For the Lady's Wise Regression - Chapter 35

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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 35
But Ian was faster.
Before Vanessa could even finish her question, he’d bolted upright in a rush.
“Have the furniture brought back in later. I’ll sleep in the Study for now, so you should stay in my room for the time being.”
“Wait, Ian—”
“Then I’ll see you in the morning.”
Vanessa stared blankly at Ian’s retreating figure as he rattled off only what he needed to say before vanishing.
“……What?”
His ears had definitely looked red, hadn’t they……? Or had she imagined it?
But in any case…….
‘He must have decorated it himself.’
Otherwise, there’s no way Ian Ruscliffe would panic so visibly.
‘He said he’d decorated it with things that suited me…….’
The room Ian had furnished for her could be summed up in a single word.
Princess. The kind even a toddling child would adore.
No matter who looked at it, the room screamed ‘princess theme.’
In fact, it was so extravagant and ornate that one might wonder if anyone but an actual princess could possibly sleep in it…….
When she first saw the rabbit carrot carpet, she’d thought he was trying to make a fool of her.
‘It’s actually rather cute, though……?’
So a man who seemed to have no business with such words had secretly thought of her that way.
‘Good heavens, why is it so hot today?’
Vanessa was fanning her flushed face when she spotted Gayen emerging from the kitchen and flinched.
“Madam, I’ve prepared a simple meal—— are you feeling unwell?”
“……Pardon?”
Gayen peered at Vanessa’s face while holding the food in one hand.
“Your face is quite flushed. It appears you might be running a fever. You should take some medicine once you’ve finished eating.”
“It’s just hot. Just hot. The dining room is rather warm, that’s all.”
Vanessa laughed awkwardly and quickly spooned the food into her mouth and swallowed.
She wanted to leave this seat as soon as possible.
With that thought, she rapidly cleared her plate and stood abruptly.
“That was delicious, Gayen. I just remembered something I need to do, so I’ll take my leave…….”
“You could have eaten more slowly. I’m glad it was to your taste. Since the master hasn’t said anything, I thought the temperature was appropriate.”
“Perhaps a heater is running somewhere? In any case, I should be going.”
At Vanessa’s words, Gayen tilted his head uncertainly before nodding.
Could a heater actually be on?
Gayen pondered for a moment, then strode purposefully into the kitchen.
As far as he could recall, it had been broken, but there was no harm in checking once more.
According to what Denien had mentioned before, the mistress was quite sensitive to the cold.
If she were saying it was hot, the heater might actually be running after all.
A moment later, Gayen’s bewildered voice rang out.
“The heater is broken……?”
***
The moment Vanessa reached the second floor, she encountered Denien coming out of Ian’s room.
So his claim about sleeping in the Study hadn’t been entirely truthful.
He said physical contact was forbidden, but sleeping in his room is acceptable?
Terms could change whenever they pleased, but this seemed rather arbitrary.
“Ah, Madam. Did you enjoy your meal?”
“It was fine. More importantly…….”
Vanessa glanced at Ian’s half-open door and checked the luggage she’d brought.
“I think it would be better if I stayed at the Sharoz Mansion until the furniture is brought back in.”
“There is a simple cot in the Study, so it would be quite adequate.”
“But it feels uncomfortable imposing on the master that way.”
“A guest? That would never do. The master would be quite grieved to hear such a thing.”
Denien’s eyes widened as he protested.
“By the way, if there is anything you were unable to bring from the Sharoz Mansion, please write it down. I will have someone fetch it first thing tomorrow morning.”
Perhaps he’d noticed that all her luggage amounted to was a single large bag.
It probably looked as though she’d rushed into the Ruscliffe Mansion unprepared.
He likely didn’t know that she and Ian had entered into a contractual marriage.
If he had known, he wouldn’t have said the master would grieve.
‘……Once revenge is finished, I’ll be leaving anyway, so I don’t want to bring more luggage.’
Vanessa shook her head.
“It’s fine. I’ve brought everything I need.”
“It seems madam travels quite light, if I may say so.”
Light?
He must have seen the gifts she’d sent to Ruscliffe Mansion, yet here he was calling her frugal.
Then again, when her host disliked crowds so much he’d rented out the entire Nirvana Hall, even her spending probably looked like spare change dropped on the street.
‘I could spend far more and no one would blink.’
Vanessa didn’t bother to protest, merely smiling faintly.
“So that’s why the master has been so troubled lately.”
“……Ian? Troubled how?”
This time, even Vanessa couldn’t let it slide.
The wedding was over. What could possibly be weighing on him now?
“Ah, forgive me. Please forget what I just said. This wretched mouth of mine—this wretched mouth.”
Denien smacked his own lips with his palm as though he’d committed some grave indiscretion.
“My, how late it’s grown. I wish you a good evening, madam.”
Before she could respond, he placed his right hand over his chest, bowed sharply, and hurried away.
“……Why is he acting so flustered?”
It felt like watching someone make a terrible fuss over a paper cut, as though skin and flesh were falling away.
“I wasn’t even curious.”
But now that he’d reacted so dramatically, she felt obliged to be curious despite herself.
As these thoughts crossed her mind and she stepped into Ian’s room, Vanessa blinked.
She’d decorated her own chambers in a princess’s style, but his room felt cold—austere even, drained of warmth.
Only a faint trace of cool mint lingered in the air where he had been.
“……Truly, one never knows what life has in store.”
A month ago, she couldn’t have imagined standing in Ian’s room at Ruscliffe Mansion.
The man she’d thought she’d love for a lifetime had become her enemy, while Ian—the catalyst of her divorce—was now her husband.
Yet she harbored no regret.
She’d exhausted that feeling thoroughly enough in her previous life.
Vanessa exhaled softly, opened the bag she’d brought, and emptied every Wedding Gift Envelope onto the table.
‘To execute a Revenge, I must first know who my true enemy is.’
In her previous life, far too many misfortunes had befallen Sharoz to be mere coincidence.
Among them was the venture that had entangled Ian Ruscliffe’s affairs with her own.
A massive investment in creating medicine using the Soothing Herb.
Because she’d dared to reach for a venture the ducal house had already claimed, the cost had been triple—in gold, in time, in manpower.
Of course, it had ended in failure.
The moment the prototype medicine showed promise and was unveiled, Ruscliffe sued as though they’d been lying in wait.
‘A Priority Right, they called it.’
When the Ruscliffe house wielded that claim, she had been powerless to act, and her reputation had crumbled to dust.
During the trial, after the judge heard her reasons for pursuing the medicine’s development, he’d declined to award damages against her.
But the moment the trial ended, Calaire seized his moment, invoking her alleged affair with Ian—as though they’d conspired together.
As though they’d plotted it all.
The money had been hers to begin with; he was equally a victim.
It should have been Calaire Renard who stood humiliated in that courtroom.
Had she not been swayed by honeyed words that touching a ducal house’s venture would be acceptable between peers of equal rank.
But it was water under the bridge now. She held no lingering resentment.
Besides, she bore some fault herself for being tempted by talk of medicine that might heal her leg.
From Ian Ruscliffe’s perspective, it must have felt like a betrayal.
Vanessa straightened in her seat and began sorting through the envelopes one by one, then paused at a familiar name.
[Calaire Renard – 100,000 Gold.]
What? She’d expected him to cause a scene.
Yet he’d paid his respects with actual coin?
Then again, Calaire couldn’t have anticipated that the Crown Prince would officiate the ceremony.
Standing before him, it would have been difficult to spread rumors that she’d been unfaithful or that she’d abandoned him for power.
The figure written before her eyes was a substantial sum for Calaire Renard to present to Vanessa Sharoz.
And yet to her, it was merely pocket change.
‘What could this mean?’
If he’d spent this much, the Marquess Renard’s wife surely must have made a scene.
Vanessa gazed at the Wedding Gift Envelope bearing Calaire’s name.
How could she best use this to enhance her reputation?
It was pocket change now, but once the House of Renard crumbled according to plan, it would become money she could never afford to waste.
Looking at that yellowish envelope—so similar to him—a sudden impulse seized her to tear it to shreds.
‘No. Money isn’t a crime.’
She should be delighted instead.
Without lifting a finger, one hundred thousand gold pieces from the Renard Marquis’s fortune had already fallen into her hands.
With that thought, her spirits lifted once more.
She couldn’t wait for the day he’d regret giving her this money.

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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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