He Who Covets the Abandoned Bride (10 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 2
Behind her, Laila’s maid Alice returned and, upon seeing the room in such disarray, shed tears out of sheer distress, saying, “Is this really the treatment you agreed to endure just to become engaged to Reynald?”
Laila tried her best to comfort her, though inwardly she harbored the same thoughts. Just in case, she made sure to lock the door whenever she was alone in the room.
She did feel a twinge of guilt over whether this was truly acceptable behavior, but she absolutely dreaded being left alone with Reynald.
Fortunately, for some unknown reason, Reynald seemed to have lost interest in Laila afterward. Perhaps he had found another woman—maybe that was why his fascination with Laila had faded.
If that were truly the case, it would be a stroke of luck. But still…
“To think I must marry someone like him.”
And the engagement ceremony was tomorrow.
Tomorrow, before everyone’s eyes, she would have to publicly declare her special bond with him.
Given that this was a royal engagement, breaking it off would undoubtedly be difficult—and even if attempted, it would surely escalate into a diplomatic crisis.
As Laila pondered these practical concerns, she bit her lip firmly. Her eyes fell upon Reynald, who was openly dancing with another woman on the ballroom floor.
The instant she saw him, her heart began fluttering like that of a startled bird.
Just before their eyes could meet, Laila quickly turned her head and spoke to her maid beside her.
“I’m feeling unwell—I think I’ll step outside for a bit, perhaps into the garden. It shouldn’t be a problem if I’m gone briefly, right?”
“Yes, Your Highness. Everyone’s busy eating and chatting anyway.”
Laila gave a small nod.
“I’ll be back shortly… Please hold my seat.”
“Understood.”
After giving her maid this instruction, she rose from her chair. Opening a side door of the banquet hall, she stepped out onto a terrace paved with marble.
A few guests, already weary of the atmosphere inside, had gathered there—and upon Laila’s arrival, they began glancing her way and whispering among themselves.
Likely, their words weren’t flattering.
She knew full well her position was ripe for mockery: the insignificant princess of a foreign kingdom engaged to the equally unremarkable seventh prince.
Deliberately ignoring their stares, Laila slipped off the terrace and stepped into the adjoining garden. The soft rustle of grass underfoot pleased her, and she began to stroll slowly along.
Just then, a rustling noise nearby made her start—and when she turned toward the sound, she was startled even more.
Faintly visible behind a large tree were a man and a woman locked in an embrace, kissing. And the man…
“…The first prince, wasn’t he?”
She recalled having exchanged greetings with him on her first day in the Kingdom of Pilmer and managed to identify him. However, the woman he was kissing was certainly not the first prince’s wife.
Realizing she’d stumbled upon something she shouldn’t have seen, Laila hastily tried to retreat—but in her haste, she stepped awkwardly on a loose stone, felt her heel slip, and inwardly screamed.
“Oh no…!”
If a commotion erupted, they’d surely realize she’d been spying on them!
A whirlwind of thoughts flashed through her mind in that instant.
What if the first prince, caught in adultery, decided to harm her? Or what if Reynald came running back to her again after another humiliation and lashed out violently? This time, there’d be no one around to help…
Yet, just as she expected to tumble onto the grass, something behind her steadied her, preventing her fall.
Recognizing immediately that it was a person, Laila’s eyes widened in surprise. Looking up, she saw a man’s face.
“…!”
She tried to speak, but he gently placed a finger to his lips—a clear signal for silence.
Grateful she’d managed to stifle her cry, Laila allowed him to take her hand and lead her swiftly away—not back toward the terrace connected to the banquet hall, but along another garden path.
Shh-shh.
Their footsteps hurriedly crossed the garden. Every so often, the man glanced sideways at her, as if worried she might trip.
Once they’d put enough distance between themselves and the scene, arriving at the center of a spacious garden where a fountain’s cool water splashed down, Laila spoke up to the man.
“C-could you please let go of my hand now… Sir Millay?”
Only then did Millay come to a sudden stop. After a brief pause, he turned around to face Laila.
The bright light spilling from the banquet hall’s windows gently illuminated his clean-cut features, which now bore a faint smile.
“You remembered my name as well?”
His voice, soft as it emerged from between his lips, contrasted sharply with the sharp, cold tone she’d heard when he’d spoken to Reynald before.
For some reason, his unexpectedly friendly demeanor made Laila blush faintly.
“I—I overheard your conversation by accident…”
Though it was unclear whether “overheard” was even the right word for what had happened.
Trailing off and lowering her head, she watched as Sir Millay gazed down at her silently for a moment before finally revealing his full name.
“Adrian Millay.”
“Yes…?”
“My name, Your Highness of Wessex.”
With that, Sir Millay lifted Laila’s gloved hand and gently kissed the tips of her fingers in a gesture of respect.
Laila’s hand trembled slightly. Clear disturbance flickered in her blue eyes—not merely because of the lips that had touched her hand.
It was his name that stirred memories within her.
“Adrian.”
Unconsciously murmuring the name, Laila saw the man before her smile faintly, as if he understood precisely what she was thinking.
“Ah, I suppose it’s because my name happens to be the same as His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince.”
“…W-well, names can coincidentally be the same, after all.”
As she replied, Laila felt her heart pounding. Unable to fully mask her flustered state, she even stumbled over her words—but there was nothing she could do about it.
Adrian Pinter Rains, Crown Prince of the Empire of Harkin.
As the second-in-command of the Harkin Empire—a venerable nation that had stood for nearly five centuries and established itself as the dominant power on the Damvernan continent—he possessed the psychic ability passed down through the imperial bloodline.
And once, the Duke of Wessex himself had served the empire, governing a duchy under its banner—until he broke away to found the present Kingdom of Wessex.
Thus, to the Harkin Empire, Wessex was effectively a nation of traitors—though outwardly, both sides maintained a facade of peace.
After all, the Empire still needed Wessex’s diplomatic mediation skills.
Of course, Laila’s father had been willing to compromise on reasonable terms with other nations by marrying off his daughters—but never with the Harkin Empire.
In the King of Wessex’s view, that bargaining chip—the only leverage a small kingdom held against a vast empire—must never be surrendered lightly.
Whether or not that was truly the right judgment, Laila couldn’t say.
In fact, she often worried that if they pushed too hard, the Empire might use it as an excuse to crush them—but she’d never voiced this concern to her father.
“…Because he’d surely scold me again for always being so pessimistic.”
Perhaps they should count themselves lucky that the Harkin Empire showed some measure of gentlemanly restraint.
Truthfully, Laila couldn’t understand why such a powerful faction would choose to hold back—and because of it, she constantly felt the kingdom’s precarious position.
After all, it had been barely over ten years since the kingdom’s founding.
Compared to its neighbors, Wessex was far too small and weak—its only notable asset being the rare royal bloodline.
Its survival felt uncertain at best.
Sometimes she even feared it might become one of those ill-fated kingdoms whose line ended with its first monarch.
This constant anxiety was the fate of traitors.
And among all the people of Wessex, Laila felt it most acutely.
Adrian.
Because it was she herself who had betrayed him—the Crown Prince of the Empire.
Laila clasped her hands together, fidgeting nervously.
She’d wanted to thank the man before her—though he likely hadn’t intended to help, she still owed him gratitude for helping her escape that situation safely last time—but now, the discomfort of the moment had overwhelmed even that thought.
Noticing her unease, Sir Millay gently called out to her, who seemed lost in thought.
“Your Highness?”
Laila gasped, sharply drawing in a breath.
It was terribly rude to become so lost in thought while standing before someone else.
Quickly collecting herself, Laila offered a faint smile.
“I’m sorry, Sir Millay. I really must return now…”
As she spoke, she smoothed her dress and prepared to take her leave with a proper bow. But Sir Millay interrupted her mid-sentence.
“Your Highness, I know it may be terribly presumptuous of me to say this, but please hear me out without misunderstanding.”
His cautious tone made Laila look at him with puzzlement.
“Is there something you wish to say to me?”
“It’s just… that incident keeps troubling me. In truth, it’s haunted my thoughts ever since.”
“Oh…”
“Wessex originally had its roots in the Harkin Empire, and though I’m staying here temporarily, I’m originally from the Empire myself… So in a broader sense, we’re practically from the same region, aren’t we?”
“I see.”
She had no idea why he was bringing up origins all of a sudden. Was he trying to forge some kind of connection?
Wanting to end the topic quickly, Laila gave a vague reply—but his next words made that impossible.
“Your Highness surely hasn’t missed the rumors about Reynald, Pilmer’s seventh prince. Though, judging by what we just witnessed, it seems this royal house has more than its fair share of womanizers.”
As he spoke, Sir Millay’s lips curled slightly upward—a clear sneer. Strangely, his blue eyes also began to glint with a cold light.
Laila hastily glanced around before lowering her voice.
“Sir Millay, such talk…”
Shouldn’t you hold back?
Especially not in front of one’s own fiancée.
Yet Sir Millay’s words truly knew no restraint.
“Will Your Highness truly go through with marrying that piece of trash?”
Male lead is reincarnated to save his wife
I’ve also read this one twice already. The female lead is kinda soft and gets embarrassed easily—not really my type, but the plot is definitely worth reading. Hurry up and read it, y’all!
Intro
When Shen Yuan encountered Su Jin again in his previous life, she had already become the Prime Minister of the current dynasty. As for him, the former top young master of the capital, he had long since fallen into the abyss, becoming a singer on a pleasure boat.
After a song ended, he was redeemed and sent to the Su Residence.
Su Jin respected and cherished him, gave him a roof over his head, and bestowed him with warmth. Shen Yuan fell deeper and deeper, but before he could express his feelings, Su Jin passed away.
Shen Yuan died to follow her in death, but instead, he returned to when he was fifteen years old.
At that time, he was not yet engaged, and Su Jin was just a poor scholar.
Shen Yuan gritted his teeth, casting aside all his pride, and thought of ways to coax and entice her every day.
The colder and more indifferent Su Jin was towards him, the more proactive Shen Yuan became.
He was not afraid of being mocked by the world, only wanting to marry his Wife-master early, to hold her hand and never let go for a lifetime.
[Note: This story will not specifically point out the male lead’s reincarnation time point; it’s all in the details. Whenever you feel that the male lead is acting strangely, he has most likely been reincarnated.]
[Touch the gear icon in the bottom right corner of the screen to move to the next chapter if you want.]
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