He Who Covets the Abandoned Bride (10 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 4
“At the very least, it seems the author would be begging and pleading for it.”
It was an undeniably provocative remark and attitude.
Of course, his voice had been only a whisper, so Reynald likely hadn’t heard it—but perhaps sensing something from his gaze alone, he began walking toward them.
Just from his tightly pressed lips and furrowed brow, it was abundantly clear how displeased he currently was.
Reynald strode firmly over and stood imposingly before Laila, glaring down threateningly at Marquis Millay’s hand resting on her slender shoulder.
“Marquis Millay, just what are you doing to my fiancée?”
My fiancée.
She’d begun to wonder if he’d perhaps forgotten entirely, given how poorly he’d treated her—but those words had now slipped from Reynald’s lips.
He then stepped forward once more and sharply slapped Marquis Millay’s hand away.
Only then did Marquis Millay fully release Laila’s shoulder and take a step back.
For a brief moment, the two locked eyes across Laila, locked in silent tension, until Marquis Millay broke it with a slight, gentle smile and a subtle bow.
“My apologies, Your Highness, Seventh Prince.”
Reynald let out a sharp sigh—“Ha”—an act that plainly revealed his utter disbelief.
Yet he said nothing further, merely yanking Laila’s shoulder firmly toward himself.
Pulled into his embrace, Laila squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath. Partly because his scent was still mingled with perfume from dancing with another woman moments ago—and partly because even Reynald’s natural sweat odor felt overwhelming to her.
The instant Millay witnessed this, his expression hardened icily—but only Reynald noticed.
Reynald caught a glimpse of Millay’s fleeting inner thoughts and twisted his lips in response.
“You say you knew it was impolite—that’s fortunate indeed, Marquis Millay. Yet I find myself deeply offended, and I may have to lodge an official protest with the Empire.”
“…….”
“You must have anticipated this consequence the moment you made advances toward my betrothed, surely?”
It was a remarkably sharp rebuke. Laila’s heart began pounding, fearing this might escalate into a serious incident.
If only she’d firmly rejected Marquis Millay from the start, none of this would have happened—it felt as though her own indecisiveness had led directly to this unexpected crisis.
Just then—
Clack…
The sound of a nearby pebble rolling echoed. Because the garden path was paved with stones, the noise rang out unusually loud, instantly drawing the attention of all three toward its source.
There was no wind, and no one had touched it—yet the object had suddenly moved of its own accord. Laila’s eyes widened in astonishment.
‘Psychokinesis…?’
So struck by this unnatural phenomenon, Laila momentarily forgot she was still nestled in Reynald’s arms and turned her gaze toward Marquis Millay.
Yet Millay remained utterly composed, as if the rolling pebble had nothing whatsoever to do with him—his demeanor suggesting Reynald’s earlier warning hadn’t threatened him in the slightest.
“Of course. I’ve anticipated exactly this ever since first laying eyes on the princess.”
Do you really think I’d fear such a thing?
The unspoken words seemed to echo clearly in her ears.
Reynald’s brow furrowed deeply at the retort, and Marquis Millay clicked his heels forward, stepping closer to him.
He then tilted his head slightly and leaned toward Reynald’s ear, whispering something so quietly that even Laila—pressed against Reynald’s chest—couldn’t hear.
But Laila distinctly felt it.
Reynald’s arms tightened powerfully around her. His eyes, which moments ago had held a trace of confidence, now bulged wide—as if they might pop out—as he fixed his stare on Marquis Millay.
Immediately after, Millay smoothed his lips into a graceful smile and stepped back.
“Well then, Your Highness, Seventh Prince.”
“…….”
“I believe I shall take my leave. I find myself far too weary to remain for the rest of the banquet.”
It was decidedly impolite behavior for a foreign guest, yet Reynald neither scolded nor stopped him further.
“…I’d appreciate it if you’d attend tomorrow’s engagement ceremony without fail.”
Millay offered a faint, knowing smile—bolder than before—and boldly took Laila’s hand right in front of Reynald, placing a light, parting kiss upon her knuckles.
“Your Highness, may our meeting continue tomorrow as well.”
[This is the timeline separator]Thud.
The moment the carriage door shut, a sigh welled up from deep within his chest and burst forth.
As the large hand roughly tousled his neatly combed hair, his aide—who’d been waiting inside the carriage since their arrival at the palace—spoke up.
“You’ve returned earlier than expected.”
The man merely rolled his blue eyes toward his aide, who then added the proper address.
“Your Highness.”
Simultaneously, their carriage began to move.
Rattle-rattle—the wheels turned swiftly, carrying the somewhat shabby-looking carriage farther away from the royal palace.
Millay, strangely uncomfortable with the ride, refrained from leaning against the seat. After glancing once toward the door, he finally spoke, his low voice heavy with gloom.
“I couldn’t stomach staying any longer.”
His aide, Rilvan, sensing his lord’s frayed nerves, held out his hand.
“With your permission, Your Highness.”
The instant those words reached his ears, Millay closed his eyes—and his face began shifting as if a mask were peeling away. His features subtly rearranged themselves; his eyes returned to their original violet hue, and his hair transformed from deep black to silver.
In an instant, he shed the guise of ‘Millay’ and became once more Adrian Pinter Rains, Crown Prince of Harkin.
Recognizing that Rilvan’s illusion had ended, Adrian absentmindedly touched his own face, as if it felt oddly unfamiliar. Watching him, Rilvan asked cautiously,
“Was it Reynald? It seems you found enduring that seventh prince’s antics rather difficult.”
Adrian’s hand stilled. His violet eyes darkened deeply.
“It’s not just him who’s lost his senses.”
Ever since infiltrating the Kingdom of Pilmer under false identity, Adrian had struggled to find a single aspect of the royal court that wasn’t utterly chaotic.
The king wallowed in debauchery, showing interest only when it served his personal amusement, while the princes were all sunk in drink and lust. The princesses were hardly any different from their brothers.
Though this made it far easier to slip in disguised as a wealthy noble selling luxury pleasure ships, it wasn’t exactly pleasant to witness such sordid scenes firsthand.
Moreover—
Adrian’s violet eyes narrowed as a particular image came to mind unbidden.
〈You’re nothing but a useless half-wit. I’ll have to teach you proper manners so you won’t bother her again.〉
“Just who exactly needs their manners corrected.”
A scoffing mutter slipped from his lips.
At that moment outside her door, upon hearing the seventh prince’s words, he’d seriously considered hurling the brat straight out the window.
But revealing his psychokinetic abilities—and his true identity—hadn’t been the right time, so he’d had no choice but to swallow his anger.
…Although, admittedly, he’d slipped up just now.
All because of that wretched phrase: ‘my fiancée.’
Gritting his molars as he replayed those words in his mind, Adrian was abruptly pulled back to reality by Rilvan’s matter-of-fact voice.
“By the way, Your Highness, as you instructed, I’ve nearly completed my assessment of Pilmer’s financial situation.”
Adrian refocused his gaze, which had grown distant.
“Right. What’s the current state of affairs?”
“I hardly dared believe it at first… but it’s far worse than we anticipated.”
Rilvan picked up a set of documents placed beside him in the carriage. Knowing his meticulous nature, he’d likely reviewed and memorized them several times over while Adrian attended the banquet—but he still glanced through them once more before continuing.
“As you know, the debt owed solely to our nation of Harkin already exceeds their entire annual royal budget. Though repayment isn’t due for another two years—which might seem manageable on the surface—they’ve borrowed heavily from others as well.”
“Who’s their next biggest creditor besides us?”
“Poitiers, a region bordering Pilmer to the east. Their repayment deadline is barely two months away.”
“I see. Then when I meet the First Prince, I’ll offer to pay off that debt in full on their behalf.”
As he spoke, Adrian clearly outlined his plan in his mind: repay their debts, then lower the interest rate. In the meantime, recall as much of Harkin’s currency circulating within Pilmer as possible—thereby inflating its value.
This would paradoxically increase their burden of repaying both principal and interest, pushing them to the brink of default until Pilmer’s entire kingdom collapsed under its mountain of debt.
After that—
Adrian paused briefly in his thoughts, and just then, Rilvan asked,
“But Your Highness, why go to such lengths—devoting so much time—just to ruin such a small nation?”
“…….”
Adrian couldn’t bring himself to answer immediately.
He simply couldn’t say it aloud.
That it was all to reclaim her—Laila.
When the male lead is punished by carrying the female lead’s child and having periods like a woman
“I’ve given birth to two children for you, yet you still think about him.
Was I nothing but his substitute to you from beginning to end?”
Synopsis:
Meng Huan, a scumbag who has dated countless girlfriends, transmigrates to a female-dominated country.
Day 1: Whether it’s female dominance or not doesn’t matter. The beauties here are passionate and amorous. Isn’t it easier to date them than in modern times?
Day 2: After a night, Meng Huan discovers the differences in the female-dominated world. Men here actually have chastity locks and menstrual cycles. This hinders his ability to perform, damn it!
Day 3: What’s wrong with sleeping around? I don’t want you to marry me. I’m meant to be a playboy. I don’t care about male virtues… What? You want to drown me in a pig cage? Marry, I’ll marry!
Day N: Meng Huan inexplicably vomits and receives the shocking news of his life… He’s pregnant.
_____
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