There Is No Paradise Where I Ran Away To (14 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 11
The Duke of Beitnes’s chef was a renowned cook even in Newway. His culinary skill was so exceptional—once having been in charge of the royal table—that it was widely praised as being among the finest in the world. When distinguished guests visiting the palace openly coveted this chef, his value soared astronomically, and the royal court took great pride in it.
Upon hearing the news that he had resigned from his position as the royal head chef, aristocrats from every nation began discreetly inquiring about his whereabouts.
Yet the chef, who wished only to grace someone else’s table, had already fallen into another’s hands.
The salmon dish before them was prepared by that very chef.
Its crisp skin and fragrant, velvety butter aroma tickled the nose, while the glossy, crimson flesh pleased the eyes. Facing such melt-in-the-mouth salmon, only one person could not enjoy it.
“Miss Ebelline.”
Seeing that the fork and knife on her plate remained untouched, Edwin, seated farther away, called her name in a tone of warning. Anticipating exactly this, Vivian quickly sliced into her salmon.
“I’m… I’m eating it.”
She had expected what kind of nagging he might give and prepared an appropriate reply. Edwin’s lips, which had begun to open, snapped shut again. Vivian dipped a bite-sized piece of flesh thoroughly into the sauce.
How much weight would she gain if she ate this?
A momentary hesitation made her reluctant to bring the food to her mouth. Unable to bring herself to eat it, she glanced anxiously at Edwin—and met his watchful eyes. In panic, she quickly lowered her gaze and popped the salmon into her mouth.
I’m eating.
To prove it, she chewed conspicuously, moving her jaw exaggeratedly.
“You’ll be staying in Rodinia for the time being, won’t you?”
A cold wind had blown over the dinner table these past few days. Even without Edwin’s usual gentle replies, she now keenly felt how Charlotte’s chirpy chatter had played its part. In just a few days, Charlotte’s demeanor toward Edwin had grown oddly tense.
Had the two of them quarreled?
Still chewing her salmon, she alternated her gaze between them.
“That’s the plan.”
“Lady Sutton sent a letter. It’s regarding preparations for Her Majesty the Queen’s birthday celebration. Should I go ahead and prepare the gifts for Her Majesty and make arrangements for the palace visit as I did before? Or, if you’re not too busy, would Your Grace prefer to handle it yourself?”
There was a sharp edge beneath her polite question. Vivian’s inability to swallow the salmon in her mouth was due not only to Edwin but also to Charlotte.
Charlotte appeared on the verge of voicing her discontent, while Edwin, in stark contrast, remained calm and indifferent. That gap created an awkwardness so uncomfortable it made her want to flee from between them.
“How about resting at the estate on the day of Her Majesty’s birthday this year?”
“What?”
Unlike Edwin, who had suggested it calmly, Charlotte repeated the question as if utterly astonished. This exchange steadily heightened the tension at the table.
“Why would you suggest that? I’ve attended the royal event every year without fail. If this is about the marriage matter, then…”
“Mother will be coming this time.”
Vivian, who had been quietly listening, suddenly lifted her head. Noticing her gaze, Edwin’s blue eyes followed hers. Her gray eyes, trembling faintly, soon realized the inconsistency in her own world.
Sayer Raven’s family no longer existed—the reason was indelibly etched into her surname, Ebelline. But Edwin Beitnes’s situation was slightly different. Thus, it wasn’t particularly strange for him to mention his mother.
Guilt and remorse tangled together, darkening Vivian’s expression. Her lowered eyes settled on her plate.
“Y-you mean your lady mother? But you said she was busy managing the estate and hardly ever leaves—why would she…”
“I don’t know the reason.”
“But…”
Though Vivian hadn’t dared look directly at Edwin, she made an exception for Charlotte. Charlotte, who had struggled to continue speaking, suddenly gasped for breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly, before unable to hold back tears, abruptly rose and left the table. Watching Charlotte depart, Vivian began to wonder whether the relationship between Baroness Beitnes and Charlotte was truly amicable.
Mulling over their conversation, she dared to deduce, like a detective from a mystery novel she’d read long ago, the hidden tensions within the Beitnes household.
Once Charlotte disappeared from view, her lost eyes found their place again. Having concluded her imaginary detective game, Vivian timidly aimed her gentle arrow at Edwin.
How could an adult treat a young ward so coldly? Vivian grew even more disheartened.
“What do you think is the reason Charlotte’s acting like this, Miss Ebelline?”
Having just judged Edwin so harshly, she was caught off guard when his question suddenly turned to her. She hastily picked up her utensils, which she’d set down unconsciously.
“Huh? Oh, um… well…”
With those lips that once threatened to kill or devour her now asking such a trivial, personal question, her mind went blank. In that instant, she thought it’d be nice if she could leap up and leave like Charlotte—and quickly settled on a suitable answer.
“Perhaps she’s just hurt? I’m not entirely sure, but if someone had been looking forward to Her Majesty’s birthday and then suddenly can’t go, they’d surely feel disappointed and upset.”
“And you, Miss Ebelline? Do you enjoy parties?”
Their gazes met across the table laden with food.
Whenever she encountered that ambiguous look—hovering between hostility and kindness—she remembered the boy from fourteen years ago, stirring guilt within her chest. Like a heavy, rough-edged stone rolling inside her, it made a deafening noise.
“I wasn’t particularly fond of attending them.”
The fact that they were dining offered a convenient excuse to avert her eyes. Vivian moved her fork, focusing on her salmon, and felt a measure of relief.
“But I did love the music in ballrooms. I especially enjoyed listening to the cello. Though I’ve since sold mine and can no longer play. Whenever I heard that a renowned cellist of the era would attend a party, I’d drop everything else just to go. Apart from that…”
Having articulated such a lengthy sentence, Vivian was surprised at herself. The realization that she’d just shared her personal thoughts with someone she always found intimidating and frightening now filled her with shyness.
“I see.”
Thus he punctuated their intimate exchange. The ensuing silence brought discomfort, and just as it was time to put another bite of salmon in her mouth, fear crept in again. Fiddling uselessly with her utensils, she floundered in air so empty there was nothing to fix.
“Don’t leave anything. Eat it all.”
“…Yes.”
Grateful, even, for his nagging, she squeezed her eyes shut and shoved the salmon into her mouth. Despite how dreadfully intimidating that piece of salmon had seemed, its taste was sweetly delicious—almost cruelly so.
[This is the timeline separator]I need to ask him clearly.
She couldn’t keep trembling in fear every day over a story she didn’t even know was a joke or not.
Better to get a firm denial straight from Duke Beitnes himself than waste energy worrying over such lies. And she needed to get her scarf back, anyway—so it was a good excuse to go see him.
“Sophie. I need to go see His Grace.”
For Sophie, who had been waiting for Vivian to get up from her chair, this was welcome news like a timely rain. As if she’d been expecting it, she shot up instantly and stuffed a dry cloth into her apron pocket.
“You’re going to see His Grace? Then I’ll quickly help you freshen up.”
Sophie’s voice was unusually bright as she dragged a small stool over to the dressing table. Vivian, puzzled, touched her hair which she thought was perfectly tidy.
“Am I… really that messy right now?”
She’d already returned Charlotte’s borrowed dress. Looking down at her own stained dress, she blushed with embarrassment at the thought of facing the Duke in such a state—it felt like being scolded by Sophie.
“No! Not at all messy!”
“Then why the freshening up…?”
“Well, because you’re going to see His Grace, of course.”
Seeing Sophie’s cheerful, sparkling eyes, Vivian realized with relief that she’d misunderstood. Calming down, she offered a gentle smile.
“I don’t think I need to get ready just to see His Grace…”
She whispered softly, worried that her honest suggestion might unintentionally hurt Sophie’s feelings.
After leaving the room with Sophie, Vivian learned from the butler, Abernathy, that Edwin was fencing in the back garden, and immediately changed course.
Vivian regretted not having prepared in advance what to say when she met Edwin. Facing someone who filled her with both guilt and fear, she doubted she could speak fluently. It would be fortunate if she didn’t just stammer awkwardly and make a fool of herself.
By the time she reached the entrance leading to the back garden, her heart was beating irregularly. The mere thought of facing Edwin made her knees tremble.
Walking down the corridor felt like being trapped in an eternity. At its end, beneath the sunlight, stood the white-domed pergola—the only resting place for the arms master.
Beyond it, the clashing of blades snapped Vivian back to reality.
“There he is.”
Though Sophie pointed toward two distant men, Vivian’s eyes swept across the newly sprouted garden. When she used to sit in the pergola with her mother for afternoon tea, her mother would teach her the names of children whose faces bloomed like bright flowers.
Those vibrant spring blossoms she’d memorized had vanished, just like her mother. This place, shaped by the Duke of Beitnes’s taste, held only grass and a few quince trees—utterly dull. Yet it was, admittedly, an ideal setting for two gentlemen to enjoy a fencing match.
“Shall I go speak to His Grace first?”
“No. I wouldn’t want to interrupt their pleasant time because of me. I’ll wait until they’re finished.”
Still floundering in bitter memories, Vivian sat quietly at the provided table.
“But it might take a while…”
Vivian gave Sophie a composed smile, brushing off her concern. Only then did her eyes truly settle on the two men absorbed in fencing.
She was certain the fencers were the Duke of Beitnes and Loic. Though their faces were hidden behind masks, their builds alone were enough to tell them apart.
The Duke was unusually tall and broad-shouldered, with a lean yet solid frame capable of carrying off even the most immaculate attire. In contrast, Loic gave off an overwhelming presence—standing before him felt like facing an impassable mountain.
When one round ended, Edwin glanced in her direction. Vivian stiffened and straightened her posture instantly. Fortunately, the Duke’s face remained masked, so she couldn’t read his expression.
The two men removed their masks and rested under a tree. Just as Vivian prepared to rise and speak, Edwin quickly donned his mask again and picked up his sword. Realizing it still wasn’t her turn, she slumped inwardly like a deflated puppy.
Her shoulders, tense just moments before, gradually relaxed. But to maintain decorum, she immediately straightened them again. If only she understood fencing rules, she might have cheered one of them on to pass the time—but she watched the pointless match with bored eyes, unable to even tell who scored.
At last, her patience bore fruit. The two men removed their masks and exchanged a brief handshake. After Edwin said something to Loic, the latter, ever courteous, promptly took his leave.
Watching this scene, Vivian’s tension rose rapidly. She swallowed hard and adjusted her posture once more. As she neatly folded her hands together, Edwin’s blue eyes locked onto hers in an instant.
“Vivian.”
Approaching with his mask tucked under his arm, he shimmered dazzlingly in the sunlight. As he swept back his damp hair and smiled, Vivian wondered if this truly was the man she knew.
His usual flawless, upright smile was clearly different from normal. Though the clean, dignified curve of his lips was elegantly striking—enough to make her shrink back—it also carried a faint trace of repulsion she couldn’t quite place.
Yet today, something more human filled his expression—not dry, but vividly moist, overflowing even.
Before her stood a boy.
Not an adult who had lost everything, but a pure, cheerful boy who had lost nothing. Confusion stirred within her at how clearly she now saw him this way.
“What brings you all the way out here?”
For a moment, she was dazed—but quickly snapped back to attention. She sprang up from her seat and puffed out her chest.
The pergola stood several steps above the ground where he stood. As he stepped onto the first stair, Vivian instinctively took an equal step back—unwilling to allow him closer. Fortunately, Edwin didn’t advance further; he merely rested one foot on the bottom step.
“Who won today’s match? I don’t know much about fencing, you see.”
Her method of opening conversation was suitably aristocratic.
“I did.”
His reply, as brief as it was, was clear and direct.
“Oh. I see. Congratulations… then.”
“So. What’s your purpose for coming here?”
He steered Vivian straight from her preamble to the main point. The scattered sentences floating aimlessly in her mind suddenly coalesced into order.
“I wanted to ask you something clearly. And… I also need my scarf back.”
“Why the scarf?”
“Because Miss Windler offered to embroider it for me.”
“And what did you want to ask me clearly?”
He rolled the toe of his boot resting on the step—thump, thump. That sound seemed to climb the stairs, closing the distance between them, almost choking her with worry—but under the sparkling sunlight, she chose to trust the smile on his face.
“Are you… really going to kill me and eat me?”
As soon as she said it, her face burned. She was surely coming across as a fool who’d fallen for such an absurd joke. Yet she felt reassured that his smile didn’t flicker with mockery—which, ironically, posed an even bigger problem.
Did that mean it wasn’t a joke after all?
His expression was perfect for causing exactly that misunderstanding.
“I thought… I thought it was a joke. I still haven’t repaid Your Grace’s money, so I assumed you’d keep me alive until I did. I didn’t believe it—I really didn’t.”
Despite her increasingly rambling speech, the Duke simply kept smiling without adding a word. Embarrassed, Vivian elaborated further.
“But the other day, Miss Windler said the exact same thing… Of course—obviously—I didn’t believe her. Still, I wanted to confirm it with you myself.”
She strengthened the resolve in her eyes. A breeze scented with spring blossoms drifted between them. As his damp hair fell out of place, he swept it back neatly.
“Charlotte said the exact same thing?”
“Yes. That’s why I need to hear it clearly from Your Grace.”
“What exactly did Charlotte say? That Beitnes devours people and to be careful? Or…?”
She’d wanted a definite answer, yet another question came instead.
“She said it was a secret only the family knows. And warned me to be careful because rumors spread quickly.”
She conveniently omitted the part about becoming that evening’s dinner menu.
“I see.”
With that short response, he slowly nodded and turned to leave. Seeing his back when the conversation clearly wasn’t over, Vivian was greatly flustered.
“Y-your Grace!”
At her desperate call, he turned back. Despite having seemingly ignored her moments before, his clear, refreshing smile left her confused.
“I didn’t get an answer. Were you and Miss Windler just playing a mischievous prank on me? And what about my scarf? Can I come pick it up later?”
“No. There’s no need.”
That man, gleaming with sweat and smiling brightly—surely he wasn’t the man she knew, Vivian thought deeply.
“I threw it away.”
“Th-threw it away? My scarf?”
“Yes.”
With that rude reply—which clashed entirely with his smile—Edwin left the garden. She still hadn’t confirmed whether the frightening joke was true or not.
Compared to the effort she’d put in, she’d gained nothing.
Male lead first thought she played hard to get, only to realize she
really disliked him
Short intro:
What she can’t stand the most is the streets full of effeminate men, especially that so-called top beauty whom she avoids at all costs.
Shen Yaoxing looks at Jiang Mingyue, who keeps approaching her with coy shyness.
Shen Yaoxing: Bro, don’t be like this, I’m really about to throw up!
She fears nothing in heaven or earth, except for him getting close to her.
*
At first he thought she was just using the trick of feigning indifference to attract his attention. Later, he learned that she truly despised him.
This dealt a heavy blow to Jiang Mingyue, and he vowed to make her, like everyone else, fall at his feet in worship!
***
Synopsis:
Before transmigrating, Shen Yaoxing only wanted to find a reliable man to spend her life with. Who knew that after transmigrating, she would become a reliable woman herself…
A forced misandrist, highly skilled, and reliable female lead
vs.
An initially aloof and arrogant, later morbid, obsessed male lead
_____
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