On Rational Marital Life - Chapter 10

In His First Life, Blake Burman Died Three Years After Marrying Layla.

Before he died and returned to the past, Blake’s first wedding with Layla Edgestone had been a disaster. To be precise, Blake had been the one to ruin it.

Right after signing the marriage vows and being declared husband and wife, Blake revealed his true identity in front of all the guests.

“You’ll need to correct the name on the marriage certificate. It should say Blake Graemers, son of Esteban Graemers.”

His words sent shockwaves through the wedding guests.

“Esteban Graemers? The one who was the king’s older brother?”

“But he was declared dead after going missing…”

“The war ended, and they never found him. But how…?”

Esteban Graemers, the crown prince who should have ascended the throne, had disappeared after joining the war. His body was never found, so they held a funeral with an empty coffin, and his younger brother, Ivan Graemers, became king in his place. Now, the son of the missing crown prince had appeared.

Blake Burman, the mercenary whom the people of Graemers mocked as an uncivilized brute who knew nothing of etiquette, turned out to be of royal blood.

After marrying Layla Edgestone, Blake lived in the capital of Graemers for a year. Then he returned to Strober, where he lived for another year. As promised to the King of Strober, he divorced Layla and sent her back to Graemers.

However, the King of Strober broke his promise and did not give his fourth princess to Blake. Instead, he lashed out at Blake, saying that the princess was already happily married and expecting a child, so the promise no longer mattered.

It was a betrayal that left Blake seething. If he stayed in Strober any longer, he feared he might end up killing the king, so he returned to Graemers.

He still had his estate in Graemers, and some of his subordinates still lived in the capital.

Perhaps stirring up trouble among the so-called elegant and noble royal family would ease his frustration.

“How could that barbarian be royalty?”

“Did you see? He still doesn’t even know how to use a fork properly.”

“An ignorant fool with no sense of etiquette.”

“This is why upbringing matters as much as blood. His vulgar nature is plain to see.”

“Bloodline? Half of it is from a Strober fisherman. Ha!”

The aristocrats of Graemers whispered behind his back, but none of them dared to speak ill of him to his face. Even the royal family, though they saw him as a thorn in their side, could not cast him out.

Because he was family. Because he shared their blood.

“Blake Graemers.”

One night, after drinking heavily until dawn, Blake woke up in the royal garden of Graemers. Still holding a bottle of wine, he staggered down the corridor, heading back to his estate.

Then, a voice called out to him.

Blake stopped and turned around to see Ethanwork Graemers, the former crown prince, standing before him in his usual prim and proper manner, glaring at him.

Blake gave a lazy smirk.

“You should call me ‘big brother.’ By both age and rank, I’m the older one.”

“Then you should have acted like one. Mind your words and behavior. And don’t go looking for duels.”

“I’m a mercenary and a soldier. If someone challenges me to a duel, I have to accept.”

“Does that mean you should cut off the wrist of the Earl of Emerin’s eldest son? The earl has lodged a serious complaint.”

“Ah, was it because I didn’t end his life? Then tell him to challenge me again. This time, I’ll make sure to take his head properly.”

“Blake Graemers!”

Blake burst out laughing. This was exactly why he had returned to Graemers. The moment he provoked them, he got an immediate reaction—it was too entertaining not to.

“And yet, for someone so obsessed with etiquette, you were still dethroned as crown prince?”

Ethanwork’s face twisted in anger. Blake only laughed harder.

But he was starting to get bored. Dealing with nobles and royals who snarled at him like barking dogs wasn’t as amusing as it used to be.

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Blake turned away. “Get lost.”

“This is why Lady Layla Edgestone won’t return to you, even though she’s pregnant with your child.”

Layla Edgestone. Pregnant.

His steps came to an abrupt halt.

He hadn’t been back in Graemers for long, but none of his subordinates or acquaintances had mentioned anything about this. Now that he thought about it, there had been moments when people seemed like they were about to bring up Layla but hesitated.

“Do you know how your wife has been doing lately?”

“My wife?”

“Layla Edgestone, the woman you married. Have you heard anything?”

“Don’t even mention her name in front of me.”

Blake had shut them down before they could speak. He hadn’t cared. He didn’t care how she was living in Graemers or what she was doing.

She had despised their marriage so much that she barely left her room, protesting against being wed to a so-called barbarian. Even after he revealed his royal lineage at their wedding, her attitude hadn’t changed.

And once she finally did step out of her room, she ran her mouth to outsiders, spreading stories about his household that had the nobles whispering behind his back.

And yet, that same woman was now pregnant with his child.

“…Pregnant?”

“Oh my. You didn’t even know? She’s carrying your child, and no one bothered to tell you?”

Blake let out a short laugh. His first thought was that the child couldn’t possibly be his.

They had divorced not long ago. Did she already find another man and get pregnant?

“We’re divorced. How could that child be mine?”

“She was already pregnant when she returned to Graemers after the divorce. I met her last week at the Edgestone estate—she’s due next month.”

A dull ache spread through the back of Blake’s neck.

He had no affection for her. No interest in her. In the two years they were married, he had never touched her.

Except for one night.

The night before she left for Graemers after their divorce.

That was the night he had learned of the King of Strober’s betrayal. Furious, he had drowned himself in alcohol.

Just that one night.

Drunk and completely out of his senses, he had ended up entangled with her.

If she was already full-term, then the timing lined up perfectly—it had happened that night. The child was his. Unless Layla had met another man on her way back to Graemers.

Back at his estate, Blake called on one of his subordinates living in the capital and asked about Layla.

“You didn’t know? I assumed you weren’t interested because you had no attachment to the child.”

This was simply the consequence of his own actions.

Layla Edgestone had been nothing more than a political marriage partner, a wife who served as a convenient decoration by his side. That was all. And as promised, their divorce had been cleanly settled.

But now, hearing that she was pregnant with his child, his heart stirred.

He needed to confirm it with her directly. Yet, even before hearing her answer, he already knew—it was his.

“Why didn’t she tell me?”

She must have known he had returned to the capital, yet she hadn’t sought him out. If the child was really his, she should have at least asked for child support—or even reconciliation.

She was already out of the money he had given her as alimony.

“Is she planning to raise the child alone? She might not see me as a husband, but that child carries my bloodline.”

It wasn’t uncommon for people to show up with a child after the father’s death, demanding inheritance. For a moment, he wondered if that was her plan.

A scoff escaped him.

It bothered him, but in the end, it didn’t matter how she handled things. Even if everyone assumed the child was his, only time would tell once it was born.

Once he settled his thoughts, the restless feeling in his chest faded.

That is—until later that night, when Layla Edgestone arrived at his estate, drenched from the rain.

The Layla that Blake Burman remembered was like a plant.

Not a striking, decorative flower—just a quiet presence that filled space. She knew how to dress appropriately and follow etiquette, making her an ideal companion for social gatherings.

With her near-perfect manners, she was someone who could highlight Blake’s crudeness and, by extension, tarnish the royal family’s image.

Yet beneath that composed exterior, there was something cold and shadowy about her.

And now, that same woman had suddenly come to see him.

Blake entered the drawing room at a leisurely pace, only to find himself momentarily taken aback by the sight of her.

Layla Edgestone, having arrived at his estate soaked from the rain, looked less modest and more utterly destitute. She was thinner than she had been before leaving Strober after their divorce, but her belly was swollen. Her pale complexion, made worse by the rain, gave her the appearance of someone gravely ill.

And yet, despite everything, Layla Edgestone had not lost her noble composure.

“I’ve come to ask you for a favor.”

Her voice remained as calm and delicate as ever. Even as she trembled from the cold, she took only a single sip of tea, maintaining remarkable restraint.

Blake’s lips curled into a smirk.

He had heard that the Edgestone family was in financial trouble after a failed business venture. Their debts had piled up, and repayment seemed impossible. The alimony he had given Layla had already gone toward paying off the family’s debt, leaving only a small amount in her personal bank account.

And now, she was carrying his child. There was only one thing she could possibly want from him—money.

“The child isn’t yours.”

Blake’s once-confident expression hardened.

Layla lifted her gaze to meet his. Her eyes did not waver.

Hearing her deny it only made him more certain—the child was his.

“Everyone may believe it’s yours, but it’s not.”

Like driving a nail into place, Layla firmly repeated her denial.

Blake was at a loss.

Why was she saying this?

“…So?”

“I need a signed document from you—one relinquishing paternity and another waiving custody.”

“If the child isn’t mine, why would I sign that?”

“Because everyone believes it is.”

“If you’re so determined to say the child isn’t mine, go find the real father instead of wasting time here.”

Layla lowered her gaze. A single strand of her damp hair slipped down over her face as she stared at her teacup.

“…I can’t do that. The child is mine. I will raise them myself.”

She was still as naive and ignorant of the world as ever.

“You think you can raise a child alone in the debt-ridden Edgestone household?”

Even in Strober, which was more liberal than Graemers, an unmarried woman raising a child on her own was heavily frowned upon. For a noblewoman bound by etiquette and formality, it would be even more difficult. Knowing the financial state of the Edgestone family, Blake scoffed at her foolishness.

But Layla only repeated herself, as if reaffirming her own resolve.

“The child is mine. I will raise them.”

The next day, news of her death arrived.

The police came looking for him.

“Lady Layla Edgestone fell from a bridge and passed away. We were told she had visited this estate before heading back. Could you tell us what was discussed?”

“…She’s dead? Fell from a bridge?”

The officer hesitated for a moment before responding.

“Yes. Based on the circumstances, it appears to be a suicide.”