If I Were Reborn, I Wouldn’t Marry You - Chapter 155

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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 155
That evening, a modest celebration banquet was held in the Dining Room of Duke Roderick’s Mansion.
Clink—
The delicate sound of premium champagne-filled crystal glasses gently colliding rang out cheerfully through the Dining Room.
The table was laden with exquisite dishes prepared by House Roderick’s private chef, their steam rising in delicate wisps, while undisguised relief and joy radiated from every face present.
“My congratulations, Your Highness. Or rather, I should say Crown Prince now.”
As Father offered his congratulations, Leonhardt elegantly drained his glass before responding.
“Thank you. This is thanks to all of you.”
The news that the First Prince had been excluded from the succession and Leonhardt appointed as Crown Prince had sent the entire Capital into upheaval.
The neutral nobles who had been hedging their bets and watching Prince’s every move until yesterday rushed to align themselves with Leonhardt and House Roderick the moment the results from the Grand Conference Hall were announced.
Reports came that dozens of carriages were already lined up before the Prince’s Palace, pressing forward with congratulatory gifts and creating a scene of bustling activity.
Yet unlike the chaotic commotion outside, the Dining Room of Duke Roderick’s Mansion—where the true architects of victory had gathered—remained warm and peaceful as never before.
“Congratulations. Let’s share a toast as well!”
As befitted the evening’s protagonist, Leonhardt received the greetings offered by my family members with a smiling face.
On the surface, he was the picture of a composed and dignified perfect ruler.
But beneath the table, his large hand was discreetly intertwining with mine in an unyielding grip.
His warmth was far more intense than usual, whether from the heat of the champagne or something else.
His thumb swept deliberately across the inside of my palm, as if coaxing praise from me.
When I glanced sideways and tried to withdraw my hand from the dizzying friction that traveled up my spine, Leonhardt only tightened his interlaced fingers and applied more pressure.
Then, without anyone noticing, he turned his gaze toward me and let a languid, intense smile flicker across his lips before withdrawing it just as quickly.
As the meal drew to a close, Father cleared his throat and subtly rose from his seat.
“I have documents I still need to review regarding the Underworld relief supplies. Your Highness, please make yourself comfortable.”
“I’m exhausted too, so I should retire early tonight.”
“Oh, that’s right. Chloe was fussing earlier—I should check if she’s sleeping well.”
My family was not the sort of people to be so oblivious as to obstruct the space between Leonhardt and me on a night like this.
One by one, they departed with excuses so transparent and trivial they were almost comical.
As Lionel left last, the heavy door of the Dining Room closed, and perfect silence descended.
The moment we were alone, Leonhardt, as if he had been waiting for this, suddenly pulled my hand—which he had been holding beneath the table—toward him.
The sound of his chair scraping against the floor accompanied his movement as he drew close beside me.
“At last, we’re alone.”
Leonhardt rested his forehead deeply against my shoulder and exhaled a long breath.
“It seems dining with your future in-laws was quite tense and uncomfortable for you.”
When I asked in a deliberately playful tone, he nuzzled slightly against my neck and grumbled softly.
“When did I say that? I just wanted to be alone with you.”
I had grown accustomed to responding naturally now, whereas I would have been flustered and unable to answer in the past.
Despite the petulant tone of his words, his crimson eyes gazing up at me were now brimming with intense heat.
It was the look of someone who knew exactly what he wanted to do now that we were alone.
I pretended not to notice Leonhardt’s fervor and offered him an innocent smile along with words of encouragement.
“You did well, Leon. And congratulations, truly. Crown Prince.”
“Just words?”
My voice was languid and petulant.
“No?”
I pressed my lips lightly against Leonhardt’s cheek.
Leonhardt’s eyes curved beautifully with pleasure as he returned the kiss softly to the tip of my nose.
We were so close that our breath mingled. When I let out a small laugh at the ticklish sensation, his large hand cupped my cheek before sliding slowly down along my jawline.
It was a silent signal that playfulness had ended, and he wanted me to receive him more seriously now.
As I involuntarily drew in a sharp breath at the tantalizing, weighty sensation against my skin, Leonhardt smiled as if he had been waiting for exactly that. His thumb, calloused and hardened from gripping a sword through countless brutal battles, pressed gently against my lower lip and caressed it.
Then he leaned in slowly, his lips sealing against mine without gaps. What began as a light, tentative kiss soon deepened into an intense, passionate embrace of tongues.
As our lips parted and I exhaled in shallow breaths, Leonhardt whispered softly.
“What about giving me more of a reward?”
“It’s not bad.”
As I licked my flushed lips and gave my consent, Leonhardt’s eyes narrowed with a lethal intensity.
“Kiss me, Miela.”
Leonhardt’s voice had dropped an octave lower and grown richer.
Before he could finish speaking, I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him.
Along with the sweet fragrance of champagne, the heat I had been suppressing came rushing in intensely.

* * *
At the same moment, in the deepest secret chamber of the First Prince’s Palace.
Prince was drinking spirits in rapid succession, his lips bitten until they bled.
Despite the burning sensation in his throat, the humiliation and rage he had endured in the Grand Council Chamber would not subside.
“Leonhardt… how dare you…!”
Crash!
Prince hurled the crystal glass he was holding violently against the wall.
The shattered fragments scattered chaotically across the floor.
Yet even this did nothing to quell the seething fury within him.
Prince ground his teeth like a beast, his rage barely contained.
The plan to cut off loose ends and bide his time had been thoroughly destroyed in the Grand Council Chamber.
Now that Leonhardt had ascended to the position of Crown Prince, seizing the throne through legal and legitimate means was impossible.
Only bloodshed remained.
‘So I must play this card after all.’
Prince made his way to the secret chamber beneath the palace, avoiding the eyes of others.
It was a place he had used for his hobbies since childhood.
It was also a hidden space known only to the Chamberlain and Viscount Perington.
In one corner of the damp space, where bloodstains that could not be completely erased remained scattered about, there stood a drawer cabinet neatly organized with all manner of rare medicinal herbs.
All were rare foreign herbs that Viscount Perington had secretly smuggled in through illicit dealings with the Underworld before losing his title.
Prince rolled up his sleeves and began handling the medicinal materials directly.
The mask of the First Prince, always composed and elegant, had vanished entirely.
His bloodshot eyes gleamed as he placed toxic herbs into a mortar and began grinding them roughly.
A nauseating, acrid stench rose from the crushed herbs.
After several rounds of refinement, the murky concoction transformed into a colorless, odorless transparent liquid.
Prince examined the small glass vial containing the poison he had personally synthesized, holding it up to the moonlight.
Even a mere trace mixed into tea or drinking water would be a deadly toxin—one so potent that even the Imperial Court’s chief physician would find no evidence and could only conclude it was a natural death from sudden cardiac arrest.
Leonhardt had not yet undergone the official ceremony of investiture as Crown Prince.
Therefore, Prince himself remained first in the line of succession to the throne.
What if the Emperor were to die suddenly before Leonhardt’s investiture ceremony as Crown Prince?
There would be some controversy, certainly, but the throne would become Prince’s.
‘A little resistance is nothing I cannot crush with force.’
It was patricide—killing his own father by his own hand—but Prince, cornered at the precipice and stripped of the throne, had long since abandoned whatever meager moral scruples he once possessed regarding blood relations.
“Consider this the price for failing to eliminate the monster in the Separate Palace sooner.”
At last, a cruel and sinister smile spread across Prince’s lips.
It was the purest malice he had ever revealed to the world—from one who had spent a lifetime perfectly performing the role of a benevolent First Prince.

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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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