My New Love That Isn’t Fated - Episode 18

It was about a month ago when Elad went to see an opera at the Royal Capital Theater. His friends had been raving about a new star singer, so he decided to see for himself.
Now, in a top-floor room at an inn, Elad sat with Louise, gazing at a bed of ice piled high with shrimp, oysters, and lemon slices, trying to recall what face Lilia had made and what she had said that night.

The first time he heard Louise sing, she was playing Princess Saluja in the tragic opera The Ice Queen.
The scene where Saluja, grieving for her husband stolen away by the Ice Queen, sang her sorrow, had been so beautiful it captivated Elad completely.

But—he hadn’t fallen in love with her because of that.
Sure, he thought she was breathtaking, but if beauty alone could spark love, he’d have fallen for someone at every performance he attended.

“She was stunning, Elad,” a friend had said. “If you won Miss Louise’s heart and took her to social events, everyone would look up to you.”
“Isn’t Elad’s wife the daughter of that infamous traitorous duchess? She might just run off with another man one day,” another had joked.
“Bl00d runs true, after all,” someone else added.
“Is she even really a Earl’s daughter? Who knows.”

Elad’s longtime friends often said such things whenever they drank together since he got married.
Each time, Elad felt a surge of shame over marrying Lilia.

He knew full well that the Marquis of Griez was strapped for money.
Still, his father had strictly raised him to act the part of a marquis.
Elad remembered how his mother had always seemed to shrink in fear of his father.
“Women are just tools to bear children. The head of the family must always be the strongest. Never show weakness,” his father used to say arrogantly.
Yet, despite all that talk, his father had sold him off—accepting money from Earl Tillys to make Lilia his wife.

In social circles, Earl Tillys was mocked as a nouveau riche fool, having been abandoned by his first wife and marrying a commoner.
Lilia, the daughter of that runaway duchess, had been disowned by her noble family, who called her mother a disgrace and refused to acknowledge Lilia’s parentage.

There were even nasty rumors claiming Lilia wasn’t the Earl’s child at all, but some nobody’s.
Her audacity in enrolling at the Royal Capital University and graduating at the top of her class only fueled those whispers.

No one would willingly propose to a girl like her.
The Earl, knowing the Griez family’s financial woes, forced the marriage by offering a large dowry.
Though it was his father who’d racked up debts, Elad felt as if he himself had been sold.
Forced to marry an arrogant woman who flaunted her education, he began drinking more heavily with each passing day.

He didn’t even want to see Lilia’s face.
Just knowing she was in the house made him feel depressed.

Every time his friends teased him about her, Elad would fake a smile but inside, he wanted to smash his shot glass against the floor.

And yet—after marrying Lilia, he noticed something odd.
The servants seemed much happier.
The atmosphere in the house brightened.
The cluttered, messy rooms were cleaned and organized, and the gardens were better tended.

Even the loan sharks who once harassed him in pubs and cigar houses stopped showing up.
He no longer gambled away fortunes, and somehow, he always had enough money in his pocket.

It was all thanks to Lilia.
Even though Elad treated her coldly, Lilia always smiled and never complained.
Her quiet devotion had started to touch his heart—he had begun to love her, or so he thought.

But after seeing Louise’s performance, Elad hadn’t wanted to go straight home.
When his friends invited him, he joined them at a salon attached to the theater—a gathering place for the aristocracy.

There, young actors and actresses, struggling financially, sought patrons among the nobles.
No matter how popular they became, their earnings were tightly controlled by theater managers and shady organizations operating behind the scenes—what people had started to call the mafia.

These actors lived under crushing debts, forced to hand over nearly all their income.
They needed wealthy patrons to survive.
And the nobles, in turn, sought out beautiful companions.
The theater’s salon was a place for such meetings.

As Elad drank, thinking he should leave soon, Louise herself came to sit beside him.
“It’s such an honor to meet someone like you, Lord Elad,” she said, gently threading her slender fingers around his arm and gazing up at him with large, pleading eyes framed by long lashes.
“Your wife must be truly blessed to have married a man like you.”

“I wish I had been born into a noble family,” Louise sighed. “Maybe then, I could have met you sooner. Your wife must have had such a privileged life, never knowing hunger or hardship like I have.”

“You were struggling?” Elad asked.

“Yes,” Louise nodded. “I’m an orphan. When I was little, I once stole an apple from a shop and got caught… I was almost handed over to the guards.”

Her sorrowful gaze stayed fixed on him.
Moved by the thought of her hardships, Elad found himself deeply engrossed in her story.

He lost track of time, caught up in the sweet scent of her perfume, her flawless makeup, her well-tended hair, her beautiful dress.
All of it overwhelmed his senses.

Before he knew it, thoughts of Lilia had completely vanished from his mind.

He believed he had found his true destiny.
He should have met Louise before he ever married Lilia.

Why had he tied himself to a woman who had nothing but her education?

After that night, Elad kept meeting with Louise.
He wanted to free her from the theater manager’s grip, even if it meant paying a huge amount of money.

Lilia was just a tool, he told himself—someone to uphold the Griez name.
Louise was a flower, meant to bloom by his side and bring him joy.

And yet—each time he saw Lilia’s face, guilt gnawed at him.
The thought of facing her made him so uneasy he drank even more.

He couldn’t forget the pained smile she gave after being mocked by his friends—the way she had tried to laugh it off.

“Is something wrong, Lord Elad?” Louise asked softly.

“No, nothing,” Elad replied, downing a shot of whiskey in one gulp.

But the image kept replaying in his mind:
Lilia, late at night, sharing an umbrella with a strange man.

He hadn’t seen the man’s face clearly.
Was Lilia betraying him?

Was she going to repeat the same sin her mother had committed against Earl Tillys?

The thought made him want to storm home right then and scream at her.

“When will you marry me, Lord Elad?” Louise whispered, her arms clinging to him. “I can’t bear this life any longer.”

“I know, Louise,” he said.

He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her down onto the sofa.

All the while, the memory of Lilia—smiling so happily in his arms the day he gave her a flower—played over and over again in his mind.