Love You, Love You Not (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 002
Blachnatt, Agnoman, Parbader, Slyner, Echriu, Esparner, Pirbo, Fedlimid, Delgnad, Darknu.
The ten noble houses of the Empire of Da Farsade, whose hereditary titles and bloodlines had been passed down for generations.
The late Emperor Pobgen Ru La Farsade, faced with consecutive years of famine, recklessly sold noble titles to wealthy commoners to offset the imperial court’s extravagant expenses.
Ironically, the more titles he sold, the starker the divide became between these nominal nobles and the true bloodline aristocrats.
The ten houses barred the gates of high society with their own formidable, untouchable rules.
Among them, any man born into one of these ten houses was expected to follow a specific rule: enrolling in the military academy ‘Ecole Farsade’ to learn honor and pride.
However.
The curriculum at Ecole Farsade—accessible only to direct or even distant descendants of the ten houses—was notoriously grueling.
So much so that a common jest claimed any man who graduated from Ecole Farsade could endure even the most ferocious shrew of a wife for a hundred years; thus, not everyone from the ten houses could enter, and even fewer could complete it.
Should anyone fail to pass Ecole Farsade’s high threshold, they would be barred from commanding private troops—even as head of one of the ten houses—and during social season, they wouldn’t be allowed to attend fox hunts or even set foot in gentlemen’s clubs.
They might barely manage to attend a salon hosted by noblewomen—but only if a personal acquaintance among the noble hostesses risked her own reputation by extending a private invitation.
Yet there was one who had entered Ecole Farsade at the top of his class and consistently earned perfect scores in grammar, mathematics, music, rhetoric, logic, ethics, astronomy, military science, and marksmanship.
“Casar de Blachnatt.”
When the headmaster announced the valedictorian, no one was surprised—not even the man himself.
As he stood straight and elegant on the podium and slowly inclined his head toward a professor whose eyes met his, the entire audience fell into such a hush they forgot even to breathe.
Heir to the Blachnatt house—the sole ducal family among the ten—and the pinnacle of aristocratic society.
Casar de Blachnatt had been a monster among men during his time at the academy, never once showing a single hint of weakness.
In fact, the Crown Prince seemed more human by comparison—that said it all.
After all, unlike the Crown Prince—who had immediately returned to court upon hearing of His Imperial Majesty’s sudden death from heart failure, even canceling his graduation—Casar had lost his own father, the head of House Blachnatt, just ten days later, yet reportedly said:
“Rushing won’t bring the dead back. I’ll go after graduation.”
Of course, the Crown Prince’s situation was exceptional, concerning the very survival of the Empire. Normally, a ten-day mourning leave was granted for a father’s death, and with graduation only two weeks away, traveling to his estate at that moment would have been awkward.
But this was the Blachnatt house—of all places! Even if the funeral coincided with a state ceremony, who wouldn’t attend?
Wouldn’t it have been stranger if the heir himself missed the funeral? Especially when it was suspected murder?
Though many cadets had much they wanted to say, not a single one dared utter a word.
Naturally—no one in their right mind would risk falling out of favor with the man who, upon graduating, had instantly become both head of House Blachnatt and the Empire’s Sole Duke.
Even without that status or lineage, he possessed something that overwhelmed everyone he met—perhaps it was those cold, emotionless crimson eyes…
Or perhaps it was how his muscular build, rather than appearing bulky, gave the lithe, agile impression of a rosette jaguar—another quality that instinctively made others cower.
Thus, under everyone’s hushed awe, the man honored with top graduation honors descended from the podium with calm grace—neither rushed nor showy, elegant without affectation.
After the graduation ceremony, Casar gave a brief nod to his chauffeur and sat in the back seat of the waiting car.
His steward, Tu’an, who had come to greet him, was visibly anxious—but Tu’an knew full well that his new master was not the type to rush or worry needlessly ahead of time.
After showing minimal courtesy to Tu’an, his loyal retainer who had served the family for decades, the Duke sat upright in his seat.
Even amid the swaying carriage, Tu’an felt awed by his master’s unwavering posture and resolved to curb his own impatience.
“The late master’s funeral was properly conducted under the supervision of the bishop dispatched by the Imperial Court. His body was embalmed and laid to rest in the family crypt.”
“Good work.”
“Ah… Your Grace, what should we do about the culprit?”
“I heard the suspect still hasn’t confessed to the crime.”
Though the Duke’s tone held no reproach, Tu’an realized he’d spoken too hastily and quickly corrected himself.
“Oh—yes. They say the suspect refuses to speak at all.”
“What does my mother think?”
“Her Grace wishes that, unless a confession is absolutely necessary, we sever the suspect’s limbs, burn the body, and discard it beyond the estate.”
She likely wanted to execute the culprit immediately but had been waiting for permission from the estate lord who held judicial authority.
One of the ten houses’ immense privileges in the Teshia Empire was judicial sovereignty.
Though limited to their own territories and under nominal oversight from the Imperial Correction Bureau, for a house like Blachnatt—whose lands stretched from Conwell to Baltimore and Lindkoem—this authority was practically absolute.
Thus, while the murderer of the late Duke deserved execution, the issue was that without a confession, the suspect’s guilt remained technically unconfirmed.
Yet such was the power of his judicial authority that he could execute regardless…
Casar reached out and gauged the thickness of the documents Tu’an held. Glancing at the enormous stack, he pressed a hand to his forehead.
Of course, delaying his return to the estate under the pretext of graduation hadn’t helped—but arriving earlier wouldn’t have reduced the workload, either.
Should he trust the incident report submitted by Lindkoem’s Security Force? That a twenty-year-old woman—his exact age—had murdered his father?
Though worded delicately to protect the late Duke’s honor, the report implied his father had been killed by a commoner woman with whom he’d been having an affair.
“Put it on hold.”
With those brief words, the young Duke closed his eyes tightly. Though his posture remained impeccable, his face bore deep fatigue—and Tu’an swallowed all the pending reports he’d prepared to deliver.
There was no need to rush; now that the new master had assumed his position, everything would soon return to order.
It had been about a month since Casar sent Lakan, deputy officer of the Blachnatt Regiment, to Lindkoem. That afternoon, after finally clearing his backlog, he had his first meal together with his mother.
“My Lord Duke, you must be very busy. I’ve been worried whether you’ve been eating properly.”
The Duke greeted her with a nod. Even without a deep bow, his innate grace made the gesture feel formal.
“Thanks to your concern.”
His mother smiled contentedly at his dignified tone and conduct—unchanged whether addressing her or others. She felt proud of her flawless son, born with all the makings of a Blachnatt Duke.
Whenever this pride swelled, she also felt conflicted—her husband had passed away just days before witnessing their son graduate top of his class from Ecole Farsade, bringing immense honor to the family.
And ultimately, the unresolved case stuck in her throat like a thorn, making it hard even to swallow her food.
“You still haven’t obtained a confession, have you?”
The Duke’s leisurely hand, slicing tender veal, paused momentarily. Casar offered a measured smile in response to the mention of the suspect—his father’s alleged mistress and murderer.
“A reinvestigation is underway.”
“Do you believe she’s innocent?”
“I’m not sure.”
Faced with Casar’s indifference, the Duchess fell silent. Since the outside world only knew it was murder and nothing more, only she grew anxious at his calm demeanor.
Had she not long known his composure stemmed not from laziness but purpose, she might have rushed off to Lindkoem immediately.
As if reading her thoughts, Casar spoke first.
“I plan to go there myself soon to interrogate her.”
“My Lord… in person?”
“Yes.”
Of course. Her son would never let such a matter slide. He must have uncovered some new evidence during the investigation.
A smile touched the Duchess’s lips.
“I trust you’ll handle this wisely… in a way that upholds our house’s honor and dignity.”
Casar disembarked at Lindkoem Station—the eastern terminus of the Farsade Transcontinental Railway—and entered the vehicle brought by Deputy Officer Lakan, who had come to meet him.
Wasn’t this once the capital of the old Ebern Kingdom?
In early summer, Lindkoem overflowed with surging greenery. Along the broad avenues, fallen blossoms from the towering chestnut trees drifted in the wind like scattered confetti, decorating the streets.
Gazing out the window at this vibrant spectacle of life, Casar turned back to the pile of petitions he’d postponed reading.
Their contents were all similar: “Scathach couldn’t have done it,” “Scathach is a kind nurse,” “Scathach, Scathach…”—clearly, she was well-regarded, as the petitions had piled high. Since she’d been raised in a convent, dozens of letters came even from nuns.
Casar flipped through the tedious, formulaic appeals—until his hand suddenly stilled.
It was a letter from a physician named Loegal. Unlike the others, it insisted on meeting the lord in person. The writer claimed he’d gone all the way to the Duke’s manor in Conwell but was denied an audience by the Duchess, so he couldn’t deliver his message.
Casar’s long, bony fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest of the car’s back seat.
“They found a drug that induces heart failure in the suspect’s bag.”
Though his eyes remained fixed outside the window, his question had a clear target. Lakan, who’d been silently driving after briefing him on the case, straightened abruptly at the query.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Was the same drug detected in the body?”
“No—but the suspect was reported fleeing toward the convent, a firearm was found in her room, and she returned to the crime scene afterward. Considering all that, and given the late Duke’s cause of death was excessive bleeding from a gunshot wound, she became the prime suspect.”
Casar’s crimson eyes—previously fixed on the physician’s letter—slowly shifted toward Lakan.
“Who was the informant?”
“The report didn’t list a name. Only described him as a man of average build with orange hair and brown eyes. The Security Force said they treated it as an emergency and deployed immediately without recording his name; the description was added later… They’re tracking him now, but with so few clues, it’s proving difficult.”
This was getting absurd.
Casar sighed briefly, his eyes sharpening slightly, then asked again.
“Was there any sign the suspect’s firearm had been fired?”
“That’s… the Security Force reported the weapon went missing while they were securing evidence.”
Casar clicked his tongue quietly. The evidence so far was far from sufficient to convict her—unless it wasn’t murder at all, just an affair.
But…
A nurse from Lindkoem.
A drug that triggers cardiac arrest.
A father who’d never kept a mistress in his life.
A physician’s letter that felt odd—less a plea, more a warning.
An informant who vanished without a trace.
There were simply too many suspicious elements to ignore.
“Where does this nurse work again?”
“A private clinic near the Lindkoem forest.”
“A private clinic… Who’s the director?”
“Loegal.”
Confirming the physician’s name matched the letter, Casar gave a faint, almost derisive smile, twisting one corner of his lips.
“Turn the car around.”
The clinic they arrived at was the very same one where, four years earlier, he’d brought an unnamed little girl wounded by his own artillery shrapnel.
Not only was the interior unchanged—almost startlingly so—but the physician, who’d once discreetly allowed a mere commoner girl to receive daily visits from the young noble, was just as he remembered.
“Good day, my Lord.”
Loegal bowed respectfully. Seeing the boy he once knew now grown into a towering, imposing man filled him with quiet relief.
After all, the fact that this man had become the new lord—with full judicial authority—was undeniably good news for Scathach, who was surely the Duke’s first love from boyhood.
Male lead is reincarnated to save his wife
I’ve also read this one twice already. The female lead is kinda soft and gets embarrassed easily—not really my type, but the plot is definitely worth reading. Hurry up and read it, y’all!
Intro
When Shen Yuan encountered Su Jin again in his previous life, she had already become the Prime Minister of the current dynasty. As for him, the former top young master of the capital, he had long since fallen into the abyss, becoming a singer on a pleasure boat.
After a song ended, he was redeemed and sent to the Su Residence.
Su Jin respected and cherished him, gave him a roof over his head, and bestowed him with warmth. Shen Yuan fell deeper and deeper, but before he could express his feelings, Su Jin passed away.
Shen Yuan died to follow her in death, but instead, he returned to when he was fifteen years old.
At that time, he was not yet engaged, and Su Jin was just a poor scholar.
Shen Yuan gritted his teeth, casting aside all his pride, and thought of ways to coax and entice her every day.
The colder and more indifferent Su Jin was towards him, the more proactive Shen Yuan became.
He was not afraid of being mocked by the world, only wanting to marry his Wife-master early, to hold her hand and never let go for a lifetime.
[Note: This story will not specifically point out the male lead’s reincarnation time point; it’s all in the details. Whenever you feel that the male lead is acting strangely, he has most likely been reincarnated.]
[Touch the gear icon in the bottom right corner of the screen to move to the next chapter if you want.]
I see. So that was why he said he didn’t love her 😭
Now they are best friends hahaha so ezra is end now?
Haaah, can understand the reason for this novel is “love you, love you not” it was so hard for that words to be spoken