Love Me Just Once (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 11
The Grand Duke seemed to instantly recognize where his own dark mark had originated.
That day, left abandoned in the cold hall, Idren overheard the Grand Duke confessing to the Queen Consort that, about five years ago while at the borderlands, he had committed an adulterous act with a prostitute.
The Queen Consort dismissed everyone except the knight she had brought from her homeland, then slapped her husband’s cheek. The sharp crack of the blow sliced through the frigid air.
Due to northern tradition, which forbade ignoring an illegitimate child, the Grand Duke ultimately had no choice but to bring him into the castle.
Though no one welcomed his existence, there was no alternative—his eye color was far too distinctive to cast him out into the world.
Of course, being brought into the castle did not mean he was acknowledged as the Grand Duke’s son.
Idren stayed in the servants’ quarters, helping with their chores, and whenever any of the Grand Duke’s sons called for him, he had to rush to serve them like a personal attendant—or else be beaten senseless.
Seven years passed that way.
It was not long after he turned eleven that it happened. Since his exact birth date was unknown, Idren always counted his age from the first day of the new year.
Before even the first month of that year had fully passed, the Grand Duke summoned him to the master’s dining table.
Unlike the day he was abandoned at the gates of Sigrasil Castle, Idren remembered that day vividly.
The impossibly high ceiling of the hall, the dining table so dazzlingly ornate it felt oppressive, the King and Queen Consort dressed in stiff-collared garments, and their three princes.
And himself—the gaunt, starved boy standing before them.
That day, the Grand Duke seated him at the very end of the table.
With contempt and discomfort staining his expression, the man spoke as though spitting out phlegm.
“Your place will be there from now on.”
From that day onward, his status within the castle changed subtly.
He still served as the three princes’ personal attendant, but he no longer performed menial chores. Proper clothing suited to the season and a basic—yet decent—education were also provided.
Idren had no idea why his circumstances had shifted.
At first, he wondered if perhaps they hated him slightly less. But that wasn’t it at all. The Grand Duke still looked at him as if he were filth, and the Queen Consort was no different.
The three princes were even worse. It was miraculous his bones hadn’t shattered, given how often they beat him every other day.
Two years passed. When he turned thirteen, the Grand Duke summoned him alone.
“Prepare yourself to attend the summit.”
The summit was a gathering held whenever the weather was favorable, where the royal families of the three nations possessing divine artifacts—Reden, Egelbamot, and Aglante—came together to spend time.
Because it was a symbolic event dating back to the founding of each nation, anyone who had never attended the summit could not be recognized as a true royal child, even if born of the king.
Thus, the Grand Duke had taken his sons to the summit several times before—but Idren had never once been included in his retinue.
Hearing those words, Idren nearly deluded himself for a moment—perhaps the Grand Duke finally saw him as his son.
What kept him from making that foolish mistake was the sheer contempt in the eyes that met his when he lifted his head.
[This is the timeline separator]The three princes were displeased that he, who had never shared their privileges, was now joining them at the summit.
They expressed this resentment quite physically, so that by the time they arrived at Egelbamot’s summer palace—the venue for this year’s summit—Idren was bruised everywhere except his face.
At the summer palace, he received the same treatment as the three princes—at least outwardly. He was given a room adjacent to theirs and seated at an equal spot at the dining table.
Even without much education, he could tell it was a kind of mockery. His clothes, his possessions, even his speech and mannerisms—all screamed “servant,” yet he was treated like a prince. To anyone watching, it would look utterly ridiculous.
Idren knew everyone was laughing at him. But he had neither someone to defend him nor the strength to defend himself.
There was only one thing he could do: stay locked in his room, trying to stay out of others’ sight.
At least there was some luck—the palace offered plenty of other entertainments.
True, none of the summer palace’s amusements were meant for him, but Idren was more than satisfied just knowing the three princes were too absorbed in their new toys and games to remember him.
Avoiding people’s eyes, he stayed holed up in his room, counting the days until the summit ended. He had once thought nowhere could be worse than Edegroon, but the longer he stayed at the summer palace, the more he missed Sigrasil Castle.
At least there, aside from the three princes, no one mocked him—not out of kindness, but simply because everyone had grown used to his presence. And Idren missed that familiar indifference.
But fate rarely aligned with his wishes.
One night, Lemethel—the eldest of the three princes—entered his room.
“Idren, the banquet is about to start, and you’re still sleeping?”
Before Idren could even answer, Lemethel yanked him out of bed. Having shot up in height recently yet grown even thinner, Idren was instantly flung onto the floor.
While he was still dazed from the sudden impact, Cineron and Roselle entered the room. Lemethel’s two younger brothers were two and three years older than him, respectively.
Flustered, Idren fumbled across the floor of his dimly lit bedroom, the lone lamp casting flickering shadows, and stammered,
“Wait, Lemethel—what banquet are you talking about…?”
“Lemethel? You should address him as ‘Your Highness the Prince’!”
Cineron burst into loud laughter. Lemethel waved a hand to silence him. “Shh, Cineron.”
“We didn’t come here to torment you.”
Then, with a face eerily similar to their father’s, Lemethel grinned brightly, backlit by the light.
“We came to help you attend the banquet.”
The three brothers dragged him out of his bedroom. Outside, the air buzzed with noise and bright lights—it truly seemed a banquet was underway, just as Lemethel claimed.
Knowing full well how disheveled he looked and that no one would welcome him, Idren struggled desperately to return to his room.
Though the adults’ banquet was held separately, and the place they were heading was supposedly arranged for children, he knew he’d be unwelcome anywhere.
But he never had the right to refuse in the first place.
Lemethel, gripping the back of his collar to prevent escape, flung open the banquet hall doors and shoved him inside with a forceful push.
The strength behind that shove made Idren stagger. He nearly fell but barely managed to steady himself. Laughter erupted from somewhere in the crowd.
Bright lights flashed above his head; mocking voices and music echoed all around. Idren shrank into himself. A chill raced up his spine.
He took a step backward, trying to slip out of the banquet hall—but someone blocked his path. It was Lemethel.
“Oh, Idren. You came all this way and won’t even dance once before leaving?”
“L-let go of me. I don’t…”
Lemethel seized his chin and hissed in a low voice,
“Where do you think you’re running? You followed us to the summit without knowing your place—didn’t you expect something like this?”
Idren tried to protest to his half-brother, who was twice his size—that it wasn’t his choice to come to the summit, but the Grand Duke’s.
But Lemethel was quicker, hurling him back toward the center of the banquet hall.
The boys and girls filling the hall burst into laughter as if it were the most amusing spectacle.
Giggles rang out from every corner. Idren felt his breath quicken. His head spun, and his vision blurred.
Standing firmly behind him to prevent another escape, Lemethel shouted,
“Now, is there any kind soul willing to dance with this poor wretch? Though he’s utterly unrefined, a little pity would be a lifelong honor for this filthy creature!”
Then, gripping both of Idren’s shoulders tightly, Lemethel whispered,
“If even one of those noble young ladies agrees to dance with you, I’ll let you go.”
It was clear as day: he intended to toy with him like a plaything until the banquet ended. Idren’s face turned deathly pale.
For other boys, raised in nobility since birth, dancing once would mean nothing—but he was different.
He’d never learned to dance, and above all, he was a bastard.
The houses of Mebasa of Reden, Sigrasil of Aglante, and Luntalis of Egelbamot placed greater importance on marital vows than other royal families. They treated children born of infidelity like demons.
Who among those noble girls would ever dance with him?
Trapped in the grim certainty of being mocked for hours on end, Idren hunched his shoulders—and Lemethel giggled cruelly. He shouted again,
“Any gracious lady willing to show mercy to this filthy wretch? If truly no one steps forward, he’ll just have to stand here all night!”
The moment Lemethel finished speaking, laughter erupted once more throughout the hall. Idren squeezed his eyes shut. Heat flooded his face; his nose stung. It felt as if a brutal hand was choking him.
Suddenly, silence fell.
Realizing people weren’t giggling anymore but whispering, Idren slowly opened his eyes.
With his gaze fixed downward, the first thing he saw were a pair of tiny slippers embroidered on white deerskin.
Startled, he lifted his eyes slightly—and saw the hem of a blue dress above them.
Higher still flowed waves of silver, and above that, a delicate chin.
Realizing a girl stood before him, Idren jerked his head up in surprise.
That was when he met her wide, azure eyes.
Male lead first thought she played hard to get, only to realize she
really disliked him
Short intro:
What she can’t stand the most is the streets full of effeminate men, especially that so-called top beauty whom she avoids at all costs.
Shen Yaoxing looks at Jiang Mingyue, who keeps approaching her with coy shyness.
Shen Yaoxing: Bro, don’t be like this, I’m really about to throw up!
She fears nothing in heaven or earth, except for him getting close to her.
*
At first he thought she was just using the trick of feigning indifference to attract his attention. Later, he learned that she truly despised him.
This dealt a heavy blow to Jiang Mingyue, and he vowed to make her, like everyone else, fall at his feet in worship!
***
Synopsis:
Before transmigrating, Shen Yaoxing only wanted to find a reliable man to spend her life with. Who knew that after transmigrating, she would become a reliable woman herself…
A forced misandrist, highly skilled, and reliable female lead
vs.
An initially aloof and arrogant, later morbid, obsessed male lead
_____
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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