I Refuse This Life, Your Highness! - Chapter 63

“I was running an errand for His Highness,” Sir Leon replied.

“You personally?” I asked, my tone skeptical.

“Yes, Your Excellency. You may confirm it with His Highness if you wish,” he said, his demeanor shifting to that of a resolute knight. His voice carried the weight of conviction, easing the tension between us as I exhaled quietly.

“My apologies for sounding doubtful,” I said.

“It’s nothing, Your Excellency. Forgive me for saying so, but your caution is wise,” he replied, his words sincere and lacking the veiled flattery I often heard from others. Despite being questioned, he held no resentment.

I nodded curtly and returned to my work.

The warm water enveloped me in comfort. Though the bathtub was spacious, the Duke and I sat closely together as if confined to a small tub. The smooth, salt-infused water felt like velvet against my skin.

The Duke reached out and picked up a long, gilded box resting on the edge of the tub. Curious, I watched as he opened the lid, revealing several jars with an exotic design.

“What’s that, Your Highness?” I asked.

“Essential oils imported from abroad. Each one has a unique scent. I thought you might like them since you enjoy bathing,” he replied.

His last remark lingered in my mind, soft and tender. This wasn’t the first time the Duke had said something like this in this life. At first, I hadn’t given it much thought—just assuming it was a casual observation. But now I understood: he was speaking from memories of past lives. After living seven times, how could he possibly distinguish between what I’d said in this life and what I’d said in the past?

Even now, with my own memories restored, I sometimes found it confusing. But as long as we were careful around others, it didn’t matter. If he occasionally slipped up, people would think he was simply mistaken, just as I had before regaining my memories.

I glanced at the open box.

Many high-end perfumeries sold sets of smaller-sized products like this. The intricate craftsmanship was impressive, even in miniature. The Duke opened each jar, allowing me to take in the fragrances.

“…They’re all wonderful,” I admitted.

“Then we’ll have to get them all,” he said with a grin.

I let out a soft sound of protest, though I couldn’t deny how enticing the scents were. The thought of owning them all was welcome, even if it felt indulgent. Smiling, the Duke carefully let me sample each again. When I finally chose my favorite, he poured the oil into the bathwater himself. The water turned a soft pink, and a heavenly aroma filled the room.

As we relaxed in the fragrant warmth, splashing playfully and exchanging idle chatter, Sir Leon’s name came up. I had been meaning to bring it up ever since the Duke arrived but hesitated, unsure if it would sound like tattling.

“Your Highness, about today…” I began.

“Yes?”

“Did you ask Sir Leon to run an errand?”

“Ah, yes. I asked him to check on something. Why? Did something happen?”

I shook my head quickly. “No, it’s just… I think I’ve been a bit on edge lately. I might have been unnecessarily suspicious of him.”

The Duke chuckled. “That’s good. It’s wise to be suspicious, even of me, if something feels off. You never know what might happen. If something seems strange, don’t hesitate to question it—even if it’s me. After all, Kiara is the only one completely free from the Emperor’s magic. Psychic types like her are immune to mind control or similar tricks.”

His admission saddened me. He was saying, in essence, that even he couldn’t be fully trusted. If only the Emperor would disappear—die, perhaps… The treasonous thought flickered through my mind before I dismissed it.

“I’ve assigned Leon as your personal guard, but I’ll occasionally need to borrow him. He’s faster than anyone else, and for time-sensitive tasks, he’s indispensable.”

“I understand,” I said.

I couldn’t help but marvel at the contradiction. Sir Leon’s solid build suggested strength and endurance, yet his speed was apparently unmatched. Still, I felt a pang of guilt for having doubted him earlier. He had taken no offense and had even commended my caution.

“…I spoke with Reya today,” I said after a pause.

“What about?” the Duke asked.

“Her family. She mentioned fighting with her brother. She said she was badly hurt.”

The Duke nodded grimly. “She was injured badly enough to have nightmares about it every day. It’s one of the things I regret most when it comes to Reya. I tried to reach her before it happened each time, but the timing kept shifting earlier, and I was always too late.”

“She mentioned that too,” I said. “Have you offered to send the Count to help her?”

“She refused. I never told her about Kiara’s abilities, but I think she’s guessed the truth.”

“I see…” I trailed off, my thoughts lingering on Reya. I worried about her. My musings about Sir Leon earlier stemmed from a hope that having someone by her side might help.

“If not for me and Your Highness, Reya wouldn’t have had to endure this so many times. In the first life, she wasn’t as withdrawn as she is now.”

“Well, that’s…” The Duke hesitated.

The Duke adjusted his position in the water while holding me close. The motion caused the pink-tinted water to ripple and spill slightly over the edge of the tub. A jar of scented oil, resting within reach, floated briefly before settling back down.

“In the first life, I suppose I was… oblivious. Helpless, really. All I could do was smile, unaware of anything,” he said softly.

“I thought you were… delicate,” I replied.

“That was my helplessness manifesting,” he said with a wry smile. “On the day of your execution, only Reya was present. What did you think of her then?”

“Reya?” I asked, startled by the question.

“Yes.”

I struggled to remember. That day, I had been consumed by rage and anguish. I wasn’t entirely sure I had even seen Reya clearly. I had hated her, loathed her, and that hatred had shielded me from truly observing her. But one thing stood out in my memory: even then, she had seemed fragile, like flower petals or delicate lace fluttering in the breeze.

She had been afraid of me. I remembered that clearly—her gaze soaked in fear. I had inwardly scoffed, mocking her for daring to be afraid when I was the one facing death.

I relayed my recollections to the Duke, and he nodded solemnly.

“She later said she hadn’t believed you would truly be executed. That was likely the first time she’d witnessed someone’s death. It must have been terrifying for her.”

“Which is why I found it strange,” I admitted. “From Reya’s perspective, my death would have benefited her. If she was so afraid, she could have simply stayed away.”

“In the worst-case scenario, I had planned to save you before the execution. Reya knew that as well,” the Duke explained.

“You… planned to save me?”

“I couldn’t let you die for no reason. But… I wasn’t able to,” he said, trailing off. “There’s a reason, but I can’t explain it right now.”

I didn’t feel bitter about the lack of explanation. If the Duke said it wasn’t the right time, I trusted he would tell me when it was.

“In the first life… I had a lot to think about. Still…” He paused, his gaze deepening. “I knew that stopping your execution would lead to a war between the Duchy and the Emperor. Even so, I was prepared to do it.”

“Your Highness…” The word war sent a chill through my chest. The Duke, noticing my reaction, gently stroked my nape with his warm, wet hand, easing the goosebumps.

“I need you to understand this.”

“…”

I lowered my gaze before leaning in to wrap my arms around his neck. The Duke embraced me tightly, his smooth skin pressing against mine. Beneath my fingers, I could feel the scars that marked his body—some faint and barely noticeable, others larger and more prominent, remnants of countless battles.

The Duchy had expanded its borders by conquering the nomadic tribes that used monsters to defend their lands. Though dangerous and grueling, the wars had secured relative peace for the Duchy’s outskirts, protecting them from further threats.

But war with the Emperor was an entirely different matter. The scale of sacrifice and danger would be incomparable. The thought alone made my heart uneasy.

Still, how could I tell the Duke not to speak of war, when it was a reality he had faced countless times? Silently, I clung to him as he shifted slightly. A soft splash echoed as he poured more scented oil into the bath. The fragrance intensified, and the water grew murkier, now a dreamy, opaque pink.

Beneath the water, our legs intertwined. The smooth, velvety texture of our skin brushing against each other was almost intoxicating.

“Yuraine,” he murmured.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Call me by my name.”

“…Isis,” I whispered.

The faint smile on his lips deepened as he leaned in to kiss me. I let myself relax, surrendering completely to him.

The next day, an invitation arrived at the Ducal estate.

A four-horse carriage adorned with imperial banners delivered two imperial couriers clad in elaborate attire. They presented a box decorated with gold-embroidered velvet, crimson silk ribbons, and roses dusted with gold flakes. Inside, of course, was the invitation to the Emperor’s birthday banquet.

Instead of paper, the invitation was written in golden ink on thick white silk, rolled and tied with ribbons of burgundy and ivory velvet. The ribbons were adorned with gold, diamonds, and vibrant gemstones—emeralds and pale green topaz glinting in the light. Selling just the invitation alone could feed a common family for months.

Recalling last year’s banquet, it was clear that not all nobles received the same lavish invitations. These were likely reserved for Dukes and Grand Dukes, while Marquises, Counts, Viscounts, and Barons each received varying levels of extravagance.

“Even His Highness must present the invitation upon entry,” one courier reminded us.

Last year, guests had to carry their invitations throughout the banquet, a deliberate display to emphasize status and wealth.

“Understood,” the Duke replied.

The couriers bowed deeply to both of us before departing. For the next few days, they would likely be busy delivering invitations across the Empire.

The Duke unrolled the silk scroll and frowned deeply as he read. I hadn’t yet had the chance to see the contents. Curious, I asked why he looked so displeased. Wordlessly, he handed the invitation to me.

As my eyes scanned the lines, my face twisted in frustration.

P.S.

I selected it personally, thinking it would suit you perfectly. Yet, I’ve not had the pleasure of seeing you wear it.

I nearly crumpled the invitation in anger.

The Emperor had added a note an order, not a request for me to wear the bracelet to the banquet.

Support