He Pretended To Love Me For Her

Gisela's POV: Every bit of doting affection Leopold showered on me was nothing but an act. He was a reborn man, carrying all the memories of his past life. He was dead set on believing I was still that vicious, obsessive side character who would make trouble for the female lead at every turn. To protect the woman he held dearest in his heart, he'd kept up the charade for ten whole years. A decade of gentle care and over-the-top, obvious preference fooled me into thinking I was the most cherished person in his world. I even willingly gave up the chance to return to the 21st century, sinking completely into this sham romance. The carefully woven lie finally shattered completely the day Anastasia and I were taken hostage by enemies, and he was trapped in an impossible one-or-the-other choice. Leopold jumped to conclusions immediately, assuming the whole k********g was a trap I'd staged myself. So against his own will, he put on a show of choosing me. I looked at him and smiled calmly. Before his stunned, heartbroken gaze, I threw myself forward without hesitation, taking every single blade aimed at Anastasia. My body was torn to pieces; I didn't even leave him a whole body to bury. This was the worst possible ending I'd chosen for him and myself, with my own two hands. Afterwards, in the tenth year of the kingdom of Ravenna, the esteemed Marquis Leopold Lancaster's jet-black hair turned stark white overnight, as if a frost had bleached every strand in a single breath. Blinded by rage, he plunged the entire royal city into a bloodbath. He personally purged countless people, even coldly beheading Anastasia Stuart, the woman he'd pined after for half his life. But by then, I was already long free of all the love and hatred of this world. I'd returned to my original identity, a cold, by-the-book fast transmigration tasker. No heart, no sentiment, no love, no hate. Everyone said that for decades after that, I was a figure so terrifying the entire kingdom whispered my name in fear, the one responsible for driving Lord Lancaster completely mad. ***** Lancaster Family Castle, Royal City. I sat on a wicker chair in the courtyard. The warm summer breeze drifted across the entire estate, but my blood turned to ice in my veins, my fingers trembling slightly against my control. Only half an hour earlier, I'd gone to the study to look for something and accidentally stumbled across my husband Leopold's private journal. Every word on those pages spilled the entire ugly truth. Leopold had been reborn with his past life memories. The original owner of this body had been a ruthless, cruel side character in that past life, who'd repeatedly made things hard for and hurt Anastasia, the woman he cared for most. To prevent the tragedy of his past life from repeating itself, to keep the love of his life safe, happy, and carefree for every year of her life, he'd planned every step carefully in this lifetime. He'd deliberately tricked me into falling for him, binding me with ten years of performative softness, all just to clear every last obstacle out of Anastasia's path. Outside the courtyard, my personal maid glided over on quiet feet and murmured, "Your Grace, Lady Stuart has come to visit." Before she even finished speaking, a clear, warm female voice drifted over. "Gisela! My husband headed to the border fortress to inspect the garrison today, and I was bored out of my mind stuck at the estate all alone, so I came over specifically to hang out with you." Right on the heels of that cheery remark, a woman with delicate features and bright, confident energy stepped slowly into the courtyard. I lifted my eyes to her, and a sharp, sudden pain stabbed through my chest, but I still managed to force a faint smile. "Anastasia." This was the woman Leopold loved down to his very bones, the actual female lead of this novel, wife to the Kingdom's Knight Commander Philip Stuart, Anastasia Stuart. She had been wearing a bright, sunny smile, but the second she got close enough to make out my expression, her eyebrows knitted together slightly, and she reached out to curl her hand gently around my wrist. "You look so pale. Are you feeling under the weather?" Looking at the real worry in her eyes, the bitter knot in my chest twisted even tighter. I parted my lips, just about to say something. Leopold, who'd slipped back without me noticing a thing, was already standing right at my side. He stood tall and straight, gave Anastasia a small, polite bow that carried a faint note of distance, then turned and nodded to the estate guard beside him to open the exquisitely crafted gilded gift box in the guard's hands. The box clicked open, and wispy curls of icy mist immediately drifted out, carrying a bright, sweet fruit scent. He looked down at me, his eyes holding exactly the right amount of soft, doting affection, his voice low and gentle. "I know you can't stand muggy heat more than anything. Once I wrapped up court today, I asked the royal chef to make this iced cooling drink specially and brought it over here just for you." He then turned to Anastasia standing beside him, his tone still warm. "You should have a taste too, Ana. See if you like it." A flash of surprise crossed her face, then she laughed and teased. "You even got the royal chef to make this himself? Lord Lancaster really is the most doting husband around. I've gotten to enjoy so many nice things over the years, all thanks to you two." That throwaway joke unlocked a flood of tiny, long-buried little details from over the years, all flashing through my head at once. It hit me all at once: every single time Leopold brought me rare desserts, fancy luxury items, any of those fancy aristocratic treats over the years, Anastasia had always been present. And on the rare occasions she wasn't around, he'd always drop a casual little reminder, telling me to go out of my way to send a serving over to her. If I hadn't stumbled across his journal today, I'd probably have spent my whole life foolishly believing he truly loved me, and that his kindness to my best friend was just him caring about the people I cared about. But how could I ever tell him? I was never the original Gisela Lancaster, that petty, cruel woman he thought he knew. I'm a task runner from the Quick Transmigration Bureau, and my whole job is fixing those gut-wrenching, panned angst novel plotlines and rewriting the miserable fates of the main characters. Ten years ago, I'd gotten bound to a system and transmigrated into the body of this universally hated villainess side character. My mission was simple: set up the original novel's actual male and female leads and make sure they got their happy ending together. After arriving in this world, I'd gone out of my way to stay away from the original male lead, Philip Stuart, and actively sought out a friendship with the female lead Anastasia Stuart. We'd hit it off so well we became ride-or-die besties who told each other everything, and I'd carefully dodged every single one of those cringey, overdone melodramatic angst plot beats just to pull off my mission smoothly. According to the original storyline, as soon as the two leads got married and settled down together, I could wrap up my task and go back to my own real world. But no one saw the biggest plot twist coming: I'd fallen for Leopold, the novel's devoted second male lead, signed a noble marriage contract with him, and become his wife. "Gisela, why aren't you eating?" Leopold's soft voice cut abruptly through my messy, swirling thoughts. Anastasia spoke up gently from beside me. "She's looked pale all day. She's probably under the weather, can't handle cold food right now." His expression shifted instantly, snapping into a perfect act of frantic concern, his voice picking up speed. "What's wrong? I'll send for the royal physician right now." Even the thoughtful, attentive Anastasia had noticed immediately how awful I looked, but he'd been standing right next to me this whole time, and hadn't once genuinely asked how I was feeling. The second I realized all that concern and thoughtfulness was just an act, a sharp, stinging ache of bitterness flooded every inch of my body. I forced myself to breathe slow and steady, just barely holding back the tears that were burning behind my eyes. I dropped my gaze lightly, my voice perfectly even. "It's nothing. I just didn't sleep well last night." I'd been naive enough to think my arrival had thrown the original plot off course, that that was why Leopold, who was supposed to have eyes only for the female lead, had fallen for me instead. But I'd forgotten one crucial thing: Leopold was the novel's devoted second male lead, who'd pined after the female lead his whole life. His softness, his preference—none of it had ever been mine. Anastasia's face twisted with guilt when she heard that. "Oh, that's my fault. I picked a bad time to come over and disturbed your rest. You take it easy, Gisela." I knew perfectly well none of this was her fault, but right then, I didn't have an ounce of energy left to make polite small talk or engage with anyone. I gave a small nod, signaling the maid standing nearby to see her out. But the second Anastasia reached the courtyard entrance, her knees buckled out of nowhere, and she collapsed straight to the ground. The maid beside her yelped in shock and lunged to catch her before she hit the floor. Leopold, who'd been standing right next to me, went rigid. His pupils blew wide, and he was on his feet in a heartbeat, sprinting straight toward her. He gathered her carefully into his arms, bridal style, and hurried toward the main building's bedroom at a near run, his voice thick with barely concealed panic. "Hurry! Fetch the royal physician right now!" My stomach dropped like a stone. On instinct, I lifted my foot to follow right behind him. He laid Anastasia gently on the bed, and I was just about to step forward to check on her myself. But Leopold's head snapped up, his ice-cold gaze pinning me in place before I could move another inch. He held up a hand, cutting me off from getting any closer. I froze, my mind going blank for a split second. Before I could even process what was happening, he'd grabbed the sword from the guard at his side, and the cold, sharp edge of the blade was pressed hard against my throat. All the fake softness had vanished from his eyes, replaced by bitter, bone-deep cold and unbridled rage that rolled off him in waves. His voice was so icy it could've frozen blood solid. "Did you do this?"