day or two.”

“What…?”

This was news to me. Yet, the Grand Duke lay unconscious on my bed. He had taken precautions, yet he still collapsed. What did that mean? Was my love for him not genuine?

Reya must have seen the turmoil on my face because he continued.

“At first, this was true. But over time, the toxicity of your blood has grown stronger—a kind of evolution. It strengthens itself in response to external threats.”

“Evolution…?”

I thought back to my past life. Could those memories have influenced my blood? Was my body instinctively adapting to protect me from dangers it perceived?

Reya sighed.

“When His Majesty proposed this plan, I objected. We didn’t know how potent your blood had become.”

“…”

I couldn’t speak. My thoughts churned as I poured myself another cup of tea.

“But it seems it wasn’t fatal,” Reya added. “That’s fortunate.”

“Please explain it more clearly.”

Reya’s expression didn’t falter.

“And to think… he drank that poison, knowing there was a chance it might kill him. Truly extraordinary love.”

“Extraordinary… love?”

“How could anyone be completely certain of another’s feelings?”

I opened my mouth to speak but faltered. Hadn’t I loved him for so long?

…For so long?

“Your memories are likely muddled,” Reya said gently. “Not all of them. But your feelings for the Grand Duke—those are unclear.”

“What are you trying to say?”

Reya hesitated before continuing.

“Let’s start with this: I am the magic heir of Ceres.”

“…”

“And my family’s magic is…” He paused, then spoke with quiet gravity. “Time regression. This is my seventh life.”

On a sunny day with petals fluttering through the air, Isis was… perhaps quite astonished as he looked at the bride entering in ceremonial attire, her face faintly visible through a veil. The bride, obscured by the thin veil, was breathtakingly beautiful—so much so that time itself seemed to slow. All sound disappeared from his mind, leaving only the bride to focus on.

The Grand Duke rarely visited the capital, and the youngest member of the Airdren family was said to hardly leave their estate. Thus, Isis had never imagined such beauty could exist. He had never concerned himself much with appearances. The Count and Countess of Airdren, along with their sons, were all just ordinary-looking people in his eyes. He assumed their youngest child, Lamia, would be no different.

But this… was entirely unexpected.

No matter how beautiful, the fact remained that the bride was an assassin sent by the Emperor. He couldn’t afford to treat her kindly or be gentle. Becoming an ordinary couple was simply impossible.

A compulsion gripped his mind: he must never make her happy. As time passed, one night Isis dreamed for the first time in ages.

It was a dream of his bride, Yuraine, being beheaded. Her entire family hung lifeless on gallows. A strange sense of urgency consumed him. He frantically searched through the secret archives of his house. These records, held in utmost secrecy, chronicled the powers of all noble families within the Empire, treasured as more valuable than ancient artifacts. Finally, he discovered something: magic to reverse time.

The execution of the Grand Duchess and her family wasn’t something that would happen overnight. The reasons for their deaths surely lay in the events leading up to it. If he could turn back time, he could protect her from the start.

Why he was so desperate, he only later realized: he had fallen in love with Yuraine at first sight. Suppressing those feelings had only caused them to grow in hidden corners of his heart, where they burned and blackened.

Ceres’ Leya Ail, though an illegitimate child, had inherited the family’s magic. This made her a target of severe abuse from her stepmother and half-siblings.

“If I help Your Grace, what’s in it for me? I’ll just have to relive those years with all my memories intact.”

“If time rewinds, I’ll bring you to the Grand Duchy as quickly as possible. You’ll live wherever and however you wish, so long as my bride survives.”

“That’s not enough.”

“What else?”

“Kill Millen Ail. If possible, kill Elia Ail too.”

Leya’s delicate face twisted with an expression of fierce resentment. Isis didn’t need to ask what Millen had done to her to understand her hatred.

After bringing Leya to the Grand Duchy, Isis feigned an affair with her to justify Lamia’s sudden arrival. Each time he did, Yuraine’s face remained composed but looked precariously close to breaking. Every time he saw her, he wanted to reach out.

Through sessions with Count Chiara, a mental healer, Isis uncovered something he hadn’t realized before. The Emperor’s magic, typically neutralized by the Count, had left one lingering suggestion from before the wedding. The Count frowned and explained:

“A very Emperor-like suggestion.”

“What is it?”

“To give the Grand Duchess not even a sliver of love.”

The Emperor’s plan must have benefited from a situation where Isis and Yuraine were not on good terms. Realizing his actions toward Yuraine had been influenced by a suggestion, not his own will, was bitterly humiliating.

Even more so, because it involved Yuraine.

Determined to find the cause of her eventual death while Leya remained in the estate, Isis resolved to avoid using time-reversal magic unless absolutely necessary. Three years, he believed, could be compensated for in some other way.

Just then, a messenger from Airdren arrived, requesting an audience. The summons was unusual, as the Airdrens rarely initiated contact. Stranger still, the message asked for Isis alone, without Yuraine.

Riding swiftly to Airdren, Isis was greeted by the Count, Countess, and their two sons. Something about their presence left him feeling uneasy.

“How is Yuraine faring?” asked the eldest son, Revien.

“…”

Isis couldn’t answer. Yuraine could not be described as doing well. As the Grand Duchess, she lived in splendor far greater than her time in Airdren, and her fondness for luxury had been reported. Yet, her expression was always somber and shadowed.

When Isis brought Leya to the estate, Yuraine neither spoke nor met his gaze. Beneath her fine garments, her body remained curled inward, as though shielding herself.

Isis quietly drank his tea while enduring their small talk, which was so meaningless it barely registered.

“Your Grace, do you know?” asked Revien suddenly.

“The tea you’ve just consumed contains poison made from Yuraine’s blood.”

At that moment, Isis froze, the teacup slipping from his grasp. It shattered on the ground, spilling what remained of the poisoned tea—poison drawn from Yuraine’s blood.

Gripping his sword, Isis steadied his mind and drew his blade. None of the Airdren family dared approach him, nor did they summon guards.

Pointing his sword at them, Isis left the mansion, mounted a horse—one he ensured hadn’t been tampered with—and galloped away. Halfway, he switched to his own familiar horse, increasing his speed.

Upon reaching the Grand Duchy a day later, he collapsed into his bed, falling into a deep sleep.

When he awoke, executions were underway in the square outside the castle gates.

Isis bolted upright.

Airdren blood is a potent poison but has a milder effect on certain individuals.

The crowd’s cries for death filled the air. From a distance, he saw four bodies swinging from gallows and a figure standing by the guillotine.

To the one they truly love…

“No!” he shouted.

No. Yuraine. I haven’t done anything for you yet…

The dreadful sound of the blade falling drowned out his voice.

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