Love You, Love You Not (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 016
Nouveau nobles, having bought their titles, would even hire butler-like attendants at great expense just to imitate the ten great noble bloodlines.
Members of the Vakra class—whose social status and honor existed in name only—would parade around apprentices like Nemed to display their influence and maintain dignity.
Having accompanied his lawyer to a meeting of “Le Demang,” Nemed accepted the frock coat handed to him by his employer and hung it on a freestanding coat stand.
Cigars and wine were laid out on the table as they discussed domestic politics and international affairs. Nemed sat politely, holding the cigar offered by his employer, listening attentively to their conversation.
It was during a discussion about how the Teshia War would conclude with the decisive battle at Evan Bacher that Nemed learned Saive had decided to volunteer at a field hospital.
Saive was still too young to be a full member of “Le Demang” and usually attended meetings accompanying a certain professor—precisely because that professor, dissatisfied, had brought up the topic.
“To think he’d choose a field hospital at the very peak of his studies! My disciple is so stubborn—I’m starting to wonder if I shouldn’t bring him along anymore.”
“That’s just how youths his age are. Blind loyalty to the nation and youthful vigor call them to the battlefield. Ah, weren’t we once like that ourselves?”
An elderly man twisted his beard between his fingers as he spoke, and the surrounding men chuckled heartily in agreement.
Saive looked like he had much to say, yet kept his head slightly bowed with a quiet smile—the very embodiment of how a disciple should behave when his master speaks of him.
Only after the elders began their card game were the disciples finally free to leave the room and step into the parlor.
The younger men either lit the cigars the elders had left behind or started a game of billiards, forming small groups to chat.
Nemed approached Saive, who was holding his cue at a slight angle, and casually struck up a conversation.
Internally, he had already marked this man as a potential match for Scathach—now that Saive was heading to the field hospital, Nemed felt a sudden warmth of kinship toward him.
Perhaps a meeting more natural than he’d imagined might yet unfold.
When Nemed asked when Saive would be leaving for the field hospital, Saive laughed heartily, urging him to speak plainly. The two men—both straightforward and affable—quickly grew closer.
“Well, this is unexpected! Had I known we were alumni, I’d have spoken to you sooner.”
Upon learning that Saive was also from Merton College, Nemed suddenly felt that budding sense of connection rapidly fade away.
Of course, Scathach was exceptionally beautiful, kind, and admirable—but would a well-bred physician from a prestigious college truly consider a woman who’d once briefly been a noble’s mistress as his equal?
It wasn’t Scathach’s fault—yet no matter how one might conceal it, the fact that she wasn’t a virgin after marriage could never be hidden.
Of course, the Church would accept even pig’s blood to verify a marriage contract—but such a scheme would be impossible without the groom’s cooperation.
“Sigh…”
“What’s wrong?”
Saive asked with a gentle smile as Nemed let out a deep sigh.
“Nothing. It’s just… I’m worried about my younger sister at the field hospital.”
“You have a sister at the field hospital? Then you’ll meet her soon—I heard the Royal Household will be sending supplies to Evan Bacher shortly, and a few of us, myself included, will be accompanying the shipment. If you have anything to send her, just let me know.”
“I don’t know how to thank you! I’ll surely repay you someday. My sister’s name is Scathach…”
Seeing Saive’s friendly smile, Nemed allowed himself to hope once more.
Perhaps if Saive worked alongside Scathach and grew fond of her, he might become someone willing to overlook such matters.
***
The field hospital at the Teshia War’s front lines offered generous pay.
Amidst grueling conditions abroad—where many nurses had dropped out and doctors kept rotating—Cathleen had endured solely for that reason.
If she absolutely had to name another reason, it was the rare chance to meet, up close and without restraint, noblemen from the ten great houses—figures one might encounter only once in a lifetime.
Since injured nobles relied on medical staff regardless of their social standing, treating them with a touch of superiority was something of a bonus.
After all the original cohort of field hospital nurses had left, Cathleen was named head nurse.
Given her seniority, this was an unprecedentedly rapid promotion she could never have dreamed of in civilian life. Even after the war ended, she likely would retain privileges befitting a head nurse.
Working happily thanks to her high pay and professional pride, Cathleen paid no mind even when soldiers occasionally muttered about the head nurse’s ill temper or criticized her appearance.
Who did they think she was here to romance? These men were so starved for female attention they’d consider a married woman in her mid-thirties as fair game.
But that day was different.
There was exactly one man whose appearance made married Cathleen’s heart flutter—Admiral Blachnatt. Not so much romantic longing as the kind of figure who reawakened the giddy thrill of girlhood.
Truly, God was unfair. How could the man leading the Blachnatt family and commanding an entire division—head of one of the ten noble houses—also possess such flawless looks?
While tending a minor scrape on the Admiral’s forearm in his private hospital room—reserved especially for him in the ward building—Cathleen quietly listened as he spoke in his deep, resonant voice with Fedlimid, the division commander.
He was merely pointing out a minor issue that had interfered with their operation.
“But when’s the head nurse finally gonna quit?”
The voice drifted in through the window from outside the private room. Their room was on the second floor, and the soldiers were gathered against the outer wall.
A few hospitalized soldiers had probably stepped outside for idle chatter—their voices were too faint to catch unless one listened carefully.
“Considering she only became head nurse because there was no one else, she sure gives the other nurses hell. If you’re ugly, at least be nice!”
“Ah! I wish that new pretty nurse would become head nurse instead. Then every morning I could cleanse my eyes with her lovely face.”
“Don’t even think about it—she’s got plenty of suitors already.”
“I’m just speaking as a medical professional. Yesterday, the head nurse wrapped my bandage so tight I nearly lost a toe to gangrene! If that pretty nurse hadn’t noticed and rewrapped it, I’d already be a disabled veteran!”
After a brief pause, crude laughter floated in on the wind. Perhaps the Admiral hadn’t heard—but Cathleen’s face was already flushed with shame.
Ignorant, vulgar men who knew nothing about medical care!
She only learned later that evening, when two soldiers came to formally apologize, that Admiral Blachnatt had indeed overheard the conversation—having ordered them to seek out the head nurse and issue a proper apology.
It wasn’t unbearable knowing the Admiral had heard gossip about her—he wasn’t the sort to judge people based on others’ slander.
But being compared to that “pretty nurse” was intolerable. That young, inexperienced woman—whose only merit was her face—was no match for Cathleen, who had guarded the field hospital since the war began.
Afterward, upon checking, Cathleen discovered that this nurse named Scathach frequently redid tasks Cathleen had already completed—re-sanitizing wounds or rebandaging injuries.
“Why did you reapply antiseptic to the patient in Bed 19? I already treated him.”
“Huh? Oh—Iodine triggered an allergic reaction in him.”
The shameless, blunt reply—uttered without a trace of apology—left Cathleen speechless. She knew iodine allergies were rare but did exist.
Yet if that were truly the case, she would’ve caught it during morning or evening rounds and re-treated him herself—why publicly humiliate her like this?
“Don’t touch my patients anymore.”
“He was suffering so much… Besides, isn’t he a third-floor patient? Weren’t you the one who assigned me to the third floor?”
Scathach never simply accepted anything or replied with a meek “Yes.” It was enough to make Cathleen furious.
“Are you really that stupid? I clearly said second floor!”
The “pretty nurse’s” eyes flicked toward the duty roster posted at the third-floor corridor entrance.
Thankfully, it was far enough that Cathleen couldn’t see clearly—but if it had been within view, Scathach would surely have pointed and insisted, “Look, my name is clearly written here!”
“Go tidy up the trays in the back!”
“Ah… okay. I’ll finish and head down to the second floor.”
Cathleen hurried toward the third-floor staircase and quickly peeled off the nameplate labeled “Scathach.” Truly, everything about that woman grated on her nerves.
Even so—
She didn’t actually believe Scathach had stolen medical supplies.
It was simply that while others washed laundry with hands cracked open from frostbite, Scathach—thanks only to her looks—had easily won favor and washed laundry wearing expensive latex gloves. That frivolousness was what bothered her.
“If you dislike it so much, then from today on, Miss Scathach can prove her resolve by cleaning the medical supply storeroom alone.”
Finally, Cathleen saw the expression she wanted. As a blush spread near those large amber eyes, she felt as if a long-standing blockage in her chest had cleared.
She hadn’t really expected Scathach to clean the storeroom entirely by herself—it simply wasn’t feasible to do alone.
“I’ll do it—the storeroom duty.”
That exact reply was precisely what Cathleen disliked: that attitude, as if Scathach alone were competent enough to render others utterly incompetent.
***
Late at night, Scathach removed her hospital apron and stepped out of the dormitory building in a plain dress.
Converted from an old building adjacent to the ward, the dormitory wasn’t comfortable—but it was still far better than the barracks where soldiers slept.
Still, being told to clean the medical storeroom alone…
Since the unit had relocated to Evan Bacher, the storeroom hadn’t been organized even once—it was absolute chaos.
It was also an eerie place: ever since a soldier had hanged himself inside, even fetching supplies there made everyone uneasy.
She briefly wondered if Cathleen had been serious—but Cathleen had trembled with laughter upon hearing Scathach’s acceptance.
She’d even added that since daytime staff were too busy, the task must be done at night.
Ériu had waited to accompany her but fell asleep. The moment Scathach stepped out of the single-story dormitory behind the hospital, regret washed over her—she should’ve woken Ériu.
It was terrifying. So terrifying. Among the desolate tents stretched across the wasteland, it would’ve been stranger if ghosts hadn’t passed by.
Scathach stood frozen like ice before the barracks looming ominously in the winter darkness and cold wind, unable to move.
“It’s not scary, not scary… Someone has to do it anyway…” she chanted like a spell, taking step after hesitant step—
“Huh! Huh!”
“Huh?”
The familiar sound made Scathach’s eyes widen. It was a welcome interruption.
“Mungmungi!”
In the pitch-black surroundings, the black dog was invisible—but a soft, furry body suddenly rubbed against her legs. It was the most heartening moment she’d had so far.
“Wait… don’t go, okay? Come with me… please…! I’ll give you ten blueberries tomorrow…”
Scathach fumbled to grasp the dog’s neck and shuffled forward awkwardly—struggling both to navigate in the dark and to keep Mungmungi from slipping away.
So distracted, she didn’t even notice she’d lost her bearings.
The medical storeroom couldn’t possibly be this far… It was near the hospital building—she was sure of it.
As she walked with Mungmungi, Scathach grew confused—was her own clumsy, hesitant pace slowing her down, or had she taken a completely wrong path?
“Hey… Mungmungi… I need to get to the medical storeroom…”
“Woof!”
The black dog stopped and let out a tiny bark, as if understanding her words.
But then—
The tent door she’d assumed led to nothing suddenly swung open.
“Ah!”
Gaslight flooded out before her. Though dim—as expected in a warzone—Scathach gasped in surprise, letting out a small scream as she dropped to the ground, clutching the black dog.
“What’s this? Where’ve you been? Everyone’s just about to leave!”
A group of women poured out, dressed in flamboyant outfits that boldly displayed ample cleavage, heavy with perfume.
“Y-yes?”
An older woman stepped forward, grasped Scathach’s arm, and pulled her up.
“Quickly, go inside and change first. That outfit is certainly original—but we didn’t come here to flirt, did we?”
The other women tittered, glancing at Scathach’s plain, unadorned dress.
Instantly, the area around the tent grew noisy, and Scathach couldn’t understand why they were saying such things to her.
“I’m on my way to the medical storeroom. What on earth are you talking about…?”
“Mung! Mung!”
Until that moment, Scathach had been awkwardly clutching Mungmungi’s torso—but now the dog spun its tail wildly and thumped her legs vigorously. Everyone’s heads turned at once.
In the faint light spilling from the tent, a tall silhouette cast a sharp shadow—its chiseled nose like a sculpture’s.
The man’s appearance drew every eye as if magnetized, seeming like a masterpiece crafted by a divine sculptor who’d poured his very soul into it.
His face was even more unreal than in her memory.
Yet he was precisely the man Scathach never wanted to encounter again. When their eyes met, her mind went utterly blank.
Mungmungi, standing near Scathach, trotted over to the Duke and rubbed against his legs. Seeing the Duke halt abruptly, a man following behind—Sergeant Lakan, a familiar face to Scathach—offered an explanation.
“These are the women summoned by Fedlimid’s division, Your Excellency the Admiral.”
But from the moment he appeared, the Duke of Blachnatt’s crimson eyes locked onto Scathach as though pinned there. With a face colder than frost and a gaze that spoke of seeing something unbearable, the Duke finally spoke.
“…What are you doing here.”
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
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