Since we had become a family, Sikar said we must have a portrait painted, so we sat side by side in the living room from morning.
We placed Kian in front, while Sikar and I sat behind, staring at the portrait artist. Sikar, scrutinizing our faces, adjusted our expressions as if dissatisfied.
“Don’t smile pointlessly. This portrait will be preserved for posterity—you can’t leave behind an image grinning like a fool. Make the boldest, most dignified expression you can manage.”
To me, the bold and dignified expression Sikar described looked no different from a face saying, ‘I’ll kill you.’ Still, we made the expressions he wanted.
In short, we stared straight ahead with faces that said, ‘Bring it on.’
Unlike me, who felt a bit bored, the two of them stood perfectly still and calmly until the painting was finished—an attitude befitting a protagonist seasoned in patience and a classic villain.
After holding the same posture for quite a long time, once the painting was done, we had to groan and massage our numb limbs—but seeing the finished portrait, we felt rather fulfilled.
Our little family of three, each with different hair and eye colors, matched surprisingly well together, which pleased me greatly.
Our family portrait was framed in a massive frame inlaid with gold and various jewels. It was hung beside the portrait of Grandmother on the living room wall.
For me, it felt like taking my first-ever family photograph.
Though it was bittersweet since we weren’t a real family but a fake one, it still held meaning—because Kian was in this portrait.
“Good work, Kian. We have things to do, so you may go up to your room now.”
To Kian, who looked reluctant, I winked one eye and told him we’d have dinner together later. Adorably, Kian winked one eye back at me.
“See you later, Mother.”
“See you later, Son.”
Kian smiled brightly at me and went upstairs. After bidding Kian a reluctant farewell, we headed to Sikar’s study.
Because he’d said since yesterday that we’d be practicing dancing today, I’d felt the urge again last night to attempt escape—but I suppressed it, thinking of Kian. Besides, it was obvious I’d be caught immediately if I tried.
Standing face to face with Sikar was frightening. His gaze looked as though it was silently declaring to anyone watching, ‘I will kill you with my eyes alone.’
Cruelly, every time I tried to look away, Sikar grabbed my chin and forced me to meet his eyes.
“When dancing, you must never take your eyes off your partner.”
“What if we just look at each other gently?”
“When dancing, don’t make such vague, dreamy expressions. Send each other intense gazes—don’t try to correct my gaze, correct yours.”
Sikar grasped my chin, tilted it slightly down, then pulled up the corners of my eyes.
“Like this. Understood?”
“This doesn’t look dignified—it looks like the wicked villainess from a fairy tale.”
“Not at all. It looks very dignified.”
“This? This is what people call the classic villainess expression.”
“You’ve lived timidly your whole life, so of course you wouldn’t know. From now on, make this expression often.”
Hmm. To me, it seemed Sikar defined every villain’s expression as dignified and refined. No wonder he always wore such a languid, emotionless face.
“Just tell me to become a villainess.”
“Fine. That’s better. Just become a villainess.”
Since he was serious, I stared back at him with the villainess-like expression he mistakenly thought looked dignified. Anyone watching would call this a staring contest.
I kept my eyes wide open until tears formed, since he wouldn’t let me blink—and Sikar smirked slightly, as if approving. Terrified every time he made that face, I immediately moved to the next step I’d learned yesterday.
I placed my hand in Sikar’s outstretched hand and began to dance, following his lead.
“Don’t be nervous. When we dance, only the King and Queen will be present. You won’t be dancing in front of crowds, so no need to tremble already.”
It’s not trembling from nerves—it’s trembling because of you.
All I could see while dancing with Sikar were sharp longswords hanging all around the room.
Clearly this was a study, yet there were more visible swords than books—it felt like a silent threat, as if at any moment he might grab one and behead me.
Still, as a dance instructor, Sikar wasn’t bad. He taught patiently and slowly, making me repeat the same movements over and over.
The reason Sikar achieved so many accomplishments at such a young age wasn’t only because he belonged to the powerful, magic-resistant Sitar clan—but also because of his relentless, tireless repetition.
In short, he was a master of review.
And now, because he was forcing that relentless review onto me, I felt utterly miserable.
“No matter how difficult something is, you cannot fail to master it if you repeat it enough.”
Who doesn’t know that? It’s hard, that’s why.
I repeated the same dance over and over until I was completely exhausted, as if trapped in red shoes.
“That’s enough for today.”
After the dance ended, I staggered toward the sofa again and slumped down limply—only to sit up properly again under Sikar’s glare.
“Starting tomorrow, for the foreseeable future, you will repeat this exact same dance daily. And before sunset, you will correct that overly kind expression and learn noble etiquette.”
So he meant I should also wear that perpetually blank, emotionless expression like him?
“First, tell Andrea right now to plant roses outside your window, so that whenever you open it, you’ll clearly see bright red roses.”
“In the middle of winter?”
“If you use Holy Water sold by the temple, they’ll grow perfectly fine.”
“Why roses…?”
“You have no thorns. That’s why you’re always vulnerable to intrusion. Every morning when you wake, open your window, look at the bright red roses, and learn: even if beautiful, if thorns grow, no one can approach easily. Of course, if you grow thorns, they’ll probably be soft—but I’ll watch anyway. I want to see what kind of thorns you’ll grow.”
“I’ll grow thorns big enough to stab you.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
Under Sikar’s watchful gaze, I summoned Andrea and instructed him to plant the roses.
He could have delivered the message himself, but under the pretense that I, as the lady of the house, must grow accustomed to giving orders, he made me handle all such tasks.
“You’re unnecessarily kind to the servants.”
“I hate power-tripping. Ah, power-tripping means—”
“I know. You mean all those countless times you suffered at the hands of the rich.”
“Yes. That’s why I want to be someone beloved by the servants. They work for me, after all.”
“Pointless.”
Judging by his expression, he seemed to find it acceptable. Sikar himself never casually disrespected the servants he commanded.
Without time to share deep bonding moments with Kian, I spent every day learning how to become “real,” while Kian learned noble etiquette from Vika Lamberst.
As Sikar said, repeating the same actions and speech daily, I gradually felt myself changing.
Sadly, it felt less like becoming a dignified person, and more like growing darker, gloomier, and corrupted.
Meanwhile, the time to see Lucy was drawing near.
I planned to find her during her next runaway attempt and bring her to the Marquis’s mansion. But plans didn’t flow smoothly—they turned urgent.
A few days before meeting my favorite character for the second time, we had no choice but to visit the Marquis’s mansion before Lucy even ran away.
Gillian, having learned that Sikar had registered a child with golden hair and blue eyes, announced he would visit the Duke’s mansion to see Kian—so we had to hurry.
Thus, we weren’t given time to slowly build rapport with Reidox as originally planned.
“That bastard Laijemon told Gillian to check Kian’s nape. We must hurry. I’ll speak to Reidox myself—Kian is Veronia’s child.”
Reidox wasn’t foolish, despite his composed demeanor.
In the original story, he saved Kian because Kian was an enemy of Gillian or Sikar—but now, knowing Kian was Sikar’s son, even if adopted, he might refuse to help.
Reidox was designed as a character to check Sikar’s power, so he harbored invisible hostility. Perhaps he even held such deep animosity toward Sikar that he himself didn’t understand why he hated him so.
Just as Sikar instinctively felt hostility toward Kian.
Therefore, if we don’t explain well to Reidox, we’ll receive no help at all.
Worse, he might even betray Kian’s existence to Gillian. That’s why we’d planned to build rapport slowly.
To convince Reidox that Gillian is a tyrant no less terrible than the deposed king, we had no choice but to persuade him skillfully.
“Your sudden visit is surprising. What brings you here?”
A cold chill hung in the windless reception hall of the Marquis’s mansion.
Reidox’s expression, upon hearing of our visit, clearly showed discomfort. He hadn’t even taken a seat, so I stood up immediately upon seeing him—but Sikar merely sat with his arms crossed.
So I grabbed Sikar’s arm and pulled him up. He wasn’t someone I could physically force, but since he’d agreed in the carriage on the way here to follow my lead, Sikar reluctantly stood.
“We came to speak with you.”
Reidox looked at Sikar, not me, and asked,
“I didn’t realize I had anything to discuss with you.”
“Let my wife handle the conversation.”
In the carriage before arriving, I’d suggested I should persuade Reidox, and Sikar had agreed it was better that way.
Reidox sighed reluctantly and said,
“Please, sit down first.”
“Thank you.”
Once we sat again, maids brought tea. When one maid moved to pour tea into Reidox’s cup, I held out my palm toward her, took the teapot, and poured the tea into Reidox’s cup myself.
Reidox, who had been sitting uncomfortably, looked at me with surprise and bowed his head slightly.
“Thank you, Blake.”
I set the teacup down, gave him a calm smile, and sat back down.
Whenever I smiled like this, Sikar always disapproved, muttering that after all his lessons on dignity and grace, I still resorted to gentle smiles.
Glancing sideways, sure enough, Sikar was watching me with a displeased look. He whispered so only I could hear,
“You were told to persuade him, not grovel.”
So I whispered back quietly,
“I am persuading him, Sikar. You need to understand this: to win someone’s heart, you don’t shout—you show kindness.”
Male lead is a Destined Young Husband (Female-dominant)
One-sentence summary: Wife-master, listen to my explanation!
Li Ruantang, a young lady from a prestigious family, stumbled and fell. When she woke up, she saw a noble and beautiful young man sitting by her bedside, wiping away tears.
The young master had slightly reddened eyes, and his every move exuded charm.
The sight made Li Ruantang’s eyes hot and her heart flutter. After all, she had made a bet with the young master Meng from the neighboring family. If she couldn’t marry a husband before the end of the year, she would have to admit defeat and give up the jade she had worked so hard to obtain.
Outside the window, the flowers were in full bloom.
Rather than losing the bet, the jade, and her face, Li Ruantang calculated that it would be better to seek marriage with the young master in front of her, killing three birds with one stone.
…
Meng Jun never thought that an accident during a spring outing would lead to them rolling down a cliff and into a river, yet still survive.
Now they were trapped in an unknown village, and Meng Jun had overheard that the family who had rescued them had their own intentions.
After all, it was Li Ruantang who had lost her mind and sought marriage first. He was only trying to protect himself!
Glancing at Li Ruantang, who was listing her own merits, the young husband’s voice softened, and he blushed as he lied, “W-wife-master, Wife-master, don’t you remember me?”
The young husband’s voice was clear and handsome, coaxing Li Ruantang’s heart to be soft and sweet, and she spared no effort to protect him.
It wasn’t until they returned to the capital that Li Ruantang suddenly remembered.
When they had fallen off the cliff, in order not to implicate Wei Yunruo, whom he secretly admired, the young husband had instead pulled her, who was slightly farther away, down the cliff with him…
Short summary by Yuushi L: Initially, the male lead (ML) liked another girl, while the female lead (FL) liked the ML. Both fell off a cliff. The FL temporarily lost her memory, and the ML, fearing others might take advantage of him, claimed FL was his wife while they were staying in a village. Later, when they returned home, the FL regained her memories and remembered that the ML liked someone else, so she kept her distance from him. However, during their time living together in the countryside, the ML’s view of the FL had completely changed. From this point, his pursuit of the FL begins.
Link to read
