This Marriage Must End In Tragedy Chapter 9
Damion breathed in disbelief at the cruelty on display, a laugh slipping through in sheer incredulity. Yet somewhere deep down, he was intrigued.
He was curious. What kind of reaction would that woman have? He was eager to see it—anticipating it, even.
But the outcome was somewhat disappointing.
The woman didn’t retaliate.
She simply remained hunched over, clawing at the sand.
Damion took a step forward, his eyes locked on her the entire time.
Only when he felt the coarse texture of sand seeping into his shoes did he realize he'd wandered down onto the beach.
But what did it matter now? He was already here. With a quiet exhale, Damion moved closer to Ansi de Rubelsa.
The nearer he got, the clearer her features became. Her expression, devoid of any emotion, was strangely aggravating to him.
Their eyes met as she stood up.
Yet she turned her head away just like that.
She didn’t acknowledge him. Didn’t ask for help. Didn’t even look like she wanted to be pulled from her unjust predicament.
The question sprang unbidden in Damion’s mind.
He had told her, hadn’t he? That he liked her. Shouldn’t she be looking at him like he was a long-awaited ally?
Instead, she looked… uncomfortable.
That expression, so previously unreadable, twisted upon seeing him. It looked like she wanted to flee from this very moment.
A bitter taste crept into his mouth.
It felt like being rejected without even confessing. No—he had confessed, so perhaps this was just plain rejection.
A woman who neither needed him nor was glad to see him.
His earlier certainty that today’s meeting would end on a good note now began to waver.
And then came the words—those nasty, stinging words that grated on him.
“Your mom’s going to die if she doesn’t take her medicine, right?”
The daughter of House Ziden flung the words like poison at Ansi, who only continued to behave submissively.
Damion was sure Ansi would bow her head again. She had already stooped to picking cookie crumbs off the ground—surely, she could stomach mere words.
Even if she hadn’t asked for his help, even if she didn’t want it, he was prepared to shatter this pathetic illusion of peace for her.
Ansi de Rubelsa was going to be his chess piece. He didn’t like the idea of others using her as they pleased.
But her response surprised him yet again.
“With all due respect, miss,” she said evenly, “I’ve done nothing that warrants kneeling or apologizing.”
Her once-quiet blue eyes now swirled with a sudden storm. From her small, plush lips emerged a firm, sharp, and resolute voice—so different from her earlier stillness that it was almost shocking.
Like a wave crashing down when you least expected it.
And even after all that, she ignored Damion completely. Right up to the moment he reached her.
As if to make it clear she did not need him.
Damion suddenly felt a childish urge bubble up inside him.
He wanted to ignore her right back.
Until she called his name.
Ansi burst into the man’s room without knocking.
Better to barge in than to risk being spotted while waiting for the door to open. Rude, perhaps—but safer.
The man was drawing the curtains closed. Without even flinching at the interruption, he finished his task with unhurried hands before turning around and greeting her with a lazy smile.
The greeting was oddly formal, considering they had spent the entire day in the same vicinity since their encounter on the beach. This was simply the first time they had spoken.
“Did you tell House Ziden about me?”
Without hesitation, Ansi marched right up to him and fired off her question.
There was no point in small talk. This needed to be addressed before anything else. Her next move depended on the answer.
“About Rain? Or about Ansi?”
The man raised a brow lightly, toying with her, playing word games.
Ansi stared him down, her voice steady.
She wasn’t here to entertain his games.
Damion lowered his gaze, his eyes drinking in her form.
Those eyes that glared up at him were icy clear, almost transparent. Impatient, yes—but they burned with a quiet audacity.
As though they would shatter if he pressed any harder.
“I didn’t tell them. Not a word.”
In the end, Damion was the one to back down first. Technically, she had initiated the conversation, so he supposed that evened the score.
“You should leave this place, Ansi.”
His voice was soft, but his tone was closer to a command than a suggestion.
Ansi’s brow twitched upward, her displeasure barely masked.
“This isn’t a place where someone like you should work under such conditions.”
Ansi pressed her lips together, glowering up at him.
This man had no idea.
No idea how much she had to go through just to get in here.
She had fled south alone, almost like a fugitive, with nowhere to go. She had been robbed of her jewelry by a porter, stared down by eyes that roamed over her like hyenas.
All Ansi could gain with that name was either pity or contempt. She barely managed to create the name "Rain" and applied for jobs in countless places, but there was nothing she truly knew how to do.
It was the first time she had ever felt so powerless.
That’s why she had grown numb to treatment like that. And that numbness had become her normal.
Before this man, emotions that had long been corked up burst forth. The shame she had worked so hard to ignore reared its head.
Only when she sensed another's gaze did she realize just how absurd her circumstances were. And that awareness brought with it a discomfort even more suffocating than shame.
Yet even that emotion, right now, was unnecessary.
Instead, Ansi decided she might as well make good use of even this dirty feeling. If Damion de Orphe had served to remind her of the gutter her life had become, then that only made things easier.
Rather than mocking him for how casually he’d told her to quit, Ansi posed a question in a rather polite tone.
“If you truly pity me… would you be willing to grant me a single favor?”
Damion’s brow lifted slightly, as if surprised. His stiff lips curled faintly into a smile.
“If it’s something that’s in your best interest, I’ll do what I can.”
“Please let me work at the Orphe estate.”
It didn’t seem to be a welcome request. A hint of discomfort passed over Damion’s face.
But for Ansi, this was the best possible path she could take right now.
To bring down Orphe, she needed sustained proximity to them.
Rather than sipping tea with this man once and never knowing when they’d meet again, it was far better to observe and monitor the Orphes up close, under the guise of employment.
Ansi spoke with deliberate calm, trying to persuade him.
“I adapt quickly to new work. I’m meticulous, too. You can ask the other servants at Viscount Ziden’s manor.”
“I don’t need to ask. I saw it for myself today.”
“Then, about working at the Orphe estate—”
“That won’t do. I know that you’re Ansi de Rubelsa.”
“Does that really matter?”
“I told you, didn’t I? I like you.”
The confession struck like a sudden storm, leaving Ansi speechless.
His gaze was serious. She’d assumed he was teasing, but it seemed he truly did like her.
Ah, the naive and romantic young master of the Orphes. And what exactly did he expect her to do with that?
Love was a useless sentiment. It didn’t put food on the table, nor did it accomplish revenge.
“If you really do like me, then wouldn’t you consider granting my request?”
“I can’t do that. But—how about this instead?”
Damion gently took Ansi’s left hand. Her gaze dropped to his large hand enclosing hers.
His long fingers pressed gently against her skin. Unlike Rabou’s rough grip, his tender pressure stirred an entirely different sensation.
Above that, his soft voice floated down like silk.
Ansi blinked rapidly. It took her three seconds to understand what he had said. She quickly lifted her head to stare at him.
“Are you asking me to become your mistress?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“If that makes you uncomfortable, then I’ll rephrase: do you want me to be your lover?”
Damion’s brow furrowed. A weary sigh slipped between his pink-tinged lips.
But no matter how you dressed it up in pretty words, wasn’t that exactly what he was proposing?
It wasn’t uncommon for nobles to keep a lover before or even after marriage, as a temporary indulgence. But they were rarely treated as serious romantic partners. Most were just toys for amusement.
So, instead of giving her a job, he proposed a relationship. It could only mean he intended to support her financially in exchange for affection.
A nauseating feeling crept up her throat. Ansi bit the inside of her lip and forced herself to swallow the filthy sensation.
It was a degrading offer, but not necessarily a bad one. If she could stay close to him in that way, she might be able to uncover Orphe’s secrets.
“If you want to avoid drawing attention, we’ll have to meet frequently in the South.”
“Well… If it were Rain Arell, maybe. But if I’m dating Ansi de Rubelsa, it’ll be impossible not to draw attention.”
“So… you want a public relationship?”
“That’s more my style than a secret one.”
“The name Ansi… It’s a name I no longer use. It’s also a name that’s been branded in a very negative way.”
“If the public starts paying attention to you in a different context, that stain might fade to some extent.”
Damion leaned down slightly, lowering himself to meet her eyes. His tone, quiet and even, was nearly a whisper.
“You may not like how this sounds, but the Orphe name carries weight. If word gets out that you’re dating an Orphe, the rumors about you and your family will change. Public opinion will follow suit.”
“And what if Orphe ends up suffering because of the stigma attached to me?”
“That won’t happen. Don’t worry.”
His confidence was unwavering.
He had no idea that her goal was to destroy that very Orphe name he was so proud of.
“It’s not a bad deal for you either. A month—that’s all it would take. In a month, you’ll start something new— as a tutor, or with a business—under your real name. Not as Rain Arell.”
“And after that month is over… what then?”
“Then, you choose. Whether to leave me… or—”
The corners of his mouth lifted in a slow, elegant arc.