(Latest Chapter) Read There Is No Paradise Where I Ran Away To (14 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 10

She awoke from a vivid dream, startled out of her early-morning slumber. Vivian stepped out of bed and walked to the window, pulling back the heavy curtains.

A hazy blue glow stretched across the horizon. The desolate stillness of dawn sank deep into her heart, settling there as if it belonged.

Vivian changed her clothes by herself. As she quietly left her room, the bluish light had receded a little further. In its place, a pale golden hue streamed through the windows, illuminating the hallway. By the time she reached the stairs leading to the lobby, the household staff were already bustling about, preparing for the morning.

Hearing footsteps behind her, she turned to see Charlotte approaching with Merian, both startled faces fixed on her.

“…Oh. Miss Windler. Good morning.”

Vivian wasn’t the only one caught off guard. Hurriedly composing herself into a proper greeting, Charlotte responded in kind.

“You’re up early. Without getting more rest?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d take a walk in the garden while no one’s around, but it seems the household rises early.”

Vivian wasn’t the mistress of this house, nor even an official guest. She lacked the confidence to openly use the garden under everyone’s watchful eyes.

“I also woke early and was thinking of taking a morning stroll. Shall we go together?”

Vivian missed the chance to politely decline Charlotte’s wordless, smiling offer and found herself trailing behind her. As they stepped out of the mansion, the sun slowly peeked over the horizon, brightening the morning.

Walking along the garden’s paved path, the first thing that caught their eyes was a cluster of yellow daffodils. Dewdrops shimmered delicately on their bright petals. Charlotte crouched before the gleaming flowers and gently caressed a damp petal.

“The Duke instructed the gardener last night to plant daffodils, and look—he’s already done it. Isn’t it truly beautiful?”

Charlotte, who Vivian thought only capable of handling things with care, abruptly plucked a single daffodil and handed it to her.

“It’s not exactly a gift—please consider it a token of respect for the previous owner who cultivated this place.”

“…Thank you.”

Unable to refuse, Vivian looked down at the wilting daffodil with quiet pity.

“It hasn’t been long since I moved here, yet the place has gained so much vitality, hasn’t it? When I first saw it, I nearly fainted from shock—it resembled a graveyard for the dead.”

That careless remark tore at Vivian’s heart. Knowing Charlotte hadn’t meant harm, she gently comforted herself, trying not to feel wounded.

“When I look at the beauty this estate has regained, I often imagine how it must have looked when Mr. Ebelline lived here. It must have been even more beautiful then.”

Vivian gave a bittersweet smile, thinking of her father.

“My father loved this garden more than the one at the Preston estate. Sometimes he’d tend to it himself or plant flowers. This garden is steeped in his touch.”

“I’ve heard much about him. They say he was a nobleman who willingly set aside his dignity. I even heard tales of Mr. Ebelline’s reputation several times while in the capital.”

Vivian’s previously stiff expression gradually softened. It was comforting to hear someone speak warmly of a loved one. Recalling her father’s gentle smile allowed her, if only briefly, to set aside her pain.

“Though you must have many worries, Miss Ebelline, please don’t worry too much. Until your mother returns, the Duke will stand as your protector.”

The pleasant mood shattered with the sudden appearance of Duke Beitnes. Vivian recalled the absurd joke he’d made the previous night—something she hadn’t believed for a moment.

She had questioned Edwin’s intent: Did he truly think she’d believe such a thing, spoken with eyes that seemed utterly serious and devoid of playfulness?

Who would fall for such a childish prank? Who would actually believe those words?

“Even if you aren’t the mistress of this house, please don’t hesitate to stroll through the garden or make use of the estate. Neither the Duke nor I are narrow-minded enough to scold you over something like that.”

“Thank you for your kindness.”

“By the way—you’re not wearing your scarf today. Haven’t you been wearing it lately?”

“Oh, that? Yes. I think I won’t need it anymore.”

“If it’s alright, would you entrust the scarf to me?”

“The scarf?”

Vivian instinctively touched her bare neck.

Only after fleeing back to her room, having sharply declared his joke far too intense, did she realize she’d forgotten the scarf—and that the bruise on her neck had completely faded. It was a scarf she didn’t even need to reclaim, so she’d pushed both the object and the Duke’s teasing out of her mind.

“The last time I saw it, the scarf suited you wonderfully, but it looked a bit plain, so I’d like to embroider something onto it. I’d also like to leave it with you as a token of my respect for Mr. Ebelline.”

She considered making up an excuse about having lost it—but why refuse such a kind gesture over something as simple as retrieving a scarf from the Duke?

“Yes. Then I’ll leave it to you.”

Charlotte watched Vivian bury her nose in the daffodil with an innocent smile, then began walking ahead. The previous evening, Edwin had ruthlessly drawn out the weapon of marriage, deeply wounding her heart.

It was inevitable that she couldn’t sleep—and seeing Vivian emerge from Edwin’s room had been pure coincidence. By the time Vivian finally appeared, the scarf around her neck was gone.

Now that she thought about it, it was strange—the ascot tie in Vivian’s room. The one that looked so similar to the Duke’s.

Though Edwin had claimed it was a gift, she was certain it had been his—the proof being Vivian’s scarf, which had been in Edwin’s room.

“Um… Miss Windler?”

Vivian hastened her steps to close the slight distance between them and spoke with forced cheerfulness, as if desperately trying to hide her fear.

“I don’t know if it’s alright to ask this… Of course, I know it sounds utterly absurd. It doesn’t even make sense…”

Annoyed by the drawn-out preamble, Charlotte furrowed her brow. Her heart pounded so fiercely it made her dizzy, as if ready to burst from frustration.

“Does the Duke… by any chance… eat people? Ah—of course not! No, no, that was ridiculous of me. I’m sorry. Please forget I said anything. The Duke would never do such a thing.”

Ha ha ha. The awkward laughter snapped something thin and taut inside her.

“So… are you scared?”

“…Huh?”

Charlotte stopped walking and gently covered Vivian’s hand, which still clutched the daffodil.

“If the Duke really did eat people… would you be afraid?”

Vivian’s eyes fluttered rapidly. Her plump lips stammered, unable to form a proper reply.

“I don’t know who told you this, but it’s a secret known only among family, so please keep it to yourself.”

With that innocent look, of course such a prank would seem believable. Of course it would make her—her, who liked that person—flee in fear.

Charlotte imagined Vivian running far away from Edwin and fanned the tiny spark of fear.

“You haven’t told anyone else about this, have you? I hope not. Rumors spread quickly, and I’d rather not find out tonight’s menu in advance.”

Who on earth would play such a childish prank? Did they really think the simple, foolish Vivian Ebelline would believe such a clumsy lie?

Charlotte let out a quiet laugh and turned away. There were no footsteps following her. She wanted to look back—but not yet. She’d walk just a few more steps, until she could finally say aloud, “I don’t understand why you’re doing this.” Exactly there, Charlotte turned to look at Vivian.

Why aren’t you coming? she asked with eyes as guileless as Vivian’s.

[This is the timeline separator]

That evening, Vivian dipped her pen in ink and hovered over a stiffly spread sheet of paper, lifting and lowering the nib repeatedly. Her wide eyes spun with worry before she adjusted her grip and slowly began to write.

“To Mr. Shepherd,

Mr. Shepherd, I hope you’re well. I’m doing fine myself. Life here is incredibly comfortable. Just as you said, Duke Beitnes is a truly kind man. Living under the guardianship of the Duke’s ward, I’m always treated so warmly that I sometimes forget I’m a guest.

But… Mr. Shepherd, I’m asking just in case—have you heard any rumors that Duke Beitnes… practices cannibalism…?”

The nib slowly marked a dot and dragged into a line. She hadn’t intended to include this in her letter at all—but she’d already written the line. She reread the sentence she’d unconsciously penned.

“Miss Windler, too—why is everyone so mischievous? Did they really think I’d believe it? Such childish pranks?”

She wasn’t foolish enough to fall for the Duke’s joke about devouring her, nor was she particularly shocked by Miss Windler’s playful words. Vivian crumpled the paper and pulled out a fresh sheet, neatly spreading it before her.

“To Mr. Shepherd,

Mr. Shepherd, it’s Vivian. I hope you’ve been well lately? Contrary to your worries, I’m actually doing wonderfully. I can’t forget the expression on your face when you praised Duke Beitnes—it must have been because your words were so accurate. The Duke has treated me with great kindness, and thanks to him, I live each day in comfort.

There’s one thing I’m curious about—besides the Duke’s good reputation, are there any other rumors about him? For instance, about eating people…?”

The scratch of her pen against the air ceased. Vivian’s eyes trembled as she stared at the words she’d just written.

Setting down her pen, Vivian rose and walked to the window. She threw it open wide, stifling air making her chest tight. A breeze—carrying both muggy warmth and cool chill—surged inward. Her mind instantly cleared.

Right. I’ll write to Mr. Shepherd later. For now, I’ll write to my parents.

Vivian sprang away from the windowsill and sat back down. It was just the Duke’s cruel joke. How could a person possibly eat another person?

It was a lie. Nothing more than a collaboration between Duke Beitnes and Miss Windler.

“Father, are you reading my letter? If by chance you do, please send a reply. I’m doing well. Father…”

Murmuring softly to herself, she quickly filled a page.

She couldn’t bring herself to write that Sayer was now master of the house and she shouldn’t return. Instead, she wrote that even if his return took a long time, she only wished for him to stay healthy. And at the very end, she made sure to add:

I miss you so much. I love you, Father.

She pressed her sincere feelings for him into the letter.

[This is the timeline separator]

Edwin awoke slightly earlier than usual and rang for a servant. After a light bath, his day began with a simple breakfast and the newspaper laid out on the table.

The butler placed the most important mail—the royal correspondence—atop the pile of newly arrived letters, then recited the day’s key appointments. Edwin gave a perfunctory nod, dismissed the butler, and proceeded with his usual calm morning.

“Your Grace.”

The morning had been ordinary—until Loic arrived.

“What brings you here so early?”

“Miss Ebelline’s maid found an undelivered letter in her room.”

Hearing Ebelline’s name was as sweet as his morning coffee—and an undelivered letter? An intriguing combination.

Vivian Ebelline typically wrote four letters whenever boredom struck: to Preston, the home of Monica Ebelline’s family; to Anthony Shepherd in the south; to Theo Evans’s dress shop; and to the capital’s post office, where Lawrence Ebelline had last been seen. She’d then hand them to the mail carrier.

Ah—one more.

Occasionally, even to Maria, the only maid who’d stayed by Vivian Ebelline’s side before ultimately fleeing with all the remaining money.

“And among today’s mail, I also found a letter addressed to Maria and set it aside.”

Loic mimed smoothing out two crumpled sheets of paper before placing the enclosed letter on top and handing it to Edwin.

Edwin traced the impeccably neat handwriting with his fingertips and read the brief lines. Vivian had started both letters asking about Edwin’s cannibalism—then crumpled them in frustration.

He’d tried teasing her into laughter, but once again, she’d been terrified.

With a stiff face, she’d insisted she didn’t believe such pranks, called them excessive, and stormed off in anger—so he’d assumed the joke fell flat, only to be met with this unexpected reaction.

If I’d known she’d so naively ask about such things, I should’ve said last night, “You’re tonight’s menu.” Would she then have stayed awake all night, fretting over when she’d be slaughtered?

Her dull gray eyes would have darted desperately in the shadowed air, standing at a crossroads of choices, nervously biting her plump, red lips.

She’d shift from lying down to sitting, then standing, perhaps pacing the corridors—or even plotting how to flee the estate.

Edwin folded the two crumpled letters and placed them on the table.

“Shall I leave them like this?”

“If you don’t leave them like this… what then? Will you really eat Vivian?”

“…No.”

Edwin gave a small, sharp laugh and examined the envelope addressed to Maria, flipping it front and back. The sender’s name—Juliet Fouquet—was written in an unfamiliar hand.

If only she’d put in a bit more effort and been meticulous, I’d almost want to indulge her.

Holding back a smirk, Edwin took his letter opener and cleanly slit the envelope.

Since she keeps doing pointless things and overthinking, indulging her at this point is only proper etiquette.

He pulled out the contents and read the first line:

“To our beloved daughter.”

His eyes skimmed quickly downward—the rest was predictable repetition.

Are you well? Any trouble? I’m fine. Are you eating enough? Any pain? Just wait a little longer. And so on—the usual dull, tedious phrases.

And at the very end, inevitably:

“From your father, who loves you most.”

Edwin closed the letter and held out his hand to Loic, who promptly placed a match in his palm, as if accustomed to the gesture. Without hesitation, Edwin struck the match head harshly against the box.

The flame began consuming the letter from its edges, and soon the boring read turned to ash. Edwin brushed the soot from his hands, showing not a trace of guilt.

He pictured the bold words Vivian had defiantly spoken the previous night:

“So I’m afraid I can’t promise to regret it.”

We’ll see. Will it truly go as you wish?

Honestly, he felt genuine curiosity.

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.

Link to read

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There Is No Paradise Where I Ran Away To (14 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 10

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