On this land where both the Imperial and Ioventi armies were present, there was no danger for Delia.
Confidently, she grasped the handle attached to the saddle.
“I’ll be back soon.”
Delia lightly put her foot on the stirrup and climbed onto Luigi’s back.
With a movement that seemed to soar, Delia’s cloak fluttered in the wind.
She pushed the hood deep and skillfully urged Luigi to run away.
The cheerful and nimble sound of Luigi’s hooves escaped through the rear gate of the palace.
The dust raised by Delia’s run enveloped Zher, who remained alone.
Amidst the earthy scent, Delia’s subtle fragrance lingered.
Zher’s eyes, following the departing Princess of Ioventi, sank deep.
Arriving at the Picherun Workshop after crossing the city, Delia stopped her horse.
With each soft step as she dismounted from the horse, the grass flowers trembled, scattering their fragrance into the air.
Delia, removing her deeply hooded cloak, surveyed her surroundings. The sunlit workshop garden came into view at a glance.
Delia, in her familiar motion, tied the reins of her horse to a wooden post and took a step forward.
“Commander.”
Or is it? Should I call him Seopyeonggong now?
Delia’s face, contemplating what to call him, was adorned with a smile like a copse flower.
Let’s meet soon and tease with a new nickname.
Eagerly, Delia rolled her blue eyes while traversing the garden.
Where could he be?
With steps that seemed to float lightly, her cape fluttered like butterfly wings. The initially excited footsteps, as if about to take flight, gradually became calm.
With each additional weight on her ankles, the pace slowed, one by one, as if burdens were being added.
“Where is everyone?”
It was eerily quiet.
Unlike the usual workshop atmosphere, the serene mood involuntarily made her body shrink. The air, as if stepping into a different world, circulated strangely.
Over the gentle sound of a small fountain, the chirping of birds overlaid like a calm melody. There were no human voices.
The workshop’s garden, usually bustling with members of the Picherun Workshop, apprentices following them, and newcomers seeking to learn, was unusually quiet today.
“This is strange.”
Members who were here would have gone to Vangseong at her mother’s call, so it was natural for them not to be here. However, it seemed strange that even others weren’t around.
Delia tilted her head in puzzlement. Feeling that she shouldn’t make a sound, she forcefully quieted her steps. Her alert blue eyes, scanning the surroundings, sharpened with tension.
In one corner of the garden, white marbles were positioned exactly as they were brought from the mountains. Torso that was being practiced, statues without lower bodies, stone plates with sketches for carving busts were scattered untidily.
Amidst the clear sunlight, fine stone dust seemed to float in the air.
Delia cautiously passed through the workshop’s garden, where an eerie atmosphere flowed.
“Why is no one here?”
Even though it was a creepy feeling that made her body shiver, Delia’s footsteps didn’t stop. There must be someone here.
Even after entering the building’s corridor, there was still no sense of human presence. Like everyone in the workshop had turned into statues, only unfinished sculptures were placed everywhere.
The smell of varnish to dissolve oil paints clung to the dress hem that fluttered anxiously.
Breathing slowed.
“Where on earth are they?”
Everyone in the workshop was staring at Delia.
Eyes without pupils in the unfinished sculpture, the aura of a strange figure drawn on canvas. Even though there were no people, countless gazes seemed to stick to her skin.
“Geez. I don’t have much time left.”
Though no one was around, countless gazes seemed to cling to her skin, making her shrink involuntarily.
“Oh dear. There’s not much time left.”
Muttering quietly, Delia hastened her steps, passing by unfinished artworks.
She delved deep into the building, meticulously searching from the warehouse stacked with materials to the rest area for workshop members.
However, the person Delia so desperately wanted to see was nowhere in sight.
“Did our paths cross?”
Disappointment filled Delia’s blue eyes, causing a slight tremor.
The faint smile on her lips returned to a firm closure.
Delia, filled with regret, slowly surveyed the rest area.
“If he’s not here, then he’s not here either.”
From the workshop entrance to the innermost part of the building, she searched thoroughly.
An empty, long sofa, scattered canvases on tables, and a white canvas on an easel. Nowhere could his trace be found.
Feeling lonely for no reason, Delia gently stroked the brush on the table.
“Ha, I’m such a fool.”
As if expressing her disappointed feelings, Delia lifted the dry brush, swirling it haphazardly on the table.
“I should have checked with Meredith and come. What do I do now? Where should I look?”
Frustrated, Delia pressed the table with the brush, almost breaking it.
Although Senior Artist Perugino would be impressed if he saw it, Delia faithfully expressed her emotions with the brush as she learned.
Unseen regrets were layered with each brushstroke.
“Today can’t be helped. I’ll just have to return to the palace.”
Muttering weakly, as Delia turned her body.
Delia dropped the brush on the floor.
“Oops.”
Delia’s surprised cry echoed through the quiet workshop.
Delia was enveloped in a hug deeper and firmer than the workshop’s building.
“Hello, Princess.”
Greeted with a low and gentle voice, her eyes involuntarily closed from dizziness.
His scent, more potent than the strong varnish odor, seeped into Delia’s neckline.
Her tensed body melted into his warm breath like paint.
Unable to hold herself, Delia swayed backward, and he supported her against his chest.
“How have you been all this time?”
His low, resonant voice conveyed directly to her brain.
His moist and soft breath settled on her neckline.
Her skin shivered finely in the wave of air he created.
“Uh-huh.”
A faint moan-like response flowed from Delia’s slightly parted lips.
She thought they wouldn’t meet because their paths had crossed.
She thought she had taken a misstep.
In disappointment, there was no time to prepare.
Caught off guard in a vulnerable state, his assault swiftly overwhelmed Delia.
“Princess, you’ve been well.”
Aron, who breathed deeply as if savoring her flesh, murmured chillingly low.
“I haven’t been well.”
Aron, as if intending revenge, lowered his head towards Delia, nibbling on her earlobe.
“Ouch.”
The sensation, chewed meticulously, sent a shiver down her spine, causing her to huddle up.
Delia’s trembling movements were directly transmitted to Aron’s chest.
“Why?”
The question, embedded in a barely expelled breath, rose with an unsettling edge.
“Why haven’t you been well?”
Ex-husband Wants Reconciliation
One-line summary: Chasing the wife to the crematorium (making an effort to attract someone who has become indifferent), the female lead doesn’t look back, the second male lead takes the position.
Intro:
To repay the kindness of the older generation, Su Mu crossed into a female-dominated world and became a live-in daughter-in-law of the Yan family, single-handedly saving the Yan family from fire and water.
But her husband, Yan Jiyue, the eldest son of the Yan family, treated her with sarcasm and never showed her a good face.
It wasn’t until after Su Mu’s death that this pampered and arrogant young master shed a few fake tears and pretended to want to die for love.
This life’s kindness was enough. If there was a next life, she would definitely kick Yan Jiyue away.
Who knew that the heavens would be so kind as to allow her to be reborn, returning to the time when she had just married into the Yan family.
Su Mu glanced at the Yan eldest son, who still spoke coldly to her, and threw a divorce letter in front of him.
“Let’s divorce!”
***
Yan Jiyue never imagined that he would be reborn. He happily went to find Su Mu, wanting to make up for the mistakes he had made in his ignorant youth.
Wasn’t the reason the heavens allowed him to be reborn to let him reconcile with Su Mu?
But when he pushed open the door to Su Mu’s room, the person lying on the bed was another man.
Su Mu’s personal attendant, Xie Yi.
Yan Jiyue hated him so much that his teeth itched. In front of Su Mu, Xie Yi was a gentle and considerate whisperer of sweet nothings, but in reality, he was vicious-hearted and deliberately sabotaged their husband and wife relationship.
In the previous life, it was he who secretly hid in Su Mu’s coffin and committed suicide, stealing a step ahead of him to be buried with Su Mu.
Yan Jiyue’s eyes were filled with hatred as he cursed, “What kind of thing are you? Your background is lowly, what right do you have to occupy Su Mu?”
Xie Yi looked at the sleeping Su Mu and no longer pretended to be a whisperer of sweet nothings.
He proudly stuck out his belly, “I have the right because my belly is capable of giving the Wife-master a daughter.”
***
Yan Jiyue was consumed with jealousy. He spread rumors that Xie Yi had once been branded with the mark of a “harlot” on his chest.
But on the night Xie Yi cut off the flesh bearing that mark, Su Mu suddenly realized something was amiss.
“How did you know the exact moment I was poisoned? And why did you show up a month early?”
Xie Yi remained silent, blood from his wound soaking through his robes. His sapphire eyes brimmed with anguish – or was it just a flawless act?
Between a once-arrogant husband now seeking redemption, and a gentle soul willing to die for her – who truly held the darkest secrets? And could it be that Su Mu and Yan Jiyue weren’t the only ones given a second chance at life…?
[Reading Guide]
1. True divorce, chasing the wife to the crematorium, the female lead doesn’t look back, the male lead is Xie Yi.
2. The ex-husband did not cheat, he just realized too late and didn’t realize that he liked the female lead.
_____
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