About Becoming My Ex-Husband's Mistress - Chapter 39

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 39. I Became My Ex-Husband’s Mistress
Luderne Sellen’s lips pressed firmly shut.
I slipped off his robe. Beneath it, he wore a black shirt without a cravat.
“I need Your Highness at least every ten days. And Your Highness will need a woman.”
I continued urgently, unfastening his shirt buttons one by one.
“Of course, if Your Highness merely extends a hand, you could embrace any woman, anyone at all. But wouldn’t a relationship truly free of burden be far better?”
As button after button came undone, his broad chest emerged beneath his collarbone.
Luderne Sellen remained still, even as his shirt buttons were loosened somewhat roughly.
I couldn’t know whether the aftermath of war had truly afflicted him with amnesia, causing him to forget me, or whether he was simply pretending not to recognize his former wife now that his station had risen.
But at the very least, he desired my body. Even if he didn’t love me, he found my form pleasing.
I was certain of this.
“So let’s make a deal.”
I whispered low, pressing my lips to his broad, firm chest as I finished unfastening his shirt buttons.
“I’m the perfect fit. I’ll be your secret mistress. I won’t ask for money or demand you take responsibility for me. Pay no mind to my life.”
“….”
“I’ll take contraceptive pills every time in front of Your Highness. If you don’t trust me, you’re welcome to take whatever precautions you see fit. We can even draw up a contract. So….”
His firm abdomen came into view.
When I lowered myself and pressed my lips to his muscles, he flinched.
“As long as it’s within ten days. Come whenever you wish and embrace me. Use me as a tool for your desire and discard me.”
It was the moment I unfastened his belt and drew out his magnificent arousal, pressing my lips to its tip.
As if his patience had evaporated, he gritted his teeth and grasped my hair gently with both hands.
Simultaneously, what escaped was his final moan.
Like that of a beast.
* * *
I opened my eyes at the sound of a rooster crowing outside the window.
The surroundings were still dark, and I lay buried in the bed without a single thread upon me.
Since that day Luderne Sellen first came to my small house, the cursed heat no longer rose within me.
Every ten days, every seven days, or sometimes every two or three days.
Sometimes every single day.
Whenever darkness draped its heavy curtain over the world, Luderne Sellen would appear without warning and cover me with his desire, all thanks to that.
Because of it, I obtained the pleasure of our union rather than the torment of the curse.
But he departed the moment his business was finished.
Though our bodies came together out of mutual need, it was clear he had sworn never to give even a fragment of his heart.
What remained for me afterward was only the faint warmth lingering on the sheets, silence, and loneliness.
This had been repeating for four years already.
The number of mornings I woke alone was just as many.
Out of habit, I turned my head to look beside me.
On the rumpled sheets—as expected—there was no one.
Even knowing this, a small sigh escaped me at the disappointment.
They say a person is different when they leave the washroom than when they enter it.
My desires only grew with each passing day.
I found myself wishing his warmth would linger on my bed sheets.
I harbored the excessive desire to see his sleeping face beside me when I opened my eyes each morning.
But I couldn’t ask Luderne Sellen to do such things.
I had proposed it first and made the promise myself.
I had become my ex-husband’s mistress, exactly as I had wished.
I swept my hand across the empty, cold space and rose from bed. My body ached in countless places from a night of indulgence.
If I looked in the mirror, I would surely find red marks scattered across my neck, chest, and thighs—evidence of Luderne Sellen’s unbridled desire.
Self-loathing washed over me, and I hugged my knees to my chest.
I remained like that for some time, only rising when sunlight began streaming through the window.
After a light breakfast, I opened all the windows for ventilation and cleaned thoroughly.
Then I bathed and dressed.
I chose a pale green dress that fell to my ankles—simple in design but of excellent quality and beauty.
After brushing my hair carefully, I braided it thickly and draped it over my left shoulder.
Then I retrieved a small grain basket from the kitchen corner and stepped out into the yard.
Two roosters and thirteen hens, along with roughly a dozen chicks, had been busily pecking through the grass when they spotted me and came rushing over.
I scattered the grain from the basket for them, then made my way to Walter’s Tavern.
“Good day, Walter.”
“Welcome, Priscilla.”
Walter, who had been sitting in a chair, broke into a broad smile upon seeing me. He held a letter in his hand.
“Misha sent a letter.”
After studying under me for three years, Misha had gone to the Capital on Irina’s recommendation.
She had secured a position at the Eleonora Salon, the salon of her dreams.
“Well, if I taught you that much, there’s no shame in recommending you. Don’t get the wrong idea thinking it’s because you’ve improved.”
That was how Irina had responded to Misha’s letter asking after her well-being.
Misha had been the top hire at the time.
She said the techniques I had taught her received excellent evaluations.
“How is she doing?” I asked warmly.
Walter chuckled at my question.
“She says she became roommates with Irina this year. Both are doing well. Oh, and Irina received an offer from Madame Raber, the director of the Royal Theater Company, and transferred to work styling performers. It’s called the Raber Salon. She’s getting paid more too.”
They seemed to have grown quite close. How wonderful.
As I smiled broadly, Walter handed me another unopened letter.
“This one is for you, Priscilla.”
When I opened the envelope, I found a neatly folded letter and what appeared to be a clipping from a newspaper.
I read the letter first.
Dear Teacher,
A gentle smile spread across my face unbidden.
Misha had asked after my well-being and shared news of her own good health.
She also wrote of happenings in the Capital.
The Central Social Circle remains as vibrant as ever, she wrote.
The letter began with tales of the Capital’s glittering soirées and the Town House gatherings.
Do you know where noble ladies who rise late in the morning first venture when they gather in small groups?
It’s the Eleonora Salon where I work.
Though each noblewoman has her own family maid for personal grooming, the most coveted styles in the Capital are those perfected at the Eleonora Salon.
Even Princess Cherni of the Arde Kingdom frequents the Eleonora Salon, or so I’m told.
The princess and the young noblewomen sit in reserved seats side by side, receiving the designer’s touch while conversing. It’s a place for both camaraderie and social connection.
When the time comes, the princess returns to the palace, while the others venture a few blocks away to the Commercial District for lunch, then purchase dresses and shoes tailored to specific codes.
In the afternoon, a theater borrowed by one of the nobles opens its doors. The young nobles gathered there take the stage to recite poetry, play instruments, or sing in their own recital.
And when evening falls, they flock to the Town House parties to which they’ve been invited, dancing waltzes and enjoying wine.
The high nobility of the Arde Kingdom practiced arranged marriages, yet this culture also fostered romantic unions.
They sought partners who were handsome, beautiful, and kindred in spirit.
Even if that partner was a mistress, it mattered little.
Isn’t that truly romantic?
Misha said she envied them.
The letter then naturally shifted to discussing the hairstyles currently captivating the Capital.
She mentioned her own skills had improved considerably.
Oh, and there’s a young noblewoman who frequently appears in the newspapers, commanding the attention of the high nobility these days.
Lately, she wears her lustrous brown hair swept up to expose her forehead entirely. From the front hairline to the crown, the hair is voluminously teased, and the back is entirely curled in tight spirals cascading down. It’s a truly lovely style.
The description alone wasn’t entirely clear, but it seemed to refer to croissant curls.
When I finished reading that far, I smiled contentedly.
But I couldn’t smile at what came next.
It’s a hairstyle that existed before, but at the Eleonora Salon, we’ve given it a new name—the Melissa Style. Ever since, reservations have doubled!
“!”
Goosebumps erupted across my skin. My startled heart hammered against my ribs.
I never thought I’d see this name again.
I’m sending you two photographs from a newspaper article published ten days ago. They’re truly magnificent and beautiful.
If you like them, why not visit the Capital with Walter? I’ll style your hair myself. On my days off, I’ll be your guide too.
With affection.
Misha.
Seized by a sudden premonition, I hastily unfolded the newspaper clippings.
The two photographs Misha had carefully cut out were in black and white, featuring nobles.
Upon seeing the first photograph that caught my eye, I bit my lower lip.
The owner of those curls, spiraled like enormous croissants, was unmistakably Melissa Bilsty, whom I knew.
Judging purely by the style, the curls seemed excessive, lending a somewhat burdensome impression, but that wasn’t what mattered now.
Beside Melissa, photographed head-on, stood a remarkably handsome man with an affectionate demeanor.
The man standing behind him with a serene expression was Count Veloda Genoma.
I searched my memory of the original work.
This man was likely Zerox, the king of Arde.
Melissa Bilsty and Count Veloda Genoma—the two of them appeared to have made their entrance into the Central Society, just as the original work foretold.
The forgotten narrative of the original work suddenly resurfaced in my mind. Melissa revered as a saint, and through her machinations, Luderne Sellen’s death.
‘Unlike the original story, I survived… but.’
Could it be that everything else is unfolding exactly as it did in the original?
I then examined the second photograph.
The protagonist of that photograph was also Melissa Bilsty. It was a side profile of her smiling like an angel as she stood close to a man.
The moment I identified the man, it felt as though my head had been struck by a hammer.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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