No One Ever Loved Me - Chapter 100

It was no longer a secret that Margaret and I were close friends.

For one thing, Margaret herself proudly broadcasted it everywhere she went. On top of that, the Viscountess of Damier openly expressed her gratitude, saying it was thanks to me that Margaret had been able to become one of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting.

“Even though they’re both from baron families, Lady Margaret just seems so much more refined. No wonder the Viscountess adores her. If I had a daughter-in-law like that, I’d treasure her regardless of where she came from.”

At that, Ricardo couldn’t help letting out a scoffing laugh.

Viscountess Chiave glanced nervously at him, but when she saw that I didn’t react, she relaxed and continued.

“Surely Lady Cecilia was invited to the wedding as well, yes? They say catching the bride’s bouquet means you’ll be married within three months. It would be lovely if you were the one to catch it.”

Chloe bit her lip and stared at her mother in disbelief.

“I’m not feeling well, Mother.”

“You’ve barely been here for a few hours.”

“I have a headache… I think I might be running a fever. It wouldn’t do to spread illness among the Queen and her distinguished guests, would it?”

The Queen, who had already lost interest in the conversation ever since I stepped in to ‘save’ Chloe from Ricardo’s attention, gave a lazy wave of her hand to dismiss her.

“If Cecilia’s looking forward to attending her friend’s wedding, then it would be a shame if she caught something. Viscountess Chiave, you’d best take your daughter home and care for her.”

The Viscountess caught on quickly that the Queen had deliberately avoided calling Chloe by name. She pulled her daughter away with a hand that was just a bit too firm.

And almost as soon as they disappeared, Ricardo flashed a charming smile and suggested a walk.

“I need to serve Her Majesty, Sir Ricardo.”

“There may be a shortage of ladies-in-waiting in the Queen’s household, but surely it’s not so bad that she lacks handmaids and footmen too?”

He shamelessly invoked the Queen just to carve out time for the two of us to be alone.

Walking beside him, while he radiated smug contentment, was torturous.

Every passing maid—and even some of the footmen—blushed when they saw him. That alone made the walk feel ten times longer.

Ricardo led us toward the secluded garden where, once upon a time, no one but us would dare go.

Now that he had the Queen’s full permission, there was no need to sneak through hidden entrances. But still, he treated the place as if it were our secret hideaway.

“Let’s just go to the main garden instead,” I said, stopping him and pointing the other way.

It wasn’t like I was dragging him to the underworld, yet he looked at me like a puppy being abandoned—his brows low, his face full of sorrow.

“The Queen is proud of her gardens, and right now, you’re one of her favorite subjects. There’s no need to take unnecessary risks.”

“True devotion sometimes requires hardship.”

“So you want to use the grave of the Queen’s first child as your symbolic hardship?”

“It’s a part of her past she chooses to ignore. I don’t think using a forgotten, neglected space counts as disrespect.”

Yes, the Queen had lost a child a long time ago. And though many years had passed, the fact that she continued to keep the area sealed off meant that her grief hadn’t healed.

I didn’t exactly pity her, but the way Ricardo kept trying to prove his devotion with reckless stunts was irritating.

“I don’t know what Her Majesty’s been telling you, but the more you do this, the more pressure I feel.”

“Exactly. That’s the point.”

Ricardo, who had paused, started walking again without the slightest concern that I was trying to resist.

Still holding onto his arm, I had no choice but to let him pull me along. And yet, the fact that he slowed his long strides to match mine made me unsure whether to scold him or feel slightly touched.

“What do you mean, that’s the point?”

“The Queen… she figured you out pretty well. She told me, as long as I’m the one giving and you’re always the one receiving—whether you like it or not—you’ll eventually hold the leash around my neck.”

So that was it.

Even after giving and giving, Ricardo’s goal was to have me end up with his leash in my hands.

It was just like him. Even cultists expecting divine blessings would want something in return—but Ricardo? He would willingly sacrifice himself and then thank the one who broke him.

I imagined a group of fanatics calling down their god through desperate prayer, only to trap that god in a statue and beg it to watch over them. Then I revised the image—Ricardo would be the one asking the god to trap his own soul in the statue and watch over it instead.

That was exactly the kind of thing he would do.

Watching him shorten his long stride just to match mine wasn’t exactly flattering.

I tried speeding up, but when I noticed Ricardo’s pace slowing even further in response, I sighed and returned to my usual speed.

“You listened to the Queen’s advice and decided to follow it—so why do you look so annoyed?”

The lost-puppy expression from earlier was gone. Now, his eyebrows were drawn tight, his face sharp and irritated.

“Because I don’t like it.”

“What don’t you like?”

The question came out before I could stop myself. But I had a sinking feeling I already knew.

“Don’t tell me… you’re mad that the Queen understands me better than you do?”

“That’s exactly it.”

“Ricardo.”

“You’re the only one I truly understand,” Ricardo said, “but I know I’m not that for you. I get it—faith isn’t about expecting something in return. You’re not supposed to believe in someone for a reward. But can’t I at least hope that I’m the only one who believes in you? Is that really too much to ask?”

There were so many things wrong with what he said that I didn’t even know where to start.

First of all, I was not Ricardo’s god. That he had decided to become some kind of devoted fanatic on his own was unfortunate—but that didn’t mean I had to accept the role he’d invented for me.

To me, Ricardo wasn’t a believer. Not a worshipper. And definitely not the only one.

He was… unique, yes. But in the strangest way possible.

If we were scoring eccentricity, Ricardo had outdone both Margaret and Penelope by a wide margin and claimed first place with confidence.

“Our deal was only until my divorce was finalized. You remember that, don’t you?”

It felt like the right time to remind him of the secret agreement we’d made in his hidden home—an agreement arranged quietly through Penelope.

Ricardo only shrugged.

He remembered. He just didn’t care.

“Once Margaret officially joins the palace, I’m leaving. Edgar hasn’t paid the full settlement yet, but my estate’s already been returned to me. I’ll be heading there soon. It’s a small territory, so there won’t be much to manage, and more importantly, it’s far from the capital. I won’t have to deal with any messy rumors.”

The Ricardo I used to know—the one untouched by the Queen’s influence—might have been disappointed by that, but he wouldn’t have objected.

But now? He was someone who had bitten into temptation, like Eve tasting the forbidden fruit. He’d learned that belief could coexist with selfish desire.

“The Queen’s never going to let you go, Lia.”

“She needs you, Ricardo—not me. Sure, she may believe she needs me around to keep you in check, but look where we are now. You’re not just the illegitimate son of Duke Bastian anymore. You have something to lose now. If you want to protect it—or use it—you need to stay here and take up your rightful place.”

While I spoke, we arrived at the secluded grave in the Queen’s Garden.

Ricardo led the way, pushing past the overgrown trail with practiced ease.

“Sit down.”

Last time I came here, the only place to sit had been a broken, rotting log. But now, it looked almost like a hidden retreat. A comfortable bench and table had been added, and even a small path had been cleared—like a private garden.

“It took a while to fix without the Queen noticing,” Ricardo said. “I don’t get unlimited time in the palace, and I couldn’t just not see you. I came here whenever I could—but it slowed things down.”

From the outside, the garden still looked untouched. Weeds were still waist-high in places. But Ricardo had carefully chosen this hidden area to make sure the changes stayed unnoticed.

“If anyone finds out, you won’t just get kicked out. You could be accused of sacrilege.”

“Not if no one finds out.”

“What makes you so sure the Queen will never come here again?”

Before I could finish, Ricardo pulled out a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a basket of fruit from beneath the table.

“At least the fountain still works.”

He turned the old handle, and clean water began to flow. Then he carefully washed an apple and pulled a fruit knife from inside his suit pocket.

Normally, someone pulling a knife out of a pocket meant for pocket watches would look ridiculous. But Ricardo—who looked like he’d stepped out of a painting—somehow made it seem normal.

Anyone else would’ve been laughed at. But when Ricardo did something weird, people just thought it was charming.

“Do you at least remember that I just ate a full plate of scones in the Queen’s drawing room?”

“You had something sweet—now you need something fresh.”

This man… he hadn’t just tasted the forbidden fruit. He’d swallowed the whole tree.

I could picture it now—Ricardo twisting the Queen’s advice into some new form of religious devotion, combining it with his own fanatical beliefs.

“Oh no.”

He paused as I reached for the apple, suddenly sighing in frustration.

“I forgot the forks. It’s Viscountess Chiave’s daughter’s fault. She caught me off guard with all that snide talk. I missed my chance to pick them up from the kitchen.”

I took the apple from his hand anyway and bit straight into it. No fork needed.

The bench was surprisingly comfortable. Thanks to the cleared path, my shoes stayed clean. Even the table had been adjusted to match my sitting height perfectly.

Meanwhile, Ricardo didn’t even have a proper seat. He had to crouch awkwardly at a table that was way too low for him. But he still looked… happy.

He shouldn’t have been.

Or rather, he shouldn’t have looked happy because of me.

“It’s not the worst thing if the Queen doesn’t let me go. With Margaret at the palace, the rumors will die down. The Viscountess of Damier wouldn’t say anything bad about me for Margaret’s sake. Who knows? I might even marry again.”

The soft sound of the fruit being sliced stopped.

“Marry?”

“Yes. Marry. The divorce with Edgar is done. Cecilia’s spirit can rest now. Back when I knew nothing about this world, I thought money was enough to live alone. But I’ve adjusted more than I expected.”

There was a way to avoid marriage—by going to Nadon. But unless the Queen intended to protect a divorced, unmarried lady-in-waiting forever, I had to start thinking about remarriage if I planned to stay in the capital.

“Marriage…”

Ricardo resumed cutting the apple, shaping each slice perfectly before placing it on the plate.

I watched him as I ate, silently observing his expression as he fell deep into thought.

If I knew him, he’d go straight to the Queen and beg her to send me to Nadon.

Even a distant god can still be worshipped. But continuing to offer your heart to a woman who belongs to someone else? That’s something even a fanatic would struggle with.

Even if Ricardo didn’t see me that way—as a woman—but instead as some kind of spiritual ideal, the way he expressed it still looked like love. And love, even when misplaced, always had consequences.

“Marriage, huh…”

I was satisfied.

I had given Ricardo a path with no room for argument. No open ends. No loopholes.

Now I could leave for Nadon and finally live a peaceful, quiet life.

And with the distance between us, his obsession would slowly fade. That alone was a priceless reward.

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