He Who Covets the Abandoned Bride (10 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 14
Amid a tangle of thoughts, Laila began flipping through the documents.
The report was written in Harkinian. Harkinian was used throughout the continent, except in a few countries like Fitzroy—it was practically the lingua franca, so that wasn’t an issue at all.
What puzzled her deeply was why a marquis of Harkin would need reports on the movements of a foreign princess.
‘A spy from a third country?’
Could this man perhaps be a spy from an entirely different nation, merely using his title as Marquis of Harkin as a cover?
Then why show her such excessive kindness—even risking exposure of his own identity?
Her mind was so entangled in these questions that the contents of the report barely registered at first. But eventually, she couldn’t help but read it seriously from the middle onward.
Just as she’d anticipated from what she’d heard, her father—the King of Wessex—had apparently made a judgment that deeply offended Isabella.
Millay seemed to have reached the same conclusion.
“…This may sound like slander against my father, but since it now appears Wessex is siding with the First Prince, the First Princess likely interpreted it as interference in Fitzroy’s internal affairs.”
“If this report is accurate, that interpretation seems correct.”
The Kingdom of Fitzroy was virtually the only rival capable of standing against the Harkin Empire—the de facto hegemon of the continent.
‘At this rate, our kingdom might be doomed to fall.’
Even in Laila’s eyes, Wessex’s national strength was far from solid—it was easily swayed by neighboring states.
In such a situation, her father had essentially played the worst possible move. In chess terms, it was a blunder.
The result would be immediate checkmate—
a scenario where the very survival of the kingdom would be uncertain.
Laila set the documents down at the corner of her desk and looked up at Millay.
“So I must return to Wessex and inform the royal family of all this.”
“Yes. …You’ll likely need time to prepare.”
Laila nodded and lowered her gaze. Her eyelids trembled faintly.
But even if she returned to Wessex, could she really change this precarious situation? Honestly, on that point alone, she had no confidence at all. She couldn’t even be sure her father would believe her.
It would be fortunate if he merely dismissed her with ridicule. Worse still, he might exile or imprison her simply for breaking off her engagement to Reynald and returning home.
Yet if this matter were true, she certainly couldn’t just sit idle.
The problem, of course, lay precisely in that conditional—if this matter were true.
“Can I really trust you, sir?”
How much of this man’s words—mingling truth and falsehood—could she truly rely upon?
Millay calmly gestured toward the stack of papers Laila had set aside and replied with ease.
“Wouldn’t it lack plausibility for me to prepare a report like this just to deceive a princess?”
“Your willingness to aid me also lacks plausibility, Lord Millay.”
Shaking her head firmly, Laila pressed him again.
“If it’s not out of pity, then why share such information with me?”
This time, she was determined to get an answer. She held his gaze directly, refusing to look away.
Millay could no longer dodge or deflect—he had to offer a real answer if he wished to persuade her.
“…Could it be that you intend to use me to obstruct the path of Fitzroy’s First Princess?”
Laila offered the scenario that currently seemed most plausible. At that, Millay let out a soft laugh—somehow tinged with disappointment.
“That’s quite an interesting interpretation. Though it’s true I don’t particularly like her.”
Since he didn’t seem to consider it important, Millay made no effort to conceal that he personally knew Isabella. This only made Laila more wary of him.
She voiced the suspicion that had just crossed her mind—she wanted confirmation, even if it sounded absurd.
“So, are you truly a spy?”
“A spy?”
Millay raised an eyebrow, as if genuinely surprised by her words.
‘Did I guess wrong?’
She’d thought it a strong possibility…
Yet judging by his reaction, he seemed almost offended by the very notion.
Nervous, Laila clasped her hands tightly together and stared at him in silence. Millay tapped his temple with a fingertip and slowly shook his head—as if her assumption were utterly ridiculous.
“Is that truly how you’ve perceived my identity?”
Hearing that sigh-laced question, Laila waited for his explanation—wondering what else it could possibly be. Contrary to his earlier reaction, however, Millay gave an ambiguous reply.
“It’s not entirely incorrect. I did come to Pilmer for another purpose.”
Of course, since Laila couldn’t possibly imagine that this “other purpose” had anything to do with her, she grew only more suspicious of whatever he might say next.
“You’re not truly the Marquis of Harkin, are you? I’ve never heard the surname Millay before.”
Earlier, he’d claimed to be the son of a rural count’s family—so it wasn’t impossible she simply hadn’t heard of it. But the real issue was how flimsy his story had been.
Hadn’t he skipped over key parts? He’d even evaded explaining exactly how he’d saved her.
Normally, someone with such a dramatic tale would eagerly recount the details without prompting. The complete absence of specifics in his account was deeply suspicious.
“I’m confused myself about how much I should trust the words of someone so suspicious.”
Though Laila stepped back slightly as she said this, Millay still refused to plainly reveal the secrets he held.
“I’ve helped you twice already when you were in difficulty. Can’t you trust me based on that goodwill?”
That was precisely why she couldn’t outright call him a fraud—yet given how cryptic he was being now, even that past kindness deserved suspicion.
“I don’t know if that was truly goodwill or not—especially since you yourself said you came here for another reason.”
“…”
Had she finally struck the core of the matter?
Until now, Millay had replied without hesitation—but now he fell silent, and a brief stillness filled the room.
In the dim chamber, with no one else present, the two simply gazed at each other wordlessly for a long moment.
Then Laila thought—
‘Again…’
Again.
That look in his eyes—gazing beyond her, as if at something else—had returned. Just as when she’d asked if it was pity, his gaze had grown strangely hazy.
“Then.”
Just as the silence began to strangle her breath, Millay slowly approached her.
Click. Click.
His polished shoes tapped softly against the floor until he stood close before her. His well-built, elegant frame—dressed impeccably in a fine suit—leaned gently toward her.
Bathed in the candlelight’s crimson glow, Millay’s blue eyes, framed by long lashes, took on an enigmatic depth. So close their faces nearly touched, he whispered in a voice barely above a breath.
“Would it gain plausibility if I said I fell for you at first sight?”
Laila’s shoulders flinched. Her heart began to race.
The man before her was surely lying—
yet why did her heart leap at such an implausible claim?
Had she, in fact, been the one captivated by his two acts of aid?
Her pulse pounded so fiercely it felt as if the rhythmic thudding echoed right beside her ears.
“At the very least, you trusted me enough in the moment you fled the royal palace—which is why you’re here, in this mansion, Your Highness.”
Laila couldn’t deny his words—she’d only pretended otherwise.
“…That was simply the best choice at the time.”
“Then what is the best choice for you now, Your Highness? Isn’t it to believe that I’ve fallen for you?”
“Lord Millay.”
For some reason, the more their conversation continued, the more cornered Laila felt. His words slipped effortlessly through the cracks in her arguments, leaving her unable to think of an effective rebuttal.
But he didn’t grant her time to find a better response.
“If you demand proof of my feelings… I believe I’d gladly offer you a kiss.”
Laila’s eyes widened in shock.
Instantly, her face and the tips of her ears burned as though set aflame.
“A… kiss?”
She hadn’t expected such a blunt word.
Wishing desperately that the candlelight might hide her blush, she flinched as Millay gently lifted her damp hand—the one clutching her dress.
Pausing just before his lips could graze her fingertips, he asked,
“Will you grant me a chance, Princess Laila Wessex?”
Male lead is a Love-Obsessed Merman
When he discovers she has gone, he risks everything to pursue her on land, enduring agonizing pain to transform his tail into human legs…
One-line summary: Male lead chases female lead. The male lead’s love is a bit sick, an invincible love brain.
Synopsis
During a voyage at sea, Jiang Yang accidentally captures a merman.
Servant: I heard that mermen are fierce and brutal.
Jiang Yang looks at the merman obediently rubbing her palm like a puppy: “You call this fierce and brutal?”
Servant: I heard that mermen have no human nature.
Jiang Yang looks at the merman with wet puppy eyes, obsessively calling her ‘A Yang’ like a childish infant: “You call this having no human nature?”
With great difficulty, she releases the merman back into the sea and returns to shore.
Who would have thought that in less than half a month, the merman, who should have been freely wandering in the South China Sea, would shed his scales, endure the pain of losing his tail, transform into human legs, and come ashore to find her?
He kneels at her feet, rubbing her palm, with merman tears rolling down: “A Yang, don’t abandon me.”
_____
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