Reborn As Noble - Chapter 568

Chapter 568: Love’s Soft Sunrise ( 568 )
“…Are you sure?” she teased softly, her voice low and playful. “Really sure?”

Lithia didn’t reply immediately. She simply nodded, her cheek resting still against her mother’s shoulder.

“…I will be…” she murmured softly. “First wife. Soon.”

Harny blinked in amusement. “Oh my~ So bold tonight.”

Lithia’s face flushed, but she didn’t pull away.

Then Harny’s eyes narrowed slightly, her tone turning sly. “Hmm? Is this because of that promise? You remember, the one where you said… ‘When I get married, you should marry the same man too.'”

Lithia stiffened.

Harny raised an eyebrow. “That one?”

She nodded again, slowly this time. Her voice was almost a whisper. “…Yes.”

Her gaze lowered, her fingers curling into the blanket.

“…It’s… better than the other men,” she mumbled softly. “Besides…”

She hesitated before whispering almost inaudibly, so softly that Harny almost didn’t catch it:

“…He’s gentle.”

Harny’s expression softened completely.

“…You really love him,”

Lithia remained silent.

“…And you’d rather I be with him too… than some dark elf brute who might touch me like I’m nothing?”

Lithia’s fingers clenched tighter.

“…Yes.”

A pause.

Harny reached out and gently cupped her daughter’s cheek, her thumb brushing softly over her flushed skin.

“…You foolish girl,” she whispered tenderly, smiling with warmth. “You really did grow up, didn’t you?”

Lithia swallowed hard.

“…If it’s him,” she whispered, “I won’t hate it.”

Their eyes met in the darkness, sharing a quiet understanding.

“Are you sure?” Harny whispered again, her voice barely above the outside wind.

“Mm…” Lithia’s soft reply came, her head still resting comfortably against her mother’s chest.

Harny smiled gently. “Really?”

Lithia nodded once more, her cheeks flushed but her eyes steady. “Mm…”

Harny chuckled softly. “My, my… you’re so sweet when you’re honest.”

She leaned down, gently brushing a lock of hair behind her daughter’s ear. But then Lithia’s voice, quiet and clear, broke through the tender silence.

“…Besides… I saw that look.”

Harny blinked.

“…What look?” she asked, still smiling.

Lithia finally lifted her gaze, meeting her mother’s eyes.

“…The same look I have… when I’m with him.”

Harny froze.

The smile on her lips didn’t waver, but her eyes widened just a little.

“…Oh?” she whispered, her voice nearly a breath.

Lithia didn’t look away. “You looked at him… the way I do.”

Silence.

The kind of silence that trembles with truth.

Harny exhaled slowly. “I see…”

Lithia’s voice quivered slightly, but she kept speaking. “That’s why… if it’s him, I don’t mind. If I have to share… I’d rather it be you.”

Harny gazed down at her daughter, her eyes shining with something unreadable—warmth, pain, gratitude, love all mixed together.

Then, softly, she pulled Lithia closer again, resting her chin on her head.

“…You really are my daughter,” she whispered.

After a long silence, Lithia shifted slightly.

Carefully, in the soft glow of the moonlight, she sat up, her hair falling over her shoulders like a gentle curtain. She looked down at Marcellus, still deep asleep, his mouth slightly parted, breathing calm and steady.

She gazed at him for a moment… then, without a word, gently nudged him toward the middle of the bed.

He stirred faintly, mumbling something incomprehensible, but didn’t wake.

Lithia quietly moved into the left side, where he had been sleeping.

Then she reached over to her mother and took Harny’s hand.

Her mother blinked, a little surprised, but she didn’t resist as Lithia softly guided her arm over Marcellus’s chest, drawing her closer until Harny’s body rested against his side too.

Now, the three of them lay together—warm, close, peaceful.

Marcellus, in the center, was unaware of the whirlwind of emotions swirling around him.

Lithia’s lips curled into a gentle smile as she kept holding her mother’s hand.

Across the bed, Harny returned the smile—rare and genuine—not teasing, not sly. Just peaceful.

No words needed to be spoken.

That night, something shifted.

Three hearts beat quietly beneath the moonlight.

And for the first time, there was no resistance.

Just warmth.

“Mom?”

Harny looked over, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes.

“Hmm?”

Lithia leaned carefully across the sleeping Marcellus, bringing her mouth close to her mother’s ear. She whispered softly, her voice barely audible—sharing a secret, something tender, something bold about tomorrow morning.

Harny’s eyes widened instantly, her cheeks flushing with surprise.

“Are you sure?” she breathed, her voice trembling slightly with disbelief.

Lithia pulled back just enough to see her mother’s stunned expression clearly, her smile calm and unwavering.

“Yes…” Lithia whispered warmly. “My happiness is your happiness, and your happiness is my happiness.”

Harny’s eyes flickered with hesitation, worry, and a shy longing she hadn’t felt in decades.

“But he’ll know,” she murmured softly. Her gaze lowered slightly, cheeks tinging red. “Besides… it’s been so long since…”

Lithia reached over, gently placing a finger on her mother’s lips to silence her. Her smile softened into something reassuring.

“Mom…”

Harny looked back up, still uncertain. “But…”

“No buts,” Lithia whispered firmly, her eyes gleaming with determination and warmth. “Or I’ll change my mind.”

Harny stared silently for a moment, emotions dancing silently within her gaze. Slowly, she nodded, her heart fluttering with nervous anticipation.

“Alright,” she whispered softly. “Then… tomorrow…”

Early morning.

The golden glow of dawn seeped gently through the leaves, casting soft beams into the cozy treehouse room. The light danced along the edges of the bed, where Marcellus stirred.

His body shifted under the warm covers, and he blinked lazily.

He turned his head—and saw her.

Standing just a few steps away was Lithia. She was already dressed in her black-and-white maid uniform. Her long hair fell over her shoulders in gentle waves, and her delicate hands were folding the blanket at the foot of the bed.

“…You’re up early,” he said softly, his voice still hoarse from sleep.

She turned toward him slowly, her face flushed.

“…Good morning, Master Marcellus,” she said quietly.

Marcellus sat up a little, leaning on one elbow.

“Where’s your mother?” he asked, stretching. “She didn’t get between us again while she was sleeping, did she?”

“She… left early for the market, Said she needed ingredients for stew.”

Marcellus chuckled and relaxed back onto the pillows. “That explains the quietness.”

Then he looked at her more closely—her gentle breath, the way her fingers fidgeted, her slightly lowered gaze.

And he remembered.

“…Yesterday,” he said softly. “You promised, remember?”

Her shoulders tensed slightly, but she nodded.

“…Yes,” she whispered.

Marcellus sat fully upright, watching her patiently.

“So… can I?” he asked simply.

Her lips parted slightly. Her voice caught in her throat for a moment.

He reached out, and she took his hand.

Their fingers intertwined.

Then slowly, without saying a word, she leaned forward and their lips met in a gentle kiss.

It was quiet and tender—just a soft press of lips at first. But then he deepened it, pulling her closer, his hand resting on her lower back.

She didn’t resist.

Her body trembled slightly against him, and she kissed him again—this time more slowly and deeply.

Marcellus deepened the kiss, his other hand sliding down her back. Her breath hitched softly.

The bed creaked quietly beneath them.

Their skin brushed against each other.

His hands moved cautiously. Her breathing grew quick and nervous.

“M-Master Marcellus…” she whispered softly, her voice trembling with nerves and longing.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, gently touching her cheek.

Her cheeks flushed even deeper, but she didn’t say anything. She simply leaned in again, allowing him to kiss her longer and more slowly. This time, her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.

His hands moved down to her waist, gently tugging her toward him as the blanket shifted beneath them.

Soft kisses. The rustle of cloth. A quiet gasp. The faint creak of the bed. Two shadows moving slowly, gently under the morning light.

The breeze outside stirred the curtains.

Inside the room, nothing else moved—except the two entwined figures lost in each other.

( End Of Chapter )