There Is No Paradise Where I Ran Away To (14 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 36
For some reason, I had a premonition that Vivian would be here today—and I was right. She sat in her usual spot, looking utterly drained, and stripped off her clothes as if it were the most natural thing to do.
Vivian let her pale body float motionlessly on the dark surface of the lake. Her expressionless corpse emitted not even the faintest sound.
The hollow shell, robbed of its soul, was beautiful—as though it would never decay.
The beautiful corpse sank beneath the water, dashing Edwin’s hope that she might rise again from its depths, her golden hair shimmering brilliantly as she broke the surface.
“You can’t die.”
Her flushed cheek, warm beneath his palm as he brushed away the moisture, burned with heat and softness—far too vivid to be mistaken for the pale corpse drifting on the lake’s surface.
“Then what about me? What am I supposed to do, left all alone?”
It was fortunate. That she hadn’t died. That she was still alive. That, therefore, he could now grant her death.
Vivian’s wet eyes rippled like water disturbed by a breeze. She must have sensed his intent to kill—here, in the arms she had entered of her own accord, where she had stubbornly lingered.
How long would it take her to realize what mistake she’d made? Edwin was rather curious.
“To think you’d die right in front of me after I came all this way just to kill you myself… Well, sorry, but that simply won’t do.”
His fingers, which had been stroking her cheek, slipped downward. As he lazily traced her small, pointed chin, her slightly parted red lips drew his gaze irresistibly.
They held a different hue from when she’d pouted and complained about Jefferson the gatekeeper, insisting she’d do anything. Back then, her lips had been smooth; now they were chapped—though, thanks to the moisture they’d absorbed, still tolerable to look at.
They no longer possessed the allure that once made him imagine the flavor of ripe fruit. Now, this foolish girl—who couldn’t even properly fasten her clothes—was trying to push him away.
Vivian clung to the arrogant delusion that she could enter his embrace of her own will—and leave just as freely.
Edwin’s firm arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. Their bodies pressed together, already dampening each other’s clothes, and the faint warmth passing between them heightened the heat.
Dragged helplessly into his embrace by his strength, Vivian was crushed tightly against him. His shirt and black trousers were growing wet too. Her wet hands pressed against his shoulders, desperately trying to create space between their bodies—but the harder she struggled, the more recklessly her front parted open, beyond repair.
She stopped struggling altogether, withdrawing her hands that had tried to push him away, and instead gathered the gaping fabric together.
Even as Vivian gazed at him with reproachful eyes, his own remained fixed on her lips. Not satisfied with merely biting her lower lip, he tugged hard enough to nearly conceal her upper lip too—until his thumb firmly pressed against her chin.
Her jaw instinctively opened, and her tightly closed lips parted with a soft popping sound. The tip of his thumb, which had pressed her jaw, now brushed her lips—and her small, frail body jolted violently as if electrified.
“Don’t die.”
His blue eyes, gliding gently over her lips, whispered softly. They held the same fervor as before—but now gentler, kinder, and no longer violent.
A low sigh brushed against Vivian’s forehead. Her heart tightened with intense tension. Interpreting it as fear—or perhaps terror—she reached out a trembling hand to press against his chest.
Through her soaked clothes, it felt as if their bare skin were pressed together. She could no longer endure the sensation of being half-naked and stuck to him just from trying to cover her front.
“Please let me go. I’m begging you… You said you’d listen to me, didn’t you? You said you’d show me kindness. Please, just… Let me go…”
Now she lifted her ashen eyes to plead with him. All traces of fierceness had vanished, replaced only by a desperate desire to flee.
Edwin, who had been silently watching her, shifted the hand that had been stroking her chin to gently cup her cheek again.
He softly brushed away the dampness near her eyes, then released his hold around her waist. Vivian instinctively recoiled as far as she could, curling herself into the smallest shape possible, frantically trying to cover the torn, soaked fabric that left her skin shamefully exposed.
Edwin, now also soaked, stepped back a pace—and then walked past her. Was he really leaving like this? Buoyed by a flicker of hope, she was promptly crushed again as his footsteps drew near once more.
“This isn’t quite what I taught you to use it for, is it?”
Something thick dropped onto her body—it was her own shawl, though she couldn’t recall when it had slipped off.
Bewildered, Vivian turned toward Edwin just as a gust of lake wind blew between them.
His black hair fluttered in the summer breeze off the lake. Only now could she finally meet his blue eyes properly.
“Don’t die, Vivian.”
The corners of Edwin’s lips lifted coolly, like the wind itself. Without another word, he turned and walked away. Vivian stood rooted to the spot, dazed, until his back disappeared completely—and then sank heavily onto the grass.
***
Late at night, a drunken man’s loud singing—so off-key it rivaled a raucous street brawl—woke several villagers from their sleep. One exasperated resident threw open his window and hurled curses at the middle-aged man, who was staggering in a drunken stupor.
Recognizing him as the well-known village drunk, the resident clicked his tongue in disgust and shut the window after hearing the man respond with obscenities too vulgar to repeat.
He’d quickly calculated that engaging with him would only result in loss.
Rodinia served as a crucial passage connecting the southern metropolis of Lowend to the capital, Perrington. Normally, travel between these two cities was done by ship, as the terrain between them was notoriously treacherous.
Still, some travelers chose the land route, funneling into Rodinia—the one relatively flat stretch—and stragglers from those arduous journeys sometimes settled there permanently.
The middle-aged man who stumbled into the inn room was one such unexpected guest who had appeared out of nowhere one day.
“Mr. Hyven! When are you going to pay your room fee? And just when exactly are your friends showing up?!”
Crystal, the innkeeper, snapped irritably the moment she saw him—but immediately lowered her voice upon realizing how late it was.
“Do you think I’d cheat you out of your money? Good heavens—you’re stingy! Just wait and see! My comrades will be back soon, and they’ll bring double the payment! You may not know this, but I used to work in the royal palace once. I even enjoyed the King’s personal trust—”
“Ugh! Enough already! Spare me that tiresome old story—just go upstairs!”
The man, cut off mid-sentence, blinked his drunken eyes in confusion before bursting into laughter. His chuckles continued all the way up to the second floor, prompting the innkeeper to shout at him to shut up.
Grumbling complaints toward Crystal, the man fumbled his way toward his room—until the sound of muffled sobbing from down the hallway caught his attention and halted his steps. He pounded on the door from which the weeping came.
“Hey! Can’t you hear me? The innkeeper just told you to shut up! If I hear one more whimper from you, I’ll twist your neck and hang you from the city wall! Well… not me, actually—Madam will do it. So just be quiet already—”
“Mr. Hyven!”
Crystal, horrified, came rushing up the stairs and thumped the man hard on the back. Startled and off-balance, he was unceremoniously shoved into his room before he could even feel wounded pride.
After practically locking him inside, Crystal walked over to the room where Hyven had previously paused.
“Miss, I’m so sorry about that. He’s not a bad person—he just acts like that sometimes. Please don’t worry and get some rest.”
Having reassured the two girls inside, Crystal descended the stairs. But soon, the sobbing resumed in the hallway—just as before.
Charlotte, who had been cast out of the mansion and walked all the way to the village, had swallowed her tears through leg pain so severe it felt like her bones might snap. She dragged her aching legs onto the squeaky bed and held her breath.
Edwin had cast her out without a shred of mercy—pushing her beyond the mansion gates without even a carriage. He hadn’t cared whether she died on the road, or if bandits found her and slaughtered her cruelly.
He’d handed her a trunk—too pitiful even to call luggage—and a few coins. Through Abernathy, he’d delivered a final farewell, claiming it was her rightful inheritance from Baron Beitnes, and added a last token of goodwill.
“Miss… I’m so, so sorry. Because of me, because of me, you’ve… hhhuhuh…”
Unlike Charlotte, who stifled her sobs, Merian couldn’t hold back her wails.
Merian’s weeping only made Charlotte angrier—but she couldn’t bring herself to be harsh, for Merian was her only remaining ally. Without Merian, she’d be utterly defenseless in this cruel world.
Honestly, it was all so unfair and infuriating.
She’d known Vivian was working as a servant, yet had never mocked or looked down on her—not once. If anything, she’d laughed at Vivian for trying to repay her debt through embroidery. Now, to condemn and belittle Vivian for her efforts seemed utterly contradictory.
Even beyond that, even if she really had done something wrong, Charlotte had hoped—above all—that Edwin would take her side.
It wasn’t love—but they were family. From childhood until now, her entire life had been filled with Edwin.
“But the Duke surely didn’t truly cast you out! If you stay here quietly, he’ll come looking for you again. After all, what do you mean to him? Or… what if you told him you’d marry Baron Zimmermann instead? Maybe then he’d forgive you.”
“What did you say? That he might forgive me if I did that?”
Charlotte bit her lip and glared at Merian.
“Was it my fault? Who caused all this trouble? It was entirely because of you—doing things I never even asked for and angering the Duke! If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here at all!”
Charlotte buried her face in her knees and burst into bitter tears. Guilt-stricken, Merian pressed her lips tightly together and sniffled. Yet whenever Charlotte heard even the faintest sound from outside, she’d instantly lift her head, terrified.
She burrowed into the blanket and begged Merian to stay with her—and Merian immediately crawled close, soothing the trembling, anxious Charlotte.
“I’m so scared. What if something really happens to us, Merian?”
“Nothing will happen. I already told the innkeeper where you’re from and who your guardian is. She’ll keep an eye on us—so nothing bad will happen.”
As Merian gently patted the small, sobbing back in her arms, a thought suddenly brightened her eyes.
“Oh, right! Now that I think about it—we do know someone trustworthy here in the village. Someone we can safely rely on.”
Her optimistic tone swelled Charlotte’s hopes. She desperately wanted to escape this shabby inn room, where threats and danger seemed to surge like waves.
“Who? Who is it? Do you know someone here?”
Charlotte shook Merian’s arm, urging her to share the solution she’d just recalled.
“The friend of the Ebellines—the one who pointed a gun at the Duke! Theo Evans, the tailor!”
***
The overcast, ashen sky had dyed Vivian’s room entirely gray as well.
Standing by the wide-open window, Vivian silently gazed down at the summer garden. The garden, which should have brimmed with freshness, seemed subdued beneath the heavy storm clouds ready to unleash rain at any moment.
Yesterday had brought Vivian countless trials.
The humiliation and shame inflicted by the Duke. The realization that she’d been toyed with like a childish prank. The disgrace of exposing her body to a stranger.
Vivian was certain now. Yesterday’s events had confirmed it beyond doubt.
What he sought to take from her, what he desired—but what was, above all else, impossible to obtain.
Mr. Shepherd’s assessment of Duke Beitnes was utterly mistaken. If the people of Newway knew the nature of the Duke’s desires, they too would surely turn their backs on him.
He didn’t merely wish for the death of her body—he craved the death of her spirit as well.
Even the rare, cool breeze couldn’t fill the hollow emptiness in her chest. Nor could the vitality of this summer coax even a single sprout from Vivian’s desolate heart.
“Miss. His Grace is calling for you.”
Vivian turned to look at the innocent Sophie, who knew nothing. With a faint smile, she weakly nodded.
His revenge was meant to end with the death of her body. She had no intention of letting him take anything more.
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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