This Marriage Must End in Tragedy (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 15
The man’s violet eyes bore a strange resemblance to that night sky. Ansi, who had been staring at them, suddenly felt embarrassed and lowered her gaze to the floor as she asked,
“Is the floor really like this?”
“It was in even worse shape than this.”
It was hard to believe such a man, with such an aristocratic appearance, could have done that. But the Damion de Orphe she had seen so far seemed just the type to do it.
“Please don’t suggest we lie down here together right now.”
At her genuinely worried words, Damion let out a soft chuckle. Fortunately, he apparently had no such intention.
“Then, instead, if you know what that star is, would you tell me? I’ve been curious about it for a while.”
Ansi looked up toward the sky in the direction Damion’s fingertip pointed. Among the sea of stars, one shone unusually bright.
“That’s Arcturus. It means ‘guardian of the bear,’ and it’s the brightest star in Boötes.”
“Do you like stars?”
“A little.”
“So the livestock a herdsman must tend to must be bears, then.”
“No, the bear he guards isn’t livestock—it’s his mother. She was transformed into a bear by divine wrath, and the herdsman watches over her in the sky for the rest of his life.”
At those words, Damion’s eyes narrowed slightly. In a curious tone, he asked,
“If someone becomes an unrecognizable creature and eventually dies and vanishes, are they still family?”
“Yes, I believe that’s what makes them family. What about you, my lord Damion?”
Ansi looked straight at Damion as she asked.
If his idea of family was the same…
Ansi stared at the man’s lips, shadowed by darkness. Soon, his closed mouth opened.
“I’m glad you hold such thoughts, Ansi. I, too, believe I could give my life for my family.”
Ansi’s gaze trembled faintly. This carefree young master spoke of sacrificing his life for family, though he didn’t even know what kind of person his brother was or what he’d done to her.
Indeed, this man was exactly who Ansi should despise.
He was the villain she needed to push, along with the witch, into the flames.
Biting hard on the inside of her lip, she forced a smile and replied,
“I feel exactly the same, my lord.”
“You should probably drop the honorific by now. Just call me Damion, Ansi.”
“…Damion.”
The man smiled brightly. Seeing that happiness light up his face in the moonlight, Ansi was overwhelmed by a filthy, wretched feeling.
Two emotions churned together chaotically:
Hatred for being the younger brother of her enemy.
And guilt for deceiving an innocent man who knew nothing.
Neither was a pleasant feeling.
Yet still,
Ansi had a premonition.
No matter how their story ended, she would never forget this flood of falling stars—and the memory of the maze—for as long as she lived.
[This is the timeline separator]〈Don’t scream, Mion.〉
A gentle boy’s voice echoed inside Damion’s head.
〈Ugh…〉
A pained whimper escaped Damion’s tightly closed lips. One drop, then another. Along with the sensation of something falling onto his arm, excruciating pain swallowed him whole.
〈You’re doing so well. As expected, Mion is a good child.〉
The boy laughed softly. Damion, who had kept his eyes squeezed shut, opened them and spoke. Tears streamed down his cheeks.
〈Brother, please stop…〉
What came out of his mouth was the trembling voice of a child. On his arm, hardened drops of candle wax were clearly visible. Before him, the wheat-haired boy—Cardian—gazed at him with icy, emotionless golden eyes.
〈I told you not to open your mouth. Why don’t you listen?〉
〈I-I’m sorry.〉
〈Bad children must be punished.〉
Cardian, chiding him as if correcting a mistake, pressed the lit candle he held directly into Damion’s arm.
〈Aaah!〉
Damion let out a piercing scream. The sensation of fire and wax against his skin was searing—something he’d never forget for the rest of his life. As Damion thrashed his arm wildly, screaming like a madman, Cardian burst into laughter.
Just then—bang!—the door flew open. Alarmed by the scream, several servants and the Duchess, Marianne, rushed in.
〈What’s going on?〉
〈Mion must have startled himself after dropping a candle while playing with it. Are you all right, Mion?〉
Cardian calmly spoke as he pulled Damion’s sleeve back down, covering the burns.
〈N-no! Brother pressed the candle against my arm, so…〉
〈I don’t understand what you’re saying, Mion. I only tried to stop you.〉
〈No! Mother, it’s not true!〉
Damion stumbled toward Marianne, hoping now that an adult had come, he would finally be rescued from his brother’s grip.
〈Look at this!〉
He raised his agonizing arm high. Just as he reached with his other hand to pull the sleeve up past his wrist,
Marianne firmly grabbed his small hand, halting his motion. Her eyes flickered briefly over the extinguished candle rolling on the floor, Damion’s arm, and Cardian—whose golden eyes stared back at her, wide and unblinking.
After a brief pause, she swallowed hard and spoke.
〈Damion, lying is wrong.〉
She kept her grip tight on his hand, preventing him from ever revealing the full extent of his wounds.
That day, Damion realized—just like the children trapped in the fairy-tale gingerbread house—no adult would ever come to save him here.
After all, it was his very own parents who had abandoned him in that house of sweets.
He would have to escape the villain’s clutches by himself.
Alone. Without anyone’s help.
“Ugh… ugh…”
The child who had sobbed alone in the dark room, swallowing his cries, had grown into the man he was now. Yet the world around him remained just as dark.
He couldn’t breathe. Clutching his throat, Damion gasped for air. His chest felt tight; not knowing how to breathe properly, he kept inhaling desperately until a scream finally tore from his lips.
At the sound, the door burst open.
“My lord! My lord!”
Someone shook him awake. Startled by the urgent touch, Damion’s eyes snapped open.
“Huh…!”
He exhaled sharply, breathing heavily and raggedly. His body was drenched in cold sweat.
Elma, the head maid, repeatedly stroked his back.
“You had a nightmare. It’s all right now.”
Damion, his eyes bloodshot and fixed on empty space, finally calmed down after a long while.
“…I’m fine now. Thank you.”
A hoarse voice slipped from his cracked lips. Elma gave him a pitying look before leaving the room.
Elma had known Damion since he first set foot in House Orphe at the age of eight and had followed him to his new residence after his honorable discharge and separation from the main family.
She’d thought his nightmares had quieted down lately—but apparently, they’d returned.
“Poor young master.”
With a bitter sigh, Elma turned away from the closed door.
She decided to relay Duke Orphe’s order—to attend the ducal manor as soon as he awoke—only after he’d caught his breath and finished breakfast.
All Elma could do was hope, again and again, that the young lady His Grace had in mind as his future bride would become a true family to the young master.
[This is the timeline separator]“Rain! Open the door, will you, dear!”
Ansi frowned at the loud knocking on her door early in the morning.
Her body felt heavy—and understandably so. After returning from last night’s ball, she’d tossed aside the dress he’d gifted her and only begun preparing for bed when dawn was already breaking.
“Ansi, I think Madam Roma is here.”
But when Sophia, from the opposite bed, sat up with a startled look, Ansi finally forced her weary body out of bed.
As soon as she opened the door, Roma immediately tried to step inside. Ansi blocked her.
“Even if this is your house, barging in unannounced is inconvenient. We did pay for our stay in this room, after all.”
Since they hadn’t yet secured a home in the capital, they’d arranged to stay a few days at Roma’s residence—a reasonable choice, offering safety and affordability.
Ansi had considered coming to the capital alone, but leaving Sophia behind in their southern home, where Garris might appear at any moment, troubled her too much.
Fortunately, Roma’s house was quite comfortable.
There was just one problem—the owner was terribly chatty.
“You! What on earth is going on? This picture in Morning Noblesse—isn’t this you?”
Roma held up the gossip sheet, alternately comparing the black-and-white illustration with Ansi herself. Her skeptical eyes soon landed on the distinctive embellishments of the dress casually hung nearby.
“It really is you!”
“Yes, it is.”
“Good heavens! How can something like this happen? I was so shocked I gulped down my coffee, and now my heart’s beating even faster! Rain!—No, I should call you Ansi now, right? Is that okay?”
“You’ll have to. I won’t be using the name Rain anymore.”
“I get the gist now. Don’t worry—I know I can trust you to keep things quiet.”
Ansi nodded.
Despite Roma’s talkative nature, that was precisely why Ansi had chosen to stay here—because she never spilled secrets. That discretion was both the hard-earned expertise and ironclad rule from managing a business handling countless clients and commissions.
“Well, now that I’ve confirmed it, that’s settled. It’s fascinating!”
“Yes, please rest.”
“That fountain pen sold. Here’s your payment.”
Roma handed over a thick wad of cash—apparently, it had fetched a high price.
“A day’s worth of life,” he’d said mockingly—but clearly, he hadn’t considered it cheap at all. The arrogant words replayed in Ansi’s mind, and despite herself, a hollow laugh escaped her.
“Why? Were you expecting more?”
“No. It’s just… more than I thought.”
“Go buy something nice for your mother. But more importantly… I was right to go out that day, wasn’t I?”
That day? Ah.
Ansi realized what Roma meant. Indeed, it was only because she’d taken Lady Larwill’s place at that event that she’d met Damion de Orphe again.
The very person who had enabled her first major step toward revenge. Ansi bowed deeply to Roma, sincerity in her eyes.
“Thank you.”
“Oh, come now! I didn’t do it to be thanked.”
Still, Roma left with a pleased chuckle, slamming the door shut behind her.
Ansi sank onto the bed.
One step.
She’d truly taken one step forward.
Mulling over that fact, Ansi closed her eyes once more.
[This is the timeline separator]Light bounced off the crystal chandelier hanging from the high ceiling and poured downward—a radiant welcome for the man who’d arrived at the mansion.
Through that light, Damion strode coolly and headed straight for the dining room.
Though the door stood open, Damion knocked out of courtesy.
Marianne’s expression, previously relaxed as she smiled while eating, instantly hardened. She slammed her fork down, her face flushing as red as a furnace.
Male lead is a Divorced Husband
She said to him: “Tell me, what makes you like me? I’ll change it!”
Liu Changning transmigrated into a female cannon fodder character in a female-dominant novel.
After reading the first half of the novel’s plot, the first thing she did upon transmigration was to divorce the Pan Jinlian-style male protagonist she had just married.
She indulged herself, pretending to be ugly and poor.
But as time passed, the way that man looked at her became more and more unusual…
Liu Changning was dumbfounded: Tell me, what makes you like me? I’ll change!
――
This lifetime, Pei Yuanshao was rejected by the same woman twice!
The first time, she drove him away. Forced by the situation, he endured the waves of anger in his heart, yielding and humbling himself.
That person lay slanted on a rocking chair, her sallow face emotionless: “If you don’t want a divorce, go cook!”
Pei Yuanshao’s face was dark and gloomy: “You!”
The second time, after the crisis in Jinling City was resolved, the new emperor sent someone to pick him up. He turned around, stammering: “I… I have to go. If you keep me…”
That person lay on the kang bed, her back to him, as if she had long anticipated this day, crisp and clear: “Goodbye!”
Pei Yuanshao was so angry his fingers trembled: “You… you!”
The mission of family and country made him restrain himself, averting his eyes and turning to leave this broken household.
Two years later, they met again. Seeing her ethereal face, his body shook like a sieve.
“She was originally a ‘she’!”
At the Qionglin Banquet, the top scholar of the imperial examination, a talented person with exceptional speech and conduct, all the unmarried young gentlemen from aristocratic families looked at her with shy and timid eyes.
The peerless imperial official Pei Yuanshao felt the anger in his heart erupt. He pointed at the woman surrounded by the crowd at the Qionglin Banquet, his thin lips slightly curled: “Little sister, I wants that person to be the wife-master of my Mingde Prince Manor.”
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