The End Of The Special Contract Marriage (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 16
It was around noon when his troublesome second son came to visit.
The Duke sat opposite his son with obvious discomfort. He had just heard that four of the mercenaries dispatched by the guild had returned in critical condition, and the remaining one had been taken by Aracila.
His son, who resembled him in every way except for his eyes—those were an exact mirror of his late mother—crossed his legs with perfect composure, even in his father’s presence.
“You’re utterly disrespectful, Damian.”
“Should I take after a father who sends an impudent gift to his own son’s fiancée?”
“What gift? What are you talking about?”
The Duke feigned ignorance. Damian merely lifted the corner of his mouth slightly, unsurprised—his father had always been the type to pretend ignorance whenever the situation turned against him.
He was despicable, petty, and utterly narrow-minded.
Damian pulled a neatly folded sheet of paper from inside his tailored jacket and handed it over. It was the confession he’d extracted from the mercenary through interrogation the previous night.
“Make your choice.”
“What choice?”
The Duke, having read the statement but carefully hiding his ashen pallor, retorted. Damian replied with a blank expression.
“Will you stay silent until our wedding day while I quietly dispose of the captured mercenary by branding him a common bandit—or will you play the devoted lover and allow your son to gain public sympathy by having you prosecuted alongside him?”
The Duke’s hands, resting on the armrests, trembled violently. Unable to contain his rage, he roared:
“You wretch! How dare you blackmail your own father?!”
“Save that tired line—I’ve heard it endlessly from the Duchess. All you need to do now is choose between the options I’ve given you.”
Damian’s cold, indifferent stare bore into the Duke with such intensity that their bond as father and son seemed utterly implausible. Grinding his teeth so hard that his jaw protruded, the Duke finally shook his head.
If this incident became public, Damian would undoubtedly suffer too—perhaps even prompting House Hugo to cancel the engagement in outrage.
That was precisely why Damian hadn’t immediately reported his father but had come in person to deliver this ultimatum.
“Do you really think only I would suffer if it came out that I had orchestrated an attack against Lady Hugo?”
“We’d both suffer, certainly. But who do you think would bear the greater loss—especially if His Majesty finds out?”
Faced with his speechless father, Damian continued in a flat, unwavering tone.
“No matter what you do, I will never call off this marriage—and neither will Lady Hugo. Isn’t that obvious from the fact that she personally handed the mercenary over to me?”
In truth, under normal circumstances, Aracila would have turned the mercenary over to the authorities. But since her current priority was securing the marriage, she had delivered him directly to Damian—
to serve as the blade he would wield against his own family.
At last, the Duke understood: as long as Aracila Hugo and Damian Vandermir stood united, there was no way to stop the marriage.
The union of an eccentric and a ruthless prodigy was far too unbreakable to shatter.
“Choose quickly.”
Pressed by his son’s icy insistence, the Duke reluctantly spoke.
“…Since your fiancée suffered a bandit attack, I’m at a loss as to what condolences I might offer.”
“Don’t worry. I anticipated exactly that—so I’ve brought everything with me.”
With a picture-perfect smile, Damian pulled another sheet of paper from his coat.
It was nothing less than a formal consent letter authorizing the marriage between Aracila Hugo and Damian Vandermir.
“Huh…?”
“All you need to do is sign it.”
Handing the pen to his stunned father, Damian watched as bitter resentment bubbled up in the Duke’s throat—resentment laced with grudging admiration for his son’s impeccable preparation.
In the end, however, the Duke signed the document with his own hand. Satisfied, Damian handed over the confession and left, taking the signed letter with him.
After he vanished, the Duchess entered, her face etched with worry as she examined her husband.
“Darling, are you all right? What on earth did Damian say to you?”
Instead of answering, the Duke flung the confession at her and slammed his fist onto the table.
It was utterly absurd—those fools couldn’t even handle one young girl, and now this mess had erupted.
‘They swore they’d silence themselves by suicide if they failed! Useless wretches!’
Of course, they never got the chance—their throats had been sealed shut by Aracila’s magic before they could act—but the Duke, unwilling to acknowledge this, grumbled as he lit a cigar.
After taking a deep drag and exhaling, the boiling rage in his chest seemed to settle slightly.
Meanwhile, the Duchess, having read the confession, was on the verge of collapsing, one hand pressed to her forehead.
“What should we do now, darling?”
The Duke gestured sharply for his weeping wife to be silent, then sank into thought.
‘I’ve ruined too much already.’
His repeated attempts to sabotage the marriage had all failed—and each failure had handed his enemies more ammunition.
If he pushed further, he risked not only humiliation but the loss of everything else he held dear.
“It seems we’ll have no choice but to let the marriage proceed.”
After a long pause, the Duke finally spoke. Pressing the issue any further would only invite a devastating backlash. He had to retreat.
“What? But darling, considering Father’s will, we must find a way to stop it—”
“As long as I’m alive, Damian won’t inherit the dukedom just because he marries Hugo’s daughter.”
Succession wouldn’t happen automatically upon marriage. At most, the grandson who married Hugo’s granddaughter would merely be named heir—but even that required official declaration by House Vandermir.
And since no one outside the family would know unless it was publicly announced…
The Emperor, while eager to honor his late friend’s wishes, was too shrewd to meddle directly in the succession struggles of a noble house.
“We’ll have to plan for the future.”
“But still—”
“Enough! If you’d handled things properly from the start, we wouldn’t be in this mess!”
Lashing out pointlessly at his wife, the Duke stormed off in a fury. As he kicked over the table and strode out, Oscar approached his crestfallen mother, left alone in the room.
“Mother, are you all right?”
“Oscar, you’re the only one I have.”
The Duchess threw her arms wide and embraced her son. Oscar patted her back briefly before gently pulling away.
His concern wasn’t for his mother’s feelings—but for Damian’s impending marriage.
“So… Damian’s really going through with the wedding?”
“It seems unavoidable. But don’t worry—House Vandermir will be yours.”
She gripped Oscar’s hand tightly. No matter what, she would ensure it came to pass.
Facing his resolute mother, Oscar’s thoughts drifted unexpectedly to Aracila. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen—and far too precious to hand over to his half-brother.
‘Couldn’t I just seduce her and call off the wedding myself?’
A sly smile curled Oscar’s lips as he entertained a notion that would horrify his parents. Manipulating and discarding women like toys was his specialty.
Already, countless women across the Duchy of Vandermir bore the scars of his games.
‘Not a single woman has ever resisted my charms—that’s a fact!’
Inheriting his mother’s striking looks, Oscar was undeniably handsome in the eyes of others—perhaps not quite Damian’s equal, but he held the advantage of being the supported eldest son.
Armed with that, surely Aracila would fall for him just as easily as all the others.
[This is the timeline separator]The day before the wedding, the prenuptial agreement was finalized.
Damian and Aracila visited the cathedral under the pretense of filing their marriage registration. Their real purpose was to have the contract notarized—but this excuse ensured no one would find their presence at the cathedral suspicious.
“I’d prefer you inherit the dukedom within five years, if possible. I’d like to divorce as soon as I can.”
“Likewise. Don’t worry—I’ll give you everything you need.”
As they strolled through the cathedral corridor, they spoke in low, measured tones. From a distance, they appeared perfectly amicable.
Since they’d announced their marriage as a love match, they needed to present a harmonious front to the outside world.
While waiting in the reception room for the priest who would notarize their document, Aracila reviewed the contract once more.
During the past month of wedding preparations, the prenuptial agreement had demanded the most effort. Each clause had been meticulously debated and annotated, both striving to minimize their losses.
Her eyes lingered on the final clause:
“During the term of this contract, both parties shall absolutely not fall in love.”
They’d both blurted out those exact words simultaneously when setting the final clause—as if by unspoken agreement.
Neither Damian nor Aracila wanted the messy, clingy scenario of the other falling helplessly in love and refusing to let go.
“My lord, just in case you’ve forgotten, let me warn you again.”
“…?”
Aracila, dressed in a lavender gown that matched her hair, locked eyes directly with Damian.
“No matter how irresistible I may be, don’t you dare fall for me. My ambitions are far more important to me than love.”
“…I suppose I know exactly who you’re not talking about.”
Damian replied with an expression caught between exasperation and amusement. For him too, revenge mattered far more than love.
“My lady, your confidence is always excessive.”
“Well, anyone would feel the same looking like this! Besides, I’ve had countless men pretend to dislike me or ignore me in my youth—only to confess their feelings later.”
Many men, drawn to her yet frustrated by her indifference, would lash out in wounded pride—only to sheepishly confess their feelings much later.
To Aracila, such behavior was both baffling and deeply irritating.
“Some even crossed the line into harassment. Of course, I dealt with them decisively.”
“…What exactly do you mean by ‘dealt with’?”
“Shall I explain the details?”
Damian, momentarily dizzy from her angelic smile, waved his hand dismissively.
“Never mind.”
Just then, a senior priest entered the reception room. Known for his long service and incorruptible integrity, he was a trustworthy choice.
“I’m glad to meet you both. I am Priest Taylor. What is it you wish me to notarize?”
“This prenuptial agreement.”
The priest, whose age hovered between middle and old age, examined the document Aracila handed him with a gentle expression.
Despite knowing that the much-talked-about marriage between these two was a sham, he remained perfectly composed.
“Everything regarding this contract must remain known only to the three of us here.”
Priest Taylor nodded at Damian’s solemn condition. By cathedral protocol, a priest performing notarization was strictly forbidden from disclosing any related information.
“As a servant of Stenia, guardian deity of the Setron Empire, I swear: every word spoken and every document exchanged here shall remain in absolute secrecy.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
After having the contract notarized and leaving a copy with the priest, the two stepped outside, each carrying their own copy.
“Then, I’ll see you at the wedding tomorrow.”
“Yes, see you tomorrow.”
They bowed as though attending someone else’s wedding, then turned and walked in opposite directions.
It was the last day they would part ways, heading toward diverging futures.
[This is the timeline separator]“They met with the notary priest?”
Frederick raised an eyebrow as he listened to the report from the spy he’d assigned to watch Aracila. They’d supposedly gone to the cathedral to submit their marriage registration—so why involve a notary priest?
‘There’s no way they lacked someone to officiate their marriage.’
Aracila was on good terms with her family, and Damian had the Crimson Falcon Knights at his disposal. There was no reason for them to seek a priest for marriage certification.
“Did you find out what they had notarized?”
“My apologies, Your Highness. I couldn’t uncover that detail.”
Frederick tapped his desk lightly. He recalled Aracila’s bold claim that she’d been secretly meeting Damian.
‘Why would Aracila visit Lord Vandermir and a notary priest?’
Unless she’d struck some secret deal, there’d be no reason for her to involve a notary.
Suspicion deepened in his crimson eyes. He pulled out a document handed to him days earlier—a summary of Damian’s background investigation.
It mentioned a long-standing political marriage arrangement between House Vandermir and House of Marquis Hugo.
‘So it really isn’t a marriage of love, after all.’
A faint smile escaped Frederick’s lips. He still didn’t know everything at stake in this union—but this much was enough to draw a clear conclusion.
Aracila wasn’t marrying Damian Vandermir out of genuine affection. She was forced into it by circumstance.
‘Poor Aracila. Don’t worry—I’ll save you.’
Frederick’s smile deepened. It had always been the prince’s duty to rescue the princess held captive by the enemy.
“Find out exactly what those two had notarized. Use threats, bribes—whatever it takes.”
He issued the order with a refreshingly cheerful expression. The evening sun gently tinged his pale face with a soft, rosy hue.
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
Thank you for translating/sharing this. Such an adorable story!