This Marriage Must End In Tragedy Chapter 10
Chapter 10: A Calm and Cozy Trap
It was as though she had misheard something.
“You’re... considering marriage with me?”
“You mean... you like me that much?”
His response came without hesitation, but his demeanor didn’t match his words. The man turned his head slightly, as if bashful. Ansi stared at his profile, her expression somewhere between disbelief and confusion.
A silent steam engine.
That was what Ansi decided to call him.
He’s imagining an ending like that? He’s clearly out of his mind.
How could someone even come to harbor such feelings in the first place? How was it possible to base a decision as serious as marriage on such a trivial emotion? Was he simply speaking thoughtlessly again, or… was he being sincere?
She didn’t know, and that uncertainty unsettled her.
After all, Ansi did not believe in love.
While other girls her age were absorbed in romance novels, she read history books. When her friends chattered about the cost of dresses for upcoming balls, she discussed the price of arugula grown on their estate.
When her close friend Elise once said that marriage was a sacred union between people who loved each other, Ansi dismissed it outright—no one should marry for something so absurd.
And yet, the man in front of her… was trying to marry for that exact absurd reason? With her, of all people?
Go on, what are you waiting for? Just say it. Say yes. Marry him right now.
That’s what her mind urged her to do.
But her lips wouldn’t move.
The idea that she might end up not only dating but marrying a man from Orphe—the very land people she despised—wrapped around her like a growing terror, still vague and shapeless, but already overwhelming.
Her voice trembled as it escaped her lips, and she hastily closed her mouth. It was too difficult to speak.
“I may have been too forward,” the man said, noticing her hesitation. “I knew you didn’t have feelings for me, yet. It’s just… I’d heard so much about you from Colonel Rubelsa that I suppose I got carried away.”
What finally pulled Ansi out of her dazed hesitation was the man’s next confession.
“Oh, I never mentioned it, did I?” he continued gently. “I served under Colonel Rubelsa during my time in the military. He spoke of you often—said he had a daughter who was intelligent and strong-willed.”
“…My father… spoke about me often?” she asked, her voice quiet.
A flicker of light passed across her previously guarded face.
A faint sense of exhilaration stirred within Damion. It was a feeling not unlike that split second before a successful hunt.
He could have brought up Colonel Rubelsa from the start. But he’d been careful—too careful. He didn’t know how this woman felt about the father who had derailed her life. For all he knew, mentioning him might only trigger sorrow and grief, eclipsing any affection she might develop toward him.
A dead father was a risky card—too volatile to play early.
So, he had chosen instead to anchor their connection to the charity ball hosted by the Jeff family, using that encounter as a stepping stone.
Love at first sight—simple and powerful. She must have turned that notion over in her mind dozens of times over the past week.
In the meantime, Damion had learned something new: a young woman had recently visited the long-neglected grave of Colonel Rubelsa. The graffiti on the tombstone had been wiped clean.
It was the perfect moment to play the card he had set aside.
“The Colonel was deeply proud of you,” he said, with just enough solemnity to give his words weight. “He spoke often of his beautiful and remarkable daughter living in the capital. I couldn’t help but feel uplifted, just listening.”
Between two people, a powerful connecting thread—like the memory of a shared acquaintance—can often tip the scales. When one isn’t sure whether or not to take the other’s hand, such a bond may become the deciding factor.
For the two of them, that thread was Colonel Rubelsa.
And sure enough, things unfolded just as Damion had anticipated.
Ansi lowered her gaze briefly, as if lost in thoughts of her father. A faint sorrow passed through her, but when she looked up again, her eyes met his with a far softer expression than before.
Her next words came gently, her tone less guarded.
“My father was always a man of few words. If he really did speak of me that much… then he must have trusted you quite deeply.”
“I respected the Colonel greatly,” Damion replied. “Perhaps… he even hoped you would be my partner one day. There was even a time when he mentioned wanting to entrust Ansi to me.”
Damion let out a brief laugh, his brow slightly furrowed. It was a laugh crafted to convey just the right amount of embarrassment.
In truth, Colonel Rubelsa wasn’t the kind of father who went around talking endlessly about his daughter, now that she’d grown into a lady. A good father knows that to speak carelessly or thoughtlessly about his daughter could easily make her the subject of men’s idle talk.
And yet, the colonel had indeed placed his trust in Damion.
If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have gone so far as to divulge the Count’s family secrets in a desperate bid to save his wife’s life. Nor would he have asked Damion to look after his wife and daughter should he die.
The fact that he’d even told Damion what it would cost to change his partner’s fate—that it would demand one’s lifespan—meant he must have believed Damion was someone who would never steal his daughter’s life away.
But the Colonel’s judgment had been wrong.
Damion de Orphe was a man for whom his own goal came above all else, a man selfish enough to sacrifice others for his sake without hesitation.
His life’s purpose was to claim Orphe.
In those hellish days, he had asked himself countless times why he needed to live. And at the end of all that thought, he had found his answer.
So, he felt sorry for Colonel Rubelsa, but the man’s trust had merely become a well-forged blade in Damion’s hands.
“It may sound absurd, but I believe this is fate. That I lost my heart to you the moment I first saw you, that I happened to serve under Colonel Rubelsa, that we’ve now met again like this—all of it.”
It was a story that sounded entirely plausible. So plausible, in fact, that Damion himself almost started to believe it the moment he said it.
And for this desperate girl, cornered as she was, how comforting such a rope must seem—how easy to cling to.
“Yes. It does feel like fate.”
Her reply was simple.
But in her eyes, a vivid light passed through. In those eyes, there was something that might rightly be called certainty.
“To be honest, I thought you regretted saying you liked me.”
Damion tilted his head slightly, as if shy. His soft blond hair slipped gently forward with the movement.
“I’m sorry. You kept pretending not to see me. I was just being petty.”
“I didn’t mean to ignore you.”
“I know. But even so, every little thing you do sends me reeling. Even now, I’m on edge, not knowing what you’ll say.”
Damion smiled wryly, and Ansi stared at him in silence. Blinking slowly, as though sorting through her thoughts, she finally opened her mouth.
Damion broke into a bright smile. His face, usually composed and cool, softened beautifully when he smiled.
Silent with anticipation and excitement, he looked at Ansi for a long moment, then gently drew her into his arms.
The firmness of his chest pressed against her, and instinctively, Ansi held her breath.
“I’ll treat you well.”
His tender voice echoed in her ear. She had tensed for a moment, but now, slowly, she raised her arms and embraced him in return.
Damion’s lips curled upward.
The frightened deer, who had once trembled and fled, now took the food offered by the hunter with bright, trusting eyes.
Unaware that this peaceful, cozy place, where the food had been left, was the very trap he had set.
Back at home, Ansi opened the door with water and medicine prepared in her hands.
Sophia de Rubelsa, once a countess, now lay fast asleep on a narrow bed. As always, Ansi looked down at the dried tear tracks by her mother’s eyes and gently shook her.
“It’s time for your medicine.”
Murmuring her son’s name, Sophia opened her eyes. When she saw her daughter sitting at the bedside, she smiled faintly.
“Oh, it’s you, Ansi. I thought you were Derl.”
He’s dead, Mom.Ansi swallowed the words.
Having lost both her husband and son in one blow, Sophia’s mind had partially slipped away. Half of her existed in the present, but the other half was trapped in the past. Sometimes, Ansi wasn’t even sure where her mother truly was anymore—time seemed to blur around her.
“Just take your medicine and rest a little longer.”
“No, I must’ve slept too long again. I need to get some work done. I think I like knitting more than embroidery these days.”
Ansi smiled faintly as she replied. Sophia slowly got out of bed.
“Rain, I baked a fig pie earlier. Want some?”
Whenever she called her daughter Rain, it meant her awareness was still intact. To avoid the risk of saying Ansi in front of others, she had taken to calling her Rain even in private.
Ansi looked at her mother for a long moment before asking:
“Do you think… we could live in the capital? What would that be like?”
Sophia widened her eyes in surprise, but soon offered a soft smile.
“Anywhere is fine, as long as I’m with my daughter.”
She stepped out of the room. From the cramped kitchen-living space, the sounds of bustling activity filtered in. Whenever she wanted to escape her sorrow, Sophia busied herself with her hands.
But the lump in Ansi’s chest began to swell.
Staring vacantly at the door, she suddenly stood up.
Striding over to her desk, she yanked open a drawer, pulled out a pen and a sheet of paper, and began to scribble furiously.
She wrote in a frenzy, like someone halfway out of their mind, pouring black ink onto the page.
Then, all at once, she sucked in a sharp breath.
Orphe. Orphe. Orphe. Orphe.That name covered the paper, over and over again.
Ansi stepped toward the candle, clutching the sheet, and set it aflame.
The name of her enemy blackened and shriveled, then vanished into ash. As the lingering scent of burnt paper hung in the air, Ansi stood still, eyes locked on the flames.