"Do you not intend to pursue her?"

Lady Marian looked at Merka with a smile, her eyes seemingly expecting something.

She saw in these two children, the sincere and untainted love that she and her husband had when they were courting under the moonlight.

The boy back then was also a clumsy Curseborn, and the girl was a stubborn noble lady.

It’s just that Curseborn's situation hadn’t become the universally condemned one it is now.

"Sigh."

"Forget it..."

"I may have said too much."

Merka lowered his head, propping up the table with his chest, his hands anxiously running through his hair.

"Let her go find her own way."

"I'll just concede when the time comes."

Weary, with his eyes lowered, Merka felt truly tired and regretful now.

But if given another chance, Merka would probably still say those things to Turing.

Those were words that had been bottled up inside Merka for too long... he had to find a way to say them to Turing, or the rift between them would only deepen.

It was all because he loved Turing too much. Every time he saw Turing rudely ignoring commoners and laborers, he had to turn a blind eye, pretending not to see.

Watching Turing carelessly carry out these actions, for Merka, felt like lead weights silently hanging on his chest, accumulating weight day by day, yet unable to remove them.

Merka looked distressed, lightly twisting the engagement ring on his middle finger, murmuring uneasily to himself.

He felt as though the imprint left by the ring on his finger was like a transparent rope tied to his heart. A slight friction would cause pain and ache in his heart.

"You are my darling... you are my heart's flesh."

Gently kissing the ring, Merka did not shed tears.

His deep love always remained tightly bound with his rationality and wisdom.

So much so that he remained sober all year round, with no outlet.

"Merka, so, it is indeed you here."

"Uh..."

"Have I come at a wrong time?"

The emotions that Merka had been brewing for so long were interrupted, and now he could not even cry.

He forced a wry smile as he looked towards the front door, wanting to see who had arrived just in time like this.

The visitor was dressed in black, with a sapphire robe around her waist, the slightly tight magical robe accentuating her impending figure.

If her seductive figure was a burning fire, then her sturdy and active muscles in her arms and the cold face that kept people at bay were like bitter frost. Together, these two elements were enough to pour a bucket of discouragement on any man who coveted her beauty, extinguishing their ill intentions.

Who else could it be but Dunquerque, known as the Rain Curtain?

"What's wrong, not welcoming me?"

Seeing Merka's grim expression, Dunquerque asked with some confusion.

Then, Dunquerque narrowed her eyes, quickly scanning the surroundings and the three women, pausing briefly on Yorkshire before going up to greet her warmly, completely ignoring the Marquis couple.

Dunkirk returned to Merka's side, crossing his arms and saying impatiently, "I traveled a long way just to fetch that thing for you. It wasn't easy, you know."

"Since you're not welcoming me, I'll just keep the item for myself then," he added.

After hearing Dunkirk's words, Merka pondered for a moment but couldn't think of anything he had asked Dunkirk to fetch for him.

"Um... What item?" Merka asked helplessly.

"This one." Quick as lightning, Dunkirk swiftly slipped a black stone into Merka's arms, as if afraid of being seen by others.

"It's the item you requested from Lady Maria last time," he continued. "It's quite valuable, so keep it well hidden and don't let anyone see it."