This Marriage Must End in Tragedy (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 8
Ansi pulled to free her arm from his grasp, but he refused to let go easily.
“Huh? What did Trishi say?”
“No, nothing at all.”
“Don’t lie! You said she dragged you straight from the lobby to a picnic after work.”
“That has nothing to do with you, young master.”
“Don’t say that, Rain. I’m sorry… Let me apologize in Trishi’s place.”
Labo shook his head, looking both stifled and sorrowful.
Ansi knew well enough that this young master held some measure of affection toward her.
But she had no intention of recounting the details of her situation with Trishi to him.
Even if she told Labo what had happened, nothing would change—only risk provoking Trishi’s wariness or exhausting herself further.
After all, instead of promising to persuade Trishi and prevent a recurrence, he was merely offering to apologize on her behalf.
She wasn’t foolish enough to place her hope for peace in a young master who couldn’t even manage his own affairs.
“There’s no need to apologize. Just let go of my hand.”
Ansi tried once more to pull her hand free. Labo lowered his gaze, staring at her arm still held firmly in his grasp.
“Are you angry? Rain…?”
His steady eyes fixed upon her. Rather than releasing her wrist, he slowly stroked it with his thumb. His clearly intentional touch sent shivers down Ansi’s spine, making her flinch.
“Let go.”
“Stay with me.”
Labo seemed determined to go forward now. He lifted his chin slightly, leaning closer to Ansi with his face tilted down toward hers. His eyes held unwavering confidence as they met hers.
“Rain, what do you think of me?”
“I can’t judge that.”
“Don’t be like that. Don’t overthink it. Just tell me how you feel right now—excited, your heart racing…?”
“You’re being threatening. So please let go.”
“Why… would you say something like that?”
Though she’d merely spoken the truth, Labo looked as if he were angry. Clamping his lips shut, he yanked Ansi toward himself.
In that moment, Ansi truly felt threatened. The man before her was broad-shouldered and strong, and escaping his grip proved difficult.
She tensed her entire body, resisting his pull—but that only seemed to provoke him further.
It was the instant Labo reached out with his other arm to grasp her shoulder.
“Eek!”
His hand, just about to touch her, was abruptly swept away. Labo flailed his arms uselessly in midair, trying to block the sudden cascade of liquid pouring down from above. Yet the stream drenched his head and face completely, streaming down in rivulets.
The sharp, pungent scent of alcohol emanating from the liquid was far stronger than anything Labo had emitted. Ansi hastily stepped backward, looking up in alarm.
“Oh dear, my apologies.”
A waterfall of fine liquor spilled from the window above.
“I was about to toss it out since the taste had gone bad—I didn’t expect anyone to be standing there.”
And as expected, the one responsible for it was that man.
There was no trace of remorse in the man who held the bottle upside down. In fact, he kept it inverted even as he spoke.
Only after shaking out the last drop did he finally set the bottle upright—but he wasn’t done with it yet. Instead of placing it on the floor, he gripped it by the neck and gave it a light, casual shake.
Whoosh, whoosh. The bottle wobbled precariously.
As if it might slip from his fingers at any moment.
“Be careful.”
A lazy smile played at the corners of his mouth. He spoke softly, almost a whisper, toward Labo, who stood frozen, staring blankly at him.
“My hands aren’t very strong, you see.”
“Uh… ah….”
Labo let out a strange, strangled sound and fled the spot as if running for his life—though whether he was truly running, walking, or even crawling remained unclear. The man watched Labo’s ridiculous retreating figure with a quiet chuckle before shifting his gaze.
“Lord Damion.”
At Ansi’s call, he leaned further forward, resting his elbows on the windowsill. His gentle voice followed.
“Would you come up for a moment?”
[This is the timeline separator]Several hours earlier.
Damion had arrived early in the south to wrap up negotiations with Marquis Bellow. The meeting, which had begun early that morning, concluded with precisely the positive outcome he’d anticipated.
As Damion rose, adjusting his attire, the middle-aged Marquis Bellow spoke to him.
“Don’t forget the condition: a thousand percent return on the investment. Only then will the next step be possible.”
“Then I should be able to return next month. In the meantime, Your Lordship should consider how exactly you’ll offer your support.”
“Well now, should I call that confidence or sheer audacity?”
Despite his words, a satisfied smile lingered at the corners of Marquis Bellow’s lips.
The young man’s bold declaration might have seemed like mere bravado, but somehow, it felt destined to become reality—this impression rooted in the trust built over the past several months of observing Damion.
“Next time, might I also meet with Count Rozel?”
“That depends on what you accomplish.”
“It would be even better if you could bring Duke Raventus along.”
“Ah, as expected—you’re choosing the audacious route.”
Duke Raventus was the third son of the Orphe Duke two generations prior. Though he hadn’t inherited the Orphe dukedom, his great military achievements had earned him the title of Duke Raventus.
Marquis Bellow and Count Rozel likewise descended from the Orphe line—fifth and fourth generations back, respectively—and now held positions among the Orphe family elders.
In the ancient noble houses of the Belgard Kingdom, such elder councils were commonplace. Even those who didn’t directly inherit the main family line could become elders if they held high social standing or noble titles, thereby remaining affiliated under the family’s name.
The influence of these elder councils varied by house, but none could be entirely ignored. They both benefited from the family’s prestige and actively worked to elevate it further.
In houses led by powerful individuals like dukes, the elders’ influence tended to be weaker—the greater the duke’s power, the more external benefits the elders themselves gained.
Thus, the elder councils had gradually taken to relinquishing active authority, preferring observation over vocal intervention.
But Damion de Orphe, second son of the current Duke Orphe, had begun visiting elder after elder, shattering their complacent, stagnant peace.
His goal was as brazen as it was clear:
Succession to the Orphe dukedom.
In this country, where primogeniture was the norm, the heir to a title was invariably the eldest son—in this case, Cardian—barring unforeseen circumstances. Yet Damion had declared his intent to overturn that expectation and asked for their support.
Even the Duke Orphe himself couldn’t easily disregard the elders if they united their voices. That was precisely what Damion sought.
This clever, cunning young man offered not internal family authority as payment, but tangible external gains.
His business acumen was so sharp one wondered why he’d let his talents languish in the military for years. Though, given that he’d returned bearing the title of war hero, perhaps his victories in battle were yet another facet of that skill.
In any case, this investment served as a test—an opportunity for the elders to decide whether to step forward in support of him or not.
And Marquis Bellow was already half-convinced this young man would one day indeed become the next Duke Orphe.
“So, in your opinion, should I invest in that railway connecting us to the neighboring country? Go ahead—do as you please.”
“Are you indirectly telling me you’ll commit your support now?”
“Can’t I give you at least that one piece of information? You really are stingy.”
“Do say it plainly, then.”
“We’ll see next month.”
Marquis Bellow chuckled lightly as he took his leave. Damion smiled faintly at the meaning hidden within the marquis’s final words.
He drew out his pocket watch, its intricate vine motif meticulously engraved. He still had time before meeting that woman.
Perhaps he’d stop by the beach.
Damion climbed into his white automobile and drove himself to a certain stretch of shoreline—a place he’d noticed during his recent visit to Viscount Jiden’s estate.
The car halted along the roadside with an unobstructed view of the sea. Leaning against it, he stood quietly, gazing out at the ocean.
He could have walked closer to the water’s edge, but chose not to. Strolling across the wide sandy beach would surely fill his shoes with sand, and he disliked the trouble of brushing away every fine grain afterward.
A cool breeze blew in. The wind near the sea always carried a strange mix of unfamiliarity and nostalgia—and so did the endless expanse of blue.
The gentle advance of cerulean waves onto the sand, only to retreat swiftly as if fleeing, never grew tiresome to watch.
This tranquil stillness was broken by signs of movement farther down the beach.
Ansi de Rubelsa.
He spotted her.
Damion’s eyes narrowed slightly. The woman was neatly arranging refreshments on a picnic mat. He watched her silently, his deep-set eyes already filled entirely with her image.
He admired her as one would admire the waves.
She resembled them in certain ways—advancing with measured force, then suddenly drawing back as if nothing had happened.
Crash—a sudden, powerful wave thundered in his ears, drenching sand quite far up the shore. Waves occasionally struck without warning, delivering sharp shocks before vanishing again.
Even her seemingly calm demeanor hid an underlying temper that didn’t seem particularly gentle.
Just then, Viscount Jiden’s daughter, who’d been running across the sand, approached Ansi.
The two exchanged words in front of the mat. Though their voices didn’t carry, the conversation didn’t seem pleasant.
The negotiation appeared to have failed. Viscount Jiden’s daughter picked up a plate and shoved it deep into the sand.
Male lead Asks for a Divorce Every Day
It’s not often you come across a plot like this in the female-dominant genre — make sure to check it out!
This is a novel I’m planning to reread as well.
The male lead is strong, skilled in martial arts, and not the usual fragile type you often see in matriarchal novels.
Meanwhile, the female lead is a scientist—rational and logical. Even when she falls for the male lead, she doesn’t let her emotions cloud her decisions.
If you push through the first few chapters, you’ll gradually find the story really intriguing.
It has a mix of mystery, detective elements, and romance.
The author’s writing style is like crafting a puzzle—except they deliberately leave out a few pieces, making it hard to predict what happens next, yet keeping you hooked.
In the end, everything will come together and be explained.
One-sentence summary: Wife, stop playing with beakers and look at me!
In a laboratory accident, research scientist Zhu Wansheng accidentally travels to a matriarchal world. The original owner of the body is an eighteen-year-old only daughter of a wealthy rouge merchant, already married with a handsome young man.
Zhu Wansheng grins: Nice! She always said she was heaven’s favorite granddaughter. After a life of toil in her previous life, she can enjoy blessings in this one.
However, her joy lasts no more than three seconds as bad news arrives: the original owner’s family is about to go bankrupt, and her husband wants a divorce.
Even worse, she’s stuck with a research system full of restrictions.
Zhu Wansheng: ? Is this the destiny of a research dog?
——
Faced with this mess, Zhu Wansheng pours herself a bowl of wine to drown her sorrows. In her drunken haze, her husband arrives.
His figure is imposing, holding a long sword, with a dignified air that captivates Zhu Wansheng.
Gu Yingqing, however, looks at the alcohol-reeking Zhu Wansheng with undisguised disgust and coldly asks, “Divorce or not?” The intoxicated Zhu Wansheng mumbles vaguely, “I think… it’s not… it’s not… impossible!”
——
The next day, after sobering up, Zhu Wansheng is full of energy, rolling up her sleeves ready to make a big move. As for yesterday? She has no memory of it.
Zhu Wansheng is ambitious; a research dog fears nothing!
Upgrading rouge, extracting fragrances, producing perfumes, researching lipsticks… all shall bow to the power of modern technology!
The original owner’s dying rouge shop is revitalized. Her mother is pleased and with a wave of her hand, passes on the family business to her. As she takes control and her experimental results gain popularity, it’s the pinnacle of her life…
——
But there are always those who can’t stand to see her doing well. Jealousy, scheming, assassination attempts – they want nothing less than her life.
The person who has always kept his distance from her suddenly holds her tightly in his arms, eyes full of concern.
She is unharmed, but he falls into a pool of blood…
Zhu Wansheng feels guilty, “I can grant you one wish.”
Gu Yingqing tentatively circles his arms around her, carefully resting his head in the crook of her neck, pleading softly, “I regret it. Can we not divorce?”
Zhu Wansheng: ? When did I agree to a divorce?
[Small Theater]
The newly developed rouge is beautifully packaged, and Zhu Wansheng is eager to try it.
Gu Yingqing suddenly appears: “My lady, may I apply it for you?”
Cool fingertips lightly brush her lips. His Adam’s apple bobs as he leans in for a light bite.
Zhu Wansheng: ?
Gu Yingqing: It smells so good, I wanted to taste it…
On a warm spring day, Zhu Wansheng tries a new perfume: “Spring Night.” Gu Yingqing corners her against a wall.
Warm breath lingers on her neck.
“My lady, from now on, may I test the fragrances for you?”
[Humorous female scientist vs scheming live-in son-in-law male lead]
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He is so calculating. It will be all the more satisfying when he falls in love for real.
She’s just going to embarrass herself. Someone smarter would wait to confront instead of causing a commotion in front of everyone.
Damion may be conniving and manipulative, but he’s at least protective of Ansi even while she is not around.