I Decline the Ex-Boyfriend of the Regretful Male Lead (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 16
I understood that Hertian’s question was serious enough to stake my entire remaining life on.
If I had to answer that question, there was only one reply.
“Of course.”
It was an answer without the slightest hesitation—after all, it involved my family too.
“Are you serious?”
He looked both surprised and a little pleased.
“I am.”
But what if, by some miracle, a way to survive was found? I couldn’t possibly stay by Hertian’s side for life.
“Even so, you won’t do that, will you?”
I softened my expression and gave a small smile.
“I’m serious too, you know?”
His eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Oh, come on—even if your ability is worth keeping for life, asking for my entire remaining life is just too much.”
“I will make you happy for the rest of your life.”
“I’m the kind of person who’s happy with just one macaron. I don’t ask for grand happiness.”
“I’ll prepare macarons and tarts, financiers and madeleines for you every day.”
This time, he began promoting himself.
So my ability really was that desirable?
It was indeed an absurdly powerful gift—an ability to foresee the future that couldn’t be bought even with a fortune. And since he’d already experienced it once, his desire made sense. Of course, I welcomed it.
“In return, even after our contract ends, I’ll help you from time to time. Deal?”
He still looked unsatisfied.
He must be a man full of greed—except for lust, that is.
After some thought, I added one more condition.
“Since I married on a whim, you get to decide when we divorce. Fair enough?”
That was already a big concession on my part. But I had no choice—I wanted him more right now.
“…Very well.”
He reluctantly accepted, then added with a nagging tone,
“Young-ae, you must stay healthy. I’ll be by your side to help, so don’t give up on yourself.”
It sounded so much like Mother that I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Don’t worry.”
“I’m worried about you.”
He quietly retorted.
He was probably concerned that if his contractor died early, it would cause trouble. His honesty pleased me.
“Don’t worry about that either. I won’t harm you.”
[This is the timeline separator]After dropping Anette off at the mansion, Hertian halted his horse, which had been galloping nonstop.
The place he sought was the Imperial Palace’s Court Physician’s office, deep within the palace grounds.
“Your Grace the Duke. It’s been a long time.”
One of the physicians, who had been sorting medicinal herbs, greeted him as if he’d been expecting him. Hertian relaxed his guard after confirming he was alone in the laboratory.
“No need for formal greetings.”
Seeing Hertian for the first time in years, the physician handed him a cup of herbal tea.
“I’m asking deliberately. I expected you to come see me first, yet after the victory ceremony ended, there was complete silence.”
“I’ve had a lot on my plate.”
Hertian stared into his teacup, then frowned deeply as he recalled what had just happened.
Anette telling him herself that her life was nearly over and urging him to use her had shocked him deeply. Was that why she was rushing into marriage? She looked as if she’d already accepted everything.
Worse still was what would become of him after Anette was gone—if she died, Hertian would have no reason to live.
Shaking off his thoughts, he pressed a hand to his forehead.
“Evan, what about the matter I asked you to look into?”
His only hope lay in a new treatment. While on the battlefield, he’d worked tirelessly to find a cure for Anette—and Evan had been the one to assist him. Evan was one of the few people who’d helped Hertian during their childhood days in the palace.
“The potion you sent previously was delivered to Young-ae through Count Leangberia, but there was no significant improvement.”
As always, the result was failure. Hertian wasn’t overly disappointed.
“Then next, I’ll have to find the master of the West Tower and force him—by grabbing him by the collar if necessary—to brew a remedy.”
He was simply considering new options, as he always did.
“The problem is that even magic hasn’t worked. Count Leangberia has likely tried hundreds of methods you haven’t even considered yet.”
Those words of despair, which he’d heard countless times before, cut deeper today—he’d just witnessed Anette collapse with his own eyes.
“Is there truly no way…?”
Hertian clenched his fist so tightly that the sound of leather crushing echoed.
Evan spoke while looking at the list of potions he’d received. Nearly every medicinal ingredient recorded in medical texts was listed there—all crossed out in red.
“It seems potions and magic may no longer be meaningful. This might not be a simple health issue.”
He was suggesting they consider other possibilities.
‘If it’s neither potion nor magic, then what else could it be?’
Hertian recalled a conversation he’d had with Anette.
Whenever treatment failed, she’d sink into sorrow and mention a curse. Though she’d spoken it like a complaint, what if it were true?
“I’ll have to raid even the Emperor’s secret archives.”
[This is the timeline separator]The mansion, once peaceful, felt chaotic even before I crossed the threshold.
Just as I’d expected.
No sooner had I stepped inside than Betty spotted me and came running breathlessly.
“Miss Anette, it’s a disaster! The whole mansion is in an uproar!”
“What happened?”
“Master and Madam heard what happened today and said they’d kill Baron Melson…”
She glanced around and trailed off.
Father must have faithfully relayed the morning’s news article to Mother.
“It seems what you said this morning had an effect, Miss.”
It wasn’t just my memories of key figures like Anette that had returned.
I remembered the entire original story—every character, including Violet and Serdis.
Melson.
After reading the guestbook yesterday, a memory suddenly surfaced.
‘Why did Viscount Melson become a physician?’
His information differed from the original.
In the original story, he was a fraudster—an extra who clung to kind-hearted Violet, drained her dry, and later died as miserably as I did.
It was strange that, unlike in the original, he’d become our family physician instead of attaching himself to Violet.
‘Did something go wrong because I transmigrated?’
That was a possibility.
If so, the leech that appeared because of me was my responsibility to deal with.
Melson was despicable—he’d even laid hands on the Duke’s maids quite often.
Sure enough.
While searching for articles related to Hertian, I frequently came across stories about Melson.
Articles about how he used money stolen from our family to buy slaves and assaulted people while drunk. Such behavior wasn’t rare among nobles, so it never became a major scandal—just brief mentions tucked in old newspaper corners.
Even if Father had seen them, he’d likely dismissed them as unimportant.
That’s how it usually went with other people’s affairs.
Early dawn.
The maids had just gathered to prepare breakfast.
“I have something to ask you all.”
I gathered the girls, who were rubbing their puffy eyes, and spoke.
“Yesterday, after Master Melson visited, an unpleasant incident occurred.”
I spread a false rumor mirroring what Melson had actually done.
“Master—no, Baron Melson—was caught trying to assault one of our household maids.”
Hearing my fabricated rumor, the maids’ pupils trembled. Some turned pale—but none looked genuinely surprised.
“…I knew trouble would come someday.”
“Exactly.”
They accepted it naturally, as if they’d anticipated this. The maid at the front asked,
“Miss, who suffered this?”
“I won’t say—for that child’s sake. But…”
I continued in a voice thick with suppressed tears.
“If any of you have suffered at the hands of Baron Melson like that child, please go see Mother today and tell her everything. Baron Melson may be our physician, but you are family. I beg your cooperation so no more of our family suffers.”
That was all I said before leaving.
The same applied to Father—I’d merely leaked a few articles to crack his firmly built trust. He surely read the newspapers, so he must have seen them. He probably dismissed them as insignificant. But what if those articles were combined with the maids’ testimonies?
“That scoundrel Melson! Where on earth has he vanished to? He used to appear the moment he was called—where has he disappeared now?”
Perfect effect.
Melson, who yesterday was called a benefactor, was now just “that scoundrel.”
Father hurried the butler, and Mother wiped away tears.
“We can’t let this go. Thinking of how our children suffered in silence all this time, even punishing him immediately wouldn’t be enough.”
Apparently, quite a few maids had gone to Mother.
Mother’s face flushed red as she erupted in fury.
“It’s not just one—it’s several! My heart is torn to shreds by those children’s tears!”
I knew Mother, who supported impoverished commoner artists, would be enraged—unlike other nobles.
“This is an insult to our house. We must teach him a lesson.”
Now that it had become a family matter, Father wouldn’t treat it lightly.
‘What a mess our household has become…’
But it was going well.
Everything was unfolding exactly as I’d wanted. Melson must have sensed trouble and fled already. It was a pity, but he wasn’t important right now.
I strolled leisurely through the chaotic mansion and approached Father.
“Father, what’s going on?”
“Oh, Anette! You’re back already?”
Father jumped in surprise, not having noticed me entering his study. I calmly glanced around and asked,
“But what’s wrong? Why is Mother crying?”
“It’s nothing for you to worry about. Father will handle it.”
Father patted my shoulder and avoided my eyes. He clearly wouldn’t give details this time either. Since I already knew, it didn’t matter. Before leaving, I handed Father Edward’s letter—the one Hertian had delivered on his behalf.
“There was a minor accident. Young Master Edward left a letter and went.”
“Accident? A letter?”
Father’s eyes widened.
“Just open it.”
After reading it, Father crumpled the letter and threw it to the floor.
“There’s not a single decent person among them!”
The letter stated Edward refused to meet me—he must have disappeared under Serdis’s threats.
I was grateful for it.
“I suppose I’m too foolish—no one wants me. I don’t understand romance or how to deal with people…”
I sniffled and put on a pitiful expression.
Father looked at me more closely—probably noticing the bloodstain on my pink dress. This time, his voice cracked.
“What’s lacking in you? Your mother and I raised you so preciously. Do you think being unwell is a flaw? Even a healthy person might die tomorrow morning—what does illness matter?”
“But…”
I made my voice tremble with tears and pretended to wipe nonexistent ones away.
“You’re absolutely right, Father. I won’t think that way anymore.”
“That’s my girl. Oh dear—if I’d known you weren’t feeling well, I wouldn’t have forced you out. Forgive your useless father.”
Father gently adjusted my clothes with a sorrowful expression, then lightly brushed the area around my nose—perhaps noticing the bloodstain remained.
“Father, I also owe a debt to His Grace the Duke today.”
“The Duke?”
At the mention of Hertian’s name, Father’s eyebrows twitched. His negative impression of Hertian hadn’t faded, separate from Baron Melson.
“I went to Lake Aor today and fainted on the boat. When I woke up in the hospital, Young Master Edward had left a letter, and His Grace the Duke was by my side.”
“So the Duke saved you?”
I gave a light nod and continued.
“He saw me like this and still brought me all the way home without running away.”
I finished speaking without overdoing it.
Seeing Father’s deep worry, I simply turned to leave.
“I’ll go wash up now. Please don’t overexert yourself, Father.”
The rest was up to his judgment.
Male lead reborn without memories — but he still falls for her.
The person he finds displeasing in this life turns out to be his cherished wife-master in previous life…
Xie Zhi and Fang Xianxing who had known each other for less than three days through a blind date sat in the same car in front of the civil affairs bureau. They had a disagreement and failed to get married.
Xie Zhi immediately took out his phone, slid through his contacts, and randomly selected the next marriage candidate.
The woman snatched his phone and hung up. Looking at his phone wallpaper, she awkwardly changed the subject: “An ancient painting, eh? It looks pretty good, it’s just that the person in the painting looks a bit like me.”
When he heard this, he sarcastically mocked her for being so delusional, completely unaware that, the person in front of him was the reincarnation of Wen Ru, the famous prime minister of Yuan Shun whom he most admired…
The female CEO who doesn’t want to get married with a divorce agreement in hand × The male archaeological researcher who will only get married if he’s sure he can get divorced
Wow, are prophetesses so common in this world that there are multiple renowned ones?