Save Me (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 15
Just once.
Gillian pleaded, his face pale and sickly green.
Even the shadow cast by his long lashes looked so pitifully sorrowful that Bianca simply couldn’t bring herself to say no.
“Please grant me permission.”
A man playing weak.
He knew exactly how to shake Bianca to her core.
Force or dominance stirred nothing in her.
Having been rightfully plundered her entire life, Bianca was accustomed to having things taken from her.
Material possessions and wealth were a given, and sometimes even the most basic human rights were casually stripped away.
Living like that her whole life, submission meant nothing to her.
As long as she obediently complied outwardly, she could protect the feelings she kept deep in her heart—so doing such things a thousand or ten thousand times was no burden at all.
That was precisely why Gillian played weak.
He never gave Bianca orders.
He always pleaded with her politely and gently,
until she genuinely agreed.
He waited endlessly.
Just like now.
He shamelessly used his ashen, haggard face.
Merely lowering his eyes slightly exuded an air of precarious fragility.
It was Bianca herself who had been ill in bed, yet judging by how dreadful the past few days must have been for him, he looked as if he might collapse at any moment.
“Gillian.”
“I won’t ask for anything more.”
Slowly, he reached out and steadied Bianca’s trembling back.
The warmth of another person along her spine brought back memories of the previous night she’d forgotten.
That gentle hand moving slowly down the hollow of her back.
‘Good night.’
A soft voice brimming with warmth.
Remembering Gillian’s kindness that day—when she’d felt utterly alone, yet he willingly offered his embrace—something suddenly surged from deep within her chest.
Bianca could hold out no longer and nodded.
But she set a condition.
“Just this once.”
Gillian had said “once,” but his “once” was clearly meant to be interpreted in many colorful ways.
“Then… only for today.”
Look at that.
Bianca let out a quiet laugh at Gillian’s swift change of phrasing.
This cunning man was fully prepared to twist his words—saying he’d feed her soup “just once today,” or “only one bowl of soup,” or “soup only once”—using every possible wordplay to tease her.
“Just for today?”
“For today.”
When she asked again, just in case, he changed it once more to “For today.”
She should have been angry at how he wriggled out of her grasp right before her eyes, yet instead of anger, quiet giggles kept escaping her.
Bianca pressed down firmly on Gillian’s arm as he tried to feed her soup and whispered,
“Today… let’s eat together.”
She didn’t forget to tug sharply at the corners of her lips into a bright smile—
exactly as he had done.
“Oh.”
At that, a low chuckle escaped the man across from her.
Gillian was an extraordinary wordsmith.
She’d already guessed from how he cut off sentences and steered conversations to his advantage—but she had to admit, he was even more skilled than she’d expected.
Though she’d suggested eating ‘together,’ during the meal he naturally attended to Bianca while managing his own food, all the while deftly guiding the conversation.
“Your personal maid has been assigned, hasn’t she?”
“Yes, Julie.”
“Julie?”
Just as she opened her mouth to say “Yes,” a spoonful of perfectly cooled soup slipped in.
Bianca swallowed the savory mouthful and replied, “Yes.”
“She’s young, but she really tries her best.”
After thoroughly chewing and swallowing a small piece of bread, Gillian spoke again.
“Diligence is good, but wouldn’t a more experienced maid be a bit more comfortable for you?”
“Oh, no. I like Julie.”
“She might be a bit clumsy, though.”
He added by way of explanation, “Since she’s young, after all.”
In that moment, Julie came to Bianca’s mind.
‘In the North, adulthood begins at fifteen.’
‘I’m not a child.’
Bianca quietly shook her head.
“No. Julie is enough for me.”
Hmph.
Gillian said nothing more.
He merely let out a small snort.
His slightly raised eyebrow seemed to hide displeasure, so Bianca hurriedly added,
“I truly like Julie. Today, she stayed by my side all day, telling me stories so I wouldn’t get bored—she really worked hard.”
“What kind of stories did you hear?”
“Stories about the North.”
“The North?”
At Gillian’s probing tone, Bianca’s expression suddenly stiffened.
In her haste to keep Julie close, she’d spoken without thinking.
Did it seem as if Termina was spying on Valroc?
Realizing her blunder too late, Bianca gave a small cough and tried to brush it off as nothing—but it was useless.
“What stories about the North?”
Ah.
While she hesitated, choosing her words, another spoonful of still-warm soup pushed forward.
Bianca glanced quickly at Gillian’s expression as she carefully picked her words.
But perhaps he thought she’d been prying.
The smile vanished completely from Gillian’s face.
“Oh…”
At the sudden coldness in his demeanor, Bianca’s mind went utterly blank.
“I’m sorry.”
“…….”
“I absolutely wasn’t trying to pry. I was just curious about the North…”
“Haa…”
At Gillian’s sigh, Bianca hunched her shoulders and murmured softly,
“I’m sorry.”
Clack.
The sound of the spoon being set down.
Thud.
Then the empty bowl placed firmly on the table.
The sounds, though small, echoed like thunder.
From the corner of her eye, Gillian’s expression was unreadable.
Bianca swallowed hard.
‘After treating you like a human being, have you really started believing you’re the Duchess?’
‘Left alive only because you couldn’t be killed—now you strut about, forgetting your place.’
Just as she thought it might be easier if he openly mocked her instead,
her eyes met his calm, golden gaze.
“My Lady.”
“Yes.”
Though she saw his hand slowly reaching out, Bianca couldn’t move away.
No—more accurately, she chose not to.
If she avoided this, he might truly believe she’d been spying.
So Bianca held her breath silently, letting Gillian cup both her cheeks and pull her closer.
Until their foreheads finally touched, and the sharp bridge of his nose brushed against her cheek at an angle.
Bianca didn’t blink even once.
“My Lady. Can you see clearly like this?”
His golden eyes, visible through his dense, long lashes, shone so brilliantly she couldn’t look away.
“My words—that this place is your home—were utterly sincere.”
Even as his hands slid from her cheeks into her hair and firmly cradled the back of her head, Bianca couldn’t move a muscle.
His voice, whispering sincerity, sounded so heartbreakingly genuine it was hard to believe it was feigned.
Only now did Bianca understand the meaning behind his stern expression while clearing the dishes.
He wasn’t angry.
He was…
“I’m sorry.”
To the sorrowful man, Bianca offered an apology.
“No. In moments like this, you should ask me to tell you stories of the North.”
Gillian had a talent for turning commands into pleas.
“You should beg me to tell you about my home.”
So effectively that she couldn’t even protest.
Bianca bit her lip hard.
His fingers, which had been drifting lazily through her hair, moved to her nape.
Though their foreheads had parted, his long fingers gripping her nape felt like spider silk—Bianca remained utterly still, staring at Gillian.
Hurry.
She wasn’t sure if he’d actually spoken aloud.
But it didn’t matter.
“Do it.”
At her quiet whisper, he smiled.
He claimed the place by her bedside.
And with a tenderness she’d never received even in childhood, he stroked her hair.
His touch, cautious as if merely brushing against her, was unbelievably gentle—Bianca felt as if she were losing touch with reality.
As if floating on clouds.
“How much have you heard so far?”
“About the Wave, the ice wall, and… um… I was about to hear the story of the Seven Citadels.”
She hadn’t intended it, but perhaps because she was lying down—or maybe because it was so late—her voice sank deep, sounding like a murmur.
“The Seven Citadels…”
Gillian reached out and slowly combed through her hair.
“Do you know the tale that only Valroc can confront the monsters beyond the ice wall?”
“No.”
Bianca answered, blinking slowly.
Her body felt so languid it was as if she were sinking deep underwater.
“Since time immemorial—since before anyone can remember—the ice wall has existed. Ever since Termina came to be, history has always included the ice wall.”
With Gillian’s voice, seemingly drawing her into its depths, Bianca found it hard to stay alert.
“People tried to deal with the monsters crossing over from beyond the ice wall, but none succeeded—except Valroc alone.”
His story settled softly into the night air.
“It was only natural that Valroc took root here. He could not stand by while monsters dared raise their claws against Termina.”
But why settle in this frozen wasteland to protect Termina?
If only Valroc could handle the monsters, wouldn’t it be simpler for Valroc to just take the empire?
There was no reason to protect Termina.
Why?
For a brief moment, countless questions flooded Bianca’s mind.
No one had ever questioned it—so no one had ever asked, and thus no answers had ever been heard.
“…That is why Termina had to be perfectly protected.”
Lost in her swirling thoughts, Bianca missed Gillian’s next words.
She should have said she hadn’t heard him, but her eyelids were too heavy.
Merely lifting her drooping lids took all her effort.
“The Seven Citadels were built for that very purpose—the culmination of Valroc’s efforts to protect Termina, down to the very last moment.”
Gillian’s gaze shone faintly, as if fixed on some distant place.
It was endlessly tender, faintly wistful, momentarily endearing, and yet profoundly sorrowful.
Bianca felt Gillian’s gaze was strangely familiar.
Where had she seen it before?
She was just sifting through hazy memories with a mind half-lost in sleep
when a warm sensation on her forehead made her suddenly look up—Gillian was pressing his fingers firmly between her brows, smoothing them out.
“You’ll get wrinkles if you do that.”
The distant look in his eyes had vanished completely.
His golden gaze resting on her cheek felt as warm as sunlight.
The sensation stirred nonexistent memories from the past, so achingly nostalgic and sorrowful that Bianca’s nose stung without her even realizing it.
‘Why all of a sudden?’
Just as Bianca, flustered, raised her hand to cover her face,
a phantom voice, silent until then, rang through her mind, and her vision twisted wildly.
‘Why did you do it?’
At the sound of her own voice—trembling with tears—the golden eyes before her softened gently.
“I’m sorry.”
Male lead is a Divorced Husband
She said to him: “Tell me, what makes you like me? I’ll change it!”
Liu Changning transmigrated into a female cannon fodder character in a female-dominant novel.
After reading the first half of the novel’s plot, the first thing she did upon transmigration was to divorce the Pan Jinlian-style male protagonist she had just married.
She indulged herself, pretending to be ugly and poor.
But as time passed, the way that man looked at her became more and more unusual…
Liu Changning was dumbfounded: Tell me, what makes you like me? I’ll change!
――
This lifetime, Pei Yuanshao was rejected by the same woman twice!
The first time, she drove him away. Forced by the situation, he endured the waves of anger in his heart, yielding and humbling himself.
That person lay slanted on a rocking chair, her sallow face emotionless: “If you don’t want a divorce, go cook!”
Pei Yuanshao’s face was dark and gloomy: “You!”
The second time, after the crisis in Jinling City was resolved, the new emperor sent someone to pick him up. He turned around, stammering: “I… I have to go. If you keep me…”
That person lay on the kang bed, her back to him, as if she had long anticipated this day, crisp and clear: “Goodbye!”
Pei Yuanshao was so angry his fingers trembled: “You… you!”
The mission of family and country made him restrain himself, averting his eyes and turning to leave this broken household.
Two years later, they met again. Seeing her ethereal face, his body shook like a sieve.
“She was originally a ‘she’!”
At the Qionglin Banquet, the top scholar of the imperial examination, a talented person with exceptional speech and conduct, all the unmarried young gentlemen from aristocratic families looked at her with shy and timid eyes.
The peerless imperial official Pei Yuanshao felt the anger in his heart erupt. He pointed at the woman surrounded by the crowd at the Qionglin Banquet, his thin lips slightly curled: “Little sister, I wants that person to be the wife-master of my Mingde Prince Manor.”
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