ILTDAMH | CHAPTER 24

Chapter 24

“Are you…preparing this for me, my lady?”

It all started about a month ago—right after Lucy slapped him.

The next day, over breakfast, Mercian had suddenly asked about her figure.

From that moment on, something about her began to shift.

Since then, something in Mercian has shifted.

They still shared a bed four times a week, as per the terms of their contract.

They still had breakfast and dinner together, without fail.

But beneath the routine, an indescribable distance lingered.

It was as if she were performing the duties of a wife with perfect diligence…

Yet without the faintest trace of affection.

She answered his questions with short, clipped replies.

Outside of meals and bedtime, she was nowhere to be found.

He used to enjoy secretly watching her after work, perched in the trees, nibbling sweets with a blissful expression on her face.

But that joy, too, had vanished. 

Mercian no longer climbed trees.

She had confined herself entirely to her room, as if trying to become a shadow of the ducal house—

Invisible to all eyes.

Preparing herself to disappear without anyone ever noticing her absence.

At first, he understood.

He was going to die soon, after all.

And if she had developed any deeper feelings for him… Ruan would’ve pushed her away himself.

His head told him that it was for the best.

It made sense.

But as the days passed, he found himself thinking of her more and more.

When she was lost in thought, her brow was furrowed.

How she pressed her small, round body against the tree before swiftly ascending.

And most of all, how she’d sit on a high branch, cradling her food with both hands, her lips softly chewing as she smiled like nothing else in the world mattered.

even if you were employed at the imperial palace.

While training with his sword.

Even while plotting how to deal with the crown prince—

Ruan would suddenly find himself wondering how Mercian was doing.

Eventually, without realising it, he began searching for her the moment he returned home.

If he heard she was reading in her room, he’d linger outside her door, hoping—just maybe—she’d step out for a moment.

On the nights they shared a bed, he started taking special tea to keep himself awake.

He even asked Cassel to brew the strongest blend the palace had—drinking three, sometimes four, bowls before returning home.

Yet, no matter what he did, once Mercian went into her room, she never came out until morning.

Ironically, despite barely managing two hours of sleep on most nights, on the days they slept together, he would knock out within ten minutes.

Even after all that tea.

And while he’d been racking his brain, desperate for an excuse to say something to her—anything—she suddenly asked about his schedule.

And that’s not all.

She was… worried 

Ruan had been eating only one meal a day to make his illness look more severe in front of the crown prince.

The weakening of his body had irritated him endlessly.

But today, for the first time, he found himself thankful for it.

Seeing Mercian look at him with genuine concern warmed something cold and hollow inside him.

Pretending more weakness than usual, Ruan gave a weary smile and answered:

“I’m already poisoned. There’s no avoiding it. It’ll only get worse from here.”

Then, with careful curiosity, he added,
“But… is something happening at the end of the month?”

“Oh! I was thinking of holding a home party.” 

She replied.

“I’d like to invite my aunt as well and gather everyone in the ducal household to say goodbye to the old year and welcome the new one—with hopes for good things to come.”

“A… home party?”

“Yes. Charles told me you’ve never really had one before, since you’re always so busy. It’s been a while for me, too, honestly. But I thought—this might be your last…”

She caught herself, then continued softly.

“Anyway… Do you think you’ll have time?”

Ruan paused.

The corners of his mouth twitched.

“So this home party… Is it something you’re preparing for me?”

Home parties were typically a family affair, without a singular star.

But if it was going to be his last…

Maybe, just maybe, it was okay to think of himself as the guest of honour.

Mercian, sensing that Ruan was hoping for a particular answer, gave a small nod in response to the look in Ruan’s eyes—a look that quietly begged her to say yes.

“Of course. You’re the guest of honour, Ruan.”

A party at home… just for me?

Strangely, something about the idea of Mercian preparing something solely for him made Ruan unreasonably happy.

It was a simple sentiment—yet it stirred something deep within him.

“Then no matter what happens, I’ll make sure to be there.”

“Alright. I’ll prepare everything under the assumption you’ll attend.”

“Yes, my lady. Since this party is being prepared for me… I’ll look forward to it.”

Look forward to it?

Oh…

But there’s nothing special planned, is there?

A home party was usually just people sharing home-cooked food and casual conversation.

Should I be preparing something more elaborate?

As she watched Ruan leave with a smile so bright it seemed to light up the entire corridor, Mercian suddenly felt compelled to add something extra—something a bit more special.

***

“So? How did it go?”

As Ruan entered the study, Tablo rose from his seat, smiling knowingly.

“The crown prince—evidence and witnesses secured. You won’t believe where the body turned up… Also, Prince Harmon should be arriving in the capital by tomorrow night.”

“And the prince himself?”

“Sir Hook headed out to the Saffran region earlier today. He must’ve told him everything. I think the stand-in you arranged for Prince Harmon is doing a great job. The deception’s holding.”

“Good. Then we’re close. Let’s finish the crown prince matter cleanly.”

Just then, a servant knocked and announced, “My lord, Elder Moses has arrived.”

“Ah, already?”

Ever since Ruan had been cursed by the witch, Elder Moses of the Kingdom of Allomande had come to check on him once a month.

“Welcome, Elder,” Ruan greeted warmly.

Moses, ushered in by Cassel, approached and bowed.

“It’s been a while. But… my lord, you don’t look well. Your face is even thinner than before.”

Ruan, aware of how gaunt he had become, simply smiled and waved it off.

“It’s not as bad as it looks. I’ve been doing fairly well. Over the past month, I’ve only experienced that heart-stopping pain once. And barely any shortness of breath. I believe it’s thanks to the sachet you gave me.”

“Is that so? That… shouldn’t be possible.”

The herbal sachet wasn’t meant to heal—
It merely soothed symptoms, slowing the progression. 

Nothing more.

Puzzled, Moses furrowed his brow and reached for Ruan’s arm, rolling up his sleeve.

And then—he froze.

“W-what in the world…? My lord, how is this possible?”

With disbelief on his face, he pushed the sleeve up further and examined Ruan’s arm closely.

“Wait… Don’t tell me the curse has gotten worse?”

Cassel asked nervously, sensing the elder’s agitation.

But Moses shook his head, staring intently at the red thread-like markings winding around Ruan’s skin.

“No, look here—see how faint the red threads have become? This… this means the curse is weakening. It’s unravelling.”

Then he looked up slowly, eyes sharp with realisation.

“Tell me, my lord… Have you, by any chance, fallen in love?”

“What… what did you say?”

Is the curse breaking? And love?

Ruan blinked in stunned confusion.

Love?

Who… who would I even be in love with?

Ruan stared blankly at Elder Moses, clearly unable to make sense of his words.

Tablo, watching with amusement, chuckled and said,

“Oh-ho! Don’t tell me, Ruan… Have you finally fallen for your wife? Well, to be fair, she is quite charming the more you look at her.”

“What are you talking about? Me, in love with my wife? And why are you the one commenting on her charm?”

Ruan snapped back, his voice sharp with irritation, but Tablo only laughed, seemingly in high spirits.

“Come now, Ruan. Isn’t the real takeaway here the fact that you’re falling in love—and that it’s weakening the curse?”

“Now that you mention it, Your Grace,” 

Cassel chimed in thoughtfully, “Lately, you’ve seemed distracted at work, lost in thought all the time. I thought you were just tired, but it turns out… You were thinking about the Duchess.”

“Exactly. And if you’re no longer on borrowed time,” Tablo added cheerfully, “then starting today, you can go back to eating properly. No need to rush through the crown prince business if we’ve got time.”

What in the world are they even saying?

Love? Me? With my wife?

Ruan glared at Cassel and Tablo, who were now exchanging smug, knowing grins like children in on a joke.

“Enough with the nonsense. Elder Moses, are you certain the curse is actually weakening?”

Moses returned his focus to Ruan’s arm, examining his wrist and forearm carefully once more before nodding.

“Yes. As far as I can tell, that seems to be the case. From what I know of this particular curse, the less emotional emptiness one feels, the slower it manifests. If you recall, when the curse first took hold, the red lines on your arm were vivid and long. But now… they’ve faded.”

He looked up, tone steady and reassuring.

“We may not understand the precise cause, but one thing is certain: the curse is losing strength. And your lifespan has been… significantly extended.”

The curse is weakening… and I might live?

Ruan stared down at his wrist.

Just as Moses said, the red thread-like markings were now fainter than ever.

“So what you’re saying is… I won’t die in four months.”

“Correct. At this point, the symptoms are so mild, I hesitate to say the curse is even active.
Unless something drastic shifts your emotional state again, Your Grace, I don’t believe this curse will pose a threat to your life any longer.”

“Then it’s settled! The Duke is no longer living on borrowed time. That’s truly a blessing.”

Cassel and Tablo both turned to Ruan, their faces bright with relief and joy.

Ruan, however, remained solemn, eyes still fixed on his arm.

“Not terminal anymore… All right. For now, let’s keep this between us. Elder Moses, I’ll ask for your discretion as well.”

Moses nodded respectfully.

“Of course. I don’t live in this region, and no one will ask me about it. But if it’s your wish, I’ll keep this to myself. Still, I do hope that the next time I visit—one month from now—the curse will be gone entirely.”

“In that case, I’ll escort you out,” Tablo offered. “I was planning to leave anyway.”

“Much appreciated,” Moses replied with a small bow.

And with that, the two men departed, leaving Ruan alone in the quiet room—his thoughts noisier than ever.

After Tablo and Moses left, Cassel turned to Ruan with a cautious question.

“Your Grace, what are you thinking? Why won’t you tell anyone that you’re no longer terminally ill?”

Ruan’s expression didn’t waver.

“First, we need to finish what we started with the crown prince.”

Cassel’s eyes widened.

“You mean… You intend to bring him down during this window?”

Ruan nodded.

“Once Prince Harmon returns to the capital tomorrow, the Emperor will announce—just as planned—that he is to marry Princess Patricia of the Kingdom of Allemond.”

“Princess Patricia? But isn’t Allemond already a vassal state? Why arrange such a union?”

Ruan’s gaze grew sharper.

“You know well that the Duchess of Graft—Her Majesty the Empress’s family—is the most powerful house in the empire. The Emperor only married her to maintain control of the throne.

So no matter what misdeeds the crown prince commits, he’s untouchable—for now. Harmon’s mother, the late Consort Pione, was from the Marquessate of Lifide, but their influence couldn’t match the Grafts’. That’s why the Emperor intends to use Allemond as Harmon’s new power base.”

Cassel leaned in, lowering his voice.

“Still, Allemond’s in shambles after the war. How useful can they be to Prince Harmon?”

Ruan smiled dryly.

“The truth is… the King of Allemond offered surrender shortly after the war began.”

“What? But didn’t the war last nearly two years?”

“Yes. But what we were really doing was helping the crown prince of Allemond crush a rebellion.
The public thinks the kingdom resisted fiercely, but in reality, its princes were locked in a succession dispute.
We struck a deal—back Prince Rahael for the throne, and in return, Allemond would support Harmon.”

Cassel exhaled in disbelief.

“Incredible. So both you and His Majesty deceived the entire empire.”

“Not the entire empire,” Ruan corrected.

“We were deceiving one man: Duke Kymon Graft, the Empress’s father.
After all, in our empire, it’s not unusual for a prince to marry a vassal princess. And Graft, like you, will assume that Allemond—battered from war—has nothing to offer Harmon.
He won’t object to the marriage.”

“Then Prince Harmon will leave for Allemond soon?”

“Naturally. The wedding will be held there.”

In the Omancourt Empire, when a prince married a foreign princess, it was tradition for him to travel to her kingdom, hold the wedding there, and return to the empire a month later.

Ruan continued, eyes locked on Cassel.

“Once Harmon returns tomorrow, the wedding will likely be announced within the week.
He’ll then depart for Allemond, and including travel and ceremonies, he won’t be back for at least two months.”

Cassel frowned.

“But what if the crown prince strikes before then? It takes two weeks to get to Allemond—he could have Harmon assassinated en route, making it look like bandits did it.”

“Don’t worry. The knights I assigned to Harmon could fend off a hundred bandits without breaking a sweat.
The real issue is weakening the crown prince—and the Duke of Graft’s hold—on our side while he’s away.”

“Can we really manage that in just two months?”

Ruan’s voice dropped to a measured calm.

“Think about it, Cassel. Isn’t it strange that despite all the women the crown prince has abducted, abused, and discarded… not one incident has ever gone public?”

“That’s because his aides—Sir Hook, the attendants, and the royal guards—have kept it under wraps, haven’t they?”

Ruan shook his head.

“No. According to what Tablo uncovered… there’s someone else who’s been protecting the prince’s secrets. Someone with power.”

Cassel’s face went pale.

“… It’s not… Her Majesty the Empress, is it?”

He stared at Ruan, dread creeping into his voice.