The Monster Duke Mistook Me for His Wife Chapter 113

I climbed the stairs with an unusually light step.

The box in my arms shook with each movement, pressing against my chest, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable at all.

Inside it was the Holy Sword I had asked Therze to lend me.

“Lend you the Holy Sword? What are you planning to do with it?”

“I’m going to find its owner.”

“Is the rightful owner of this sword here?”

“Probably. I’ll find out myself.”

Therze had every reason to doubt me, yet he handed over the sword without much resistance.

Maybe he thought this would help lift my mood after what happened with Dillian.

Maybe he just wanted me to do whatever I needed to feel better.

Whatever the reason, his generosity was beyond what I had expected.

“No one but you can have this.”

Just as I had said in the past, the Holy Sword didn’t belong to me, Cassis, or Therze.

This sword was meant only for Lysandro.

If anyone unworthy touched it, even the faint light it emitted would disappear completely.

“With this sword, I can finally know the truth.”

I strode forward with purpose when suddenly, a shadow blocked my path.

Manus.

“Ria, where are you rushing off to?”

“I’m on my way to Dillian.”

I gripped the box tightly, unconsciously stepping back.

Manus’s face twisted in a look of regret.

“You still want to see him, even after he lied to you?”

Until now, I had believed that he, that Lysandro, had never been reborn.

A cursed soul cannot be saved.

But then, one day, Manus appeared before me—

Speaking the words of my past.

At first, I had wavered.

He looked like Lysandro.

His voice was similar.

And yet—

Now, I knew the truth.

“The Third Prince is not the real one.”

With cold, unwavering eyes, I looked straight at Manus and bowed my head slightly.

“Excuse me, I must go.”

I stepped past him, heading toward Dillian’s chambers.

But then—

A rough hand seized my arm.

“Ria, why do you keep making the wrong choices?”

“Let go of me.”

“You promised to save me! Then you should be looking at me, not some fake!”

His voice cracked with frustration, his grip tightening.

“Fake?”

“Fine.”

“Let’s see which of us is the real one.”

A sharp chill ran through the air.

Manus flinched, realizing his mistake too late.

His own hand shot up to cover his mouth.

“Ria, that’s not what I meant—”

“Your Highness.”

I cut him off, flipping open the box.

“Take this.”

Manus’s gaze flickered with confusion as he looked at the sword inside.

“What is this?”

“If this sword accepts you, I’ll reconsider everything.”

The moment my words fell, Manus snatched up the sword without hesitation.

He held it up confidently, flashing a smug grin.

“Well? Looks good on me, doesn’t it?”

I ignored him completely, my gaze fixed solely on the Holy Sword.

“If Manus were truly Lysandro—”

“Then this sword would glow.”

But the sword remained dark.

No light.

No response.

Nothing.

A slow, icy realization settled over me.

My fingers curled into a tight fist.

“Hmph, this thing’s too plain. Maybe I should try something more impressive?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

I ripped the sword from his grasp.

“Ria?”

His voice called after me, but I ignored him, turning on my heel.

I walked at first.

Then sped up.

Then—

I ran.

The hem of my dress tangled around my legs.

My neatly tied hair came loose.

But I didn’t stop.

“He wasn’t the one!”

Manus was not Lysandro’s reincarnation.

He was never the one.

I had seen it with my own eyes.

A laugh burst out of me.

A wild, relieved, exhilarated laugh.

“Ha… Haha!”

I had spent all this time agonizing over the Third Prince, wondering if he was my fate—

And for what?

Why had I worried about Dillian?

Why had I fought with him?

But it didn’t matter now.

It was over.

And now—

I had to tell Dillian.

A bright, uncontrollable smile spread across my face as I threw open the doors to his chambers.

“Dillian!”

His room was empty.

I glanced around frantically.

And then—

“Ria?”

He stepped in from the terrace, parting the curtains as he walked inside.

The moment I saw him, I rushed forward.

“Ria, about yesterday—”

“Take this!”

Without waiting, I thrust the sword toward him.

Dillian’s face darkened immediately as he stared at the weapon in my hands.

“Is this meant for my execution?”

“Huh?”

Why did he always take things that way?!

I waved my hands in panic, but Dillian just continued spitting nonsense.

“Or… is it meant to cut out my deceitful tongue?”

“No, I— Wait, what?!”

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go!

“If I were to cut it out, would you forgive me?”

“Dillian, that’s not—”

“I sincerely apologize, but I must decline.”

“Decline what?!”

His deep red eyes narrowed seriously as he muttered,

“If I lose my tongue, I won’t be able to tell you how much I love you.”

I gave up.

Completely.

Utterly.

Lost for words.

“Just take the sword!”

“Alright, alright.”

Dillian finally reached for it.

And the moment his hand touched the hilt—

A blinding light burst forth.

“Wuuuuung—”

The Holy Sword resonated.

It recognized him.

It chose him.

Like it had been waiting for him all this time.

Dillian blinked at the glowing sword in his grasp.

“Is this… a magical artifact?”

His fingers brushed over the blade as if it was strangely familiar.

“It feels… oddly natural.”

But I—

I was frozen.

Trembling.

Unable to breathe.

I knew.

I knew.

“It was you.”

Not just a descendant.

Not just his bloodline.

It was him.

Dillian Sinaize—

Was Lysandro Rohaim.

The love I lost.

The man I had sworn to find again.

Tears spilled down my cheeks.

The weight of everything crushed into my chest.

I collapsed.

“Ria?!”

Dillian threw aside the sword, rushing toward me.

“What’s wrong?! Are you hurt? Should I call a physician?!”

He was panicked, touching my cheeks, brushing my hair back—

But I couldn’t answer.

I just stared at him, wide-eyed.

And finally—

With a shaking voice, I whispered,

“It was you.”