My Discarded Fiancé Returned (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 9

Serena could hear the pounding of her own heart with her ears. In Lucas’s embrace, she distinctly sensed a man’s presence that differed from her memories.

Above all, it was clear that his arms had grown large enough to hold her with room to spare.

“I’ve come to reclaim my betrothal vow.”

His deep voice resonated right beside Serena’s ear. Overwhelmed by this unprecedented closeness to a man, she had no composure left to decipher the emotion hidden in Lucas’s tone.

“Serena Astel.”

That Lucas, too, was trembling—just as she was—and that he had spent the past six years rigorously training himself solely to deliver these words today.

“I’m taking my fiancée with me now.”

His low, decisive tone jolted Serena back to her senses. Instinctively, she pushed hard against his chest with both hands.

Her sincerity was such that Lucas staggered backward.

“It’s impossible.”

As if her earlier blush had never existed, Serena looked at Lucas with a composed expression.

“What did you say?”

Lucas frowned his elegant eyebrows and growled softly, “Impossible, I said.”

Serena continued to regard Lucas calmly.

She didn’t even need to recall her past life—the humiliation from the betrothal ceremony six years ago remained vividly fresh.

Back then, she’d exchanged harsh words with her much shorter fiancé simply because she was taller than other women, and she still remembered the mocking laughter of the noble guests.

“You are my fiancée. We’ve already exchanged our betrothal vows…”

“That was six years ago.”

Her blue eyes coldly met Lucas’s before she seated herself on the sofa first—an act grossly against etiquette. Lucas glared at her for a moment, then wordlessly took a seat.

“This works out well. I never expected Your Highness to come all the way here in person.”

“What do you mean? You don’t seem particularly glad to see me.”

It felt strange—how the boy with only fierce eyes back then had grown into such a man.

“If Your Highness hadn’t come, I would have had to travel to the capital myself.”

“You’re talking nonsense again. Isn’t it my duty as your fiancé to come fetch you?”

Serena quietly studied the stern-faced Crown Prince. Aside from her resolve, she felt unchanged from the 18-year-old girl she’d been—but Lucas seemed like an entirely different person.

“Your Imperial Highness truly is well-versed in etiquette and custom.”

Serena’s blue eyes regarded Lucas with meaningful intensity. He, of course, understood this wasn’t praise.

“Then surely you also know our betrothal has become void.”

Lucas unconsciously furrowed his brows even deeper. This reunion with his fiancée—the one he’d imagined and longed for over six years—was nothing like he’d envisioned, and the atmosphere was already shattered beyond repair.

“I’ll repeat your own words: our betrothal becoming void is impossible.”

Seeing Lucas let out a hollow laugh, Serena realized people truly couldn’t change completely. He remained as arrogant as he’d been at their betrothal ceremony.

“Six years have passed.”

A faint smile touched Serena’s lips, as if she held a secret trump card.

“So what? Our betrothal vow remains unchanged whether six years or sixty have passed.”

“Yes, that’s a historical fact.”

Lucas narrowed his eyes at Serena. Though his logic seemed sound, she appeared strangely confident.

“And it will also go down in history that, by custom, our betrothal was annulled two years ago.”

Serena smiled, already tasting victory. As was often the case, customs formed over long ages sometimes held as much weight as law itself.

“Don’t make me laugh.”

“I have legitimate grounds.”

It was precisely because of that custom that she, despite being the Crown Prince’s fiancée, could leave the capital and freely manage the Astel domain.

For the first few years, Lucas’s existence had troubled and unsettled her—but once four years passed, her worries vanished completely.

Ever since her father, Duke Astel, irresponsibly left on a journey right after that dreadful betrothal ceremony, Serena had to carve out her own path.

—I’ve finally started a new life. I refuse to waste it again worrying about others’ opinions.

She would have preferred simply being a comfortably wealthy heiress—but of all things, she’d become the Crown Prince’s fiancée, a position drowning in relentless public scrutiny.

Moreover, hadn’t the betrothal ceremony alone sparked endless ridicule about her height? She’d rather die than spend her life listening to people who’d never contributed a thing to her growth.

—Breaking off an engagement is better than divorce. Especially if the other party is the Crown Prince—divorce might even be impossible here. And since this world resembles the medieval era… if my guess is right, there must be a solution.

Serena’s intuition proved correct. After a month buried in dusty tomes at the capital’s library, she finally found her answer.

—Of course!

The ancient book, its pages releasing clouds of dust with every turn, bore a clear papal seal—and exactly the passage she needed.

[Betrothals, like marriages, must be made in the name of our rightful God…]

She remembered that moment vividly—holding her breath as she read to the end of the paragraph, then skipping past the irrelevant preamble to the crucial line:

[However, any betrothal unfulfilled for four years shall be considered implicitly annulled.]

That single sentence became her light.

In medieval-like eras, a woman missing her marriageable years was tantamount to ruining her life. Provisions like this likely existed because wartime or famine sometimes prevented grooms from claiming their brides.

“Such customary laws apply only during wartime—and only to commoners. They have nothing to do with us.”

“They do.”

Serena stated firmly and opened the notebook she’d been studying intently just moments before.

“Chapter 17, verses 3 through 9 of the Papal text ‘The Sacred and Holy Vow.’”

“…What?”

Regardless of Lucas’s scowl, Serena pressed on.

“Chapter 2 of ‘The Imperial Household Regulations and Noble Conduct,’ compiled by His Imperial Majesty the Fifth Emperor of the Tern Empire.”

“That’s far too outdated—the Imperial Household no longer enforces it. You wouldn’t know; you’re not yet part of the royal family.”

“No. His Imperial Majesty the Twelfth Emperor revised it to suit current circumstances in ‘The Imperial Household Cradle,’ Chapter 4, and the same clause appears in Chapter 3 of ‘The Noble Etiquette Preservation Edict.’”

She smiled faintly, her expression relaxed—as if revealing winning cards one by one in a game.

“Shall I list more records?”

When Serena asked, holding up her notebook, Lucas glared at her—a clear refusal.

“Every currently valid record states that a betrothal unfulfilled for four years is void.”

“Do you think I’d follow such outdated books?”

Truthfully, she’d never imagined Lucas would return looking so robust. But Serena had prepared insurance just in case.

“After the betrothal ceremony, I spent several months alone in the capital before moving to the Astel domain—thanks to personally informing His Holiness the Pope, who officiated our betrothal, of my situation.”

“My situation?”

“Since the ceremony, I’ve never once seen Your Imperial Highness, and I was told not to attend your departure ceremony.”

Though the Emperor had ordered this after witnessing their awkward display at the betrothal, context was everything.

“Moreover… twice a year, I’ve confessed and apologized for my inadequacy—that Your Highness never once sent a letter or messenger in all this time.”

Lucas’s mouth opened wordlessly. While rumors about the Crown Prince neglecting his betrothal had circulated during his travels, he’d assumed they’d be easily dismissed—now realizing that assumption had been utterly wrong.

In fact, by using confession as an excuse, Serena had effectively created proof that the Crown Prince had abandoned his fiancée for six years. No wonder the nobles had quietly begun seeking new candidates for Crown Princess.

“I never cast you aside.”

“But you never reached out either.”

It was fortunate, upon reflection.

“His Holiness the Pope, who officiated our betrothal, is well aware of this.”

“Hah.”

Lucas had envisioned only the day he’d return strong and confident to claim his fiancée—never sparing a thought for anything else.

Meanwhile, Serena had meticulously prepared contingencies, even while assuming her fiancé might never return.

“Is that all you thought about during my absence?”

Betrayal and bitterness colored Lucas’s voice, but Serena barely paid it any mind.

“Everything I’ve stated is fact—and consequence.”

“Enough with those outdated books.”

“No, it’s reality. Our betrothal ceremony was a disaster, and I’m a woman who’s heard nothing from her fiancé in six years.”

Had Serena been an ordinary noble lady bound by this era’s thinking, she couldn’t have endured either the ceremony’s humiliation or the six years of abandonment.

Even if the marriage had proceeded, she’d have spent her life cowering under others’ whispers.

“I trained myself—to become strong enough to hold you—only for your sake.”

“Yes, perhaps that was Your Highness’s intention.”

Serena wore a faint, enigmatic smile. Judging by Lucas’s current demeanor, his words didn’t seem false.

“But that’s selfishness. The world sees only results and outward appearances.”

“I…”

Lucas faltered—the first time he’d been left speechless. He’d imagined reuniting with his fiancée countless times, yet, as Serena pointed out, he’d never actually expressed it directly.

“I don’t blame Your Highness. I simply believe we were never meant to be husband and wife.”

As Serena spoke calmly, shadows fell over Lucas’s face. Only now did he truly grasp how long six years really were.