If I Were Reborn, I Wouldn’t Marry You - Chapter 101

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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 101
“What did you say?”
Leonhardt couldn’t believe what he’d heard and asked again.
The Servant’s face flushed with embarrassment as he repeated the same answer.
“…The Young Lady’s Bedroom.”
“Ha. Are you in your right mind?”
Leonhardt let out a hollow laugh.
His anger had transformed into sheer disbelief, and the absurdity of it all made him laugh.
“Regardless of how young he is, in a Lady’s Bedroom?”
“W-well…. He’s actually sleeping under the bed. Of course, that’s also completely unreasonable, but….”
The Servant laughed awkwardly along with him before his expression crumbled.
Yet Leonhardt’s mind had already spiraled beyond hearing the Servant’s excuses.
Leonhardt strode toward Miela’s room with furious steps.
The Servant, hardly befitting someone sent to report on Emilian Noyen’s indulgence, trailed behind Leonhardt while endlessly defending his master.
“Our young master is so simple-minded about anything outside of magical engineering…. He must have thought that hiding under the Young Lady’s bed was the safest place to sleep without being discovered by us….”
After experiencing Emilian Noyen over the past few weeks, Leonhardt knew the Servant’s words were likely true.
‘But that doesn’t mean he can go to Miela’s Bedroom.’
It was unacceptable.
If the boy had ventured beneath Lady Roderick’s bed thinking he could sleep undisturbed there, Leonhardt intended to shatter that notion completely.
This was a matter of the Lady’s honor, and it was also a crucial part of the Noien Marquis Family’s earnest request to reform their son.
Leonhardt justified his unmistakably jealous feelings by painting them with other justifications.
Knock, knock.
Having arrived at Miela’s Bedroom, Leonhardt first knocked very politely.
“It’s me, Miela. May I come in?”
From inside came a loud crash, followed by Miela’s permission.
“Yes.”
Leonhardt turned the doorknob with more urgency than usual and stepped inside.
Miela greeted him with an awkwardly forced smile.
“What’s the matter?”
Miela stood as if to block his view and asked.
Behind her, he caught sight of a long reaching pole—the kind used to retrieve items from high places in the Dressing Room—carelessly left lying about.
‘What was that doing there?’
Leonhardt set aside his momentary curiosity and answered Miela’s question.
“I heard that the Young Count Noyen snuck into your Bedroom.”
He tried to speak with the utmost composure, but emotion inevitably crept into his voice.
Fortunately, Miela didn’t seem to notice.
Or perhaps she was too preoccupied with other thoughts to catch it.
“Oh, you found out?”
Miela’s eyes sharpened.
Of course, her anger wasn’t directed at Leonhardt.
There was no need to hide my anger—after all, Leonhardt already knew that Emilian Noyen had hidden himself in my room.
“Yes.”
Leonhardt nodded carefully, studying my bewildered and exasperated expression.
I let out a petulant complaint in response to his composed reaction.
“I heard scraping sounds coming from under the bed and thought it was an insect—you can imagine how startled I was!”
When I had my maids check beneath the bed, they found Emilian Noyen sleeping soundly.
My flustered maids, recognizing he was a guest after all, tried to wake him gently, but he refused to stir.
Eventually, my maids found Emilian Noyen’s servant.
The servant, shocked and alarmed, came rushing over and attempted to handle the situation himself.
Though it was a high-ranking Young Lady’s bed, the space beneath it was so cramped that only children could fit inside.
As an adult man, the servant could barely squeeze his arm through.
Yet no matter how far he stretched his arm while lying prone on the floor, he couldn’t reach Emilian Noyen, who lay sleeping in the very center of that enormous bed—large enough for six grown adults to lie comfortably together.
Even shouting at him showed no sign of waking him.
Of course it didn’t.
Emilian Noyen was such a heavy sleeper that the only way to rouse him was to forcibly carry him and dump him into a bathtub filled with cold water.
Eventually, the servant gave up and came running to Leonhardt for assistance.
And the tongs were…
…something I had grabbed in frustration while standing with my arms crossed, waiting for the uninvited guest to leave.
Though I was still young enough to easily crawl under the bed, I used the tool instead out of consideration for my dignity as a Young Lady.
Poke, poke.
As I was jabbing at him with all my might to make him get up, a knock sounded at the door.
I had been so focused on poking Emilian Noyen, who showed no signs of waking despite his body writhing, that when I heard Leonhardt’s voice, I threw down the tongs and told him to come in.
After hearing an explanation of what had happened before his arrival, Leonhardt let out a sigh.
As if seeing through the bed itself, Leonhardt fixed his gaze on Emilian Noyen beneath it and spoke in a warning tone.
“Young Marquis, you’d better come out by the count of three.”
Until now, considering Emilian Noyen’s age, Leonhardt had been quite lenient with him.
Except for that one time on Emilian Noyen’s first day at Roderick, when power had leaked out uncontrollably, he had never used his abilities.
He had simply tried to resolve everything through words.
Though he had regressed, the prayers of his four years as Emperor hadn’t vanished—it was Emilian’s survival instinct that had activated.
But this time was different.
Leonhardt was now prepared to use his abilities if Emilian Noyen ignored this final warning.
I, my maids, and even Emilian Noyen’s own servant all wore expressions that desperately wished Leonhardt would use his power to remove Emilian Noyen from beneath the bed.
“One.”
Leonhardt began counting in a final, resolute voice.
After several seconds passed, he counted the second number.
“Two.”
Before he could count the final number, three, Emilian Noyen began crawling out from under the bed like some enormous, frantic caterpillar.
“I’m coming out!”
Emilian Noyen’s hand stretched desperately from beneath the bed, as if making one final, urgent move before checkmate could be declared.
Leonhardt let out a deep sigh and stopped counting.
“Hehehehe.”
Emilian Noyen, who had crawled out from beneath the bed with his clothes wrinkled and dust clinging to him in various places, laughed foolishly.
“Sigh.”
Miela, who exhaled a sigh-laden exclamation, shook her head disapprovingly as if to make a point.
Emilian Noyen, realizing that Miela was his only refuge, began to cower behind her smaller frame with exaggerated gestures.
“Hello, Miela. Good morning, isn’t it?”
Miela, who had woken earlier than usual due to the shock of the uninvited guest beneath the bed, naturally did not respond well.
“No, it’s a terrible morning! Because of you.”
Miela patted Emilian Noyen’s back repeatedly, as if shaking dust from a blanket.
“Ow, it hurts! Ugh!”
Emilian Noyen writhed and exaggerated his pain as he was struck by Miela’s small, soft hands.
At the same time, Leonhardt’s eyebrows twitched with displeasure.
“Stop. Your hand will hurt.”
Leonhardt gently grasped Miela’s hand to halt the back-patting.
Miela huffed indignantly, though she ceased her assault.
“Of all things, he’s the same age as me!”
The fact that Emilian Noyen was her friend seemed to vex her greatly.
Watching Miela glare at Emilian Noyen with such disdain, Leonhardt actually found his feelings toward Emilian Noyen improving slightly.
He had now clearly understood how utterly absurd the misunderstanding that Miela and Emilian Noyen were lovers truly was.
‘That aside.’
Leonhardt fixed Emilian Noyen with a cold stare.
Though he would not use his abilities since they had emerged three centuries ago, there was certainly a need to correct that rotten mind of his.

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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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