To My Beloved, I Present My Exquisite Nightmare (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 16
“Pumpkin?”
Laila turned around with a slightly surprised look on her face. She fell silent for a moment in thought, then spoke again.
“You mean… those that sometimes have bugs inside them?”
The Marchioness Himiard stared at Laila with an expression of unexpected surprise.
“Yes, exactly that. So you knew about them.”
Laila felt her cheeks flush despite having done nothing wrong.
It suddenly occurred to her that it was only natural for the Marchioness to assume she wouldn’t know what a “pumpkin” was—after all, just look at her shabby appearance and the unmistakable aura of a country bumpkin clinging to her…
After a brief hesitation, Laila spoke in a casual, unconcerned tone.
“They’re often used in witches’ spells. Not just pumpkins—various crystals, and sometimes even emeralds.”
At her words, the Marchioness Himiard’s eyebrows twitched slightly downward. Was it because Laila’s confident tone now seemed arrogant, unlike before? Or perhaps because the word “witch” had struck a nerve?
Who cares? Laila thought. After everything utterly absurd she’d endured back-to-back, she was mentally exhausted.
Watching the Marchioness’s frowning expression, Laila felt as though she’d just taken a childish revenge—but there was no taking back what she’d already said.
“Miss Chrisrad… Could it truly be? You really are of witch blood?”
“Were you still doubting it after seeing my hair and eyes?”
“Your eyes are indeed unusual, but the Crown Prince often brings along eccentric companions, so I thought it might be possible. As for your hair—it could always be dyed.”
Laila gave a slight shrug, her lips curling downward.
“I wish it were that simple, but unfortunately, this is my real hair. So yes, Marchioness… as you suggested, I truly am of witch blood. My mother was a witch, and though I’ve never met her, my grandmother was one as well.”
The Marchioness Himiard’s lips trembled. She turned her gaze away several times as if trying to speak, then looked back at Laila—but in the end, she said nothing and simply turned away with feigned composure.
She doesn’t look pleased, Laila thought. Well, that’s only natural…
“Marchioness, the bath is fully prepared.”
The servant, perhaps from having heated the water, bowed politely with a faint sheen of sweat on her brow.
Standing behind the Marchioness, Laila suddenly found herself oddly curious. If she was a servant in the royal palace, her days must be overflowing with work—so how was her apron so crisp, unwrinkled, and spotlessly clean?
“Miss Chrisrad, it seems your bath is ready. While you bathe, I’ll go check if we have fresh clothes for you. Follow Mel—her name is Mel.”
“…Understood.”
Mel quietly bowed her head even in front of Laila, her eyes lowered. As Laila followed her out, she suddenly turned back toward Himiard.
“Thank you… Marchioness Himiard.”
Himiard, who had been about to leave the room with the others, stopped in her tracks—but didn’t turn her head back toward Laila.
“You shouldn’t thank me. I’m merely following the Crown Prince’s orders. When you see him next, be sure to thank him instead.”
Laila stood there, wordless, staring blankly at the slowly closing door. For some reason, the hem of the dress worn by the nameless woman who left last lingered vividly in her mind.
[This is the timeline separator]Eustar passed through the central corridor of the royal palace and entered the audience chamber. The antique pillars and walls, meticulously reconstructed in the traditional Searrow architectural style, always filled a corner of his heart with quiet reverence.
Above, the ceiling bore a masterpiece depicting the five gods—including the chief deity, Cersita—gathered around the luminous “Table of Solemn Order,” their figures rendered in white radiance.
Each detail had been crafted by meticulously interlocking and assembling minerals and stones of varying hues, making it a masterpiece unparalleled by any other ceiling fresco.
Yet despite the grandeur and beauty of the scene, the throne atop the high dais remained empty. Guards stood like plaster statues, expressionless and still, while only three scribes huddled around a desk, deep in quiet conversation.
“Oh! Crown Prince!”
Hugo Lingal, Chief Royal Scribe of the Searrow court, finally noticed Eustar standing silently and sprang up in surprise. All three scribes bowed deeply. Eustar acknowledged them with a slightly bitter smile.
“Has His Majesty not come to the audience chamber again today?”
“I regret to inform you—His Majesty held a brief meeting this morning with administrative officials, including Count Rubio, but his headache worsened, so he’s resting now.”
“I’ll go see him myself. Is that alright?”
“Yes, Your Highness. Allow me to accompany you.”
Hugo stepped forward, but Eustar shook his head.
“No, I’ll go alone. You all continue with your work.”
The scribes exchanged glances, then bowed once more with deep respect.
Passing them by, Eustar entered the narrow corridor that led directly into the King’s private chambers. He heard their sighs behind his back but deliberately ignored them.
At the end of the dim corridor—where no light penetrated—he knocked on the door. From inside came an irritable cough. Simultaneously, Eustar’s brow furrowed as Barons, the King’s chief steward, opened the door.
“Crown Prince… You’ve returned.”
The moment the door opened, the bitter scent of herbs and medicine filled the air. A deep, incurable illness seemed to drift through the chamber like a great phantom.
“Baso, you really ought to be more careful. What if it hadn’t been me—would you have opened the door without checking?”
Eustar spoke teasingly on purpose, and a faint smile appeared on the aged steward’s lips, which had been weighed down by worry.
“Only Your Highness uses this door. Do you think this old body would forget such a thing?”
“True enough—if anyone else tried to deceive you, they’d never see sunlight again. In that sense, I suppose I can rest easy.”
Steward Baso’s expression softened further as he stepped aside to let Eustar pass.
The King’s chamber was as opulent as the audience hall, yet almost no lights were lit, and heavy curtains were drawn shut—making visibility poor even in broad daylight. Eustar took a long, stale breath of the stagnant air before approaching the bed draped in veils on all sides.
“Brother, it’s Eustar.”
Another cough echoed. Beyond the veils, a ghostly silhouette stirred slowly.
“Baso, draw back the veils.”
The steward, who had stepped back, pulled the veils aside and secured them to the canopy. Revealed clearly on the bed was the King, sitting upright—Od Hyenmorick, current monarch of Searrow and Eustar’s elder brother.
He looked far older than Eustar. Though the two brothers were actually fourteen years apart, King Od appeared withered like a ruin, despite being barely forty.
His once-golden hair had faded and streaked with gray, looking unkempt, and his formerly robust frame had dwindled so much that his loose nightclothes hung limply around his gaunt frame.
Od opened his mouth to speak but broke into a violent cough instead, bending forward. Eustar readily supported his ailing brother and gently wiped his mouth with a handkerchief.
“Brother, are you alright? I’d only heard your headache had worsened, but your complexion looks even worse.”
“I’m fine.”
Od’s voice cracked like metal scraping metal. Each breath he took sounded as if his chest were riddled with holes.
Eustar glanced at the steward.
“Baso, has the royal physician been here?”
“Yes, Your Highness. He prescribed new medicine and drew blood again.”
“They keep drawing blood yet still can’t determine the cause of your illness. What about the matter I asked you to investigate before?”
“That… hasn’t been resolved yet…”
Od raised a hand, cutting off their conversation.
“Enough. That’s enough. Baso, leave us.”
Though the steward’s expression grew cautious, he obeyed the royal command without question. Once they were alone in the dim room, Od’s expression softened slightly.
“Eustar, would you draw the curtains open just a bit? I feel stifled.”
Eustar immediately rose and pulled back the heavy drapes. Daylight burst in with a fierce, almost violent intensity.
Under the light, Od’s appearance looked even more ghastly than in shadow. His eyes were deeply sunken and ringed with dark hollows, and his lips were parched and cracked all over.
“Brother, you should drink some water.”
“No, it’s fine. More importantly… let’s speak of urgent matters. I had a feeling you’d return soon. How goes your search?”
Eustar remained silent for a moment, then forced a smile and nodded.
“I found her.”
Od slowly lifted his hollow eyes and stared quietly at his younger brother. His face was expressionless, yet his gaze held a tangle of unreadable emotions.
“Is she truly a witch?”
“Yes, without a doubt. And a powerful medium at that. Even if you scoured the entire continent—not just the kingdom—you’d be hard-pressed to find a medium of her strength. Rest assured, Brother. With her, we can restore this nation—Searrow—to its former glory far sooner.”
“Restore it… Yes, yes, that’s exactly what we must do. That’s what we must do.”
A faint wheezing filled the silence for a moment. Od, still avoiding Eustar’s gaze and lost in thought, finally spoke.
“Where is she now?”
“She’s with Marchioness Himiard. I thought she’d be exhausted from the journey, so I arranged for her to rest first.”
“Good. I’d like to see her myself—when would be a suitable time?”
Eustar blinked, lost briefly in thought. Laila meeting Od…
Bringing her into the palace meant this moment was inevitable—but he didn’t want to burden her with it right away. She’d already faced enough chaos for one day.
“If you’re feeling well enough, Brother, I’ll bring her to you tomorrow.”
Od’s eyes flickered. His eyelids, sagging and thin with age, looked almost like a reptile’s membrane.
He stared silently at Eustar, then spoke.
“Very well. Do that. You should go now. I’d like to join you for dinner, but it seems impossible today. We’ll postpone it until tomorrow.”
“Understood, Brother. Then please rest.”
Od nodded, as if urging him to leave.
Eustar watched for a moment as his brother sat on the bed, wheezing softly, then exited through the main door of the royal chamber rather than the way he’d entered. Beyond the opening and closing door, he saw steward Baso bow deeply toward him.
Od’s eyes widened, bloodshot and fierce, as he murmured quietly to himself.
“A witch… Yes, that witch is necessary. You need her, Eustar.”
Male lead reborn without memories — but he still falls for her.
The person he finds displeasing in this life turns out to be his cherished wife-master in previous life…
Xie Zhi and Fang Xianxing who had known each other for less than three days through a blind date sat in the same car in front of the civil affairs bureau. They had a disagreement and failed to get married.
Xie Zhi immediately took out his phone, slid through his contacts, and randomly selected the next marriage candidate.
The woman snatched his phone and hung up. Looking at his phone wallpaper, she awkwardly changed the subject: “An ancient painting, eh? It looks pretty good, it’s just that the person in the painting looks a bit like me.”
When he heard this, he sarcastically mocked her for being so delusional, completely unaware that, the person in front of him was the reincarnation of Wen Ru, the famous prime minister of Yuan Shun whom he most admired…
The female CEO who doesn’t want to get married with a divorce agreement in hand × The male archaeological researcher who will only get married if he’s sure he can get divorced
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