He Who Covets the Abandoned Bride (10 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 11
Millay’s mansion, though meant only as a temporary residence, was by no means shabby. Compared to the homes of other noble families, it might have lacked opulence, but it was spacious and highly practical.
Guided by Rilvan, who claimed to be Millay’s aide, Laila entered the mansion and inwardly marveled at its unexpectedly grand and well-appointed interior.
A spacious hall fit for hosting a small party, open staircases, railings along the gallery extending cleanly up to the third floor, and numerous rooms capable of accommodating dozens of people.
Laila raised her eyes to the chandelier above, its crystals sparkling as they reflected candlelight, and absentmindedly thought:
‘Could Lord Millay… be an immensely wealthy man?’
It was rather astonishing that he could afford such a fine residence even in a foreign land where he wouldn’t stay long, and possess enough influence and fortune to move freely in and out of the royal palace.
Just as she continued pondering this, she suddenly felt she was being overly materialistic and tried to calm her thoughts.
While ascending the stairs to the second floor, Rilvan spoke to Laila. The man who had been utterly bewildered upon finding her in the carriage had now regained his composure and adopted a distinctly businesslike tone.
“There aren’t many rooms suitable for a princess to stay in, so we’ll likely need to clear one out. Would you mind waiting in an empty room for a moment?”
Laila lifted her gaze and met Rilvan’s eyes.
Considering how startled he’d been when he opened the carriage door, Millay probably hadn’t given prior instructions—yet he was deliberately arranging a room for her, which surprised her.
Laila quickly shook her head and replied calmly.
“I’m fine staying in any room.”
She’d ended up here almost by accident, nearly pushed into coming. Though Millay kept urging her to flee, she suspected she’d likely return to the royal palace—and Reynald—tomorrow anyway.
Or perhaps she ought to return immediately.
Millay, who had spirited her away from the palace, might now be in serious trouble. After all, Laila was a foreign princess officially invited by this kingdom’s royal court, and even she herself knew that complex interests were tangled up around her presence.
If this turned into a diplomatic incident, it could easily escalate beyond what a mere marquis could resolve.
Surely the man before her was making similar calculations.
Yet strangely, neither Millay nor Rilvan seemed concerned about this at all.
Rilvan, who had been studying Laila’s face with unusual intensity, ignored her reassurance about the room and pressed on with his own agenda.
“…You’ll likely need to change clothes. I’ll arrange for a royal maid to attend to you.”
“You have maids here too?”
Millay hadn’t brought a wife or female companion to the party. It seemed unnecessary to bring maids all the way from his home country.
Surprised, she asked—and Rilvan simply shrugged lightly.
“That’s just how things turned out.”
It was a clear, polite way of saying he wouldn’t elaborate further. Laila quickly understood and merely gave a slight nod of thanks.
In truth, Rilvan’s demeanor was impeccably gentlemanly, yet Laila sensed something beneath the surface.
He seemed to disapprove of her.
Which was only natural.
At first glance, she was clearly a troublesome presence. The only place she belonged in this kingdom of Pilmer was the royal palace—and honestly, she shouldn’t have even appeared here at all.
‘Because of me, the marquis and Rilvan might end up arguing…’
Laila stole a quick glance at Rilvan, only to lock eyes with him. Startled, she flinched just as he opened the door ahead.
“You can wait here for a moment.”
“Oh—yes, thank you.”
Following his gesture, Laila gave an awkward nod and stepped inside.
Rilvan lit a lamp in a suitable room on the second floor, instructed Laila to wait, then closed the door and left.
Alone in an instant, Laila scanned the unfamiliar space.
Inside stood only a simple bed, bare and solitary; no other furniture was present.
Given it was a temporary lodging, they likely hadn’t bothered furnishing unused rooms. In that light, even having a bed felt unexpectedly considerate.
Carefully, Laila lowered herself onto the immaculate bed and glanced down at her disheveled appearance, her cheeks flushing crimson.
She’d momentarily forgotten—she looked a complete mess.
Her dress was rumpled, her bare feet caked in dirt. Her hair, though unseen, was surely just as tangled.
Laila reached up and removed a hair ornament, perched precariously on her head.
Even by the faint candlelight in the darkened room, the ornament’s crystals glinted in multifaceted sparkles.
Laila stared blankly ahead, her thoughts drifting back over the day’s events.
She truly wondered—what use was she?
‘Running away without any plan at all.’
Yet, even if she could go back in time, would she really have refused Millay’s outstretched hand in that moment?
The answer was “No.”
Truthfully, she didn’t want to marry Reynald. She’d rather remain forever the unwanted princess of a tiny kingdom.
Perishing alongside a crumbling realm seemed preferable to her current situation.
But a bird caged for so long it forgets how to flap its wings cannot fly, even when released into the open sky.
In other words, she was a bird who had forgotten how to fly—utterly incapable of living alone.
“What could you possibly be pondering so deeply?”
Startled by the unexpected voice, Laila turned toward the door. It had swung wide open, and an elegant lady was stepping inside, approaching her.
Laila sprang to her feet on reflex.
“You are…?”
“I am Maeve Heriford, in service to His Lordship the Marquis. Princess of Wessex.”
Maeve gave a brief self-introduction, clasped her hands politely before her, and bowed respectfully. Then she offered Laila a gentle smile. When Laila returned an awkward smile, Maeve naturally gestured toward the hallway.
“You look terribly exhausted… Though a room has been assigned, I think a warm bath would do you good first.”
She cited fatigue, but in truth, Laila’s current state left Maeve no choice but to suggest a bath.
Laila silently followed her. The mansion clearly had more than one servant; several maids trailed behind Maeve, walking briskly in Laila’s wake.
Millay’s residence wasn’t even a standalone building. After descending to the first floor, passing through a side door, walking along a stone path through a garden fragrant with fresh grass, they reached a small annex—where the bathing facilities were separately prepared.
‘He rented a place like this just as a temporary stay in a foreign land?’
Just how immense must his wealth be to live like this?
Driven by pure curiosity, Laila remained wide-eyed even after entering the annex.
In truth, it had been far too long since she last visited another country—or entered someone else’s home.
Ever since House Wessex had broken away from Harkin to establish its own nation, she’d rarely left the royal palace except for major state events.
But perhaps her fascination was too obvious. Maeve let out a soft chuckle beside her.
“This way, Your Highness.”
“Oh—thank you. Maeve…”
Realizing they’d already reached the bathing chamber, Laila gladly stepped inside.
Though clean, the bath clearly saw regular use. Stepping onto the slightly damp tiles, her bare, injured feet—hurt from running without shoes—stung sharply. She instinctively frowned, and Maeve, noticing, looked down at her feet in alarm.
Maeve quickly guided Laila to a nearby chair and examined her feet.
“Good heavens, Your Highness… You walked all the way from the palace barefoot like this?”
Apparently, Maeve hadn’t noticed Laila’s feet earlier. Laila glanced around self-consciously, half-expecting the maids to be silently wondering what kind of pitiful princess she was.
She shuffled her toes awkwardly and replied.
“It’s fine. The earthquake shook the building so much I took off my shoes, and when the fire broke out, I rushed out in such a hurry I forgot to put them back on.”
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“Hmm… No. Thanks to the marquis looking after me.”
Maeve shook her head firmly. Her next words carried quiet resolve.
“No, if he’d truly cared for your well-being, His Lordship should have carried you here himself.”
“Do you think so…?”
The way she spoke almost sounded like Maeve was criticizing Millay. From that single remark, Laila sensed these two had known each other a very long time and were quite comfortable with one another.
“Of course. When His Lordship returns, I’ll make sure to teach him exactly how to properly attend to a lovely lady. So please forgive his oversight.”
Laila gave a small smile at Maeve’s words.
Maeve’s deliberate humility on behalf of her master genuinely put Laila at ease.
Listening to her, Laila truly began to feel like an honored guest in this place.
[This is the timeline separator]Because of her injured feet, she couldn’t linger long in the bath. But under Maeve’s careful ministrations, Laila regained a measure of composure.
For some reason, fresh clothes and shoes had already been prepared; after changing, she headed toward the room assigned to her.
As she walked down the corridor, she noticed the mansion’s atmosphere felt subtly different from before her trip to the annex—and soon understood why.
Waiting before her room stood the mansion’s owner himself: Marquis Millay.
Male lead first thought she played hard to get, only to realize she
really disliked him
Short intro:
What she can’t stand the most is the streets full of effeminate men, especially that so-called top beauty whom she avoids at all costs.
Shen Yaoxing looks at Jiang Mingyue, who keeps approaching her with coy shyness.
Shen Yaoxing: Bro, don’t be like this, I’m really about to throw up!
She fears nothing in heaven or earth, except for him getting close to her.
*
At first he thought she was just using the trick of feigning indifference to attract his attention. Later, he learned that she truly despised him.
This dealt a heavy blow to Jiang Mingyue, and he vowed to make her, like everyone else, fall at his feet in worship!
***
Synopsis:
Before transmigrating, Shen Yaoxing only wanted to find a reliable man to spend her life with. Who knew that after transmigrating, she would become a reliable woman herself…
A forced misandrist, highly skilled, and reliable female lead
vs.
An initially aloof and arrogant, later morbid, obsessed male lead
_____
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