I Will Live for Your Death (20 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 16
“I understand Miss Celina’s intention well. I’ll take it as a refusal.”
Even if washed, it was doubtful whether all that mud would come off completely.
Considering how hard the children in charge of laundry would have to work, perhaps Celina was right—they should use it to clean the palace floors. Yet, since it had arrived as a gift, it couldn’t simply be used carelessly in some rough place.
Completely indifferent to Ilyd’s frustration, Celina bit her lip, gave a perfunctory bow, and strode sharply away.
‘She’s heading to the Imperial Palace.’
Without a doubt, Celina would recount Rivel’s rudeness—not as it happened, but exaggerated several times over.
How would Claudius react? Perhaps he would invoke the sacred authority of the imperial bloodline that ruled over Astrid and move to punish the insolent mercenary.
Just what did that fellow think he was doing, stirring up the Imperial Consort’s ire like this? Ilyd began meticulously weighing every possible scenario, determined to do her utmost to fix what lay ahead.
Rivel picked up the cloth Celina had tossed aside. Though covered in dirt, the delicately woven fabric still retained its former elegance. The soft material brushed against his rough hands, leaving behind only a dissonant sensation.
“Don’t you like light colors?”
The headache that had been building instantly dissipated at Rivel’s question. It was an unexpected inquiry. Startled, Ilyd met his gaze, trying to decipher his intent—but Rivel kept his eyes fixed on the cloth in his hand.
“I’ve grown averse to them since a certain time.”
Precisely since the day her entire family had been exterminated. From that moment on, Ilyd’s life had been defined by mourning and sorrow, leaving her clad only in black mourning attire.
Those who watched her lamented on behalf of Her Imperial Majesty the Empress, expressing pity—but others, more subtly, left remarks implying she shouldn’t remain gloomy forever.
Yet mourning knew no measure. Ilyd had resolved to remember the dead until the day her own life ended.
Branded as traitors, the Melphiram family couldn’t even properly mourn their dead. The only form of remembrance left to her was wearing dark, somber clothing.
Rivel gently lifted a still-unsoiled corner of the white cloth—a stark contrast to the dismissive gesture he’d used just moments before with Celina.
Too respectful to dare hold the mud-stained fabric directly against the Empress, he imagined instead Ilyd clad in white, standing at a slight distance.
It would suit her quite well. Her current dark-green attire harmonized gracefully with her clear eyes, but light colors would surely shimmer brilliantly against her silver hair.
Recalling the Empress before him, a flicker of life briefly returned to Rivel’s eyes.
“Rivel.”
At the end of her calling his name, there was a hint of an unspoken sigh. Rivel flinched, instantly snapping back to attention. His reaction—tensing at just a single word from Ilyd—made him look exactly like a large black dog obeying his master’s command.
Ilyd remained expressionless. No irritation, no anger, not even a trace of sorrow—just a blank slate. Her pale face seemed poised not to lift into a smile but to sink even lower.
“From now on, please be more mindful of your words and actions. That woman is a noble, and will soon be formally appointed as Empress Consort. Since she enjoys His Imperial Majesty the Emperor’s favor, harm may come to you as well.”
“Are you worried about me?”
“It’s not worry…”
Frustrated, Ilyd looked up at him. In that instant, their eyes met. The cold, hardened expression she’d worn moments before had vanished completely—so much so that she almost mistook his look for a smile.
“My apologies, Your Imperial Majesty. A lowly man like me dared cause a scene before noble lords and ladies.”
“It’s not because of your low status.”
Those words were sincere. Ilyd drew a firm line. Had she cared about social standing, Rivel would have been kneeling before her right then and there. Her gentle voice flowed softly into his ears.
“In the palace, even the smallest words or actions can be blown out of proportion. Since this is the Imperial Palace, everyone strictly observes etiquette according to rank—you must bear this in mind.”
How could someone brought into the palace act so recklessly? He had disguised himself without hesitation to avoid Claudius’s notice and often stayed awake through the night. He couldn’t afford to squander the opportunity he’d barely scraped together through such absurd efforts.
Rivel, his eyes now sharper, bowed his head deeply toward Ilyd.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“And… thank you.”
A sliver of Ilyd’s sincerity slipped out. Had things continued as they were, an argument between Lynette and Celina would likely have erupted—and Lynette might have suffered for it.
A mere pay cut would be the best-case scenario. Ilyd herself couldn’t predict what excuse the Emperor’s beloved “Shadow” might seize upon to cause trouble.
Thanks to the fearless mercenary who knew no fear, Ilyd finally felt a slight relief in her stifled heart. She stepped closer to Rivel and took the cloth still held in his hand.
Looking at the stained fabric, she felt an unexpected pang of sadness. She’d thought she’d parted with it without regret when deciding to gift it to Celina—but apparently, that wasn’t true.
She’d assumed suppressing her feelings and deliberately ignoring them would grow easier with time, yet they lingered stubbornly in some corner, tormenting her to the very end.
“It was quite a difficult situation—neither holding on nor letting go.”
Her words trailed off. Only then did Rivel, who had been listening quietly, finally loosen his grip on the cloth.
The fabric slipped away from him, carrying with it some inexplicable lingering attachment, and drifted silently toward Ilyd. Worried the Empress’s clothes might get dirty, Lynette quickly intercepted it and took it away.
Was this matter truly resolved? The real issue lay ahead.
Given Claudius’s character as Ilyd knew it, he would never punish Rivel outright. Most likely, he’d pretend not to notice, citing the magnanimity and mercy befitting imperial blood.
But Celina was different. Once appointed Empress Consort, she might very well seek personal vengeance against Rivel.
‘Surely, he wouldn’t foolishly oppose the future Empress.’
Though she didn’t consider him ordinary, he had an uncanny knack for subtly provoking others. She even worried he might react to every pointless provocation Celina carelessly tossed his way.
“Well then, I’ll take my leave.”
“Your Imperial Majesty.”
Ilyd’s shadow fell across Rivel’s feet as she turned to leave. There was a desperate yearning in the way he called out to her. Why did he always call her like that? Compelled by a voice she couldn’t refuse, she slowly turned back.
“Yours, Your Imperial Majesty.”
Was he referring to the cloth now in Lynette’s hands—originally Ilyd’s possession? Or perhaps implying that the Emperor’s affection rightly belonged to the Empress?
A sentence with its subject omitted could be interpreted either way. What exactly was he pointing to?
“What do you mean?”
“If I may be so bold… I hope you’ll cherish what belongs to you.”
A quiet loneliness lingered even in his faint smile. His voice was so soft it dimmed the bright sunlight.
“I’ve learned that if you simply let things drift away, regret will surely find you one day.”
So please—don’t let go. Hold on tightly until the very end. Even the tiniest hope could grow into something grand, something he could one day place into her hands. Ilyd mulled over Rivel’s meaningful words and gave a slight, respectful bow.
“Thank you, Rivel.”
Each time Ilyd spoke his name, Rivel’s fingertips twitched and trembled.
Just a few more steps, and he could reach her in an instant. Should he confess everything right now? That he knew everything, that he’d come to her side for that very reason—so she could rest easy.
“It’s an honor.”
In the end, he left only a formal, hollow expression of gratitude and walked away from Ilyd. It was still too early to reveal everything and place the end of his leash into her hands.
**
Claudius indifferently flipped through the documents. Leaning loosely in his chair, he was met with ceaseless chattering in his arms.
Having washed the mud from her body, Celina marched resolutely toward the Imperial Palace. She knew Claudius was busy with official matters, but there was no time to consider such things. She was eager to report this insult and have the arrogant mercenary punished immediately.
“Your Majesty, are you listening?”
“I am.”
“That mercenary actually dared to tell me, right to my face, to show proper manners? With his head held stiffly high… No matter how lowly he may be, such ignorance of noble etiquette is unacceptable.”
“What about the prior incident?”
“Huh?”
Celina’s hand, which had been caressing Claudius’s chest, froze in place.
She looked up slowly—Claudius’s crimson eyes seemed to know everything. She had to roll her tongue several times inside her mouth before she could force the words out.
“Her Imperial Majesty the Empress granted me a piece of fine cloth.”
“That’s fortunate. I was just thinking we’d need to prepare ceremonial attire—you’re lucky the Empress took personal care of it.”
He really should have stayed silent; instead, Claudius gave Ilyd rather generous praise.
Was it admiration for the Empress’s thoroughness? Celina suddenly felt a pang of disappointment. A petulant whine slipped out between her pouted lips.
“But then the wind blew the cloth onto the ground… and that mercenary suddenly appeared and threw the mud-soaked fabric over my head! He even said, ‘Since it’s stained with dirt, it must suit you well…’”
Celina had never endured such humiliation in her life.
Even while living in the countryside, she’d always been praised for her beauty. Of course, since coming to the capital, she’d been overshadowed by other talented young noblewomen—but her looks had never once been called lacking.
Yet out of nowhere, Rivel appeared and, without warning, insulted her rudeness and splashed her with mud. He was an arrogant upstart who had struck her perfectly beautiful world like a bolt of lightning.
Claudius, who had listened quietly to her story, twitched an eyebrow. He turned his gaze back to the documents and slowly repeated the name—Rivel.
A mercenary who dared defy nobles? He was clearly unlike any mercenary Claudius had previously contracted. Those men had always groveled before the Emperor and nobles, desperate to secure or extend their contracts.
Naturally, Claudius came to see them—as did the rest of society—as greedy, vulgar creatures moved only by coin, loyal to nothing but money.
But this man stood proudly against nobles. Was it arrogance met with equal arrogance? There seemed no other motive worth noting.
He’d shown no other ties to the imperial family, and maintained decent relations with his other employers.
‘Even his name grated on me from the start.’
What parent would ever name their child with a word meaning “rebellion”? Claudius let out a soft chuckle as Rivel’s name crossed his mind again.
“Your Majesty…?”
Celina stared at him, puzzled. His reaction was nothing like what she’d expected. Straightening her posture, she climbed onto his lap.
“Why are you laughing? Do you think the insult I suffered means nothing? Even if I am merely the ‘Shadow,’ I cannot tolerate being dismissed so brazenly.”
“Celina.”
Her expression softened slightly at his gentle tone. He set down the document and placed a hand on her cheek. His pale, clean fingers—stained invisibly with blood—drifted lightly over Celina’s face.
“I’d like you to forgive that foolish mercenary.”
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
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