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chapter 65
He… said he killed me.
Serlet’s body froze at Yuan’s trembling voice. Her neck stiffened, and her stomach churned.
A man claiming he had killed her—not in a dream, but in reality. Hearing it from Yuan’s lips made Serlet feel as if tears were about to fall.
It was a fact she knew all too well, yet hearing it spoken aloud reignited the sense of betrayal she had felt in her previous life.
Yes, it’s true. You killed me. You are a murderer. Serlet bit her lip, wanting to scream it.
With a forceful push, Serlet shoved Yuan away. Only then did he fall out of her embrace.
Yuan’s eyes, staring at Serlet, were filled with sadness, pain, and despair—a gaze that made her heart ache.
“Serlet, I killed you.”
In her dreams, Serlet had died countless times: shot, strangled, poisoned, struck on the head. There were countless ways she had faced death, and the culprit had always been one person—Yuan.
In his dreams, Yuan had killed Serlet over and over. Killing her repeatedly, losing his mind in the endless cycle of death.
After waking from the excruciating dream, Yuan had stared at his own hands for a long time. These hands had strangled Serlet to death. Trembling, unable to tell dream from reality.
The emotions of that moment surged back vividly, and Yuan crumpled. Ink spread across the floor, darkening his clothes.
For a moment, it looked like blood, sending a shiver down Serlet’s spine.
“Serlet.”
Yuan buried his face in her knees, calling her name repeatedly. The grip of his hands around her waist tightened.
Even now, Yuan was confused. What if this is a dream, and the moment he killed Serlet is reality? Or what if this is a dream? A hot sigh escaped from his lips.
Serlet looked down at him with a puzzled expression, noticing his trembling shoulders.
She found his weakness insufferable. For him, it was only a dream, but for her, it was a reality she had actually experienced.
I was the one who died. Why is this man suffering so much?
It made no sense that a woman who had married him to kill him could be so important to him that he was breaking down over a dream.
Then Serlet remembered the genuine concern Yuan had shown her before. She had felt it was sincere back then… Could she have become so important to him that he would collapse just over a dream?
But she shook her head. She felt foolish for hoping for anything from Yuan, as was her habit.
She had always done the same in her past life—holding hope in his small gestures and facing disappointment repeatedly. Laughably, she thought, she removed his hands from her waist harshly.
“Go back.”
Yuan slowly lifted his head from her knees at her words. His moist eyes looked into hers.
“I can’t tell what’s real and what’s a dream. Serlet, are you reality… or a dream?”
Yuan slowly reached out and stroked her cheek. The warmth and softness of her skin touched his hand. A faint smile appeared on his face.
So warm… she must be real. She’s not a dream. Relief washed over him.
“Your Grace, it’s troubling if this is a personal issue. Please don’t torment me over a mere dream.”
Serlet stood coldly, leaving her seat. She hated seeing him in pain and hated herself for being softened by it. She turned toward the window, avoiding him.
Her back to him, her face was darker than the night. Yuan’s demeanor, different from the past life, confused her.
In the past, he never looked at her properly. Now, suffering over her death, he almost seemed to love her. Too intense for a woman he married with the intention to kill. She let out a wry laugh.
Yuan, sitting on the floor, quietly watched her retreating back. He forced a bitter smile and rose, approaching Serlet.
He wrapped his arms around her from behind. Startled, Serlet tried to pull away, but Yuan held her tighter.
“I don’t even know why I’m doing this.”
“Do not drag me into your personal matters, Your Grace.”
Serlet spoke with deliberate firmness.
“Does that mean you don’t want to care about my issues?”
Yuan’s expression hardened. His eyes sharp, matching the edge in his voice.
“Yes.”
Serlet looked him directly in the eyes as she replied. She didn’t want to be swayed by his confusion or suffering.
“Am I your husband?”
There was a sigh in his voice. A woman who had been clearly stating she didn’t love him since before marriage, yet he was so unsettled over her death in a dream.
“Yes.”
“And you are my wife?” Yuan asked with a small smirk.
“Yes.”
“Then, let’s try this marriage properly.”
In an instant, Yuan leaned forward and kissed Serlet’s lips. Soft, yielding, her lips pressed against his, giving him comfort.
The vivid touch confirmed what he had feared: the woman who had died in his hands in a dream was real.
Startled, Serlet pushed him away. Her eyes wavered.
“Yuan.”
He looked into her trembling eyes and pulled her into his arms.
“I want to hold you,” he whispered into her ear.
Serlet froze, unsure of his meaning.
When she said nothing, Yuan loosened his hold slightly.
“Serlet.”
“I do not wish to be in your arms, Your Grace.”
Her words avoided his gaze. He tightened his hold on her delicate shoulders. Afraid of crushing them, he withdrew his hands.
“Because you don’t love me?”
“Yes.”
His bitter smile followed her firm response. She will never love me.
“Are you even trying to love me?”
“Trying to love?”
Serlet found his question absurd. He had betrayed the love she had given him abundantly. Who was daily plotting betrayal?
“If I were to love you, Your Grace, would you return that love?”
Serlet met his ash-colored eyes and spoke. Could he return even a fraction of the love given to Lydia?
“….”
Yuan said nothing.
Even without expecting it, her silence made Serlet snort.
“Could you ever love me?”
She asked again. Could he genuinely love a woman brought beside him only to fulfill a goal?
Yuan’s eyes wavered, and Serlet felt empty. She already knew the answer but still asked, only to see herself hurt.
“Perhaps Your Grace will not. …Go back now. I need to sleep.”
She turned to the bed, leaving him behind, facing away.
A suffocating silence settled over the room. Though she closed her eyes, her attention stayed on him.
After a while, Yuan perched on the edge of her bed. Serlet peeked, half-opening her eyes.
“What exactly is the feeling of love?”
Yuan’s low voice resonated, tinged with confusion.
Serlet sat up, her gaze fixed on him.
“What feelings must one have to call it love?”
Yuan asked again, seeking a clear understanding.
What is this so-called feeling of love?
Yuan knew the dictionary definition but it didn’t resonate. Love was unnecessary in life, troublesome and trivial, a word barely given thought.
Those who risked everything for love seemed foolish; romanticists who added love as a condition for marriage were impractical.
Yet now he wanted to understand clearly what feeling could be called love. What was it that made Serlet reject him so fiercely?
“Yuan.”
Serlet’s blue eyes widened, looking at him, surprised. He seemed genuinely curious, as though he didn’t understand love at all—despite doing all those cruel things for Lydia.
“Are you mocking me?”
Her eyes flickered. How could he not understand love after such extreme acts?
“I ask because I do not know. What feeling can be called love?”
Yuan looked at her seriously, trying to grasp the meaning of the word love.
