Chapter 50: Why Not William?

Isolde lifted her head, momentarily stunned. Oliver’s gaze flickered under the dim glow of the bonfire, his eyes gleaming with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. “Do you even know what you’re saying?” she asked, casually tugging at her sleeve, pretending not to be affected by the sudden rush of emotions. Has this… been a proposal? And if it was, did he even realize what he was doing? she thought.

Oliver Langley—son of Douglas Becker, adopted by Pablo, born to Princess Beatrice Hudson. He might currently be without a household of his own, but even Margaret dared not show him disrespect. His lineage was far grander than the Valen family; his future, undoubtedly brighter. Even now, he was Oliver Langley—the Vice Commander of the Southern Watch, a close confidant of the King. His rise was inevitable.

And yet, he was proposing to me? Who am I? A Duke’s daughter? A County Princess by royal decree? No. I was the wild girl from Belleview Manor, a nobody from the countryside. No respectable noble family in Argentum would ever accept her. A wife, in their eyes, had to be refined, graceful, raised with impeccable manners. She was none of those things. She had no etiquette, no aristocratic charm, no prestigious upbringing. She was just a stain in their eyes—something for others to trample on so they could shine brighter. Her pulse pounded chaotically.

“Don’t be foolish,” Isolde scolded herself inwardly, forcing herself back to reality. After the shock, she wished she could rush up and answer for Isolde. “Yes, yes!”

Even Helena, standing behind her, was in shock. But after the surprise wore off, Helena practically vibrated with excitement. She wanted to rush forward and answer for Isolde—Yes! Yes, of course she’ll marry you! She stared at Isolde, silently pleading for her to nod.

But Isolde only smiled, her tone light and teasing. “You really enjoy making jokes, don’t you? Don’t tease me, Oliver. A woman like me is suited for a small, unremarkable household. I could never match someone like you.”

Oliver regretted his words the moment he said them. He had spoken on impulse. And now, he feared she might actually accept. Yet, in that fleeting moment, there had been a strange, unexplainable hope that she would. So when she brushed it off as a joke, he felt both relief and an odd sense of loss. The atmosphere grew heavy, thick with unspoken emotions. For a long while, neither of them said anything.

Helena, sensing the awkward silence, quickly busied herself with pouring coffee and changed the subject. “Miss Langley, the manor’s servants are still defying… what will you do?”

“Has Harlan returned yet?” Isolde asked.

“Not yet,” Helena replied.

“Then we’ll deal with it when he’s back.”

The shift in conversation gave Oliver a chance to regain his composure. He followed the change in topic with ease. “You’re reclaiming Montlins Manor?” he asked.

“Yes,” Isolde said. “Everything that belonged to my mother—I will take it back.”

Oliver nodded approvingly. “That’s how it should be. If you need assistance, just say the word.”

Isolde gave him a polite smile. “Thank you.”

Oliver observed her closely. She was being… formal, as if she were deliberately keeping a distance between them. And he couldn’t help but wonder—if Doug Becker hadn’t arrived in time today, how would she have gotten herself out of this mess?

“If Lord Becker hadn’t returned to Argentum,” Oliver asked, “how would you have unraveled today’s chaos?”

Isolde tilted her head slightly, amusement flickering in her gaze. “If Lord Becker hadn’t returned,” she said, “then I simply wouldn’t have come here.”

Oliver froze. “You knew he would be back?” Doug was like a ghost—always disappearing, never announcing his whereabouts. No one ever knew where he was.

Isolde pressed a hand to her heart, her smile radiant and knowing. “I felt he would come back.”

Oliver couldn’t help but ask, “What if everything turns out differently from what you expect?”

Isolde still smiled, but a chilling glint flickered in her eyes as she replied, “Then, I will kill everyone who deserves to die.”

Oliver stared at her in a daze, unable to tell whether she was joking or truly meant it.

“Killing requires a life in return. Is it worth it?” he asked softly.

Isolde shook her head. “No, it’s not. My life is precious—it’s not worth perishing alongside them. That’s why, if my master hadn’t returned, I wouldn’t have come here. If I can’t afford to provoke them, I’ll simply hide. I’m not that foolish, so you don’t need to worry.” As she spoke, she looked at him meaningfully.

Oliver was taken aback. That sentence… it was the exact one he had secretly been told when he first went to war. Back then, he had been full of ambition, his blood burning with passion. He only thought about charging into battle, slaying enemies at the front lines, striving to be as heroic as his father and Pablo. Even if he were to die wrapped in a horse’s hide, he would have considered it an honor.

But before his first battle, Pablo had pulled him aside in secret and told him, “If you can’t win, then run. Escape. Don’t be foolish and throw your life away.”

He hadn’t understood at the time. He had been angry, even disappointed in Pablo. A soldier should never flee! Even if I die at the hands of the enemy, it would be a glorious sacrifice for my country! He had argued back with unwavering conviction. Pablo had remained silent, listening to his impassioned speech. When Oliver had finally finished, Pablo had simply said in a quiet voice, “Pablo hopes you will become a great general who stands tall and proud—but even more than that, he hopes you will survive.”

That was Pablo’s love as a father. Pablo was a man of unwavering strength. For him to say something like, “run if you can’t win,” it must have been a difficult struggle. Because it went against everything he demanded of his soldiers. That was the first time Oliver realized how much Pablo cared for him, even if he had never spoken the words aloud.

The battlefield was ruthless. Oliver had fought in countless battles and suffered injuries many times. Each time Pablo learned he had been wounded, his gaze would become complicated—filled with admiration, but also sorrow.

Isolde lowered her eyes. That phrase… in her past life, she had said it to William. And back then, she had added one more sentence: Pablo cannot afford to lose two sons at once. That battle had been unimaginably brutal. And in her past life, Oliver had perished in that very war.

Isolde suddenly felt a jolt of fear. Could some events be repeating themselves across lifetimes? If some tragedies were following the same trajectory as before, did that mean… Oliver was doomed to die in that battle again?

“What’s wrong?” Oliver saw her expression change dramatically, her eyes suddenly filled with panic. Thinking something was amiss, he immediately asked in concern.

She looked at him—the face illuminated by the faint glow of the firelight, still filled with a youthful yet masculine charm. His beautiful eyes shone with worry. And then, in her mind, she saw another face—one drenched in blood, lifeless and cold. Past and present overlapped. She rose to her feet, unable to suppress the turmoil in her heart. “I just remembered something. I need to take care of it.” Turning to Helena, she instructed, “Helena, make sure Oliver is settled in for the night.” Then, without another word, she hurried off.

Oliver watched her figure disappear into the darkness. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though a wandering spirit had flashed before his eyes—one carrying an air of coldness and despair. The bonfire had burned out, and the temperature in the mountains was steadily dropping. Oliver stood up, resting both hands on the railing as he gazed into the distance. The landscape before him was pitch black—nothing was visible. A thick mist began to rise, and the air grew damp.

Helena shivered, then stepped forward and bowed slightly. “Oliver, would you like to return and rest?”

Oliver turned around, leaning against the railing. The wind billowed against his robes, making them swell. His voice, carried by the wind, asked, “Your name is Helena, correct? Why does Miss Langley refuse to marry William?”

Helena hesitated for a moment but answered truthfully, “Miss Langley said… William is not a good man. He is not worthy of marriage.”