Refusing Your Ex-Husband’s Obsession: A Guide - Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Translator: Yonnee

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The refreshing aftertaste of peppermint in his mouth reminded him of her. His Guide was reminiscent of an addictive peppermint flavor with a unique taste.

Leaning against the bay window, he stared blankly at the rising sun.

He recalled why he was able to come back here. No, he didn’t want to actively recall it, but it was a scene that came to mind naturally.

Over and over, he recalled the way his rampage slowly but surely faded, however what entered his vision was the unrealistic scene of her slender body embracing him, yet slowly losing strength.

Her arms, which were burned halfway through to the point that her flesh was melting away, had lost her hold on him. All her organs had already melted, and blood and froth flowed endlessly through her teeth.

With her body in such a condition, it was difficult to say that she might be alive, and yet there continued to be one indication that she was: her black eyes looked straight into his, still. Yearning for him.

But when that faint sliver of life disappeared right before him, he burst into rampage once again. His Guide had sacrificed her life for him, and yet he rendered this sacrifice futile.

“No, not futile. I came back, so… I can meet her once again.”

The jawline of the man’s emaciated face was sharp and angular, as though it would cut you with just one touch. And it wasn’t only his features that gave off that impression.

Thirst. Hunger. Yearning.

Madness.

All these coexisted in the blue, sapphire-like eyes of his, which gave off a razor-sharp glow.

With a look in his eyes that made it look as though he was a man in desperate search of an oasis in the desert, he waited for the coming-of-age ceremony. It will be held tonight.

There was someone he needed to meet there.

* * *

“Goodness me, it’s been a long while already, hasn’t it.”

Mom murmured to herself as she gently fanned my face. It was midsummer now, so even in the evenings, the temperature wouldn’t let up. Rather, it was just humid because of the occasional hot breeze that would blow past.

Even if I were to open the window here, it wouldn’t make a difference because the carriage was narrow and we were all smushed together by the ballgown I was wearing.

Mom was fussing over how my make-up might get erased, not noticing how sweat was forming on her own forehead.

“Mom, you’re sweating over here, too. Let me wipe it.”

I took out a handkerchief and patted Mom’s sweat away. Seeing my actions, Mom couldn’t hide her joy. Dad also spoke up and showed his face.

“Dad is sweating, too, my daughter.”

I felt the corners of my lips going up to the fullest as I patted away Dad’s sweat. Then, Brother also showed his face as if it was his turn.

“Rin. Me, too.”

“Gosh, you all have handkerchiefs though…”

Even though I was grumbling a little, I patted David’s forehead to wipe off his sweat as well.

In the meantime, the carriage moved forward a little.

This was inevitable. After all, this society was based upon a class hierarchy. There’s no way that my family, which had the lowest noble peerage, would be able to enter the event venue quickly just because we came here first.

Indeed. Even if this wasn’t a hierarchical society, this kind of irrational system existed everywhere. In my past life, just how much exactly had I been discriminated against in Korea just because I was an orphan?

Eventually, I took the folding fan from Mom and fanned myself as I was busy looking out the window. Since we usually kept to ourselves in our fief, the capital was an immensely exciting place—and the most colorful and the most luminous place of them all over here was the palace.

As I was staring at the coats of arms on the packed carriages around ours, I heard a knight shouting from afar.

“It’s Duke Leopardt! Make way!”

The knight’s words were no different to a magic spell. The long line of carriages was at a standstill just now, but each carriage soon began to the sides of the boulevard.

They parted to the sides immediately, just like how cars in my past would move to make way for fire trucks and the like.

Rather than the sight of this transpiring before my eyes, I was more distracted by the knight’s shout.

Duke Leopardt.

The novel’s second male lead.

Ciel de Leopardt.

Inside the carriage that passed by us leisurely was the man who had the same name as my husband in my previous life. My family’s carriage wouldn’t even be able to compare to the fancy and imposing carriage, which was black and gold-lacquered. There was a sword hilt pattern engraved on its sides.

The sword hilt itself, instead of the sword’s blade, was carefully adorned with a countless number of blue sapphires, and there were blue flames carved in fine detail on the background.

It was the Leopardt Duchy’s coat of arms.

I couldn’t take my eyes off it. All I could think about was how that coat of arms looked exactly as it had been described in the novel.

The carriage passed by us at a moderate pace—neither fast nor slow. Unfortunately, I couldn’t see the face of the second male lead because the window’s black curtains were drawn.

However, when I saw the duke’s carriage, it was at that moment that the string of doubts, which I still had on the back of my mind, had vanished.

Really, truly.

I had transmigrated into—and was now living in—a world inside a novel.

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