I Decided to Let You Go (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 8
The body leaning against the door gradually slid downward. Her legs gave out, and she landed hard on her backside. Neither the dull ache nor the cold floor mattered at all right now.
“How on earth…?”
She hadn’t expected some grand, heroic figure. Nor had she hoped he’d crush villains like a protagonist in a theatrical play.
She’d only wanted to see the man’s face—concerned, asking gently if she was alright. She’d yearned for him to examine Natasha thoroughly for injuries, then kiss her softly, apologizing for failing to protect her.
Because Zieghart used to be exactly that kind of man. After all, he’d once gone into a fiery rage over something as trivial as cutting his finger while peeling fruit.
Perhaps Natasha had even hoped her misfortune might somehow force his love to reveal itself. Even this man, who now seemed utterly indifferent, might finally show some care—if he learned the woman he loved had been threatened…
“‘Even if you face threats from the imperial court in the future, I shall spare no effort to protect you.’”
The man—Zieghart Aschardt—knew full well what the imperial court meant to him.
He of all people should understand—he’d witnessed Natasha suffering from fever after nightmares, seen her mourning on her parents’ death anniversary.
“No matter how busy you are, how could you… until today, ignore me like this…?”
Yet he’d pushed her away simply because he was “busy.” There was only one possible explanation for this situation.
Her doubts had finally come to an end. Natasha was now certain.
The man did not love her.
Having realized the truth, Natasha no longer sought her husband.
Though she might have been expected to question why, Zieghart showed no interest whatsoever in Natasha’s changed behavior.
Whispers within the mansion had already begun to question their relationship.
“They say His Grace took his wife in his arms and found her rather unimpressive.”
“They say he was beguiled by her looks alone, and now even that has grown tiresome.”
Malicious rumors trailed Natasha, who had become utterly alone.
Perhaps due to this, the maids who once served her attentively began gradually neglecting the Duchess. The indifference she’d long received from the man had now spread to them as well.
It was lonely when those sweet voices that once recited imperial gossip for her disappeared. It was desolate when the gentle hands that braided her hair and adorned it with ornaments withdrew.
But Natasha could do nothing. Screaming into a void of indifference would only invite ridicule. A fallen princess’s rebellion would earn mockery, not sympathy.
After about ten days, her spirit was utterly drained. The woman repeatedly picked up and set down divorce papers several times a day.
One day, Kayena, upon seeing the divorce papers on Natasha’s desk, jumped in alarm and scolded Natasha for her distress.
“If you divorce him, what will become of the imperial court and the Duchy? They’ll surely attack the Princess of Charlier, who’d have nowhere left to turn. No, Your Highness, you mustn’t.”
Kayena was right. Now that Natasha’s whereabouts were known, she had no choice but to remain under the Duke’s roof for protection.
The Duchy would view the remnants of the royal family as a serious nuisance—after all, one could never know when they might rebel, swallow the Duchy whole, and rebuild a kingdom. The imperial court, too, which had long hoped for the kingdom’s collapse, was no different.
Moreover, she had to endure for the sake of Kayena, who worked in the main house, and Sir Dante, who stayed in the annex. Realistically, Natasha couldn’t possibly take responsibility for them—leaving together was out of the question.
“Please endure just a little longer, my lady. His Grace will surely come to his senses soon. After all, he’s always loved you more than anyone.”
Though she felt sorry for Kayena, Natasha could no longer find hope in this relationship.
Mending a shattering glass was impossible. Any attempt to touch it would only scatter it into irreparable fragments. Leaving it untouched rendered it useless—beautiful but broken beyond use.
Yet there was something she’d done in the blindness of love—something impossible to clean up alone. Just as Kayena said, the moment they divorced, the lone seed of Charlier would be left exposed to danger.
Until she found another way, divorce was not an option.
[This is the timeline separator]One day, her husband—who lived in the same mansion yet had never once crossed paths with her—came to see her for the first time.
It was baffling. The man who’d shut himself in his study and ignored his wife entirely was now standing before her. When Natasha first saw him, she thought she was hallucinating.
Seeing her standing there, silent and expressionless without even a greeting, the man raised his amber-colored eyebrows. Only then did she realize the figure before her was real, not a mirage.
“In three days, the Ceremony of Knighthood for the Order of Honor will be held at the temple. You’re expected to attend.”
She’d already heard that Zieghart had been appointed Imperial Sword Master. Given the honor of the occasion, his investiture ceremony was being held directly at the temple.
“It’s merely an appearance you’re required to make, so there’s no need for unnecessary preparations. Don’t cause a fuss under some flimsy pretext like elaborate dressing.”
His tone was oppressive, lacking any trace of consideration. Natasha couldn’t even show her disappointment toward the man who barked orders like this. She forced an awkward smile and feigned agreement she didn’t feel.
“I understand.”
“Then I’ll see you in three days.”
The man she hadn’t seen in days vanished abruptly after just three sentences—a unilateral announcement that made no attempt to hide his indifference.
“…Yes, I’ll see you then in three days.”
Though that was all she could say, Natasha had no room to protest.
As the man instructed, Natasha stayed quiet. Though it was her first official appearance as Duchess, she even refrained from fretting over what to wear—since he’d explicitly warned her against drawing attention to herself.
Thus, the promised third day arrived.
The solemn temple had specially permitted outsiders to attend the Ceremony of Knighthood for the Order of Honor. Since this rare event occurred only once every hundred years or so, many had gathered to witness it.
Among the formidable candidates, Duke Aschardt had clearly seized victory. Because the title of Knight of Honor had always belonged exclusively to the Retiers imperial family or other powerful nations, the Duke’s appointment came as a shock to the empire.
That a man who’d declared independence from the imperial court now boldly claimed a privilege once reserved solely for the throne—of course, considering his outstanding abilities and accumulated contributions, the honor was well deserved. The temple, too, likely intended this as recognition for his efforts in purging monsters and restoring order.
The nobles buzzed with conversation. Debates flared over whether they should shift allegiances now that the Duke’s house, once thought doomed after declaring independence, was instead rising powerfully.
Their hushed whispers, rippling like waves, vanished at the sound of a sweet harp melody.
It was the signal that the ceremony had finally begun.
Long, slender fingers moved slowly across the harp strings. Even their motion seemed like an art in itself—precise, elegant. From string to string, octave to octave, fingers winding and plucking created a beautiful sound.
Not long after the harp began to play, the day’s honoree made his entrance.
Coincidentally, the dazzling fingerwork of the harpist—like weaving threads of silk—synchronized with the man’s measured steps. Each time his white robes fluttered, glimpses of his noble bearing emerged.
He descended the stairs and finally halted before the Pope. Kneeling on one knee, he awaited the Pope’s blessing.
With a pleased expression, the Pope lowered his head and placed a tiara upon the man’s jet-black hair. The glittering diamonds and crystals resembled stars shining in the night sky.
“Zieghart Aschardt, your efforts have brought peace to this world. The lives you’ve saved are beyond measure. In honor of the light and beauty you’ve revealed, we proclaim you the Empire’s fourteenth Knight of Honor.”
The tiara adorned with eternal flames, the legendary blade that would never dull, the aura imbued with divine power—
These honors, permitted only to Knights of Honor, now stood beside Zieghart.
“To you, whom we revere, we entrust the blessings of Aschardt. Bestow upon them unending happiness and prosperity.”
With the Pope’s benediction, the Ceremony of Knighthood concluded. A grand banquet followed, celebrating Zieghart’s elevation to this noble rank.
Cheers welcoming the day’s honoree surrounded him.
Natasha was no exception. Strangely enough, the woman who’d been desperately searching for her husband now stood right beside him. The large hand resting on her shoulder felt unfamiliar.
“Congratulations on your marriage, Your Grace.”
Others, sensing no visible change in the couple’s relationship, showered them with marriage felicitations.
Standing beside Zieghart, Natasha had unwittingly become his spokesperson—smiling politely as she fielded hollow pleasantries and questions, acting as nothing more than a decorative shield.
“To have someone as perfect as Your Grace as your beloved—how fortunate you must be.”
Calling her “fortunate” to have such a perfect husband was veiled mockery disguised as flattery. Those quick-witted nobles couldn’t possibly be unaware of the rift between them.
After all, a husband who abandoned his wife—making her first public appearance since their marriage—could only signal one thing, without needing deeper investigation.
Thereafter, the empire’s nobles continued pelting her with disdainful questions under the guise of curiosity. They refused to let her leave, as if determined not to let her escape easily.
Only after a long while could Natasha finally slip away from the crowd. Exhausted from fending off countless rude inquiries, she walked wearily like a soggy, limp sheet of paper and took refuge behind a pillar. Here, she hoped, they wouldn’t see her.
Leaning against the pillar to rest, she soon looked ahead. The final stage of the knighthood ceremony was unfolding.
It was the moment only Knights of Honor were permitted—the drinking of the holy water, the divine grace.
Zieghart lifted the chalice given by the Pope high into the air. The chalice, which had shimmered brilliantly, now touched the man’s lips.
Moments later, his Adam’s apple bobbed sharply.
“Kyaaaak!”
From his mouth burst forth a spray of crimson blood.
A piercing scream shattered the silence.
There was no time to reprimand the one who’d desecrated the sacred ceremony. Before one person’s shriek faded, another followed. Layer upon layer of cries created utter chaos.
Natasha, too, watching from the sidelines, let out a silent scream. She was so shocked that no sound came from her throat.
“Ah—His Grace, Duke Aschardt…!”
Zieghart collapsed, blood pouring from his mouth.
Male lead Asks for a Divorce Every Day
It’s not often you come across a plot like this in the female-dominant genre — make sure to check it out!
This is a novel I’m planning to reread as well.
The male lead is strong, skilled in martial arts, and not the usual fragile type you often see in matriarchal novels.
Meanwhile, the female lead is a scientist—rational and logical. Even when she falls for the male lead, she doesn’t let her emotions cloud her decisions.
If you push through the first few chapters, you’ll gradually find the story really intriguing.
It has a mix of mystery, detective elements, and romance.
The author’s writing style is like crafting a puzzle—except they deliberately leave out a few pieces, making it hard to predict what happens next, yet keeping you hooked.
In the end, everything will come together and be explained.
One-sentence summary: Wife, stop playing with beakers and look at me!
In a laboratory accident, research scientist Zhu Wansheng accidentally travels to a matriarchal world. The original owner of the body is an eighteen-year-old only daughter of a wealthy rouge merchant, already married with a handsome young man.
Zhu Wansheng grins: Nice! She always said she was heaven’s favorite granddaughter. After a life of toil in her previous life, she can enjoy blessings in this one.
However, her joy lasts no more than three seconds as bad news arrives: the original owner’s family is about to go bankrupt, and her husband wants a divorce.
Even worse, she’s stuck with a research system full of restrictions.
Zhu Wansheng: ? Is this the destiny of a research dog?
——
Faced with this mess, Zhu Wansheng pours herself a bowl of wine to drown her sorrows. In her drunken haze, her husband arrives.
His figure is imposing, holding a long sword, with a dignified air that captivates Zhu Wansheng.
Gu Yingqing, however, looks at the alcohol-reeking Zhu Wansheng with undisguised disgust and coldly asks, “Divorce or not?” The intoxicated Zhu Wansheng mumbles vaguely, “I think… it’s not… it’s not… impossible!”
——
The next day, after sobering up, Zhu Wansheng is full of energy, rolling up her sleeves ready to make a big move. As for yesterday? She has no memory of it.
Zhu Wansheng is ambitious; a research dog fears nothing!
Upgrading rouge, extracting fragrances, producing perfumes, researching lipsticks… all shall bow to the power of modern technology!
The original owner’s dying rouge shop is revitalized. Her mother is pleased and with a wave of her hand, passes on the family business to her. As she takes control and her experimental results gain popularity, it’s the pinnacle of her life…
——
But there are always those who can’t stand to see her doing well. Jealousy, scheming, assassination attempts – they want nothing less than her life.
The person who has always kept his distance from her suddenly holds her tightly in his arms, eyes full of concern.
She is unharmed, but he falls into a pool of blood…
Zhu Wansheng feels guilty, “I can grant you one wish.”
Gu Yingqing tentatively circles his arms around her, carefully resting his head in the crook of her neck, pleading softly, “I regret it. Can we not divorce?”
Zhu Wansheng: ? When did I agree to a divorce?
[Small Theater]
The newly developed rouge is beautifully packaged, and Zhu Wansheng is eager to try it.
Gu Yingqing suddenly appears: “My lady, may I apply it for you?”
Cool fingertips lightly brush her lips. His Adam’s apple bobs as he leans in for a light bite.
Zhu Wansheng: ?
Gu Yingqing: It smells so good, I wanted to taste it…
On a warm spring day, Zhu Wansheng tries a new perfume: “Spring Night.” Gu Yingqing corners her against a wall.
Warm breath lingers on her neck.
“My lady, from now on, may I test the fragrances for you?”
[Humorous female scientist vs scheming live-in son-in-law male lead]
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Chapter Comments (4)
Inline Comments (91)
Zieghart was the most rational person she knew. Surely, he of all people should
Did he poison himself? Why do I feel like that. What an AH he is as of now. I am getting irritated now. 😡
If only Kayena hadn’t been a royal maid. If only the Aschardt household hadn’t a
Kayena still feels very sus even if she’s on trial, way too eager to keep her in the house
“You’ll finally get to see your husband’s face—something you rarely glimpse—than
Ohh..so is it ‘noble idiocy’? The duke purposely pushing her away because the emperor is mad and hoping this will keep him away from her?
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Limited return by death? I guess nice story mechanism
He broke her trust, and now want her to believe that he is in love. I thing he also have his memories of the past.
It’s a little lot too late ass why no do this earlier if you regressed before