Received the Obsession of a Chaste Dark Lord (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 3

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It was only natural for him to give that answer—not the Amelia who confessed her love with tears, but the Amelia, daughter of the Marquess Vermilian, who held a key position at the center.

But I, blinded by the illusion of love, thought even that was his pity for me.

I didn’t even realize that everything was merely Lloyd’s scheme, devised frantically to manipulate me.

So I spent nights weeping, pretending to be the most pitiful lovers in the world, preparing for marriage.

Looking back, perhaps my father had already seen through who Lloyd truly was—that was a wise move on his part.

Now that I’ve died and returned, I only regret not realizing how grateful I should have been.

As I drifted into these various thoughts, my father slowly opened his mouth.

“…You’ve always done well. Though I arranged this marriage purely out of paternal desire, I’ve always believed no one else in the Empire was suited for that position but you.”

“Father…?”

“I know it’s a little awkward to say this now…”

The hesitation in his voice was unfamiliar.

What else had happened inside the carriage today?

I was trying to recall…

“Be happy, Amelia. That’s all I ask.”

“…”

…This never happened before.

My grip tightened on the bouquet.

I strained my eyes and turned my gaze toward the window.

In the silent void where I neither answered nor asked, the carriage slowly headed toward the edge of the storm.

Somehow, today, I felt I wanted to be swept wildly away by that storm.

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The temple where the ceremony was to take place was already packed with people, with not even a foot’s space to spare.

It was only natural that our wedding received such popularity and support from the empire’s citizens.

After all, this was the union between the Crown Prince, who had never announced any engagement since coming of age, and me—the flower of high society and daughter of a loyal imperial noble.

Holding my father’s hand as I stepped down from the carriage, I smiled toward the cheering crowd.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. I’m fine.”

My father whispered softly, observing the swarm of people.

But then again, I had fulfilled my duty before, even among crowds twice as large when I was Crown Princess.

This crowd was nothing—I could face them with a smile.

I walked calmly along the white virgin road that stretched all the way into the temple.

When I walked this path for the first time, I couldn’t bear the fact that the person waiting at the end wasn’t Lloyd.

My melancholy made it impossible to control my expression.

But now, for the second time, nothing felt particularly new.

I knew who was waiting for me at the end, and I knew exactly what kind of person he was.

Though we never truly shared flesh and blood, we had lived seven years as husband and wife.

I knew enough about him to plan a new future together.

Perhaps, in this life, we might manage to live a little better.

I was about to tell my father that while I understood his worries, it wasn’t as bad as he feared—

when I saw Leopric standing at the end of the path.

He stood straight at the temple entrance, clad in white ceremonial robes, gazing at me.

White suited him so well.

The white shirt and trousers he wore only in his office, the white coat he donned for parties, the white uniform he wore during knight training—

Was it because his hair was light, or his skin so pale?

He had always seemed like an angel bathed in light.

His image in white ceremonial robes had remained vivid in my memory from my past wedding.

Back then, he shone so brightly that I, lost in thoughts of Lloyd, momentarily lost my focus.

‘But something…’

Now, he was—

just as radiant as before, just as perfectly suited to white.

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He wore the same robes, the same hairstyle, stood in the same posture facing the entrance.

Yet somehow, it felt different from my memory of that day.

His golden hair shimmered in the sunlight streaming through the windows.

Though the entire temple was white, his robes appeared even whiter—but unlike before—

he fixed his intense crimson eyes solely on me.

Seeing him like that, the calm I’d told myself I had instantly collapsed.

Never in my past life had he looked at me with such direct, unwavering gaze—not once.

That was only at his final moment.

“Hmph…”

Suddenly, my stomach twisted.

Again, the trembling hand reaching toward me flashed through my mind.

I struggled to conceal my agitation, slowly walking toward him.

The closer I came, the clearer his expression became.

It was the look of a long-awaited moment finally realized.

Through that piercing gaze, something overwhelming pressed against me, stealing my breath.

Had he ever looked at me like this before—with such desperate longing?

No, I didn’t even recall him ever staring at me so intensely.

There was another difference from before, too.

“Amelia, are you truly alright?”

“…Yes, Father.”

My hands had been trembling since earlier.

I walked forward mechanically, unable to meet his gaze, unable to understand his expression.

Over and over, the moment of his death replayed in my mind.

The voice that asked, “Won’t you regret it?” and said, “That’s enough,” echoed in my ears.

I bit my lip desperately, trying to shake off the haunting vision.

My father, watching me with quiet concern, missed the moment to hand me off to him.

“Marquess Vermilian.”

Had Leopric not called out, both my father and I might have stood there dumbfounded for a long while.

My father gripped my hand firmly once more,

then, with excruciating slowness, placed it into his.

“I entrust Amelia to you, Your Majesty.”

“I will do my utmost.”

A voice thick with disappointment and sorrow wrapped around my wrist; a strange urgency and firm resolve clutched my hand.

Somehow, I felt tightly bound.

A feeling I had never experienced in either my past or this life.

But unlike the haunting visions swirling in my mind, this sensation didn’t cling sticky or chillingly frightening—it was simply strange.

Even my father, reluctantly stepping away toward his seat,

Leopric, firmly holding the hand given to him,

and I, helplessly swept away by this inexplicable turmoil—

all of us, silently savoring emotions we couldn’t define, walked together toward the temple altar.

At the altar where spouses pledged their vows before the gods, Priest Roberto stood holding the holy book.

When we arrived, my Leopric and I bowed and knelt before the altar.

The ceremony itself was simple.

The couple kneels before the altar, and the officiating priest recites the blessing and the vows.

Then, both place their hands upon the book and swear their vows.

Finally, they exchange rings and share a kiss to complete the ceremony.

It was neither special nor beautiful.

I listened indifferently to the priest’s blessing,

for my mind was far too cluttered to be moved by meaningless words.

Thankfully, my face was hidden beneath the veil, otherwise I might have struggled terribly to maintain my expression.

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The moment I realized I had returned, differences from my past life began to stand out.

A growing unease: were the futures I knew changing?

Confusion over Leopric’s altered demeanor.

An unexplainable discomfort gnawing at my chest—these all tangled together, exhausting me.

I repeatedly whispered to myself that if only he ascended the throne safely, I would leave—trying to suppress every emotion.

“Now, both of you, place your hands upon the book and recite your vows.”

Had Leopric not suddenly seized my hand, I would have missed my turn, lost in thought.

“I will go first.”

Even after Priest Roberto’s voice echoed through the temple, I remained dazed—until his hand gripped mine, snapping me back to reality.

Did he notice I was lost in thought?

It was grateful he redirected my attention, yet it felt strangely unfamiliar.

Why did the man I had lived beside for seven years feel so alien?

I let my reverie pass and focused on his words as he continued his vow, still holding my hand.

“I will not make empty, meaningless promises. The only thing I offer you is truth, rising from the deepest part of me, and unwavering devotion.”

Vows were the promises spouses made to each other.

Typically, each would write their own sweetest, most sincere promise in their own words.

Before the priest and the holy book, they would look into each other’s eyes and envision a sweet future.

Among arranged marriages, some would even ask the temple priests or skilled writers to draft their vows for them.

But I, and he, had each spoken our own words in simple phrases.

I remembered the purely polite vow he had offered me in my past life—

a vow promising only to give me the best, to always care for me, the very essence of an arranged marriage.

And I, in return, had given him a rigid vow to fulfill my duty beside him for life.

I even recalled later, vaguely tucking his written vow away somewhere.

“Though life will not always bring joy, I vow, by the name of Leopric Baldini Reinhardt, before the gods, to ensure your face always holds a smile.”

But now, he was different.

He looked directly at me, reciting a vow entirely unlike the one before.

Full of truth and devotion, of smiles—

words I never thought he, the man I knew, would ever say.

A vow that completely shattered my expectation that we would remain merely dutiful spouses, as we had in my past life.

Seeing him like this, I hesitated to recite the same vow I had spoken before.

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