Love You, Love You Not (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 007
Etin? Director Loegal? Or Sister Mila?
Scáthach blinked uneasily, recalling the people who had come to the mansion to meet her only to suffer and leave. Seeing this, the duke chuckled again.
“Forget every name that just popped into your head. I have no intention of letting you meet anyone who’s on your side.”
Finding something endlessly amusing, he stared at Scáthach’s sharp-eyed face and snickered for a long while before pressing the call bell to summon “Sergeant Lakan.”
Soon, the study door opened, and a man entered.
“I’ll come in, Your Excellency.”
He had short red hair and a scar above his eyebrow.
The duke, who had already adopted an emotionless expression, tapped the documents on his desk with his long fingers. At that, Scáthach’s gaze, which had been fixed on the man, shifted toward the duke.
“Greet him. This is Sergeant Lakan, who’s in charge of investigating the current case.”
She didn’t want to greet him. Though her face remained utterly indifferent, she knew—unlike others—that the duke was teasing her.
“…….”
But he had the necklace. Remembering this, Scáthach reluctantly bowed her head toward Lakan. Withholding her verbal greeting was her smallest act of defiance.
The man named Lakan, perhaps because he was a soldier, kept his tone strictly professional and stiff.
“Do you know how to use a rifle?”
The only firearms Scáthach knew were the old arquebuses used in the former Ebern Kingdom and the musket the duke had left behind in her hospital room four years ago.
But that didn’t mean she knew how to use them. The kingdom had fallen before royal heirs ever reached the age to learn firearm handling.
At best, she vaguely knew one had to pull the trigger—let alone operate a modern rifle.
“No… I don’t know how to use one.”
“Then, have you ever handled any other type of firearm besides a rifle?”
Scáthach shook her head.
“Then what firearm did you personally possess, and how did you acquire it?”
Though Lakan was the one asking, it seemed the duke was the one watching her answer with keen interest. Scáthach bit her lower lip slightly.
“Is that even relevant to the case…?”
“It’s not entirely irrelevant.”
Scáthach tried her best not to look toward the duke, who was leisurely smoking a cigar.
During her hospitalization, a noble boy—visiting daily with flowers offered as indifferently as charity—had left behind a gun. When Scáthach mentioned it, he’d said, “Take it. Throw it away or keep it—your choice,” with an exasperated face, treating both the flowers and the gun as bothersome clutter.
Back then, newly arrived at the convent and still bristling from the loss of her nursemaid, she’d thought owning a gun might be useful. Now, she regretted bringing it along for nothing—she’d never use it anyway.
If she’d known this misunderstanding would happen, she should’ve just asked Director Loegal to handle it.
“…Someone left it behind long ago.”
Upon hearing Scáthach’s reply, the duke—who had been leaning forward—set down his cigar with a deflated sigh and slouched back against his chair.
“Hmm.”
It was the deputy officer who pressed her next, as if spurred on by the duke’s boredom.
“A vague answer will only hurt your position. You claim you acquired something abandoned? When and where, exactly?”
“Four years ago, at the hospital.”
“Did you knowingly possess someone else’s firearm?”
“…I don’t remember whose it was. I was quite badly injured at the time.”
Just as Lakan was about to question Scáthach further, the duke raised a hand slightly, signaling dismissal.
“That’s enough. For now. Bring me any follow-up questions in writing.”
“But… Yes, Your Excellency.”
Scáthach frowned, eyeing the duke with suspicion. Only after the soldier Lakan departed did the duke finally lean his chin sideways and gaze at her with a faint smile.
“You’re quite the liar.”
“What lie did I tell…?”
Casar let out a soft, mocking laugh toward the shameless woman denying everything.
So, even Director Loegal remembers I drew blood from you, yet you claim you don’t remember who owned the gun you’ve kept all this time? And you expect me to believe that?
Ever since having Lakan confirm the gun was his, the duke had felt unsettled—undoubtedly because she still didn’t remember him.
Yet, rather than anger, he found the whole situation oddly enjoyable.
“I really don’t remember.”
“I truly don’t recall. My memory’s a bit hazy from the trauma of the accident back then.”
The duke scoffed dismissively and tapped the scar running across Scáthach’s collarbone with his long finger.
“…So your brain must be located here, then?”
“…….”
Casar let out a short sigh, watching the woman stubbornly keep her mouth shut. If she genuinely didn’t know, his persistent questioning would indeed seem strange.
Without seeking further answers from her, Casar rose and walked toward a console cabinet on the wall, pulling out a record.
“Do you like music?”
“…….”
He opened the turntable and placed the record on it—a small attempt to ease her distress over being misunderstood and his own insistence about her memory.
~♪♬
While he returned to sit at his fine red mahogany desk, the record began to spin, and music filled the room. Scáthach clenched her hands tightly in her lap, determined not to show how flustered she was.
Had he perhaps opened the necklace?
The piece he’d played was a symphony often listened to by Scáthach’s mother, Queen Ria of the Ebern Kingdom.
Scáthach looked at him anxiously, but the duke’s face revealed nothing—not even a glance in her direction.
“…Why… why suddenly play music…?”
Clearing her tight throat, Scáthach barely managed to feign composure. The duke’s crimson eyes, previously fixed on his documents, slowly turned toward her.
“Don’t you like it?”
“I… don’t really like… listening to music.”
Seeing Scáthach bow her head deeply, he let out another quiet chuckle and shifted his gaze back to the paperwork.
“I do.”
Realizing the duke had no intention of turning off the music, Scáthach squeezed her eyes shut.
She had to desperately distract herself to keep from crying while hearing the symphony she’d once listened to peacefully with her mother during childhood.
“It’s not that solemn a piece, you know.”
She’d thought lowering her head would hide it from him.
Scáthach took a deep breath, arranged a neutral expression, and lifted her head.
“I was just… thinking about when I might finally clear my name.”
“They say it’s by Berlioz—a famous composer from the Ebern Kingdom.”
Please, stop. She wanted to clamp both hands over that elegant mouth of his.
“Since the Teshia Empire occupied the area, this is the only thing left—really the sole remnant of Ebern Royal Palace.”
“…….”
“Isn’t it fascinating? That music survives even when the composer dies and the nation falls.”
To keep from lashing out at the duke’s words, Scáthach bit down hard on her lower lip before retorting sullenly.
“It’s not fascinating at all.”
“Oh? I specifically chose an Ebern composer because I heard you were from Ebern.”
So it wasn’t because of the necklace—just because she was Ebern-born?
Of course. It was an old pendant requiring a precise pattern alignment to open and reveal the Ebern royal crest. Unless someone had deep interest, they’d hardly bother opening it.
Somehow, the tension that had chilled her fingertips began to ease.
“…Commoners like me rarely get chances to hear music.”
“Then you ought to thank me for giving you the opportunity.”
Scáthach frowned as she looked at him. He tilted his head slightly, smirking at her with only the corners of his mouth.
“…I suppose so.”
Unconsciously, she let out a soft laugh, mirroring the duke’s own. It was astonishing how effortlessly one could mock another—even without intent.
Perhaps she should even be grateful she hadn’t burst into tears remembering her parents, executed by the Teshia Empire.
After a month of funeral rites, Attila finally took off his mourning attire today. He removed his black coat and handed it to his head butler, then rubbed his roughened face with both hands.
The tiresome funeral was finally over.
He’d never once shared a good relationship with his father, who had only ever acknowledged the First Crown Prince as his child while he lived.
Even after forging Attila’s status from illegitimate son to legitimate heir of the Empress, the old man had spent his whole life fretting incessantly over his secret being exposed.
Only when House Blachnatt—the leading house among the Ten Noble Houses—refused to mobilize troops during the fall of the Ebern Kingdom and openly supported Attila, the Second Crown Prince, did the late emperor finally relent.
Though only House Fedlimid—the family that produced the First Crown Prince’s consort—had supported the reckless First Crown Prince, the emperor’s obsession with bequeathing him the throne returned with his dementia.
Thus, remembering how his father had tried to depose him from the crown prince position before dying, Attila felt lucky if he could even refrain from laughing—let alone shed tears.
“Has the duke still not returned from Lindkoem?”
“Yes, Your Highness. He’s said to still be staying in Lindkoem.”
“Does he plan to come up only for the coronation? Showing his face just once at the funeral—how insolent.”
Despite his sharp words, a smile lingered on Attila’s face. Casar had been his first true friend—the only person to ever offer him genuine companionship in the palace, where even his father’s affection had been unattainable.
“Shall I send a messenger to request his return?”
He’d have loved nothing more than to ride down to Lindkoem immediately and go hunting with Casar… but Ezra’s disappearance weighed on his mind.
With Ezra’s unknown schemes lurking somewhere, leaving the palace before the coronation was clearly unwise.
“No? The Security Force neglected their investigation into the late duke’s case. He went down there to resolve it—I’d only earn his scolding if I summoned him now.”
“You’re right. By the way, someone from the palace administration came earlier. They said they’ve taken all the Lindkoem Security Force members into custody.”
“Ah… those bastards… Daring to tarnish the imperial honor with their shoddy investigation. I swear… I’ve got a bad feeling he’ll find some leverage against me through this.”
Knowing Casar de Blachnatt’s true nature—unlike those who idolized him as the perfect noble—Attila could clearly foresee just how harshly Casar would reprimand him over this incident.
Of course, arresting the security officers wasn’t only about that.
Growing up, Attila had never felt his father’s absence—thanks entirely to the late Duke Blachnatt. It was he who had genuinely mourned throughout the late emperor’s funeral.
Attila even wished he could rush to Conwell to preside over the late duke’s funeral alongside Casar.
Thus, arresting all those officers who’d so absurdly concluded the blameless duke—a man of impeccable character and virtue—was murdered by his mistress felt like the only way to ease his fury.
“Your Highness… you must watch your words… You’re about to ascend the throne… Someone might think you and Duke Blachnatt are sworn enemies.”
Had it been Crown Prince Ezra, he would’ve instantly beheaded the head butler for such audacious advice. But Attila merely laughed cheerfully and patted the butler’s shoulder.
“Cut me some slack. I’m careful in front of others, aren’t I?”
Surely, everyone wholeheartedly hoped for the same thing—that the wise, compassionate, and virtuous Second Crown Prince would become emperor.
At least, that was how Ohad—who’d served in the imperial palace since childhood—felt.
“How could I possibly presume to ‘cut you slack,’ Your Highness… If you have no message for the palace administration, shall I take my leave now?”
Attila nodded.
“Tell the palace administration to thoroughly verify whether there was any external pressure on the investigation. I’ll be heading there myself soon.”
Bad taste.
Even after she’d explicitly said she didn’t particularly like music, the duke had left it playing while heading to bathe—and not just any music, but Berlioz’s.
She longed to open the turntable and stop the music right away, but the handcuffs chained to the bedhead made it impossible.
She’d barely held back her tears in the study—but alone now in the empty bedroom, hearing the music she’d once peacefully shared with her mother… could she possibly hold back her tears?
The duke, emerging from the bath, clearly hadn’t imagined she might be crying. Seeing large tears drop heavily from Scáthach’s eyes, he approached her with a look of alarm.
“Scáthach.”
For the first time, the duke spoke her name, cupping her face and lifting it gently. His voice sounded unusually kind—and paradoxically, her tears dried up at once.
My Arch-enemy Sealed My Memory and Said That He is My Husband
This is an incredibly captivating story that you absolutely shouldn’t miss! I’ll give a brief introduction here, and below you’ll find a detailed synopsis of the plot.
The female lead is a fierce and powerful demon king. The male lead is a once-in-a-millennium celestial lord, admired by the entire cultivation world.
They are equally matched, legendary rivals who have battled for centuries.
In the final duel, the female lead is gravely injured. The male lead saves her, seals her memories, and hides her true identity. He tells her that he is her fiancé. His entire life has been flawless—except for the one thing he never expected, never controlled, and never wanted to control: falling for his greatest enemy. She is his inner demon, his obsession.
When the female lead regains her memories, she is furious at his deception.
She makes his life a living hell.
And somehow, the male lead—possibly a total masochist—doesn’t mind at all. In fact, he’s happy she’s paying attention to him.
Yep, we’re back to my favorite trope: male lead suffering. If you love this kind of story, jump into the pit with me now!!!
Intro
Dong Xia lost her memory.
Her handsome and extremely powerful fiancé Li Qing comforted her: “It’s okay if you can’t remember. I’ll always be with you.”
Everyone thought Dong Xia’s ancestors must have burned incense to get such a perfect fiancé. He was the number one person in the immortal realm, yet he remained chaste and only loved her.
…
The day before marrying her fiancé, Dong Xia finally remembered everything.
She wasn’t suffering from memory loss at all.
Her arch-enemy had made her fake her death, destroyed her cultivation, replaced her memories, and pretended to be her deeply in love fiancé.
No wonder he said, “It’s okay if you can’t remember”!
Dong Xia laughed coldly as she pulled out her long knife: Li Qing, prepare to die 🙂
*
Li Qing, as the supreme being of the immortal realm, was the people’s shining beacon.
The only unknown stain in his life was his affection for Dong Xia, the ruler of the demon realm.
In the final battle of the war between immortals and demons, the sky collapsed and the earth shattered. The ruler of the demon realm was finally slain under the sword of the supreme being of the immortal realm, and everyone in the immortal realm applauded.
The cultivation world lost a ruler of the demon realm.
And in the back mountain of Li Qing’s cave dwelling, he secretly hid away a fiancée.
Notes:
1. The female lead is white on the outside, black on the inside, and the queen of flattery; the male lead repeatedly tests the edge of darkness, a VIP guest at the crematorium.
2. Fantasy cultivation world setting.
[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