Orland had been drunk since last night.
He simply couldn’t face Charles’s death anniversary sober.
Glug—
As he poured strong liquor into his glass, he took out the pendant he always carried with him—a necklace designed to hold a photograph inside.
Click. Gripping the groove, he opened the pendant and saw Charles’s face smiling brightly back at him.
She had the same black hair as Tanashia, and her orange eyes, glowing as if filled with sunlight, gazed warmly at Orland.
‘Charles…’
Even decades later, he still vividly remembered the day he first met her.
Charles was the daughter of his nursemaid. On a summer day bathed in sunshine, she peeked out from behind her mother’s skirt, those orange eyes secretly watching him—still vividly etched in his heart.
—What’s your name?
—Good heavens! Charles! How dare you say “you” to the young master!
The nursemaid jumped up and down as if disaster had struck, but Charles was only five then, and Orland was eight.
Too young to fully grasp social hierarchy, they used stiff honorifics when adults were around, but called each other by name when alone.
Charles was Orland’s childhood playmate.
Since they’d been together even before either understood reason, Charles existed in every memory Orland held. Looking back on the past, she was always there.
Her adorable childhood, her tomboyish girlhood, and even her dazzling growth into a beautiful woman—he’d witnessed it all.
At first, he thought she was just a friend.
There was no one else who understood him like Charles did, no one else who made him laugh like she did—yet he hadn’t realized his own feelings.
—I think I’m going to get married.
Until he heard those words from Charles on the day of his coming-of-age ceremony.
—What?
—I’ve reached marriageable age. Mother’s nagging me to wed. I’ve even been set up with the son of that general store down the main street.
It struck like thunder from a clear sky.
Charles becoming someone else’s woman?
The thought of her laughing alongside another man, bearing children who resembled them both—sent him into full panic.
Like clothes soaked by drizzle, Orland had fallen in love first.
The moment he recognized his feelings, he sabotaged every suitor Charles met. He’d visit them secretly to issue threats; if words failed, he didn’t hesitate to wield his power and influence.
‘How dare you lay claim to my Charles…’
Back then, he saw nothing else—terrified she might be stolen away by someone else.
He agonized over how to confess his heart—yet it was Charles who came to him first.
—Stop it, Orland.
—What are you talking about all of a sudden?
—I know you’ve been intimidating every man I meet. If you’re doing this because you’re worried I’ll end up in an unhappy marriage, it’s enough.
—I’m…
—I appreciate your concern, but my life is mine to carve. I choose who to marry. I choose whether to marry at all.
Charles was never a woman swayed by others.
Her heart was as firm as a pine tree rooted deep in the earth—anyone would inevitably fall for such strength.
Orland hadn’t acted out of fear that Charles would be unhappy. He knew she’d always find her own path to happiness, no matter the circumstance.
He acted purely for himself—because he knew losing her, his sunshine, would leave him utterly miserable.
—Charles, I have no intention of letting you go to another man.
—What are you saying all of a sudden?
—I like you. No—I love you.
The words burst out like an explosion, emotions he’d suppressed for so long.
He still vividly remembered her stunned expression upon hearing his confession—and then her face hardening immediately afterward.
—Don’t. This joke isn’t funny at all.
—It’s not a joke!
—Young master, please stop. Do you really think we could ever be together?
Neither Charles nor Orland were five and eight anymore.
They knew all too well what class society meant, how vast the gulf between their stations truly was.
It was Charles who felt burdened by Orland—and it was he who clung to her, endlessly confessing his love.
—Wait for me. I’ll become strong enough that no one dares speak ill of us.
—Orland!
—I promise you. I won’t let anyone in this world tear us apart—not my father, not my mother, not even God himself.
He had propelled the ancient Brellof family into its current storm-like ascent to power for one reason only: to marry Charles with dignity.
—Orland, I know countless suitors have proposed to you. Why choose me? My family is ordinary, my status low… You might regret it later.
Charles was wrong. He had never seen a woman as beautiful as her in his entire life.
Without hesitation, he could say no one else made his heart flutter or turned him back into a boy like she did.
—Because I love you. Charles, I love you so deeply. I’d give you everything I own without regret—I’ll cherish and love you for life as if you were my very soul.
He could never forget the moment tears welled up in Charles’s orange eyes.
Their first kiss, those fragile days when he held her gently, terrified she might shatter in his arms.
Charles in her white wedding dress was dazzlingly beautiful, and Orland felt as if he owned the entire world—so profoundly, blissfully happy.
Later, when he held their daughters Tanashia and Noxia—fruits of their love—he was a man envied by none.
Loving Charles, marrying her, having children with her…
If asked to name a moment he’d return to, Orland wouldn’t hesitate.
The day he first met Charles. He longed to go back to that day, to love her all over again.
To see her… just once more.
Plop. A single tear fell from Orland’s eye.
As vividly as he remembered the happy days with Charles, the memory of her murder replayed just as sharply whenever he closed his eyes.
—Or… land…
A voice on the verge of breaking, red blood soaking the floor.
While Orland was away from the villa on business for several days, an unidentified assailant broke in and murdered Charles.
By the time he arrived, everything had already happened—only Charles remained, barely clinging to life.
—Charles! Charles! Just hold on! The doctor’s coming soon!
—Orland… just… one thing… promise me… *cough*
—Don’t speak. You’re bleeding.
Terrified of losing her, Orland trembled like a child—but she gripped his shaking hand tightly and spoke.
—Tanashia and Noxia… please… take care of them…
—What are you saying? Don’t talk like that. You’ll be here—you don’t need to say such things.
—Promise me. Even without me… raise Tanashia and Noxia so they’ll never feel lacking…
It felt as if fire poured down his throat—he instinctively knew this was Charles’s final moment.
He wanted to refuse. To tell her he wouldn’t accept such a request. To beg her not to die.
To fall to his knees and plead—please, don’t leave my side.
But he couldn’t. The desperation in Charles’s eyes staring at him forced him to nod.
—I will. I promise. Even without you, I’ll raise Tanashia and Noxia well.
—Good… then…
Only then did Charles smile faintly, as if relieved, and let her head drop.
Feeling her body go limp in his arms, he could do nothing but wail aloud.
Holding her lifeless form, he whispered ceaselessly.
—I love you, Charles. I love you so much.
Orland’s world ended that day—the very moment Charles died.
Even now, over a decade since her death, closing his eyes brought her back, replaying the scene of her last breath.
She was the woman he loved most, his dearest friend, the greatest pillar that had held him up—and he’d lost her.
A world without her held no meaning.
There was nothing left to make him laugh, nothing left to grieve over deeply enough to shed tears.
It felt as if overnight, the entire world had turned gray.
So different from the sparkling world when Charles was beside him—he could hardly believe he was looking at the same scenery.
Losing a loved one proved far more horrific than he’d vaguely imagined. It felt as if his soul had died, yet his body kept moving mechanically.
‘… Surely I’m not so old now that she wouldn’t recognize me?’
Charles, who died young, remained dazzlingly beautiful—but Orland had long passed forty, entering middle age.
Sometimes he wondered—if they met again after death, would she fail to recognize him? Or tease him for growing so old?
‘No, I don’t care what she says—as long as I can see her again…’
Even if Charles failed to recognize aged Orland, he knew he’d recognize her in any form.
If he could just see her again, hold her in his arms—even losing everything else wouldn’t matter.
Orland drained his liquor in one bitter gulp. The harsh burn down his throat reminded him he was still alive.
Had Charles not entrusted Tanashia and Noxia to him, Orland might have killed himself the day she died.
No—if he’d only been able to find and exact revenge on her killer, he wouldn’t be sitting here drinking now.
What kept Orland alive was his sense of responsibility toward Noxia and Tanashia—and his determination to find the one who murdered Charles.
‘Who on earth could it be?’
Someone bold enough to raid the Brellof villa and kill Charles.
For over a decade since that day, he’d investigated and pursued—but found not even a trace of the culprit.
Unconsciously, Orland gripped his glass tightly. His knuckles turned white with force—the glass in his hand seemed ready to shatter at any moment.
‘Who could possibly evade capture like this?’
The ability to remain hidden like this meant the culprit’s status was certainly not low.
Orland was building his power to punish whoever it was—that was why he lived each day frantically, without rest.
Every ounce of power, wealth, and connections the Brellof family now held would be used solely to expose and thoroughly punish the culprit.
‘Just you wait.’
Slowly, he would make them experience the most horrific suffering imaginable.
If he didn’t make the one who dared steal Charles from him pay dearly, he wouldn’t rest peacefully even in death.
Every year on Charles’s death anniversary, he vowed to find the culprit by next year and force them to kneel before her grave—but many long years had passed without fulfilling that vow.
That was why, even now, Orland couldn’t face Charles’s death anniversary sober.
As Orland kept gulping down drinks, someone approached him.
A hand sensually wrapped around his wrist holding the glass—he instinctively turned to look.
It was the madam of this tavern, with black hair like Charles’s and pale skin.
“I thought the Marquis didn’t much care for alcohol, yet you’ve been drinking alone since last night. If the seat beside you is free, shall I warm it for you?”
Since losing Charles, Orland had faced countless temptations. Naturally, with the mistress’s seat of House Brellof vacant.
More than a few women had deliberately mimicked Charles’s appearance, offering themselves as concubines.
Some genuinely resembled Charles; others had styled themselves to imitate her as closely as possible—but the crucial point was none of them were Charles.
Setting down his glass, Orland murmured softly toward empty air.
“Zen.”
At his call, Zen materialized abruptly from what seemed like nowhere.
“Oh, my!”
The madam recoiled in shock, but Orland’s mood for drinking had already soured.
“Get rid of her.”
He didn’t feel like speaking further.
He’d chosen this most discreet tavern to drink quietly alone—yet even here, he was disturbed, souring his mood.
“M, Marquis, I didn’t mean—!”
“Leave.”
Zen hoisted the woman up with one hand and flung her outside. Knowing exactly what day it was, he showed no mercy.
Orland rose from his seat. Once disturbed, he had no desire to drink here any longer.
“Let’s go elsewhere.”
In the past, he’d drunk at Brellof Manor—but Tanashia and Noxia seemed worried, so he started drinking outside.
As Orland took a few unsteady steps, Zen swiftly moved to support him before he fell.
“You’ve had too much.”
Anyone else would have passed out long ago after emptying bottles all night.
“…Not enough.”
Sober Orland endured one day a year—today—only by borrowing liquor’s strength.
To collapse into unconscious sleep tonight, he needed even more alcohol.
Zen had much he wanted to say, but having witnessed this scene every year, he had no choice but to guide Orland as he wished.
“I’ll accompany you.”
Just as Zen supported the staggering Orland to leave—
Knock, knock. A cautious voice came from outside, accompanied by a knock.
“Master, a maid sent by Miss Tanashia has arrived.”
It was the voice of Orland’s carriage driver.
Caught off guard, Orland shook his head to maintain clarity and replied.
“What is it?”
“S, she says Miss prepared some food suitable for drinking and remedies for hangovers.”
“Tanashia did?”
Everyone knew Orland drank himself senseless every year on Charles’s death anniversary—but it was a delicate matter no one dared speak of aloud.
He’d assumed his still-young daughters would only tell him not to drink—but he hadn’t expected them to send food, implying, “Since you’re going to drink anyway, at least eat something.”
Somehow, receiving this unexpected understanding from Tanashia made him want to laugh bitterly.
“I thought this was just hellish time…”
Every moment without Charles had been unbearably painful.
He’d tried his best to care for Tanashia and Noxia, but his heart wouldn’t cooperate…
“…So my daughter has grown this much all this time.”
The thought that time’s passage wasn’t entirely without benefit unexpectedly made Orland’s chest tighten.
It was a moment when he longed to tell Charles—look, our daughter has grown so much, she’s taking care of her father now.
The Villainous Demon Lord Laid an Egg for Her (Female-Dominated)
Several months after transmigrating into a book, Yu Wu found herself facing the demon lord Li You, who could no longer conceal his dragon horns. With one hand on her aching waist and the other gripping a sharp sword, she stared at him.
The demon lord’s eyes were red with fury:
“This is all your doing! Today, I won’t rest until I kill you!”
Yu Wu rubbed her temples. Putting aside the taboo against bloodshed during pregnancy, wasn’t it this very man who willingly walked into her trap that day?!
Warnings:
- Male pregnancy.
- Height ratios are set to mirror typical male-female height proportions.
- Characters include a foot-loving demon lord and an eldest daughter from an immortal family’s concubine lineage.
