The bluish-gray of his eyes shone through his eyelashes every time he blinked. It was a color that seemed to carry the dawn that drives away the winter night.
Dressed in black, his tightly wound appearance did not seem frail. He looked like a statue cast from bronze.
He silently stared at Ilaide. In the palace, almost no one could meet the Empress’s gaze directly. Only Linette or Claudius, in private settings, talked comfortably with her.
But this unfamiliar man neither avoided nor ignored Ilaide’s gaze.
Libel absorbed her gaze completely. His eyes, deep with rich verdure, seemed to want to engulf all of her gaze. He would accept it, even if it were an undigestible poison.
“Should I escort you to the Empress’s palace?”
His tone carried a playful undertone. Ilaide, realizing what he meant, seemed a bit flustered.
“Oh, then… please do.”
A nighttime stroll had been rare for her. Sometimes, when sleep eluded her, she would walk outside, but it often had the opposite effect, awakening her further.
Sometimes she would end up staying awake all night, so Linette chose to forcibly put Ilaide to sleep instead.
Crossing the garden diagonally would lead straight to the Empress’s palace. The walk to the banquet hall had seemed long, but why did it feel shorter now?
“Were you born in the north?”
Ilaide asked first, more out of genuine curiosity than a desire to find out about this enigmatic man.
“I believe so.”
His answer was vague. Complex circumstances that needed to be hidden seemed to weigh down his words. Noticing the bitterness on Libel’s lips, she hurriedly interrupted.
“You don’t have to say it if…”
“My first memory is of a vast plain. I remember standing there with someone, facing the sharp, cold wind.”
It was a faint memory, perhaps the closest to his birth. But that memory soon broke off.
It was as if that part of his memory had been deliberately cut out and discarded. Whether it was due to shock, or someone’s intent, he couldn’t tell.
Or maybe it was a defense mechanism to forget a terrible memory.
“I was a combat slave.”
“Since when…….”
“Probably since I was about ten years old.”
It was a horrific statement, incongruous with his calm demeanor.
At ten years old, the worst thing in life should be sneaking out sweets under a parent’s watchful eye or throwing a little tantrum.
But Libel quickly learned the brutal rule: kill or be killed.
He learned to dodge incoming blades, to survive getting pierced by shrapnel. Before blood, it was the instinct to survive that ran beneath his skin.
He was sold repeatedly, endlessly. New wounds formed before old ones could heal. He concealed the bleeding and festering injuries with bandages and clothes.
But scars, while they can be hidden, can never be completely erased.
When Libel turned back, Ilaide was standing a few steps away, frozen. Surprised, he quickly went back to her and checked her complexion.
“I apologize, Your Highness, the Empress. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, it’s me who asked.”
She felt like she had needlessly stirred painful memories. Libel slowly took Ilaide’s hand again and led her forward.
“Then, let me tell you about the happier times.”
Ilaide lifted her head to meet his eyes. A faint joy emanated from Libel as he recalled the good moments.
“Do you know what was the first name I remember?”
“……I don’t know.”
“‘Kid.'”
That nickname for his size? Ilaide almost laughed, biting her lips. Whoever gave him that name probably never expected him to grow so much.
“Then a teacher of mine gave me a name.”
His current name. Libel. He remembered the laughter that erupted around him when he first heard it.
‘Our young master is really good at naming things.’
‘Why not? It sounds like he’s going to turn everything upside down. Besides… I like his eyes.’
The large, long hand that rested on Libel’s black hair. The teacher who first taught him the meaning of ‘family,’ like an older brother.
Libel gazed at the paper with his name. He decided then to first tell the person who had opened the beginning of his life this name.
But that person had already left. It had become really hard to meet him.
For a while, he looked disheartened, then his teacher came over, sat down beside him, and suggested.
‘Do you know? If you enroll in the academy and maintain top ranks, you can apply to the Imperial Guard. Then you can go to the palace. Those guys are a bit annoying but… What do you think? Go and change the atmosphere there.’
‘But my background…’
‘I sneezed and accidentally ate your slave document. Besides, there’s someone who rose to Imperial Guard Captain from commoner status. There’s a grumpy old man named Cailum Bestern in the palace.’
The man reassured Libel by seeing his mood lighten.
‘We’ll vouch for your identity. Try when you become an adult.’
Days marked with crosses on the calendar, waiting for adulthood. The adults he lived with would stand him up against the wall, marking his growth.
Is the mark still in the mansion?
“Your teacher must have been a good person.”
“……Yes.”
Ilaide felt somewhat relieved hearing Libel’s words. A solid rope that appeared in a life like a sticky swamp. It was fortunate he had such a person.
People draw strength to live again by recalling moments of good memories.
This time, Ilaide slowly took the lead. Libel followed her without question, moving wherever she led.
Suddenly, Ilaide’s figure from behind reminded Libel a lot of his teacher. The straight shoulders, the long silver hair cascading down her back, and the temperature that could be cold yet turn warm.
‘My lord.’
In his mind, Libel softly recited his teacher’s name.
Limres Lowen Melpiram. The benefactor and the man who had set the direction for his life.
And now, he had come to this place for the benefactor’s sister, another savior.
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
