I Don't Want To Do a Romantic Comedy With a Villain! - Chapter 109

Episode 109

Min-joo responded vaguely, then went to the kitchen to find Chichen and Genshtar hiding there. 

They were huddled in a corner, trembling. 

Min-joo felt sorry for the two who were afraid of Tedric.

Yeah, that’s probably a common reaction. Min-joo thought, realizing that her closeness with Tedric had made her immune to his authority.

Awkwardly smiling, Min-joo placed the whole cake on the table. 

“I brought cake. One piece for Robert, two pieces for me and the marquis, and the rest for you two. This cake is delicious.” 

She said, trying to be friendly. They nodded in understanding and began eagerly cutting the cake.

Returning from the kitchen to the living room, Min-joo looked at Tedric, who was sitting on the couch. Was he absent-minded, or was his expression blank due to too many thoughts?

Taking a sip of the coffee on the table, Min-joo glanced at Tedric. 

“You’ll see through if you stare like that, you know.”

Tedric, sensing her gaze, met her eyes. His pink eyes narrowed calmly and lazily. Min-joo involuntarily narrowed her eyes too.

“You had something to say? Why aren’t you talking?”

“I’m a bit tired. There have been various things after recovering.”

“I vaguely know. I heard bits about the marquis too.” 

The marquis. A title he should get used to.

Tedric smiled wryly and tilted his head. His platinum hair cascaded elegantly. 

“Perhaps the nobles who supported me are being sharpened. They accused me of tax evasion and seized my property.”

“I vaguely heard about it.”

“Perhaps not being able to harm me while I was bedridden was because they were too busy protecting their property.”

He asserted that the reason he wasn’t being persecuted was not out of concern for him but because they were preoccupied.

Tedric cynically believed that his supporters among the nobility didn’t genuinely follow him.

“My supporters have collapsed. Miserably. They won’t bother trying to elevate those who supported them harshly to the throne.”

Min-joo looked at Tedric, who had become an outcast in the end. He seemed both like a stubborn child who refused to mingle with the modest and a person who had forgotten what loneliness was due to loneliness.

Min-joo cautiously placed her hand on Tedric’s forearm. His sturdy arm flinched.

“Are you okay? What if someone seeks revenge? And what if you get hurt when you’re protecting the princess?” 

Tedric let out a sigh mixed with laughter. It was a disappointed yet indifferent laughter.

“Do you think there are things that money can’t solve? The guards are properly arranged. I have no intention of exposing myself to the public.”

Since giving up the throne he had held onto for so long, Tedric seemed listless. It was a desolate atmosphere as if he had lost his purpose.

Would he find something interesting to divert his attention? Min-joo pondered this as she lightly tapped his forearm, lost in thought. Tedric blinked lazily.

“It seems like Terisha is getting better after leaving the palace. Both physically and mentally. Maybe the palace was the problem. Perhaps I was the problem.”

“Why would you think that? Your Highness, no… Marquis, you’ve tried.”

The door connecting the kitchen opened, and Chichen returned, placing the cake and tea on the table. Tedric silently stared at the cake and tea on the table without saying a word.

Min-joo was starting to worry about Tedric’s condition. Was he really okay, or should she initiate a proper conversation?

“Eat, Marquis.”

“…I suppose.”

Even though he responded, Tedric didn’t move. Min-joo reluctantly picked up a fork and handed it to him, but he remained seated motionless.

He didn’t seem okay. She needed to talk to him.

Min-joo sighed, took a sip of her coffee, and then turned to face Tedric.

“Excuse me, Marquis. Are you sure you’re okay? I’m worried about you.”

Finally, Tedric looked at Min-joo directly. His absent-minded grip on the fork made him look foolish. He wasn’t acting like himself.

“Why worry? I know my condition well enough.”

“I’ve said it before. Talking about it might make things better. If it’s uncomfortable here, we can move. There’s a study on the second floor and my room on the third.” 

Min-joo suggested.

Her room. Tedric remembered the times before he became close to Min-joo, when he used to wander into her room. The emotions he buried in her black hair, wanting to suffocate himself, and the moments when he confided in her, telling her things he never told anyone else, seemed distant.

It felt like it happened years ago, even though it wasn’t that long ago.

Would lying on that bed again bring him comfort?

Would he finally stop seeing the annoying figure of the empress following him everywhere?

Tedric looked down at the fork in his hand.

“Marquis, let’s go upstairs.”

Raising his head, Min-joo furrowed her eyebrows and bit her lip.

The faint wrinkle between her eyebrows looked so timid that Tedric instinctively reached out to touch it but clenched his fist instead.

Tedric nodded quietly.

Min-joo finally breathed a sigh of relief and lifted the tray onto the bedside table.

“Shall we go to the study?”

“No, let’s go to the room… I want to lie down.”

And so, they went upstairs. Placing the tray on the bedside table, Tedric took off his coat and lay down on the bed.

Min-joo sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at the disheveled figure of the man.

Candles illuminating the room, warmth from the fireplace, curtains covering the windows.

The room seemed bright, yet subtly dark. It felt both cold and warm.

Tedric lay still for a while.

The fluctuating breaths and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest were the only movements.

“…I met a sorcerer.” 

Min-joo decided to tell her story before he spoke. It was a topic she wanted to discuss with him but had postponed.

“She knows about you, Marquis. Moreover, she said that she was the cause of dimensional shifting and regression. It was chaotic.”

Tedric opened his previously closed eyes and looked at Min-joo. His pink eyes gazed at her indifferently yet gently.

Min-joo cut a slice of cake and brought it to Tedric’s lips. After confirming what it was, he accepted the fork.

“I said something about dimensional travel, didn’t I? She made it easy for me to meet you. She doesn’t seem like much of a character though.”

“Eventually found her.”

“Yes, I eventually found her. She said she would send me home. I don’t know how much we argued.”

Tedric took a bite of the cake. The soft, melting cake was so sweet that it made the tip of his tongue tingle.

Min-joo gently took the fork from Tedric’s hand and smiled. 

“So she is here. I need to make sure I have a way to go back in case she decides to run away.”

“When will you go back?” 

Tedric asked, his tongue feeling stiff from the sweetness of the cake.

“Well, whenever Robert finishes?”

“…I see.”

He closed his eyes again. The enchanting pink irises vanished into tranquility as if a serene princess from a fairy tale was asleep.

Min-joo was about to interpret his intentions, but Tedric spoke before long.

“I thought… you would stay longer. I thought you’d just stay here indefinitely.”

“Your Highness.”

“Tedric.”

He still had his eyes closed as if wandering through a dream. His lips, slightly parted, revealed a red tongue that flickered.

“Call me Tedric. You call others by their names without hesitation.”

“…How can I…”

“It’s okay.”

Tedric’s hand gently wrapped around Min-joo’s wrist. His fingers intertwined with hers, and his hand rested on her small backhand.

“It’s okay.”

To this man, she seemed like a significant figure.

Min-joo felt a mix of fear and excitement but couldn’t pull her hand away.

There was a time when she begged him for help, promising to reveal secrets and save her life.

Now, he held her hand, allowed her to use his name, and stayed by her side.

The man who crumbled because of her, who now lived a different life because of her.

The man who was resented by the empire because of her.

“Tedric.”

“Yes?”

“Are you struggling a lot?”

“…”

Tedric’s fingers dug into the gap between Min-joo’s fingers, gently squeezing her knuckles.

Min-joo looked at Tedric’s tired face. 

“Are you struggling because of the princess? Or because you gave up the throne and feel empty? Do you feel helpless?”

“…No one asked me.”

“…What?” 

Min-joo was taken aback. In an instant, Tedric pushed Min-joo’s hand away, grabbed her waist, and pulled her close. His black hair fluttered in the air, and strands brushed against her cheek.

The swaying bed almost tipped over as Min-joo’s feet dangled in the air, trapped by his firm grip around her waist. She could feel Tedric’s chest against her back.

“No one asked me after I abdicated. If I’m okay, how I’ll live from now on, what I want to do.” 

His voice poured over her head. It was languid, affectionate, yet monotonous.

There was nothing left for him now. Only Min-joo and the ailing Terisha.

Min-joo couldn’t pull away from the hand. She held her breath, feeling a sense of loss, fear of the future, and the futility of his future.

“It was just you.” 

He continued, clinging to her like a child or a puppy.

Tedric had to be resolute and strong until now.

“…I dream of the empress every night.”

So he had to endure alone.

Every night since that day, he had to endure the empress crawling out from under the bed.

The empress with a lifeless face, unfocused green eyes, and creaking bones.

The protests of the people echoing like a pounding headache, the emperor and Terisha pleading for their lives, grabbing his ankles and collapsing.

He feared becoming like the emperor and Terisha.

He feared living a life of fear, losing his judgment, and lashing out, afraid that someone would harm him.

Tedric bent forward, burying his face behind Min-joo’s neck.

There was a hint of soap and a subtle musk.

He could finally bury his face in the black hair he wanted to close his eyes.

He felt like he might never open his eyes again, like he might collapse.

“The nights are terrifying. The protesting people, the collapsing empress in front of me, and the dying emperor. And Terisha flickering.”

When he opened his eyes, her black hair seemed like a black waterfall tainted by the night, and beyond that, Min-joo’s white nape looked like a large moon.

Or perhaps it looked like lines drawn carelessly on a white canvas.

He was startled by the impulse to kiss her, and even more surprised that he felt such an impulse.

“I’m afraid I’ll become a lost child without you.” 

Tedric admitted his fear openly.

It was astonishing to hear Tedric express his fear openly. He was always restrained, hiding his emotions and presenting falsehoods.

How much had he suppressed, endured alone?

How much had he deliberated before letting it out?

It was remarkable to hear his fear spoken aloud.

Feeling the warm breath on her neck, Min-joo hunched her body.

“…Was it very difficult? If it were me, I think I would have found it incredibly hard. You’ve suffered a lot…”

Vehen, Tedric, and others, why did they all seem to suffer so much?

Why did everyone have to live with such pain?

Why was she feeling so drained after learning about their suffering?

Min-joo couldn’t bring herself to push him away, so she overlapped her hands with Tedric’s, holding them tightly.