On Rational Marital Life - Chapter 11 (M)

The police requested Blake to accompany them for identification purposes. Given his royal bloodline and rank as a naval colonel in Strober, they handled him with caution.

Upon arriving at the police station, the Earl and Countess of Edgestone lunged at Blake. They shook him, clawed at him, and struck him as they wept and screamed.

“My daughter died because of you! She suffered so much carrying a barbarian’s child!”

“What did you say to that poor girl to make her jump off a bridge?! What cruel words did you speak to a pregnant woman that she would take her own life?!”

“Oh, my poor Layla, my daughter—ohhh!”

“Please calm down! We need to confirm the identity of the deceased.”

“We already did! It’s Layla! You think we wouldn’t recognize our own daughter?!”

“That poor child… and the baby, too…”

The police pulled the grieving couple away from Blake. Amid the chaos, he silently followed the officers inside.

He could feel their eyes on him, scrutinizing his every move. They suspected that he had played a role in her suicide.

With a cold, unreadable expression, Blake stepped into the morgue.

Having witnessed countless deaths during war, he had seen bodies covered with white cloths more times than he could count. But something about this was different. The shape beneath the cloth was… strange. There was something else beside Layla’s body.

“Prepare yourself.”

Blake assumed this was a customary warning, a courtesy to a former husband about to see his deceased wife. He had seen far worse on the battlefield. Nothing could surprise him anymore.

Or so he thought.

When the white cloth was lifted, his mind went completely blank.

There wasn’t just one body. There were two.

Blake stood frozen, unable to blink, unable to tear his eyes away from the two lifeless forms before him.

A police officer observed him carefully before speaking in a solemn tone.

“The impact of the fall triggered premature labor. It seems she realized she was giving birth in the water. She was found holding the baby in her arms.”

Layla lay there, cradling a tiny, doll-like infant.

The newborn, still connected to the mother by the umbilical cord, had golden hair—just like Blake’s.

Even the same birthmark as his.

It was a horrific sight.

A moment Blake would never forget for the rest of his life.

* * *

“Extra! Extra! Crown Prince Étienne’s coronation will be held at Rayum Cathedral!”

The voice of a newspaper boy rang through the streets.

A few days after Layla’s death, Blake Burman also died.

A blade struck him at a vulnerable moment, piercing a fatal spot so precisely that he couldn’t even resist.

‘Not bad.’

Pressing down on the wound as hot blood poured from it, Blake thought to himself.

There was no one else around. Just him and the person who had stabbed him.

Attempts on his life had been frequent—by the royal family, by the families of those he had dueled, by those who owed him money. He had dodged every single one. A man who had survived countless battlefields was now bleeding out in some back alley, felled by a single blade.

It was ridiculous.

Blake looked up at his killer and smiled.

His body was growing colder by the second.

Even as he lay dying, one thought refused to leave his mind. A thought that had haunted him ever since he had seen Layla’s lifeless body.

Lately, he had been too careless. Too defenseless.

‘Did she hate me that much? So much that she would rather die than give birth to my child?’

Rumors had spread.

Layla Edgestone had been so ashamed of carrying a barbarian’s child that she took her own life. That was why she had come to him—to have him sign away his parental rights and custody.

She had asked him for those papers that day.

“That paternity waiver and custody relinquishment document will end up proving the child is mine, won’t it? After giving birth, how much were you planning to squeeze out of me?”

Blake didn’t trust Layla.

“N-no… That’s not it. That’s not why I’m asking you to sign.”

Layla, already pale, turned even more ashen. Her lips were completely bloodless.

“If you want, I can write a statement myself, promising never to demand money over this. I can even sign away any rights to your fortune.”

Her voice trembled with desperation.

“If my family ever tries to ask you for money because of the child, just show them the document. For the sake of their reputation, they’ll back off.”

Even in this situation, she was still worrying about noble decorum and public perception. It was absurd.

Blake wanted to press her further, but he held back.

She was shivering.

Even though she was cold, she didn’t ask for warmer clothes or a hot bath.

She didn’t want to stay here any longer.

If that was the case, he might as well send her away quickly.

“I’ll consult a lawyer to see if there are any issues.”

“…Thank you.”

At last, a faint smile appeared on her face.

That seemed to be enough for her.

Layla wrapped her arms around her swollen belly and slowly stood up. Even her steps were sluggish.

Blake followed her, intending to see her off.

He could have just turned around and gone back to his room, but her unsteady gait made it impossible for him to look away.

It took longer than expected to reach the entrance.

At one point, she paused, cradled her belly, and smiled.

“Ah… the baby moved.”

It was a look of pure happiness—one he had never seen from her before.

“…It’s raining. Take a carriage home.”

“Thank you so much. I was actually worried about the trip back.”

Layla looked genuinely grateful.

“I’m planning to leave the Edgestone estate. I’ll find a new place soon and contact you.”

With those parting words, she left the Burman estate.

Even as his vision darkened from blood loss, Blake kept replaying the same thought over and over.

‘Did she hate me that much? So much that she chose death over living with my child…? Did she despise me that much?’

* * *

The moment his vision was swallowed by complete darkness, Blake knew he was dead.

But when he opened his eyes again, he was at a wedding.

The very same wedding where he had married Layla Edgestone.

He had returned to that day.

Layla Edgestone, standing beside him in a wedding dress ruined by red tomato stains, was holding his hand.

It was their second marriage.

At first, he suspected it was a dream. But everything was far too vivid—too identical to before.

The sneering nobles. The royals whispering among themselves, still unaware of his true identity. The bride beside him, standing stiffly with her eyes cast downward in gloom.

Before he even had time to grasp what was happening, the wedding proceeded as it had before.

In his past life, Blake had revealed his identity during the ceremony, announcing that he was the son of the missing Esteban Graemers.

When he had proven it by presenting his father’s pocket watch, the wedding had erupted into chaos. The former queen, the formidable Marquise Baitard, had been so shocked that she fainted on the spot.

The marriage itself had been completely overshadowed. Verifying his bloodline had taken priority over everything else.

Needless to say, there had been no wedding night.

But this time, Blake said nothing about his lineage.

After revealing the truth in his past life, all it had brought him was trouble.

Some nobles had argued that, since his marriage to Layla Edgestone upheld the old agreement of uniting the eldest children of both families, Blake should be recognized as the rightful heir. They wanted to use him to shake the power of the current emperor and crown prince.

But that had quickly faded.

Blake’s relentless disregard for noble etiquette had ensured that no one continued pushing for his claim to the throne.

Even so, the consequences had been a persistent headache.

He was done with all of it.

The Graemers royal family no longer interested him.

Neither did the backstabbing King of Strober.

Nor did Layla Edgestone who had taken her own life.

Now that he had returned to the past, his first priority was simple—living well.

Thriving, just to spite them all.

But securing a stable foundation would take time.

So, once again, he remained in Graemers as Layla’s husband. This time, he would establish his footing here.

And as he did, another goal surfaced within him.

Layla Edgestone.

He wanted to shake her up.

Regardless of the political nature of their marriage or how distant he had been as a husband, they had been married for two years.

She had always treated him stiffly, as though he were some untamed barbarian.

But he had never particularly hated her.

To be precise, he had never cared.

He never dreamed that she would hate herself enough to commit suicide even though she was pregnant.

‘Fall for a man you hate so much. Beg for him while getting excited.’

So ​​Blake held Layla on their second night together.

Layla Edgestone was a heavenly noblewoman. No, worse than ordinary noblewomen. She was boring and embarrassed.

It wasn’t bad to see her moan and scream at Blake’s touch while rejecting him.

Layla was a mess.

Layla Edgestone crying and begging.

Her face crying because she felt too much and then squirted like a fountain, feeling ashamed of herself.

The narrow slit and the body so thin it could break.

Getting a plea of ‘please’ out of that mouth that hates me, that tells me to stop, makes my heart race and my desire to conquer grows.

Blake did as she asked, positioning them to face each other.

“Blake, Blake, stop, ahh, hic!”

He gripped Layla’s cunt and pushed until her knees touched her lying shoulders. The reddened, plum-fleshed pussy looked deliciously wet with her clear juices, so Blake didn’t hold back and put his mouth to it.

He spread her labia aside and licked his tongue across the red flesh of her cunt. He pressed his lips together and sucked.

“Aaaah, stop, aaaah!”

Layla cried out in a mixed voice.

He liked it very much. He swayed his feet and squirmed. The small hole twitched like a drowning person. She was tempting him to hurry and put his dick in.

Blake was in no hurry. She was already in his arms, bound to him by marriage—there was no need for impatience.

Time was on his side. Now, as her husband, he would take his time discovering the depths of the woman who was now his.

“Hiiik! B-Blake, that’s enough, ah… haaa…!”

He pushed the tip of his tongue into the fleshy opening. The entrance oozed, and he tightened his tongue. Red juices gurgled inside, thickening the obscene taste.

He twisted his head, covering the entirety of her pussy with his lips. The slender body beneath him flapped like a fish as he rubbed inside, widening the tightening folds in protest.

“Aaah, aaah!”