To You Who No Longer Want Me (7 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 15
“Father… so you’ve known about this all along?”
“…….”
But when her eyes met Gaisen’s, who stood trembling silently with his lips quivering and unable to utter a word, her heart sank once again.
“Did you truly know everything from the beginning?”
Overwhelmed by this unbearable reality, Viare could only stare at him in utter despair, her mouth agape.
“…….”
Watching Gaisen stubbornly refuse to speak even a single word, she felt as if her breath had been choked off.
Though it was nearly impossible to fathom why this was happening only to her, she strained every ounce of her will to face these devastating truths.
In hindsight, happiness for her had always seemed within reach—only to vanish like a mirage moments later.
It felt as though the emptiness and pain left behind after those fleeting happy times endlessly circled around her.
“I’m furious at myself for having been so ignorant.”
“Sister…”
“I just can’t understand it. Not you, not Father…”
More than anything, Viare was utterly enraged at her own ignorance, unable to contain her frustration.
Though she tried hard to conceal her clenched, shaking fists, she couldn’t hide the raw emotion trembling in her voice.
“Are you even the person I thought I knew?”
Seeing her paler than usual, Gaisen found himself utterly unable to offer any words.
His eyes, just as bloodshot as Viare’s, betrayed his turmoil, and after a moment of uneasy hesitation, he murmured faintly,
“I’m sorry, Sister. I’ve nothing more to say.”
Afraid of what he might blurt out if he stayed any longer with his sister, he deliberately rose from his seat.
“I should go now.”
In the end, Gaisen gave her no answer—only steadfast, absolute silence.
[This is the timeline separator]Seeing Viare lost all day in gloomy contemplation, Manolin, worried, watched her closely before asking cautiously,
“My lady, shouldn’t we start preparing your wardrobe for the autumn social season soon?”
Normally, dressmakers would have already arrived at the ducal residence with catalogs, but since work on social season gowns had already begun, visiting in person would be too overwhelming.
That’s why noblewomen typically visited dressmakers two or three months before the social season to place their orders.
Yet Viare still showed no urgency, which clearly made Manolin anxious.
This autumn social season would include Viare’s birthday celebration—the first since her debutante ball—so Manolin’s enthusiasm was already brimming.
When Manolin suggested going out, Viare hesitated briefly but, not wanting to spend the whole day lost in thought, soon nodded.
“Yes, it might be good to see things for ourselves.”
“Then I’ll tell Diane to prepare for our outing.”
“Why won’t you come with us, Manolin?”
“She understands these matters far better than I do.”
Indeed, Diane’s skill—responsible for Viare’s attire—rivaled that of the palace’s dedicated royal stylists.
For anyone other than a noble lady’s personal attendant, it was nearly impossible to witness firsthand the latest gowns and jewels circulating through the Empire.
Perhaps that’s why Manolin wanted to give younger maids, blessed with natural talent, more opportunities over those like herself with merely more experience.
Once ready, Viare informed them she’d go with Diane alone and take only Tonyo as an escort before climbing into the carriage.
Two knights looked disappointed, but there was nothing to be done—
the carriage interior was far too cramped for three large men and two women.
Most of Arcan’s finest dressmakers were located along “Lanbin’s Street of Arts,” a path branching off opposite the central plaza.
The Marta Empire supported artists so generously—funding a grand academy of arts and pouring vast sums into its operations—that its artistic achievements in painting, music, and literature far surpassed those of other nations.
Along Lanbin’s Street of Arts, one could find everything showcasing the Empire’s cultural zenith: galleries, museums, opera houses, theaters, exclusive dressmakers, and elegant salons.
Ever since it became a popular romantic destination among young couples, the district’s commerce had grown even livelier.
Viare had visited this place once before with Dension. Though in the end, it had ended in another pointless quarrel…
Before her return, she’d often argued with Dension simply because she didn’t know how to express love honestly.
She truly loved her partner, yet confirming feelings that might not measure up to her own proved both difficult and frightening.
That’s why she doubted love, misunderstood it, and failed to trust it.
‘I suppose I never fully trusted the love you spoke of.’
Those petty thoughts likely led her to interpret genuine affection as emotional deprivation—giving him the final reason to walk away.
Though it was nothing more than childish pride and pointless emotional games, even these memories felt precious to Viare.
A bitter smile briefly touched her lips as the carriage sped onward across the vast open plain.
Once they crossed this expanse, Lanbin’s Street of Arts—beloved by every artist—would soon appear.
“My lady, they say we’ll arrive shortly.”
Tonyo relayed the coachman’s message at once, and Viare, adjusting her wide-brimmed bonnet, replied,
“Alright, everyone prepare to disembark.”
Taking the knight’s hand, Viare stepped down from the carriage and began strolling through the arts district beneath Diane’s parasol.
Summer heat poured fiercely onto the street, the oppressive warmth clinging densely to the earth.
Though it was scorching, Tonyo—on duty—couldn’t dress lightly, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead.
Noticing this, Viare quickly picked up her pace and whispered softly, just loud enough for Diane to hear,
“We’ll only order from Floremant Atelier.”
“Yes, my lady. But… won’t you at least visit other establishments?”
Having come all this way, Diane had hoped to browse multiple ateliers and seemed visibly disappointed.
After all, even if Floremant was among the Empire’s finest, it certainly wasn’t the absolute best.
Especially since this was Viare’s first social season after her debutante ball—Manolin had repeatedly stressed the need for extra care—Diane couldn’t help but look puzzled.
But for Viare, who’d already experienced countless fittings and worn numerous gowns in her previous life, these current trends held no excitement—only stale familiarity.
She’d ordered her birthday gown from this same place before, so visiting again held no special intention.
“Madam Louise’s atelier will be more than sufficient.”
Diane, of course, had no idea that selecting dozens of gowns held no meaning for Viare anymore.
Having no choice but to follow her mistress’s wishes, Diane announced she’d head straight to Floremant Atelier,
determined to secure as many dresses as possible, even if just an hour earlier.
But since the distance was practically negligible, Viare merely shook her head with a faint, wry smile and glanced indifferently at Tonyo.
“Wait inside the carriage.”
“No, my lady.”
“There’ll only be women in there—won’t you be uncomfortable?”
Though she phrased it lightly, Viare was clearly concerned for her guard.
Understanding her kindness, Tonyo bowed his head and replied,
“Thank you, my lady. I’ll have the carriage ready again in three hours.”
“Very well, then.”
Even from outside, Floremant Atelier’s interior—reflected in its glass windows—was already bustling with people.
Inside, a clerk who’d been forewarned of the princess’s arrival stood waiting and promptly guided her to the innermost reception room.
Diane, who’d arrived ahead of time, was carefully scrutinizing catalogues with the air of someone both meticulous and exacting.
Spotting Viare, she greeted her with an innocent, cheerful smile.
“My lady, I’ve already secured several catalogues for us.”
“I see. Good work.”
“But where is Sir Tonyo?”
“He’s resting in the carriage and will fetch us in three hours.”
Only then did Diane seem to realize Viare’s thoughtfulness, and she beamed with touched admiration.
“My lady…”
Feeling oddly embarrassed by her maid’s gaze, Viare looked away casually and asked,
“Why are you staring like that?”
“Oh, nothing at all. These gowns in this catalogue would be perfect for the afternoon tea party.”
Clearly believing her duty was to repay her mistress’s kindness through diligence, Diane showed her the gowns she’d pre-selected.
Viare glanced through them swiftly and nodded in approval.
“They do look suitable. Let’s go with these.”
“My lady, shouldn’t you try them on first to be sure?”
“It’s fine. This is more than enough.”
Seeing Viare’s apparent disinterest in fashion, Diane felt even more disappointed herself and quickly flipped through the catalogues.
“Then please add this gown and that shawl as well.”
Diane called over the clerk and explained the selections from her pre-reserved catalogues, and the clerk jotted everything down swiftly.
They went over every detail—the fabrics needed, the jewels to be embroidered—and soon the order sheet grew thick with entries.
‘This much could easily last not just through autumn, but winter too.’
Amused by Diane’s overflowing passion, Viare almost laughed—but let her have her way regardless.
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
ARE YOU FUCKING DUMB?! just tell her the truth!!! 🤦🏻♀️🤦🏻♀️🤦🏻♀️