If I Were Reborn, I Wouldn’t Marry You - Chapter 117

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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 117
Leonhardt discarded several sheets of paper before finally completing a letter asking me to become his partner.
Then he handed the letter to me with a visibly tense expression.
He must have known I wouldn’t refuse, yet he seemed uncertain anyway.
Finding it rather endearing, I deliberately drew out the moment, pretending to deliberate—and his expression shifted with each passing second.
I sensed that any further teasing would upset him.
“Give me the quill back.”
“Hm? Here.”
I wrote my reply on the back of Leonhardt’s letter and handed it to him.
Yes!
The moment Leonhardt saw my brief response, he broke into a radiant smile.

* * *
The Emperor possessed many disagreeable habits, but the one Prince Jeffresian despised most was his tendency to circle around what he truly meant to say.
Whenever something important weighed on him, he would feign some other purpose and waste time—exactly as he was doing now.
Today alone, he’d summoned him for fishing, something he was hardly skilled at, and only now, after staring at the lake for hours, did he finally open his mouth.
“It feels good to spend time together like this after so long.”
I wondered if he was finally ready to broach the real matter.
Prince Jeffresian smoothed his furrowed brow and smiled.
“Yes, Your Majesty. I wish we could have moments like this more often.”
The Emperor smiled faintly as I responded like a dutiful son.
“There are no eyes watching us here—you may call me Father.”
“Yes, Father.”
As I played along with the Emperor’s desire for familial intimacy, I had to suppress my irritation.
I despised how the Emperor pretended to be a caring father.
Objectively speaking, the Emperor lacked the capacity to wear the imperial crown.
The only positive aspect was that he seemed aware of this fact himself, yet the problem lay in how he vented that inferiority complex upon me.
The Emperor habitually spoke of hoping I would become a true emperor, as if his harshness stemmed not from lack of love but from his care for me.
Since my own purpose aligned with his, it would have been better had he treated me solely as his successor.
The problem was that even now, the Emperor occasionally regarded me with guilt-stricken eyes, as though apologizing for his inability to be a caring father.
It was infuriating.
To me, his demeanor felt nothing but artificial.
Yet I remained not the Emperor, and the Emperor’s protection was an invaluable tool, so I had no choice but to endure.
I waited for the Emperor to continue, wearing a false smile.
The Emperor’s smile, which had mirrored mine, gradually darkened, and he asked with concern in his solemn voice:
“Is something troubling you lately?”
His attempt to probe when he himself had something to say was laughable.
I wanted to scoff and tell him that it seemed he was the one with concerns, but I held my tongue.
“I am only human, Your Majesty. How could I be without worries?”
I’m only human—how could I not have worries?
After I gave a suitable answer, the Emperor asked as though he’d been waiting for it.
“Could you tell me what it is?”
Prince Jeffresian offered an answer the Emperor would appreciate.
“Following Father’s example, the effort to become a good Emperor never ends—that is my concern.”
As expected, the Emperor chuckled and patted Prince Jeffresian’s shoulder as though impressed.
“An Emperor is still human—how could he be perfect? It’s enough to strive for improvement.”
Prince Jeffresian barely suppressed a hollow laugh from escaping.
It wasn’t wrong, but the current Emperor was a man peculiarly lacking for the role of Emperor.
In his attempt to appear unassuming, he’d surrendered both dignity and authority, clinging to Duke Roderick like a child grasping his mother’s skirts.
As a result, the Emperor’s prestige had crumbled, and the Empire teetered on the brink of falling into Duke Roderick’s grasp.
‘I must inherit the throne soon.’
Prince Jeffresian, who had been sighing inwardly at his frustration, suddenly widened his eyes at the Emperor’s next words.
“And you’re doing well even now. So tell me—shouldn’t you begin engaging more actively in state affairs?”
Since failing at resolving the southern drought, the Emperor had neglected him for some time.
To outsiders, it appeared the Emperor was actively supporting Prince Jeffresian, but that was only in the visible realm.
In substance, nothing was actually placed in his hands.
Naturally, Prince Jeffresian could only watch helplessly as Leonhardt—who had become a monster of the Separate Palace, or rather Duke Roderick’s monster—brought House of Marquis Noyen and the Spirit Contractors under his control.
He’d been enduring it for now out of deference to the Emperor’s mood, but his patience was beginning to wear thin.
‘Would this make the time wasted by the lake worthwhile?’
Prince Jeffresian waited silently for the Emperor to continue.
Fortunately, it seemed the Emperor had no intention of dragging things out further, and he got straight to the point.
“You’re aware that negotiations with the Terban Empire are approaching, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am aware.”
The Terban Empire, one of only two nations on the Continent bearing the title of Empire, was the Arcadia Empire’s long-standing rival.
If forced to compare, the Arcadia Empire held the advantage in overall strength, but the Terban Empire remained a formidable opponent.
Positioned on the western and eastern edges of the Continent respectively, the two empires had implicitly ignored each other due to their considerable distance, but roughly a century ago, a trivial matter sparked a confrontation.
And that trivial confrontation escalated into a major war.
Because the two nations were comparable in scale and national power, the war dragged on interminably, inflicting severe casualties on both sides.
Eventually, after a prolonged war of attrition, the two nations reached a ceasefire approaching a formal peace, and diplomatic relations had remained severed ever since.
True to his weak nature, the Emperor had long prepared for this very thing—peace negotiations with the Terban Empire, seeking stability above all else.
Thanks to his consistent efforts since ascending the throne, considerable progress had been made, and an envoy from Terban was expected to arrive soon.
It would be a major event not seen in nearly five years.
The Emperor took a deep breath as though steeling his resolve, then made his proposal.
“I want you to take charge of receiving the envoys and conducting the peace negotiations.”
It was more than I had expected.
If I succeeded in these negotiations, my position as heir would become stronger than ever before.
“I will do my utmost.”
I answered with conviction to make a trustworthy impression, and a faint smile returned from the Emperor.
At any other time, I would have found the Emperor’s smile frustrating, but my mood was so good that this time it didn’t bother me.
With clouded eyes, I turned away from the Emperor and was contemplating how to ensure the negotiations’ success when I heard the Emperor’s soft voice.
“You are my only successor. So treat Leon well.”
The joy that had blossomed within me crumbled into mud in that instant.
“Yes.”
Prince Jeffresian barely managed to respond, struggling to keep his expression composed.

* * *
It was my eighteenth birthday—the eve of my debutante ball.
The Maids had insisted so earnestly that I retire early for tomorrow’s sake that I’d climbed into bed, yet sleep refused to come.
“As if a single sleepless night would diminish my beauty.”
After tossing restlessly for some time, I finally surrendered and rose from the bed when I heard it—a soft knock so faint it would have gone unnoticed had I not been listening.
“Miela, are you awake?”
It was Leonhardt.
How fortunate that I couldn’t sleep anyway.
“No! I’m not.”
I rushed to the door and opened it to find Leonhardt dressed impeccably enough to attend a grand ball at this hour approaching midnight.
“Where are you going?”
I asked in confusion, and Leonhardt laughed, shaking his head.
“Nowhere.”
“Then what’s with the outfit?”
In that moment, Leonhardt presented me with an enormous bouquet of roses he’d been concealing behind his back.
“Your birthday is coming soon. I wanted to be the first to celebrate it with you.”
I glanced at the clock and confirmed there were still four or five minutes until midnight.
I laughed, cradling the bouquet—nearly as large as my own torso—tenderly in my arms.
“But it’s not my birthday yet.”
I spoke playfully, and Leonhardt laughed along with me.
“Exactly.”
Then he leaned in, brushing his lips softly against mine, and whispered.
“Happy birthday in advance, Miela.”

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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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