Why Do You Obsess Even After Death (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 9
“……Ha.”
A deep sigh drawn from the dantian spread out as a white puff of breath.
Laundry that never seemed to end was piled up like a mountain. I had to break through the still-frozen stream to fetch water for washing.
After that, Ronan returned to his quarters, and since I couldn’t cling to him alone, I carried on with my assigned tasks.
My chapped hands and feet were so red they’d lost all feeling. If I tried to rest even briefly, the laundry would freeze again, making the work even harder.
“……It’s hard.”
Strangely, my body had been trembling violently since a while ago. My head ached, and I kept coughing—probably from lack of sleep.
I lowered my arms, which had been moving restlessly, and let out a long sigh.
‘What am I even doing right now?’
I wanted to live. That’s why I came north—to find the one who would kill me.
I wanted to live.
Then, once I found the person destined to kill me, what exactly did I plan to do with them?
If I killed the murderer—someone who hadn’t killed me yet but surely would in the future—would that work?
Would I then be able to live instead of die?
“It’s hard…….”
What am I doing right now?
Was coming north truly the wise choice?
After struggling so hard just to escape that mansion and the brink of death, is this all I’m left doing—laundry?
I set down the laundry in my hands and clutched my aching head.
It had been over a week since I arrived in the north, and all I’d gained was the realization that I couldn’t read Laches’ memories.
Was wanting to live perhaps too greedy a wish for me?
Dark thoughts clung to my ankles, dragging me into a swamp from which I couldn’t escape.
Countless deaths I’d endured unfolded before my eyes. Was this dull, spreading pain the same agony I’d felt back then? Or was it……?
Thud.
“Oh dear.”
A light voice cut through the endless stream of gloomy thoughts.
Someone caught my head as it drooped weakly forward.
“Trying to dunk your head in icy water?”
Though clearly cold from the chill, that hand felt different from the bone-deep, biting wind.
“Why…… are you leaning sideways?”
I looked up curiously at Laches, who stood oddly tilted to the side.
My fluttering eyelids felt as heavy as that mountain of laundry stuck together in a clump.
“It’s not that I’m leaning sideways—it’s your head that’s tilting.”
“……My eyes feel heavy.”
“My hand holding up your face feels heavy too.”
“Then move it…….”
“Should I?”
He spoke playfully, yet his hand supporting my face didn’t budge.
“You seemed feverish earlier. Are you all right?”
His cold hand swept across my forehead without hesitation, then clasped my red, frozen hands.
The cold hands gradually warmed with my body heat.
“I told you yesterday your clothes were too thin. And again today—they’re thin. I guess you’re not the type to dress warmly?”
“Who wears thick clothes while working……?”
“Even northerners dress warmly when they’re this sick. You should’ve checked your own condition.”
It was the first time.
He was the first person whose touch didn’t flood my mind with memories.
“Are you…… scolding me right now?”
“Is it wrong to scold you? I am, after all, the head of this house.”
My hollow chuckle mingled with Laches’ absurdly arrogant laugh.
It was also the first time since coming north that someone touched me without hesitation when I was unwell.
Detor and Delia had always kept their distance, fearing I might read their memories if they touched me, and my father had pushed me aside, consumed by family affairs.
“You should rest today. Can you stand?”
“……Yes. But I’m too weak right now. I’ll get up in a bit…….”
It was hard to rise from the crouched position I’d held while doing laundry. My body felt as limp as waterlogged cotton, as if it longed to stay helplessly still.
“Alright, then do that.”
Laches murmured softly, still cradling my face. His voice reminded me of someone reading bedtime stories in childhood, and my heavy eyelids slowly closed.
My whole body grew drowsy, just like that spring afternoon at Niriel Manor during tea time.
“In deep winter, when the stream freezes, we use water stored in advance, poured into the well. Not by breaking ice like this.”
His large hand fussed over my icy fingers with mild annoyance.
“Didn’t the head maid teach you that?”
His voice held no inflection—completely unlike his usual light tone, now a deep, resonant baritone.
“I thought…… I had to break the ice…….”
His low, muffled voice sounded like a lullaby, making sleepiness wash over me again.
“……Alright, up we go.”
Laches took my hand and effortlessly lifted me into his arms. Wrapped in his embrace, warmth spread through me.
“Sleep. Even if you wake up, there’s nothing you can do right now. When that happens, you might as well sleep.”
“Why do you always…… speak so gruffly?”
“Because I’m in a bad mood.”
Laches began walking. Cradled in his arms, my body rocked gently as if in a cradle.
My eyes closed against my will—or perhaps I never intended to resist at all.
My head throbbed. Beyond my closed eyelids, countless deaths seemed to mock me, saying I’d never escape this trap.
“Will I…… kill you?”
I wasn’t sure what I’d just said. My lips had moved on their own, it seemed.
The wind blew. The rocking cradle stilled.
“……I’m still thinking about it. Do you not want to die?”
Before I could hear his muffled reply, I sank into a deep sleep.
“……Then I’ll consider letting you live, I suppose.”
Laches glanced down at the woman sleeping soundly in his arms, then resumed his steps, which had paused mid-stride.
He then entered the manor directly.
Everyone in Violentus Castle stood stunned, unable to close their gaping mouths at the sight of the woman cradled so carefully in Laches’ arms.
Yet no one dared approach him.
Because Laches’ face, holding the woman, was twisted with the same cruelty he showed when slaughtering beasts.
“Your Grace. We’ve been searching everywhere for you since you suddenly left in haste. Why is this maid……?”
“I clearly stated I personally approved her during the interview—yet you still lack the wit to understand.”
“Huh? ……Your Grace, if you’d just tell me what angered you, I’ll handle it immediately…….”
“Bring me the head maid.”
Laches commanded coldly, straightened his back, and headed toward a warm bedroom.
[This is the timeline separator]“How much longer must I stay locked up like this?!”
A lavish bedroom filled with fresh flowers and beautiful jewels.
Pink canopy curtains fluttered in the soft spring breeze drifting through as the weather warmed.
Trapped within that beautiful prison, Delia stamped her feet impatiently.
“Miss, but the Duke strictly instructed you not to go outside under any circumstances.”
“Ha! My time has finally come! How much longer must I stay locked up like this?!”
Despite the maid’s soothing words, Delia couldn’t suppress her rising irritation.
Her thorn in the eye, Referentia, was dead—having chosen death by her own hand.
The euphoria Delia felt upon hearing that news—
She would never forget that moment. She might even call it the happiest, most thrilling moment of her entire life.
“I want to see Detor! Lea is already dead—why must I stay confined?!”
The Guardian destined to protect the Empire.
The one who inherited that noble bloodline.
Because they were born into the same guardian family, Delia had grown up constantly compared to Referentia since childhood.
Whenever rumors spread that Referentia was fluent in foreign languages, Delia couldn’t sleep for days.
When she heard Referentia excelled at horseback riding, Delia was forced to ride horses herself.
Referentia—that name alone made Delia shudder.
Delia’s life had always been nothing but Referentia’s shadow. Whatever Referentia did well, Delia had to master too; whatever Referentia failed at, Delia had to excel in.
Referentia was always Delia’s sole standard. Her parents always praised or punished Delia using Referentia as the benchmark.
The first time Delia ever smiled brightly was when she saw Referentia, unusually shy and unable to adapt to high society.
And then she realized:
Ah, only by defeating Referentia could her life finally become happy. All her unhappiness was because Referentia was happy.
After her parents passed away, her brother Lloyd became Duke and, whenever stressed, would beat her—blaming it all on Referentia.
“It’s because of Referentia that my life is so miserable,” she’d say.
So when she stole Detor—the pillar of Referentia’s happiness—Delia felt as if she might soar into the sky.
At last, she too could be loved and happy, just like Referentia. She was overjoyed.
And yet!
“I must see Detor.”
What on earth was happening?
Because Referentia’s will, written before her death, mentioned both their names, they were now forced into lifelong separation.
Delia couldn’t accept it.
“Miss, the social circles are…… rather turbulent right now. Perhaps it’s best to wait quietly until things calm down, as the Duke advised? After all, he promised he’d arrange your marriage to Count Deberti once the situation settles.”
The maid clung to Delia’s legs, pleading desperately.
Not for Delia’s sake—but because if Delia escaped this small, beautiful prison, the maid alone would bear full responsibility.
“Has Detor sent no word?”
But the maid’s life meant nothing to Delia. Detor was Delia’s happiness alone.
The man Referentia had chosen—surely he was flawless. Perfect.
Delia endlessly repeated his name, as if only with Detor by her side could she ever be truly happy.
“Count Deberti seems…… to be enduring it all quietly, likely due to others’ scrutiny.”
“So Detor hasn’t contacted me at all, then?”
Delia stared blankly into space, then tilted her head in confusion.
“……Why? I miss him so much. Doesn’t Detor miss me?”
Since being confined, Detor was the only person Delia cared about.
She felt no guilt or sorrow for betraying her close friend.
“Miss.”
The maid led the agitated Delia to the vanity and seated her, then gently combed her long hair while soothing her.
“Count Deberti surely misses you terribly too. Look in the mirror—nowhere in this world have I seen a lady more beautiful and elegant than you. How agonizing it must be for Count Deberti, unable to see such a stunning lady!”
“Then why hasn’t he contacted me?”
“They say Count Deberti hasn’t been himself lately. He’s lost much weight, probably from skipping meals…… surely because he misses you so.”
In truth, it was because his large-scale business investments had all collapsed, draining the family’s finances to a perilous degree.
But to Delia’s ears, it sounded wonderfully reassuring.
“Really? Detor is so miserable from missing me that he can’t even eat?”
“Yes, of course.”
The maid patted Delia’s shoulder.
“Count Deberti surely has his own reasons. Perhaps he’s even preparing a formal marriage proposal! After all, you’re destined to be Countess Deberti!”
“A formal proposal?! Really?”
“Of course! He might even be planning a surprise event!”
“Then I’ll wait!”
A bright bloom spread across Delia’s previously gloomy face.
The maid finally let out a sigh of relief. Thankfully, Delia would likely stay quiet for a few days.
Unfortunately, the rumors of infidelity spreading through high society grew uncontrollably, and whispers even claimed Delia might be pregnant.
It was so shameful she could hardly show her face.
“Delia. Shall we go on a short trip?”
In the end, Detor had no choice but to leave the capital temporarily with Delia to escape the fierce public condemnation.
Turns Out He’s Been Secretly in Love with Me
One-line summary: He acts like he doesn’t like her but is actually playing hard to get.
Synopsis:
Xu Muzhou like her. He has liked her for a very long time, and through repeated schemes, he finally closed the distance with her.
But this is still far from enough.
He wants to be the one who stands out among her many suitors, to fight for her attention, and to make her take the initiative to pursue him.
_____
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There’s no way a potato soup can look unappetizing!
Where is all this coming from sir?? Isn’t this the same guy that kept wondering if he should kill her??
Am i reading this wrong? I don’t get the affection at all lol