Love Me Just Once (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 1
Idren Sigrasil had only one wish: love.
She was his wife from afar—the daughter of King Dares Mebasa of Reden, Ophelia Mebasa—and from the very bloodline, she was unlike him.
Idren was the Grand Duke’s illegitimate son, while Ophelia was a princess born with legitimate rights to succession.
Had he not slain his own father and brothers himself—and thus never become Grand Duke of Aglante—he would not even have dared send her a marriage proposal.
Beyond that, countless differences existed between Ophelia and him. His black hair was practically proof of impurity, while hers—the silvery locks—were the royal family’s hallmark.
Having nothing left but Aglante, he cared for that land as if it were his own body, yet Ophelia showed no interest in him or anything that belonged to him, Aglante included.
Yet among all these distinctions, one stood clearest of all:
Idren desired her, and Ophelia did not.
It was evident on her face from their very wedding day.
On the night of their wedding ceremony, Ophelia sat on the bed, slowly blinking her blue eyes, gently shadowed by the candlelight.
Though he appeared reflected in those eyes—like a sky devoid of stars—that was all. Nothing resided within them: no goodwill, no curiosity, not even a trace of hostility.
Thus, before ever kissing her, Idren always felt compelled to offer an explanation.
Sitting beside Ophelia, he muttered that although they were indeed married, if she disliked him, he would not force intimacy—and that come morning, they’d only need to claim they’d consummated the marriage to preserve his dignity.
Her reply to this rather pitiful excuse on their very first night together was indifferent.
“There’s no need for that.”
She told him to do as he pleased.
So Idren kissed her with utmost care. Ophelia did not push him away, and he took that as her permission.
Idren still remembered all those feelings he’d held countless times that night.
Perhaps Ophelia, too, wished to make this marriage work… Maybe, just maybe, she held some slight interest in him…
How foolish that delusion had been.
Ophelia had simply told him to do as he pleased for one reason alone: whether or not they shared a bed, their relationship would remain unchanged.
Misinterpreting that as a sign that she might not love him but was at least willing to try—that was entirely his own mistake.
That delusion came at a steep price. For presuming to guess Ophelia’s heart, Idren endured three hopeless years—three years spent solely trying to win her favor.
Only after burying himself in emptiness for over a thousand days did he finally awaken.
Ophelia’s eyes were not the open sky—they were the deep sea. She would never show him the heavens.
He might as well have been buried at the ocean’s floor.
Realizing this truth, Idren grew confused. Was what I’ve been doing truly love? Could love really be this pitiful, this stifling, this stubborn?
Yet before that doubt could solidify into certainty, he lost his chance to prove anything.
For around that time, Ophelia died.
[This is the timeline separator]It was a peaceful death.
On that morning, Ophelia’s face—her breath having ceased—was as serene as one who had finally found long-awaited rest. So tranquil, in fact, that the maid sent to rouse her assumed her mistress was merely asleep.
By the time Idren arrived at Ophelia’s chamber upon hearing the news, many had already gathered inside. Physicians and servants bustled about, while knights stood guard, controlling entry and exit.
Amidst the commotion, Ophelia lay peacefully on her bed. A faint flush still lingered on her cheeks and lips, and her pale, delicate hands rested calmly upon her stomach.
At first, Idren wondered if she might be playing a trick on him.
Of course, he and Ophelia had never been close enough to joke with one another. Still, Ophelia often tormented others with cruel pranks.
She’d even been meddling in flower prices lately, in her own mischievous way.
Despite knowing this, Idren nearly reached out to grasp her hand and check for warmth—then immediately scoffed at himself. Fool. If you take her hand here, you’ll only prove she can toy with you however she pleases.
Though he’d rushed here as soon as he heard something was wrong, Idren didn’t want to show how deeply he still clung to her.
So he retracted his outstretched hand and called her name.
“Ophelia.”
His voice was deliberately cold. Not as icy as hers, perhaps, but Idren, too, knew how to treat someone with chilling indifference.
Yet Ophelia gave no reply.
That silence sparked unease within him.
Ophelia had always been indifferent toward him, but she’d never harbored malice. Even if her actions often felt malicious, Idren knew the truth.
She’d never deliberately ignored or insulted him to cause him pain—she simply lacked the will to do so.
Thus, if she’d heard him, she would have opened her eyes.
Idren’s lips trembled.
“Ophelia…?”
His voice, suddenly robbed of its coldness, brimmed with panic. He quickly seized her hand resting on her stomach.
Cold skin met his touch.
[This is the timeline separator]What Ophelia had drunk was a deadly poison. Known as “Romance,” even a single sip of this toxin brought death—the name derived from the faint blush that lingered for a day on the cheeks and lips of its victims.
Because of this, the poison was popular among nobles, who wished their corpses to appear beautiful to those who found them.
The physician suggested Ophelia had chosen this poison for the same reason.
Hearing this, Idren let out a hollow laugh. Romance? What romance could there possibly be in taking one’s own life?
Had the victim not been his own wife, he might have mocked them without hesitation.
But Idren could not ridicule Ophelia—not when, despite all her actions, he could feel anger or shed tears for her, but never scorn.
So he said nothing, and time flowed on, indifferent to his silence.
It happened on the day marking one month since Ophelia’s death.
He was rarely in his right mind these days. By day, he feigned composure as he sat upon the throne and governed; by night, he sought solace in drink. Through this lifestyle, he’d even discovered a drinking habit he never knew he had—constantly twisting the ring on his finger.
That ring, set with a large yellow gemstone, was passed down only among the Sigrasil bloodline.
Though legends called it “God’s Fragment” and bestowed upon it the grandiose title “Kiss of Hope,” Idren cared nothing for old tales. He twisted the ring simply because it sat upon his finger.
That night, drunk as ever, Idren wandered the palace gardens, fiddling with his ring.
It wasn’t pleasant weather for a stroll. The royal palace stood in northern Aglante, and regardless of geography, nighttime brought chill everywhere.
But his chest felt stifled, his face burned, and he simply couldn’t bear staying cooped up indoors—his drunkenness only made him more honest with his usual emotions.
Thus, as he wandered the gardens, he arrived at the small well in its center.
The gray well, streaked with red moss, had existed since the founding of the Sigrasil royal line.
Leaning against the cold, unused stone, Idren pressed his temples. His head throbbed.
And there was only one reason for this headache.
“…Ophelia.”
Gazing down into the well, Idren murmured the dead woman’s name. Ophelia, Ophelia.
By the fourth repetition, it had already turned into an accusation.
“Why did you do it?”
He spilled the words out as if she stood right before him.
“What was so displeasing to you? What caused you such discontent?”
He spat the questions into the dark void as though it were a conduit reaching straight to her.
His heart, bruised as black as the hole before him, poured out easily. Realizing hot tears were dripping from his eyes, Idren hastily inhaled. He tilted his head back slightly and muttered, “No… you simply disliked me, didn’t you?”
“No matter what I did, you found it distasteful….”
Otherwise, she could never have abandoned him so abruptly, without a single warning.
Idren wiped his blurred vision. How utterly wretched—to cling to a dead woman and shout at a well in the dead of night.
After steadying his breath, he spoke in a trembling voice.
“…I hate you now, too.”
But what difference did it make to despise someone already gone?
Collecting himself, Idren leaned against the well once more. He glanced down at the ring in his hand. The yellow gemstone, symbol of royal authority, glimmered faintly in the darkness.
What was the point of any of it? he suddenly wondered.
Though seated on the throne, he remained as unhappy as he’d been when he was still the Grand Duke’s illegitimate son.
The one thing he’d truly desired hadn’t merely slipped from his grasp—it had never even come within reach. And the person he’d believed would walk through darkness beside him had instead plunged him deeper into the mire.
Yet the most absurd part was this: even now, his desire remained unchanged.
Despite knowing how utterly wretchedly Ophelia had left him, Idren still longed to understand why she had died. He still needed to know what he’d done wrong to be abandoned.
It was then that the ring slipped from his grasp.
As the thick-banded ring tumbled into the darkness, Idren instinctively reached out—only to realize, almost simultaneously, that he himself was falling into the black abyss.
When male lead is the homewrecker
“I know she doesn’t love him.”
I’ve read the novel below twice already. Girls, I’m highly recommending it to you!
The female lead? Not a good person.
The second male lead? Not a good person.
The male lead? Willingly plays the third party, breaking up the female and second male lead’s relationship despite all the warnings from his friends—so yeah, he’s definitely not a good person either.
Basically, nobody in this novel is simple-minded or without scheming.
The female lead starts off as the male lead’s secretary, but don’t worry—later on, she takes over the company while the male lead steps back to support her. He won’t steal her spotlight, overshadow her, or dull her shine.
I love novels where men are out here snatching wigs, tearing each other down, and going to war just to win the female lead’s affection. And this is exactly that kind of novel. Most of Hai Dai Ran’s works have this dynamic. You’ll see the male characters’ emotions being pushed to the absolute extreme.
There’s even a scene where the second male lead exposes the male lead online for being a homewrecker. The brotherhood immediately gangs up on him, dragging him through the mud. I find it compelling —it completely flips reality on its head, where usually, women are the ones fighting over a man and getting torn apart by the sisterhood.
For me, female leads in the novels I read should only struggle in their careers, not in love. But if the brainless romantics in the story are all men? I have zero complaints.
I’ve pretty much read all of Hai Dai Ran’s novels and even translated all of them—her works are just my thing. I’ll slowly upload everything here. One day, when my website is official, I hope I can invite her to join as one of the star authors.
Here’s the story synopsis:
One-line summary: She is his lifelong obsession, to the point where he was willing to be a third wheel, scorned by society, just to wedge his way into her relationship with her fiancé.
Cold-hearted and indifferent female lead + Scheming and subservient CEO male lead
Intro 1:
“I know she doesn’t love him.”
With blood trickling from his clenched fist, Rong Xiu gazed at the woman before him, his eyes clouded with anguish. Hidden in the wardrobe, he had witnessed Fan Xia – the woman he desperately loved – in an intimate embrace with her fiancé. Yet his heart still yearned for her, defying all reason.
Fan Xia, the elegant and composed assistant, carried something mysterious in her eyes whenever she looked at her fiancé, Wen Lan Sheng. Strange occurrences began to surface – secret meetings with the young Gu Jin Yi, an unexplained withdrawal of 5,000 yuan… Then suddenly, her fiancé’s sister, Wen Jing, violently attacked her.
In this matriarchal society, Rong Xiu had risen to become the chairman of a powerful healthcare conglomerate, breaking through gender prejudices. But for the first time, he willingly stepped into the shadows as the other man, disregarding his friends’ warnings to become her secret lover.
Because he had discovered the truth – Fan Xia wasn’t the pure angel everyone believed her to be. And perhaps, he was the only one capable of helping her execute her mysterious plan…
Intro 2:
Rong Xiu’s biggest regret in life was missing out on Fan Xia.
He secretly loved Fan Xia for 7 years.
Watched her go public with her boyfriend.
Watched her kiss her boyfriend at their wedding.
Until that man blissfully nestled in Fan Xia’s arms, obtaining everything he could only dream of.
The crazy jealousy stripped away his hidden secret love, layer by layer, burning like wildfire.
Fan Xia, how can I have you!
【Reading and Trigger Warning Guide】
1. Female dominant, male submissive, male pregnancy
2. Male lead schemes his way to the top, male competition
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Please help me, I want to bring you the best possible things.
If you find any chapter or novel with poor translation and editing quality, let me know by commenting directly under that novel or chapter. I will retranslate it as soon as possible.
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Cowardice? Bitch you barely even look at him or speak to him 😦😡
Finally! Put her in her place!!! She should treat you better 😡😡😡
That caught him by surprise 😭🥺🤣 that he almost choked