Rather Than Be Taken, I Will Take (12 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 12
Ludmila thought Kedilen would surely lose his temper. There was no doubt about it.
Kedilen cherished his sister as much as his own life, and she had always turned to her younger brother whenever trouble arose.
This infuriating dynamic had repeatedly tormented Ludmila, and she’d assumed this time would be no different.
It wasn’t just anything—his sister had been humiliated right before everyone’s eyes. Moreover, the offender was none other than Aden, who had recently brought shame upon him.
The Duke Havertz. Naturally, his anger must be beyond words.
Logically, that fury should have been directed at Aden, yet ironically, it had been aimed squarely at Ludmila, who had tried to defuse the situation.
Perhaps he was the kind of petty man who, despite his outward reputation for kindness and depth, simply couldn’t bring himself to vent his rage on Aden.
Or maybe Celia, who harbored a pathological hatred for Ludmila, had spun the story in her own favor while intervening.
Whatever the case, the fact remained unchanged: every act of tyranny poured onto Ludmila stemmed from the Erdi bloodline.
“I’ve told you time and again—don’t lay a finger on my sister. Someone as lowly as you has no right to look down on her.”
What an absurdly devoted sibling pair. Though Ludmila didn’t respect Celia as a person, seeing Kedilen like this made her anew acknowledge just how extraordinary she truly was.
Despite barely a few years’ difference in age, how had she managed to so thoroughly bewitch her younger brother into becoming this blindly devoted worshipper of his sister?
And not just any brother—but Kedilen himself.
Ludmila lowered the hand resting against her reddened cheek. A small bead of blood had gathered there—it must have been slightly split.
Had he struck her with the hand wearing a ring? He was the sort of man who, even in anger, showed excessive care to avoid leaving scars on her face.
Perhaps the shock of seeing his sister turned into a laughingstock had overwhelmed even that usual restraint.
“Is this how you repay the kindness I’ve shown you—carving out time I don’t have just to mold you into someone worthy of the Erdi name?”
His roughly loosened tie and flushed face laid bare the fury coursing through him.
But something felt off.
She knew Kedilen always cherished Celia, yet she’d never seen him this agitated before.
What had triggered him? As Ludmila pondered this, her eyes fell upon the bag he’d brought with him.
Peeking out from the slightly unzipped bag was a morning newspaper. Ah, so that was it.
Anger over hearing unexpected news from afar. The shifting gazes of those around him because of it.
And frustration that his own plans had now been thrown into disarray.
Celia had merely been an excuse.
No—perhaps just the spark that lit the fuse. The real reason lay elsewhere.
Realizing this, Ludmila suddenly felt that even taking a slap or two from Kedilen meant nothing.
It was far better than being roughly handled beneath that man’s heel.
The fact that a week’s worth of effort hadn’t gone to waste filled her with a quiet sense of elation—but she couldn’t let it show.
From the moment she’d realized anew that her relationship with this man could never truly improve, Ludmila had firmly donned the mask she’d worn from the very beginning.
Her dull, lifeless eyes fixed ahead. Slowly straightening her body, Ludmila calmly met Kedilen’s furious gaze.
“I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful next time.”
She always gave the same answer because there simply was no better solution.
It would be utterly foolish to bare her teeth before a man so proud.
Knowing this, Ludmila had always chosen to bow her head first.
Even though she’d done nothing wrong—even if his anger was nothing more than wounded pride from a man whose only worth lay in his noble title—she simply offered an apology.
Today was no different.
Had she not seen the morning paper in his bag, she might have unconsciously spoken different words.
But now, having witnessed the fruits of her own efforts, she felt she could apologize ten times over without a care.
“You always give the same answer, wear the same expression. Ludmila, you never change. You just stare at me with those dry eyes as if I’m beneath you. Instead of clinging to dignity and grace before me, shouldn’t you show the pitiful humility befitting your vulgar blood?”
Kedilen’s voice trailed off as he grimaced, rubbing his face with a dry washcloth.
“Do you even realize how contemptible you look in my eyes?”
This, too, was nothing more than baseless blame-shifting. Ludmila’s current demeanor was entirely Kedilen’s own doing.
He’d demanded she never lose grace or dignity, insisted she uphold nobility and purity, and even expected her to embody the perfect lady of the house.
And yet now, he twisted those very expectations into grounds for fault-finding—nothing more than an excuse to vent his anger.
Ludmila moved to apologize once more, but Kedilen stepped forward before she could speak.
His familiar sight—stripping off his coat and heading toward the wardrobe—was painfully ingrained in her memory. This wasn’t mere déjà vu.
It was the exact scene she’d witnessed just before her death. As if to confirm her suspicion, Kedilen opened the wardrobe door and pulled out a golf club.
His pupils were dilated. The fury had vanished from his eyes.
Holding the golf club as though awaiting something, he even seemed faintly elated.
And this sent another wave of deathly terror crashing over Ludmila.
‘Why…?’
Though the moment of her death hadn’t yet arrived, Kedilen had already drawn the golf club.
She’s going to die. The same intuition she’d felt that day flashed through Ludmila’s mind.
“I’ll show you, Ludmila—the truth that groveling for your wretched life suits you far better than clinging to that pride of yours.”
His action was swifter than thought. The moment she sensed danger, Ludmila immediately spun around.
Bursting through the door, she fled down the hallway, leaving Kedilen’s furious shout echoing behind her.
She had no time to check if he was chasing her. The terror gripping her mind was absolute—if she stopped now, she would die.
And this was a death she’d already experienced once. Knowing that agony firsthand, Ludmila ran with desperate urgency.
Ignoring the stares of the servants, Ludmila’s eyes widened in disbelief. Was fate truly real?
Though she’d run down the very corridor before her, she’d ended up precisely where she always did—the familiar front hall.
Following the memory replaying in her mind, her gaze lifted to where the chandelier blazed with dazzling light.
“Ludmila!”
A distant voice called out to her. There was nowhere left to run.
This must be fate. The death and chaos of that day flooded her ears once more. Fear-stricken, Ludmila could barely breathe.
Fragmented shards of light seemed to rain down upon her head like broken glass.
Just as her strength gave out and her body began to sway—
“Are you alright?”
Strong arms gently caught her as she collapsed toward the floor.
Lifting her blurred gaze, she found before her eyes a field of golden wheat stretching in breathtaking beauty.
“…Why are you here?”
Dazed by the surreal sight, Ludmila murmured slowly.
The owner of the arms holding her up merely grinned—an answer far from what she’d expected.
“Your dress.”
Confused, Ludmila’s furrowed brow, faintly creased, reflected her bewilderment at this unreal scene.
“I said I’d compensate you, so I came to deliver it. But….”
Aden let his words hang as he slowly raised his head to look ahead. In his golden eyes was reflected the foolish face of a man staring at him in shock.
“This doesn’t seem like the best moment to discuss compensation.”
As his smile faded, what surfaced instead was the twisted fury of a predator sighting its prey.
[This is the timeline separator]Eyes scattered throughout the vast mansion all converged on one spot: the lady of the house collapsed at the entrance, supported by a black-haired beast—
and now the master of the house himself, rounding out this bizarre tableau, gripping a golf club.
Oppressed by the swelling silence, the servants dared not move.
Kedilen keenly sensed that this atmosphere worked against him more than anyone else.
Suspicion and doubt had piled up layer upon layer, becoming as impossible to scrub away as decades of grime on an old table.
Most servants already knew that his relationship with Ludmila was far from affectionate—it was no secret.
Even without explicit orders to stay silent, the more perceptive among them held their tongues.
Even if rumors spread, dismissing gossip from lowborn mouths as mere hearsay was trivial.
But this kind of rumor was troublesome.
‘Why did she have to run away like that!’
He’d only meant to scare her a little—but Ludmila bolting out of the room was entirely unexpected.
In his rush to chase her, he hadn’t even realized he was still holding the golf club.
Now, caught in front of not just household staff but a lowly freeman of all people, there was no turning back.
“What brings you here, Your Grace?”
“Before I answer that—perhaps you’d care to explain what you’re holding in your hand.”
The direct, probing question cut as sharply as a predator’s fang.
As soon as the exchange began, the quick-witted butler moved to dismiss the servants—but Kedilen’s cunning mind was already racing.
Waving his hand and shaking his head, Kedilen let out a hearty laugh.
“Oh, I was just on my way out for a bit of exercise. Everyone, carry on. Don’t worry about it.”
If left alone, suspicion would harden into certainty. He had to resolve this right here, in front of them all.
Aden’s eyes slanted sideways toward the golf club.
“Exercise?”
“Yes. A hobby I’ve recently taken up.”
“Then why did your wife run away—and why were you chasing after her, wielding that thing like a weapon?”
Now they’d reached the heart of the matter.
Kedilen pressed on an even more affable mask than usual and smiled faintly.
“I’m not entirely sure myself. She seemed frightened by something and ran off, so I followed in alarm. Given that she’s been suffering from fever and illness lately—and then faced such distressing news—I imagine she’s under tremendous strain. It wouldn’t be surprising if she started seeing things.”
He cast a look of feigned sympathy toward Ludmila, now branded an insane woman seeing phantoms, and calmly reached out his hand.
“She should rest and be seen by a physician.”
Kedilen wanted to end this unexpected encounter as quickly as possible.
Prolonging the conversation would only harm him. He reached for Ludmila’s wrist—still cradled in the arms of this stranger.
“Thank you for catching my wife before she fell. Now, if you’ll let me….”
He applied gentle pressure, and Ludmila’s slender frame easily shifted toward him.
Just as he thought it was over, her body halted abruptly midway.
Kedilen’s downward glance landed squarely on the thick arm still firmly wrapped around Ludmila’s waist.
He squeezed her wrist harder—a silent command for her to signal the man to let go—but Aden’s grip was far too strong to be shaken off so easily. Only Ludmila’s pale, delicate wrist suffered for it.
Caught off guard by this unforeseen resistance, Kedilen bit his lip. Pulling roughly would look terrible with so many eyes watching, yet backing down would cost him face.
Finally, he sighed and spoke calmly, as if trying to reason with him.
“Your Gr—”
“Hey, Marquis.”
At that moment, Aden—whose status granted him as much liberty as his speech—spoke up, tearing to shreds the dignity and prestige Kedilen had so desperately tried to preserve.
“You can’t seriously expect me to believe that load of nonsense, can you?”
Male lead fell into her trap — and shattered when she walked away
This is also on my reread list!
This one is a slow burn, but when it burns, it burns hard.
Definitely worth a read, y’all!
The story follows a thousand-year-old seductive spirit who, on a bet, sets out to charm the male lead—a once-promising but unfortunate cultivator.
But just when she succeeds in making him fall for her, she heartlessly leaves, driving him to madness.
Determined to find her at all costs, he captures her, keeping her by his side no matter what, even if she hates him.
I love this kind of trope—I enjoy watching the male lead suffer in agony.
The ending drags a bit with unnecessary filler, but that’s fine.
As long as I enjoy the beginning, I’m good.
Intro
As an enchantress, Su Heng possesses captivating eyes and charming beauty, easily manipulating the joys and sorrows of living beings at her fingertips.
But to enchant a god, making him taste the bitterness of love’s separation, long-lasting resentment, unattainable desires, and inability to let go…
Do you dare?
Su Heng assists a divine lord in his cultivation, aiming to make him experience all the sufferings of love, so that he can attain the Great Dao.
Only after being chased down from the heavens by the divine lord, confined and completely possessed by him, does she realize how successful she has been.
The once gentle and polite youth has transformed into someone she no longer recognizes.
[Touch the gear icon in the bottom right corner of the screen to move to the next chapter if you want.]
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