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Chapter 29
I Shouldn’t Have Loved You
“That man.”
There it was again—that title.
Senelia’s mother, normally strict about propriety, used it whenever she could no longer contain her true feelings.
The viscountess despised Benelucia that much.
“As a parent, you’ll never understand what it’s like to watch a man act like he doesn’t care at all while your daughter passes her prime marriage age!”
Anger visibly surged on the viscountess’s face.
Only now did her emotions come to light—proof of how long she had endured in silence.
“If that man truly wanted to maintain a peaceful relationship with you—even if he never intended to marry you—he wouldn’t have just stood by while we worried ourselves sick!”
Her words poured out like rapid-fire.
They were the things she had swallowed down for years, afraid they might hurt her daughter.
It wasn’t the fact that Senelia had passed the ideal age for marriage that pained her. What stung far more was that her daughter had loved such a man for so long.
When Senelia finally ended things with Benelucia, she thought it was truly over.
They, as parents, had pressured their daughter to marry, but even so, it must have been hard for Senelia to endure the nobles’ whispers about how she still wasn’t engaged past her prime.
And yet—now of all times—a proposal?
If this wasn’t some kind of cruel joke, then what was it?
“The fact that he remained silent all this time means he never saw you as important.”
The viscountess was determined to sever any lingering ties between Senelia and Benelucia once and for all.
She said it knowing full well her words could wound her daughter.
“Whatever whim he’s acting on now, suddenly wanting to marry you, I don’t trust him.”
Her tone was cold and decisive.
Deep-rooted distrust—built up over eight years.
Benelucia had no one to blame but himself.
“Don’t get any foolish ideas. If you’re going to the capital, meet someone new. Or just stay here in the estate.”
And with that, the viscountess stood and left.
It was her way of saying she was done discussing the matter.
The door closed with a sound that felt truly heartless.
Benelucia, back in his room, let out a hollow laugh.
A cup of tea with a unique aroma sat on the table.
Though it was hot, its scent was light and subtle—not overwhelming, even to the sharp senses of a swordmaster like him.
He knew instantly that Senelia had blended the herbs herself.
Of course. She always had.
She must’ve noticed he hadn’t been sleeping well.
With a sigh of irritation, Benelucia exhaled.
He couldn’t entirely blame himself for never doubting her love, despite her calm reactions.
She had made it impossible not to believe in it.
Senelia never overlooked anything about him.
Not even Cliff or Lucalina knew him as well as she did.
Outwardly, Benelucia seemed fine. After all, swordmasters didn’t collapse just because they missed a night of sleep.
But even they weren’t immune to mental exhaustion.
And Senelia was always sharply attuned to that part of him.
“Your Highness, I’ll bring you some tea.”
Whenever he suffered from insomnia, she would brew an entire pot—so full that he couldn’t finish it—and leave it in his room.
A considerate act, knowing he disliked sleeping herbs.
The warmth would soothe his stomach, and the soft fragrance lingering in the air helped lull him to sleep.
Even now, a large teapot enchanted with a warming spell sat on the table—something not usually used.
Despite the annoyed expression on his face, Benelucia found himself pouring a cup.
The taste of her tea never changed.
Brewing tea wasn’t simple—it required attention to the shape of the teapot, the water temperature, the amount of leaves.
And doing it with a large pot like this? Even harder.
Still, Senelia always managed it.
She had taken care of everything for him—what he ate, wore, drank—even handling matters in society.
For years, she had lived a life completely centered around him.
So how could he not mistake that for love?
“Ha… What am I supposed to do with you, Seli?”
Benelucia sighed irritably.
On his way back to his room, he had resolved to return to the capital immediately.
But the one small sign that she still cared about him kept his feet from moving.
And that infuriated him.
He rubbed his face in frustration.
No one else had ever made him feel this way.
Cliff’s orders were those of the emperor.
Though it stung coming from his brother, Benelucia could understand them rationally. He had grown up a prince—he knew how imperial will worked.
He didn’t like it, but he could accept it.
But with Senelia, it was different.
His emotions jumped irrationally, without reason or logic.
It drove him mad. He couldn’t control it.
There was no reason to hold onto her when she defied his will.
He had power, wealth, influence—everything.
He had even succeeded in something most failed at: a first love.
If only his heart hadn’t drifted unexpectedly toward Senelia, maybe he’d be with Lucalina by now.
He knew all that—rationally. And still, he wanted to keep Senelia by his side.
Even Benelucia didn’t understand himself.
“Damn it… I never meant to love you this much.”
He grit his teeth.
If love was something that made you lose control like this…
He wished he’d never loved her at all.
Tomorrow was the funeral of Baron Daphnen.
If he truly wanted to sever ties with Senelia, he needed to leave before appearing in public.
So Benelucia stood in place, torn in thought.
The enchanted teapot remained warm, its gentle fragrance lingering in the room.
At dawn, Benelucia left the Daphnen estate.
He spurred his horse forward, almost fleeing.
He feared seeing Senelia again would only shake his resolve.
And yet, even while riding, he couldn’t help but wonder—
How would Senelia react to finding his room empty?
That thought weighed so heavily on him, it slowed his horse.
He couldn’t bring himself to leave Daphnen territory even after the sun fully rose.
Perhaps that’s why, along the road to the estate, he spotted a carriage.
Upon recognizing its crest, his expression hardened.
He turned his horse toward it.
“Lord Pendragon, what are you doing here?”
Without even a greeting, Benelucia called out to the young lord of Pendragon. There wasn’t a hint of courtesy in his tone.
In fact, he all but dragged him out of the carriage.
No matter how high-ranking a duke he was, this was beyond rude.
The knights escorting the carriage flinched in shock.
But seeing Benelucia’s dark expression, they lowered their heads silently.
“And what brings Your Highness here, may I ask?”
Despite being forced halfway out of the carriage, the young Pendragon lord looked completely unbothered.
In fact, he seemed rather amused, as though taunting Benelucia.
Benelucia and Senelia had once been longtime lovers.
So his question—”What brings you to the Daphnen estate?”—was a deliberate jab, emphasizing that they had broken up.
Benelucia easily saw through the insult.
His aura instantly turned threatening.
“I believe I asked the question, my lord.”
When the Duke of Benelucia asked something, Lord Pendragon had no choice but to answer.
Benelucia, on the other hand, could ignore anything he asked.
He made that power dynamic very clear.
The corners of Pendragon’s mouth twisted slightly.
The Pendragon family was an old and wealthy house. And the young lord was known for his sharp mind—he’d been appointed by the emperor at an early age.
But even the brilliant Enelov Pendragon was helpless when Benelucia played this card.
That was the difference in their status.
It wounded the pride of someone who had always relied on their intellect to get ahead.
And Enelov Pendragon was not the type to let those who hurt his pride go unpunished.
If he were someone who’d back down quietly in moments like this, he and Benelucia wouldn’t be enemies in the first place.
Looking Benelucia directly in the eyes, he answered:
“Since you asked, I’ll answer. I’m on my way to the Daphnen estate.”
His voice was calm—far too calm.
He was already picturing the look on Benelucia’s face when he said the next words.
“I sent a marriage proposal to Lady Daphnen.”
And with a bright, showy smile, he added:
“I’m going to propose to her, of course.”
