Why Do You Obsess Even After Death (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 11

“Lea! Are you all right?”

Celly, who was beside me, startled and grabbed my shoulder, pulling me backward. Had Celly not yanked me back, I would have been seriously injured by the broken glass shards.

“The vase…!”

The butler, who had been relaying news to the maids, rushed over in alarm. The decorative vase had shattered, water was spilling everywhere, and the flowers were in complete disarray.

“I’m so sorry!”

How a room was decorated revealed exactly how much effort had been put into receiving guests.

If the interior wasn’t sufficiently splendid when guests visited, they might think themselves disrespected. Such rumors spreading—that was precisely the aristocratic social circle.

I knew full well how important interior decoration was, yet I’d gone and broken it. It was a grave mistake.

As I hastily bent forward to pick up the broken glass, someone grabbed my hand.

“I’ll clean this up. Could you please bring a dry cloth to wipe away the water?”

It was Ronan.

Ronan had taken my hand to stop me.

It was the very moment I’d longed for.

“…!”

Of all times, the memory I’d so desperately wanted from Ronan surfaced right then.

[‘I’ve secured Demaloxin.’

‘Are you certain it’s truly Demaloxin?’

‘Yes. Absolutely certain.’

‘Really? Where did you obtain it?’

‘…Weren’t you the one who needed poison?’

‘Poison, yes—but I also need the person who sold it. Since you’ve retrieved it, you must have found the seller too. Bring that bastard here.’]

That was all there was to the memory concerning Demaloxin—the deadly poison I’d so fervently sought.

Ronan had captured the man who sold the poison and brought him before Laches. After that, Laches and the seller spoke alone, so there was no information about why he’d needed it.

With only this memory, it remained uncertain why Laches had specifically sought that poison and what he’d ultimately done with it.

But there was an unexpected bonus.

[‘Should I have killed Referentia after all? Or perhaps keep her close and let her live?’]

There was a memory of Laches, seen through Ronan’s eyes.

‘What is this?’

It was the memory from that night, before I’d moved rooms, when Laches had stood beneath my window late at night.

Ronan had been Laches’s bodyguard, and that night, he’d hidden nearby to shield Laches from any threats.

Thanks to that, I’d overheard every muttered word from Laches.

‘Back then… when I looked out the window, Laches was muttering something.’

I remembered clearly—Laches had indeed been murmuring beneath my window, and afterward, when he’d looked up toward my room, I’d gone down to speak with him.

After I’d said I’d come down from my room, Laches had signaled Ronan, who’d been hiding as a guard, to return.

Ronan, having received the order, left immediately, and that was the end of that night’s memory.

‘So he regrets not killing me?’

Was he lamenting that he’d missed the chance because I’d died first?

‘It was dangerous.’

There was nothing good that could come from my identity as Referentia being revealed. I had to hide it at all costs.

If Laches decided to kill Referentia—that is, me—I’d be dead on the spot.

After all, Laches was the master of Violentus Castle, and I was merely a powerless noble girl with no one to protect me.

“Are you all right?”

When I tightened my grip on his hand, Ronan studied my expression and asked. Only then did I realize I hadn’t let go of his hand yet.

“…I’m sorry. You asked for a dry cloth, right? I’ll go get one.”

I released Ronan’s hand and hurriedly left under the pretense of fetching a dry cloth.

‘Laches seemed far more intent on finding the seller than actually using the poison… But he was definitely pondering whether he should have killed me. That much is certain—no room for doubt.’

My hair stood on end.

I knew Laches’s smile was a mask. Every smile he wore was deception.

He was the kind of man who, despite my awareness of his falsehoods, inevitably broke through my defenses.

‘He once said it wasn’t consideration—it was whim.’

Every choice he made, every moment, was pure whim.

Even the instant he chose to spare me—and the decision to kill me.

All of it was possible only because he was the great Duke of Violentus.

That ruffian who outwardly showed not a shred of noble demeanor was, in truth, arrogance personified—a noble to his very core.

“Where are you rushing off to so hastily?”

My steps, as if fleeing to find an answer, were halted by someone’s hand grabbing my arm.

“Your face is pale again. Another cold?”

A soft puff of air escaped between his lips as Laches chuckled.

It was deception.

“…The vase… it broke…”

I swallowed hard. Strangely, his smile—light as dandelion fluff—filled me with dread.

His resolute determination never to reveal his true self frightened me.

“If a vase broke, it’s understandable you’d turn pale—especially since it must’ve cost more than a maid’s monthly wages.”

“…Yes.”

I exhaled evenly as I replied. Perhaps it was because I was facing my fear head-on.

The blood rushing in my head cooled instantly.

If Laches—if this man—was truly a killer intent on murdering me…

Then if that were truly the case, wouldn’t the solution simply be to ensure he could never kill me?

There was no guarantee that playing the obedient, well-behaved maid would keep me safe from this danger.

I lifted my head and met Laches’s eyes directly—not fleeing.

“So you’re running away?”

For the first time, his grip on my wrist tightened.

Laches’s eyes, which had just asked if I was fleeing, darkened turbidly.

As if that were the essence of it all.

“Huh? Answer me. Were you trying to run away?”

“…I’m on my way to fetch a dry cloth.”

“…”

“The vase broke, so water spilled everywhere.”

Laches scrutinized me with narrow eyes, as if trying to detect falsehood. Gradually, the pressure in his grip lessened.

“My mistake. I thought you were running away.”

His expression, previously clouded with impurities, settled and cleared.

As if it had never been tainted at all.

“Why would I run away? Thanks to Your Grace’s whim, I’m living another day—rising from a warm room and enjoying delicious meals.”

“Your words are as sharp as glass shards.”

“Must be from the broken vase clinging to me. I really must go fetch that dry cloth now. Excuse me, Your Grace.”

I pulled my wrist free and stepped aside to let Laches pass. After all, I couldn’t possibly turn my back on the master of this castle first.

“Your hospitality is so excessively courteous, I hardly know what to say.”

Laches chuckled and walked past me through the space I’d made. Only then did I let out a sigh of relief, calming the sharp tension that had prickled my nerves.

But after only a few steps, Laches turned back, as if remembering something he’d forgotten.

“Oh, right—I was on my way to ask you something. Almost forgot.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Is it true you were rejected by Ronan?”

Why did I have to hear this from this man’s mouth? Why did rumors spread that I’d been following Ronan around?

“I wasn’t rejected.”

“But I heard you were trailing after Ronan.”

“Well…”

That was the problem. If I denied it, he’d ask why I’d been following him—and I’d have no answer.

“…Fine, I’ll just say I was rejected. I followed him around and got rejected.”

“…I didn’t realize that sort of man was your type.”

“He’s handsome, isn’t he?”

“…So you place great importance on external factors.”

“What else would I know about a knight to follow him around? But does Your Grace really concern himself with scandals within his own mansion?”

“Once something irritates me, it keeps irritating me.”

His tone had already turned prickly again—something else must have displeased him.

An utterly unpredictable man.

“If I don’t go get that dry cloth, the butler might scold me…”

“If you were rejected by Ronan, why not follow me around instead?”

“…What?”

“Is there anyone in this mansion with more outstanding external qualities than me?”

Laches leaned forward confidently, bringing his face close. Had I not instinctively pulled back, our noses would have brushed.

“…Is this another whim?”

“So what if it is?”

His lazy, teasing smile was utterly bewitching—infinitely frivolous and mischievous.

Was he even now, while smiling so vexingly, wondering whether he should have killed me?

“…I’d hate for rumors to spread that I was rejected twice after following someone around.”

Why couldn’t I read this man’s memories? There was no one harder to understand than him.

“Are you sure?”

“Sure about what?”

“Maybe this time, no rumors about rejection will spread?”

Laches closed the distance I’d just put between us. Agile as ever, he continued deceiving me.

“You’re being awfully playful.”

I stretched both arms out to push against his shoulders and turned my head aside, preventing him from coming closer.

“That day—when I carried you, ill, back to your room—do you remember what you said to me?”

“What did I say?”

“You begged me to spare your life.”

“…!”

My hands, resting on his shoulders, tightened. Shame flushed my face, which had feigned composure.

“That was just…”

“So follow me around, then. Hmm, or if you cling to me and plead…”

“Are you seriously asking me to cling and plead?”

I cut him off before I even realized it. He paused, took a breath, then smiled, his eyes fixed on my flushed face.

“I was just about to ask if you’d follow me if you clung and pleaded.”

My face burned even hotter. Who in their right mind would say such things to a maid? He was truly impossible to predict.

“Count Deberti and Lady Palo will be arriving shortly.”

At the mention of those two names, I bit down hard on my lower lip without realizing it. Instantly, gentle fingers slipped in to stop me.

“You look troubled. Still, I hope you receive our guests flawlessly—without breaking another vase.”

“…Yes.”

“Of course, on a mere whim of mine, I could exclude you from working today.”

“…”

“Well? Are you feeling inclined to follow me now?”

Laches chuckled softly, brushed his finger across my lower lip, then withdrew his hand.

He was the ruler and sovereign of the North. Everything hinged on a single word from him.

And Laches knew this perfectly well—and how to exploit it.

Instead of answering, I bowed deeply. Laches, still smiling, turned and walked away down his own path.

[This is the timeline separator]

“We humbly greet Duke Violentus.”

Detor and Delia had arrived. I stood in the second row, bowing respectfully as I waited.

“Please help each other. Feel free to stay comfortably until your carriage is repaired.”

“Thank you for your kindness.”

Detor’s attire looked unusually plain. I’d heard his investment had been recovered, but apparently, the blow had been severe.

After all, this was the man who never wore the same outfit twice and refused anything not custom-made by famous designers—yet here he was in the same clothes.

“Your nature is so lovely! On our way here, I noticed some parts of the North still haven’t melted their snow. In the capital, summer heat has already begun, and you can’t find snow anywhere. If time permits, I’d love to look around—could I ask you to show me later?”

Delia was unchanged.

Still as cheerful and seemingly carefree as ever.

“I’m afraid I can’t personally escort you. I’ll assign someone to accompany you whenever you wish to explore.”

“Oh…”

“But as you know, monsters roam the North, so I’d advise against wandering. More than a few people have been devoured by monsters while admiring the scenery.”

“R-really?! Monsters? They actually exist?”

“Indeed.”

“Y-you’re not lying? I always thought those stories were just fabricated to glorify the guardian families… So there really are Northerners who’ve died to monsters?”

Delia smiled brightly. At her innocent question, someone flinched, while another struggled to hide a sorrowful expression.

Laches remained frozen, his usual smile fixed in place, unable to utter a word.

His fists were clenched so tightly that veins bulged on his hands.

“Ugh… scary.”

Startled, Delia shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. Detor, who usually harbored an inferiority complex toward Laches, seized the moment, wrapping an arm around Delia’s shoulders and laughing smugly.

“What’s so scary about a mere monster? Don’t worry, Delia. If a monster appears, I’ll protect you.”

At Detor’s boastful confidence, Laches covered his mouth as if adjusting his jaw—but his trembling shoulders clearly betrayed his mocking laughter.

“Hem. Have you eaten? Instead of standing here, let’s head to the banquet hall.”

“I’m actually quite hungry. Oh, but before that, may I change into another dress first?”

“Of course. I’ll have a servant show you to your rooms. Take your time, and we’ll meet at the banquet hall.”

Laches, having forcibly swallowed his laughter, called a servant and ordered them to guide the two guests.

The pair followed the servant, touring the vast interior of the castle.

The maids waiting at the main entrance naturally dispersed to their duties once the guests disappeared.

I quietly watched Detor and Delia’s retreating backs.

I knew that even if I died, nothing would change for them.

But knowing it in thought and seeing their shameless faces with my own eyes were vastly different.

“Personally, I don’t see what’s so handsome about that face.”

As I clenched my fist tightly, a calm voice cut in from beside me.

“I heard Count Deberti is considered handsome in the capital. They say Lady Niriel was even smitten with Count Deberti’s looks… What do you think?”

Laches stroked his chin and asked earnestly.

“Am I handsome, or is Count Deberti?”

“What meaning could my answer possibly hold?”

I didn’t want to choose either. When I gave a vague reply, Laches suddenly grabbed my shoulder, spun me around, and pushed me backward toward another direction.

“Any maid who doesn’t answer that her master is handsome will be punished by cleaning the garden right now.”

Sending me outside on a cold night—what a jerk.

But as a maid, I couldn’t refuse my master’s command. I gave a brief nod and started walking.

.

.

.

Detor, walking ahead, suddenly turned at the sound of voices. He thought he’d heard a familiar voice from somewhere.

Behind him, Laches was conversing casually with a maid.

What kind of master chats so freely with servants?

Just as Detor’s gaze was about to land on the maid’s face,

Laches abruptly grabbed her shoulder and shoved her aside, blocking his view.

“…”

Laches stood alone in the shadows, his cold eyes gleaming as he stared fixedly at Detor.

It was the gaze of a male animal lifting his head, standing tall to guard his territory from an outsider.

Just a mere maid, after all.

Shaken, Detor forced a scoff and turned away.