I Have A Terminally Ill Duke As My Husband (1 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 7
People are truly deceitful creatures—that much is clear.
For Mercian, reading Lucianne’s thoughts was the easiest thing in the world.
Well, if one had to be precise, perhaps it was because she’d been on the receiving end so often since childhood that she’d instinctively learned to understand her without even realizing it.
Lucianne, backed by Penelope’s boundless trust and love, had tormented her relentlessly.
Outside, she was the Beannoman Viscount’s proud eldest daughter—graceful, kind, and unfailingly sweet—but the moment she stepped inside the house, she’d remove her mask and unleash all the stress she’d accumulated outside onto Mercian.
Especially on days when someone had said something unpleasant to her or something disagreeable had occurred, she’d either break Mercian’s precious belongings or wound her with cruel words.
Having endured Lucianne’s abuse for so long, Mercian instantly recognized what she intended to do the moment she saw her smile while looking at the soup.
If this had been at the viscount’s estate, Mercian would have pretended not to notice, playing along despite knowing better.
Enduring Lucianne’s mistreatment had always been easier than confronting her, after all—because Mercian had always believed that if she alone bore it, everything would be fine….
But today was different.
She couldn’t possibly inconvenience the many people at the ducal estate who had worked hard since dawn to prepare everything for her.
Above all else, wasn’t today possibly the one and only wedding of her entire life?
Mercian abruptly rose from her seat, firmly grasped Lucianne’s wrist just as she reached toward the soup, and said with a gentle smile,
“Sister? What exactly are you trying to do right now?”
Taken aback by Mercian’s unexpected action, Lucianne stared at her in surprise for a moment, then frowned in pain and cried out as if her captured hand hurt.
“What? Mer! Wait—let go! It hurts!”
“Sister, surely you’re not planning something childish like spilling the soup on my wedding dress?”
“What nonsense are you spouting? I just thought the soup looked delicious.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. Where do you get off lying like that…?
Lucianne flushed with anger, glared at Mercian, and struggled to pull her hand free.
But Mercian paid no heed to Lucianne’s efforts, gripping her wrist even tighter while using her other hand to tug on a cord.
As soon as she pulled the cord, Charles and Clea simultaneously entered through the door.
“My lady, is something the matter?”
“Clea? This is my elder sister. She said the soup you brought me looked so delicious. Would you mind taking it to her instead? My apologies.”
“Huh? The soup?”
Unlike Charles, who looked utterly bewildered, Clea—having worked in noble households for years—took in the scene: Mercian holding Lucianne’s wrist tightly while wearing an awkward smile.
Among noble sisters, many who seemed close on the surface actually harbored deep animosity, and their jealousy often manifested in ways that surpassed expectation. Thus, Clea decided it was best to quickly remove the soup.
“Understood, my lady. Charles, please take away the soup. Honestly, how could you bring soup so close to the wedding dress? Go fetch some water as well.”
“Oh dear! I hadn’t even considered that. The soup was just so delicious today—I truly apologize, my lady. I’ll clear this away immediately.”
As Charles hurriedly took the soup dish out, Clea turned to Lucianne and spoke.
“My lady, I’m sorry, but I must ask you to leave this room now.”
“Leave? Are you seriously telling me—the elder sister of the girl who will soon become duchess—to leave? And you, a mere maid?”
After wrenching her wrist free from Mercian, Lucianne clutched her throbbing wrist, scowled, and muttered a protest against Clea’s words. Clea responded with a slight bow.
“If my words caused you offense, I sincerely apologize. Of course, it’s customary for the bride’s family to stay together before the wedding—but as you yourself just pointed out, the young lady who will soon become our mistress finds your presence here discomforting. Our master has explicitly instructed me, as chief steward, not to let anything today upset Lady Mercian’s mood—not even if the cause is her own elder sister.”
What did she just say? “Mistress”? But the wedding hasn’t even happened yet….
Sigh. These people really are pushing it….
Lucianne glared at Clea, who courteously insisted she leave, then forced a smile and spoke.
“You said you’re the chief steward, right? You’re a more diligent maid than I expected. As your master—the duke—has ordered, I’ll leave my sister in your care. Since she’ll soon be your mistress, I’ll give you a special warning: as you can plainly see, she knows how to do nothing except eat. Back at the viscount’s estate, no matter how often I told her to stop eating so much, she never listened. And she never properly learned noble etiquette either….”
“My lady, that isn’t something for you to worry about.”
“What?”
Clea cut off Lucianne’s attempt to openly disparage Mercian.
“Whether our mistress chooses to sleep all day or eat with her hands, who among us would dare criticize the duchess? I don’t know why you’re so concerned, but we intend to follow her wishes without question, regardless of her actions. Please stop worrying and return to the reception hall now.”
“Y-you dare interrupt a noble like me? You insolent maid?”
Lucianne raised her hand as if ready to slap her on the spot, but Clea responded with a respectful bow.
“Shall I repeat what I just said? Our master instructed me only to preserve our mistress’s mood today. All other behavior will be overlooked.”
“Fine! I’ll leave now, alright? Mer, you’re really going to have your hands full—with such a sharp-tongued chief steward around. Someone as foolish as you will be completely manipulated. Tsk tsk!”
Frustrated that she couldn’t spill the soup and unable to humiliate Mercian in front of Clea as she’d hoped, Lucianne hurled an insult at her sister—only to receive a response entirely different from what she’d anticipated—and stormed out of the room.
“Clea… I’m sorry.”
“My lady—or rather, I should now call you ‘Mistress.’ Please forget everything the viscount’s daughter just said. Today belongs to you. And this is just between us, but in my eyes, you’re far more beautiful than any other noblewoman or young lady present today—especially compared to your own sister, that viscountess-to-be.”
Clea comforted Mercian, who had apologized to her, with a warm smile, bowed politely, and left the room.
I’m far more beautiful?
More than Luci?
It was the first time.
The first time anyone had ever complimented her appearance….
But why?
Mercian found Clea’s unwavering support so unfamiliar and strange that she couldn’t even manage to say thank you as the maid exited the room.
Just hearing that she was prettier than Luci made Mercian’s heart swell tenderly, and suddenly her nose stung with unexpected tears.
Ah, I mustn’t cry! My makeup will run….
Mercian reached for a tissue to wipe away her tears.
Knock knock.
“C-come in.”
“My lady, I have something brief to discuss before the wedding. Goodness—you’re crying? Did something happen?”
Seeing Cassel’s alarmed expression, Mercian quickly wiped her tears and replied.
“Oh—no, it’s nothing.”
Cassel glanced around the room briefly, then sat down in front of her.
“We need to finalize the contract before the wedding.”
“The contract?”
“The matter I mentioned during my last visit to the viscount’s estate.”
“Oh… right.”
Cassel took out the documents and placed them before her.
“As discussed previously, the marriage will last six months. Officially, it’s been announced that His Grace the Duke is ill; in truth, he was poisoned during the war.”
“Poisoned?”
“Yes. For details, you’ll have to ask the duke himself.”
“But isn’t there an antidote for poison?”
Well, there might be—but given that the duke was utterly devoid of emotion, a cure would be impossible.
“There isn’t one. That’s the current understanding. Now, as per the terms, in exchange for agreeing to maintain the marriage for six months, you were to receive 250 gold coins as dowry, an additional 100 gold monthly for six months to the viscount’s estate, and 250 gold as alimony. However, the viscountess insisted on receiving both dowry and alimony upfront, so we’ve already paid 500 gold coins in advance.”
What? She received both dowry and alimony already?
Mercian looked flustered at Cassel’s words.
“Oh—were you perhaps unaware of this?”
“Yes, I only just found out.”
“If you’d like the dowry returned, I’ll go back to the viscount’s estate and retrieve the remaining gold.”
Return the money?
After all the trouble she’d just caused, how could she possibly handle the aftermath?
Mercian waved her hands dismissively and answered.
“Oh, no—it doesn’t matter whether I receive it now or later; it’s not really my money anyway.”
“Huh?”
“Well, now that this is confirmed, let’s move on.”
“Very well.”
“Also, if you conceive a child during the six-month marriage period, you’ll remain at the ducal estate as duchess and raise the child until they come of age and inherit the duke’s title. The child’s gender doesn’t matter. If no child is conceived, you’ll simply leave the estate after the six months as agreed.”
“Yes, I was already informed of this last time.”
“And there’s a clause requiring you, as the wife, to share the duke’s bed at least four nights per week to ensure conception.”
“Ah—yes. Wait, four nights per week?”
Seeing Mercian’s stunned reaction, Cassel reread the clause aloud.
“It’s a condition to guarantee conception within the six months. I already discussed this with the viscountess—surely she didn’t neglect to tell you?”
So this condition existed….
Clearly, Penelope—who knew Mercian would never agree to marry the duke if aware of this clause—had deliberately kept it from her.
Spending four nights a week with the duke for six months? She’d assumed she could simply avoid him, prevent pregnancy, and leave the estate without any worries.
But now, with the dowry already received and the wedding happening today, backing out was impossible….
Though—perhaps the duke would find her disappointing and avoid her himself?
“My lady?”
Lost in thought, Mercian smiled and replied to Cassel’s query.
“Oh—sorry! Please go on.”
“And one more condition was added at your own suggestion.”
“Added? Ah—you mean in case no child is conceived.”
“Yes, we’ve included the request you made last time. Additionally, the duke himself added a further stipulation: when the time comes, he’ll ensure you receive enough funds to live comfortably for the rest of your life.”
“Oh… no, what you’ve already given is more than enough. I don’t need anything more.”
Receiving so much just for playing duchess for six months—how could she possibly ask for more?
Though she hadn’t personally received the money, she felt the sum paid for six months of marriage was already generous.
If she could just learn good cooking while staying at the ducal estate, she wouldn’t have to worry much about earning a living later—so Mercian declined Cassel’s offer.
She waved her hand and replied to Cassel.
“The duke personally insisted this be given as a gift to the wife who stands by him in his final days. Please accept it—he asked that you discuss the matter with him directly.”
Mercian remained silent for a moment upon hearing Cassel’s words, then slowly nodded.
“Alright. I’ll speak with the duke about it, as you suggest.”
Could it be that, unlike the viscountess and eldest daughter, she truly had little greed for wealth?
Cassel inwardly wondered at Mercian’s unexpected reaction—so different from the joyful eagerness he’d anticipated upon presenting Luan’s proposal.
“Now that you’ve reviewed and confirmed all terms of the contract, please sign here.”
Mercian took the pen Cassel offered, signed the document, then watched as he gathered the papers and asked,
“Is His Grace in very poor health?”
“Though it’s called poisoning, there aren’t any severe symptoms. He’s simply lost excessive weight and lacks the strength for physical activity.”
Excessive weight loss and lack of strength?
Weren’t those the most serious problems of all?
“Well, the contract is now finalized. I’ll see you at the wedding ceremony, my lady.”
So it’s really happening… I’m truly getting married….
Watching Cassel leave with the contract, Mercian finally grasped the reality of her impending marriage.
My Arch-enemy Sealed My Memory and Said That He is My Husband
This is an incredibly captivating story that you absolutely shouldn’t miss! I’ll give a brief introduction here, and below you’ll find a detailed synopsis of the plot.
The female lead is a fierce and powerful demon king. The male lead is a once-in-a-millennium celestial lord, admired by the entire cultivation world.
They are equally matched, legendary rivals who have battled for centuries.
In the final duel, the female lead is gravely injured. The male lead saves her, seals her memories, and hides her true identity. He tells her that he is her fiancé. His entire life has been flawless—except for the one thing he never expected, never controlled, and never wanted to control: falling for his greatest enemy. She is his inner demon, his obsession.
When the female lead regains her memories, she is furious at his deception.
She makes his life a living hell.
And somehow, the male lead—possibly a total masochist—doesn’t mind at all. In fact, he’s happy she’s paying attention to him.
Yep, we’re back to my favorite trope: male lead suffering. If you love this kind of story, jump into the pit with me now!!!
Intro
Dong Xia lost her memory.
Her handsome and extremely powerful fiancé Li Qing comforted her: “It’s okay if you can’t remember. I’ll always be with you.”
Everyone thought Dong Xia’s ancestors must have burned incense to get such a perfect fiancé. He was the number one person in the immortal realm, yet he remained chaste and only loved her.
…
The day before marrying her fiancé, Dong Xia finally remembered everything.
She wasn’t suffering from memory loss at all.
Her arch-enemy had made her fake her death, destroyed her cultivation, replaced her memories, and pretended to be her deeply in love fiancé.
No wonder he said, “It’s okay if you can’t remember”!
Dong Xia laughed coldly as she pulled out her long knife: Li Qing, prepare to die 🙂
*
Li Qing, as the supreme being of the immortal realm, was the people’s shining beacon.
The only unknown stain in his life was his affection for Dong Xia, the ruler of the demon realm.
In the final battle of the war between immortals and demons, the sky collapsed and the earth shattered. The ruler of the demon realm was finally slain under the sword of the supreme being of the immortal realm, and everyone in the immortal realm applauded.
The cultivation world lost a ruler of the demon realm.
And in the back mountain of Li Qing’s cave dwelling, he secretly hid away a fiancée.
Notes:
1. The female lead is white on the outside, black on the inside, and the queen of flattery; the male lead repeatedly tests the edge of darkness, a VIP guest at the crematorium.
2. Fantasy cultivation world setting.
[Touch the gear icon in the bottom right corner of the screen to move to the next chapter if you want.]
Most Commented This Week
The Villain Has Gone Mad For Me (Completed Main Story)
I’m The Lowest-Ranking Daughter Of A Martial Arts Villain (2 Chapters Left to Complete)
I Became the Assassin Family’s Foster Daughter (Completed Main Story)
Men of the Harem (137 Chapters Left to Complete)
The Duke Only Needs My Child (Completed Main Story)
At the End of Ruin, There You Are (56 Chapters Left to Complete)
She’s a Villainess but her Husband is Handsome (Completed Main Story)
People Aren’t Meant to Be Fixed! (4 Chapters Left to Complete)
My Discarded Fiancé Returned (Completed Main Story)
Summer Must Die (16 Chapters Left to Complete)
I Received The First Time Of My Extraordinary Superior (9 Chapters Left to Complete)
Regret With All Your Might (Completed Main Story)