I Refuse This Life, Your Highness! (Completed)

The bed canopy was slowly drawn aside, and sunlight spilled into the room. As the warm rays touched my face, I woke naturally, stretching lazily and lingering a little longer beneath the covers.

The warmth beneath the blankets—thanks to the brazier below the bed and my own body heat—made leaving them feel unthinkable. I snuggled into the teal duvet, rubbing my cheek against its soft fabric.

Wait. Teal? My duvet was supposed to be white.

The realization jolted me fully awake, and I shot upright. The sudden movement made my head spin, and I had to lower it quickly to steady myself.

“Your Grace, are you all right?”

Bohem, who had been standing beside the bed, asked in a concerned tone.

“Ah… I’m fine. Get me some water.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Bohem poured a glass of cool water and brought it to me. By the time I finished drinking, the dizziness had subsided, and my mind had cleared.

“What time is it?”

“It’s ten in the morning.”

Of course. It was about time someone woke me. Sleeping in until the sun was high wasn’t exactly ideal, especially on my first day as the Grand Duchess.

Even with three days of leave, sleeping late left a bad impression. A nap would have been far more excusable.

“Go to the steward and tell him to gather the servants in one place. Even if he hesitates, just deliver the message and return.”

I had intended to spend my three days of leave doing nothing but sleeping, but the task of selecting my attendants couldn’t be postponed.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Bohem hesitated briefly, perhaps nervous about Erma, but quickly left.

“Your Grace.”

Resily entered, carrying a basin of water, soap, and a towel.

After washing my face and drying it with the towel, I froze at Resily’s next words.

“Just a moment ago, His Grace the Grand Duke sent over the ceremonial attire for the welcome banquet.”

“…”

That attire. I didn’t have fond memories of it.

“Would you like to see it?”

“…Yes.”

When I stood, Resily removed the cloth covering the outfit. As the ceremonial dress came into view, my eyes widened.

It wasn’t the same as I remembered. The design was nearly identical, but in my previous life, the skirt had clung tightly to the legs.

This version, however, had a slightly wider cut. Had the Grand Duke personally arranged for this? Perhaps he had adjusted the design to suit his preferences.

“Come closer and take a look, Your Grace. It’s truly a beautiful gown.”

I nodded, unable to tear my eyes away from the dress.

That afternoon, most of the castle staff—excluding essential personnel like chefs, stable hands, and gardeners—gathered in the small hall of the Grand Duke’s castle.

I walked among them, carefully selecting individuals. Each time I pointed to someone, Erma’s expression darkened unpleasantly.

In total, I chose seven people. It was a practical number, enough to attend to me as the Grand Duchess without seeming excessive or ostentatious.

These were also individuals who, in my previous life, had helped me in some way.

“This should suffice, Steward,” I said.

Erma bowed slightly.

“Understood, Your Grace. However, I have one additional recommendation, if I may…”

I turned my gaze to Erma. She looked uneasy, clearly unsettled that none of the people I’d chosen were closely aligned with her. It seemed she was trying to insert someone loyal to her.

Who could it be?

At my small nod, Erma brought forward a red-haired girl with freckles. The girl trembled nervously as she stepped forward.

“M-my name is Rina, Your Grace,” she stammered.

“…Rina.”

Ah, yes. I remembered her.

This girl had a gambling habit and owed Erma a significant amount. She was the one responsible for the unpleasant memories associated with my ceremonial attire.

Because of her, I had endured an unspeakably humiliating moment at the center of the welcome banquet in my past life. Even now, the thought made my cheeks flush with anger. Forcing the memory away, I addressed Erma.

“Very well, Steward. I’ll take this girl as well.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“T-thank you, Your Grace,” Rina stammered nervously.

It had been three years, and I had deliberately altered some events, so I couldn’t be certain everything would unfold exactly as before. Even the Grand Duke’s behavior was markedly different this time.

Still, I wanted to test her. Would Rina act the same way as she had before? That was the reason I agreed to take her.

After assigning the servants to their respective positions, I spent the remainder of the day reading before night fell. As I was drying my damp hair, Bohem approached hurriedly with startling news.

“Your Grace, the Grand Duke is here.”

“…What?”

I was so surprised that I blurted out the question. The Grand Duke visiting the Grand Duchess’s chambers wasn’t unusual, but the thought of the three-month arrangement we had agreed upon made me want to bury my face in my hands.

Now that I thought about it… hadn’t someone visited last night as well?

“Did he come last night, too?”

“Yes, Your Grace. He left early this morning.”

“…”

So it hadn’t been a dream. Frowning deeply, I managed to reply with difficulty.

“I’m not fully ready yet.”

My hair was still damp.

“I informed him, but he said he would wait.”

Bohem looked troubled. Glancing between Resily and Bohem, I decided to leave my room with my hair only half-dried and my clothes hastily donned. The thought of keeping the Grand Duke waiting made me uneasy.

The Grand Duke was already in the sitting room, sipping wine.

As Bohem and Resily stood behind me, hurriedly drying and combing my hair, the Grand Duke sipped his drink leisurely, his gaze fixed on me as if I were some sort of spectacle.

“Is having such long hair a nuisance?”

So, he really was watching me for entertainment.

“It might be for those attending to me, but I don’t mind. I’m used to it.”

“How long have you been growing it?”

“Well… my mother liked me to keep my hair long, so I’ve grown it to a modest length since childhood.”

The Grand Duke poured himself another drink, the deep red wine swirling in the golden goblet.

“You grew it because you’re a Lamia, didn’t you?”

“I don’t think so. My mother simply liked it. Being a Lamia had nothing to do with it.”

At home, I had never been treated differently for being a Lamia. I received the necessary education, though I wasn’t allowed to do some of the things boys typically did. Even so, my brothers treated me as just another sibling, not a Lamia.

“A Lamia is just a man who can bear children.”

“I’m glad you think that way.”

Though, in truth, it wasn’t that simple. I offered a hollow answer while discreetly watching his reaction. His tone seemed genuine. Perhaps the Grand Duke preferred men and saw Lamias as a pragmatic choice for securing an heir. Such preferences weren’t uncommon.

Of course, this was a possibility I only entertained after the Grand Duke brought Leiya into the picture.

Once my hair was fully dried, Bohem and Resily stepped back as servants brought in our meal.

The table was laden with dishes: soft bread, seared veal, spicy tomato stew with peppers, creamy mashed potatoes, shrimp drizzled with cream, and seven varieties of pickled vegetables. The spread was overwhelming.

The cuisine in Iserre wasn’t much different from the Empire’s traditional dishes, so it suited my taste. Even when I first arrived in the Grand Duchy, I’d never struggled with the food.

That is, until the servants began stealing from my meals. After that, I was lucky to have mashed potatoes or a few pickled olives.

While I ate, the Grand Duke drank rum, neat and strong.

The veal melted in my mouth, the mashed potatoes were sweet and fluffy, and the shrimp released a rich creaminess that filled my palate.

Whenever the flavors grew too heavy, the stew offered a perfect counterbalance. Even the pickled vegetables were delightful, each with its own distinct flavor. As I nibbled on finely chopped pickled cabbage, I stole a glance at the Grand Duke.

He barely touched his food, focusing instead on his rum. By the time I finished a glass of watered-down wine, his decanter was nearly empty.

Surely he wasn’t an alcoholic?

A twinge of concern crept in.

After the meal, I washed my face and rinsed my mouth, then returned to the table, where only drinks remained. Despite working on state affairs all day, the Grand Duke showed no signs of fatigue.

Not long after, he abruptly stood and returned with his sword and maintenance tools. I watched curiously.

“Do you maintain your sword yourself, Your Grace?”

“It’s my blade. It’s my responsibility to care for it.”

“…”

Was that a joke? His neutral expression made it impossible to tell.

“Your Grace,” I ventured cautiously.

He glanced at me briefly, waiting for my question.

“Are you truly willing to grant a divorce after three months of sharing a bed?”

“I keep my promises.”

“Why would you agree to such terms?”

“Because you seem to want it.”

His response was oddly deflating—but fair. After all, why would the Grand Duke care?

If, after three months, no conception occurred, it would be a damning sign. For someone like me—a Lamia—it would be grounds for divorce. He would remain blameless, and it would pave the way for him to bring Leiya, his new Lamia bride, into the picture.

“I’ll take the blame for being infertile,” he added. “I wouldn’t want to hinder your chances of remarrying.”

“…What?”

“Isn’t that reasonable?”

“And you, Your Grace?”

“I’ll deal with my future when it comes.”

“But the truth will come out eventually,” I said quietly.

He turned to me with a puzzled expression, as though he didn’t understand what I meant.

In three years, the Grand Duke would meet Leiya. He loved her, and they wouldn’t just share a bed—they would conceive a child. It would then become evident that the infertility had been mine, not his—unless I remarried and bore children first. That seemed unlikely.

In that case, I’d be left hiding behind the Grand Duke’s generosity, branded as both a coward and potentially infertile.

“It’s nothing,” I said, dismissing the thought.

“Are you unable to have children?”

His blunt question made my eyes widen.

“Well… I don’t know,” I stammered.

It was an awkward question. How could I know if I could bear children without ever trying? As I’d just considered, it wasn’t impossible that I might truly be infertile.

“Is that so…”

The Grand Duke raised an eyebrow slightly before returning to his sword maintenance. He seemed more distracted now, his movements less precise.

Eventually, he called for a servant and requested distilled spirits.

“Your Grace, perhaps you’re drinking too much…”

“I have my reasons. I don’t usually drink this much, so don’t worry.”

The servant returned with a crystal bottle and a rounded glass. The bottle was filled with a clear liquid, which the Grand Duke poured until the glass brimmed.

The sharp scent of alcohol was strong enough to reach me. He downed the entire glass in one go, coughing briefly as the harsh liquor hit his throat.

After setting the glass aside, he resumed maintaining his sword with practiced precision, as though the alcohol had no effect.

“I’m going to bed. Join me when you’re ready,” he said, placing his sword back in its sheath and walking to the bed.

“Yes, Your Grace. Good night.”

I watched him, puzzled by his strange demeanor. Ah, I should’ve asked if he had a hand in designing the ceremonial attire. But it was too late; the Grand Duke had already fallen into a deep sleep.