For the Lady's Wise Regression - Chapter 10

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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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Episode 10
As if on cue, the staff members who’d been hovering nearby suddenly snapped to attention, their eyes brightening as they seized Vanessa’s arm.
“What on earth—!”
Perhaps it was the delay in understanding what was happening.
In that moment, the measuring tape began running swiftly across Vanessa’s measurements with practiced efficiency.
“Stop this instant! If you don’t let go by the count of three, I swear—!”
No, no, no. If they finish taking all these measurements, I’ll actually have to wear that Dress, and—!
Just as Vanessa summoned the last shreds of her dignity to wrench her arm free.
Knock-knock.
Two precise raps sounded at the door, and someone stepped inside.
“I had a hunch I should check in. Looks like it was the right call.”
The newcomer was none other than Ian Ruscliffe.
“Ian! You—!”
“How many measurements are left?”
“H-hah… panting… j-just the bust now…!”
The staff member measuring, who’d been dodging Vanessa’s wild swinging arms with some difficulty, exhaled sharply.
“…Take it accurately.”
Accurately? Have you lost your mind?
Vanessa, who’d finally stopped flailing, fixed Ian with an exasperated stare.
“I’ll measure it perfectly! Without a millimeter of error!”
Why are you affirming that?
Vanessa let out a hollow laugh at the absurdity, and Ian’s lips curved in amusement as he gazed intently at her.
Wait, wait—where exactly are his eyes going?
“Ian Ruscliffe?”
“I can hear you. You don’t need to call so loudly… Sasha.”
Curse him, his voice was pleasant.
Vanessa barely restrained herself from melting at the sound, her eyes snapping wide open.
“Sasha?”
“Since we’re about to become husband and wife, I thought it would be nice to have a pet name?”
“…”
“Feel free to call me by my name.”
So the smiling face drawn in that letter was copied from his own expression.
Ian wore that irritating, identical smile as he glanced sidelong at the staff member cautiously bringing the measuring tape near Vanessa’s bust, then looked away.
“…I’ll wait in the sitting room.”
Vanessa caught sight of Ian’s ears—flushed red.
Did Ian ever look like that?
His crimson ears betrayed embarrassment so plainly that Vanessa, despite knowing they were entering into a Contract Marriage, felt a strange flutter of possibility stir within her.
“Why? You just said to measure it accurately.”
“…”
“You’re not…embarrassed, are you?”
“That’s absurd.”
A voice as cold and dry as bone settled into Vanessa’s ears—the tone of someone who’d just discovered her weak point.
It was harsh enough to shatter the fragile thought that perhaps their arrangement needn’t be entirely barren.
“There’s no reason for me to look. And there won’t be.”
***
When Vanessa entered the sitting room after the Fitting ordeal, Ian was gazing out the window.
At the sound of her footsteps, his head turned slowly.
She couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all.
His eyes remained as dull and weary as someone reading a tedious book.
‘No reason to look, he says.’
He might as well have said it out loud.
Contract Marriage.
Vanessa sighed softly to herself.
‘Fine. What’s the point in being upset now?’
After all, she’d used Ian to escape marriage to Calloway Leonard—hardly noble of her either.
If she was going to object to his cold demeanor, she should have proposed to someone else in the first place.
At forty years old, the man supposedly had plans to become a saint—rigid as a rooted tree, utterly incapable of understanding even the slightest stirring of a woman’s heart.
Vanessa shifted her gaze away from his unwavering stare and took the seat across from him.
“…The Milk Tea tasted quite good.”
At his slowly formed words, Vanessa’s eyes flickered toward her teacup.
“I’m glad it suits your taste.”
What are you saying after just one sip?
Vanessa’s lips, which she’d parted without thinking, pressed shut again as she gazed quietly at the teacup before her.
A fragrant sweetness lingered at the tip of her nose, despite the murky hue of the tea.
A single sip was enough to soften any soured mood.
It was Milk Tea, made with honey and cream.
Her lady’s maid, Dia, used to prepare it for her with her own hands.
But since she’d married into Calloway’s house, she hadn’t even laid eyes on it…
Only now did it feel real—that she’d come back through time.
She savored the longed-for fragrance with the tip of her nose, then took a small sip.
Yes, of course.
There was nothing like drinking Milk Tea after returning to the past.
Vanessa set the half-empty teacup down with an audible clink and looked toward Ian.
“Ian.”
“Yes, Sasha.”
His voice was warm, but his eyes held nothing but frost.
If one only heard his voice, you’d think his affection for her ran deep—but look at those eyes.
A bitter wind would be warmer than what lay in them.
“Could we revise the terms a bit?”
“…….”
“…….”
“I’m afraid that would be difficult.”
Unlike when he’d used the pet name, hesitation tinged his tone now, and she shrugged her shoulders.
She hadn’t expected him to agree, but hearing his refusal outright stung more than she’d anticipated.
The fact that society would know her as a wife unloved by her husband—that much wouldn’t change.
Vanessa sipped the Milk Tea in her cup without a word.
Well, what could be done.
Being able to drink Milk Tea prepared by Dia again was comfort enough.
She glanced sideways, and the tea level showed it had barely diminished.
Judging by his expression, he seemed eager to get home.
“Right then. Once you’ve finished your tea, shall we—”
“Let me hear it.”
“…….”
“My ears are open.”
He wore the face of someone who wanted nothing more than to flee this very instant, yet he asked for her reason anyway.
He was truly impossible to read.
He’d been like this even at forty, but back then she could at least decipher his thoughts.
Vanessa’s eyes softened slightly as she regarded Ian, who continued to study her with that peculiar expression.
“There’s nothing more to do besides the fitting, is there? In that case… I’d like you to leave.”
“……Just now.”
Ian opened his mouth slowly, glancing once at the teacup, then once more at Vanessa’s smiling face.
“Did your mood sour?”
“…….”
“If so, I apologize.”
Did her mood sour…
Not understanding in the slightest what the problem was, he offered an apology so hollow that Vanessa’s lips curved more sharply downward.
“What is there to apologize for? It’s a Contract Marriage, after all.”
At her words, Ian’s brow twitched.
Contract. He rolled the word over his tongue, exhaled softly, and rose from his seat.
“Vanessa.”
The affectionate lilt had vanished from his tone, leaving only an icy chill in its place.
“For a marriage we’ll share for years to come, drawing lines like that is unacceptable.”
With those words, Ian glanced at the tea he’d barely touched and passed by Vanessa.
Only after his figure had faded to a point did Vanessa’s mouth fall open in stunned silence.
“……Why on earth is he upset?”
***
What had happened in the afternoon kept muddling her thoughts, so sleep eluded her.
He’d insisted on the no-contact condition, practically piling restriction upon restriction, all but declared he saw no use in meeting—and now he was upset about her calling it a Contract Marriage?
“For heaven’s sake. This is absurd.”
The Ian Ruscliffe of his twenties was a far more inscrutable man than the Ian of his forties.
Back then, perhaps it was because I was still limping, but he seemed a little warmer than he is now.
Vanessa let out a small groan and flopped backward onto the bed.
“All I ever wanted was for it not to be Calloway Leonard.”
Now that wish had come true, and she knew that wanting anything more from him, or reading meaning into his actions, was pure selfishness on her part—so she’d held her tongue.
“……Still, it’s excessive.”
Yet for all that, Ian Ruscliffe’s behavior could hardly be called restrained.
‘As if, yes, as though…… he and I…….’
Vanessa sat up and examined the letter she’d left at the bedside once more, carefully.
Looking at the vast checklist of wedding preparations—everything from items needed for the ceremony to the tending of the gardens—she could see it all laid out.
She knew the illusion would shatter the moment she saw his expression and his true behavior, and yet the question refused to leave her mind.
‘Does he…… seem to actually be pleased about the marriage?’
But he was a man who despised unnecessary emotional expenditure.
Which is why he’d made plans to become a saint at forty.
She’d rarely seen a woman at his side, and the only person he seemed to meet with any regularity was Tessa Decart—who was the crown prince now, though he would become emperor one day.
Vanessa shook her head slightly, as though the thought were absurd.
‘……Good heavens. What a terrible delusion I’m entertaining.’

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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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