A warm afternoon sunlight blanketed the sky.
Lucius sat leisurely on the edge of the bed.
The elderly physician, long accustomed to dealing with irritable patients, straightened from his bow with unconcealed admiration in his eyes.
As the light slanted beside him, thin shadows fell across the back of his neck and beneath his collarbone. The sharp contrast of light and shadow erased any trace that he had been bedridden only days ago.
“The wound along your waist that was stitched up no longer seems to be a cause for concern.”
Lucius brushed his fingers lightly over the long scar that stretched above his pelvis.
“That’s thanks to the excellent doctors who treated me.”
After the castle’s physicians collapsed from exhaustion, the Duchess of Windmere had stormed in without warning, bringing outside doctors with her.
Yet even then, Lucius showed no irritation. The old physician chuckled warmly at the sight of the young man’s picture-perfect composure.
“It is because Your Grace possesses such a strong will to recover. I shall explain the remaining precautions to the Duchess as well.”
The Duchess, who had been standing anxiously in one corner of the room, immediately began speaking with the physician.
Buttoning his shirt, Lucius quietly observed the scene before him—the Duchess, the bustling servants, even the head chef who had personally brought his meal.
It was the gaze of an observer.
Perhaps because he had only recently awakened without his memories, everything before him felt like opening a storybook he should already know by heart for the very first time.
At that moment, the Duchess turned to look at him from her conversation with the physician.
Meeting her worried gaze, Lucius smiled softly, almost tenderly.
Before long, after seeing the physician out, the Duchess hurried back to him.
“I couldn’t exactly consult an outsider about your memories… I feel awful that, after calling them all the way here, they couldn’t help you.”
“I’m truly fine, Mother.”
Mother.
Lucius rolled the unfamiliar word around in his mouth.
“Lucius… is there truly nothing you remember at all?”
“Unfortunately, no. Are you very disappointed?”
“No, no. Disappointed? Of course not. It was a terrible accident beyond anyone’s control. My son, you mustn’t make that kind of expression.”
The Duchess swallowed back the tears she had barely managed to calm and carefully wrapped her arms around his neck.
There was an unspoken sorrow buried in that embrace. Something like the bitter scent of resignation rising from the ruins of shattered hope.
So she had been hoping.
Hoping that after one deep night’s sleep, his memories would miraculously return with the morning’s first breath.
“Don’t worry. Your memories will return soon. God will give you back to me.”
“...Of course.”
Even hearing her speak as though the current him were merely something temporary, Lucius answered calmly. He felt neither hurt nor offended.
To begin with, he felt no emotion toward the woman before him that would truly allow him to call her mother.
He remembered the chaos that had swept over him after he first awoke.
People had called his name. They had poured fragments of emotions onto him. But all their voices blurred away like mist drifting beyond distant mountains, leaving behind no shape at all.
Except for the moment Celia approached him.
A woman walking gracefully through the crowd tangled in tears, grateful sighs, and desperate prayers.
The instant he saw her, something deep within him trembled violently.
In that brief moment, his disordered mind rearranged itself with terrifying precision, aligning entirely around her.
An absurdly lopsided flood of emotion crashed into him as though it had merely been waiting for her arrival.
And when he finally held her in his arms, the confusion inside him vanished, replaced instead by an incomprehensible clarity.
The emotions were so brutally honest they felt almost shameless.
They confessed to him that they wanted her.
In contrast, every feeling he held toward others resembled badly fitted puzzle pieces—loose and incomplete, incapable of forming any coherent picture.
“Lucius, once your condition improves a little more, let’s go out together somewhere. I’ll show you the things you used to love. Perhaps your memories will return even faster that way?”
Just like now.
“I’d be happy to. I’m already looking forward to it.”
“I’m certain you’ll enjoy it.”
He could not explain the emptiness inside him.
But he recognized with perfect clarity the single existence that filled that void.
Yet just as his thoughts reached the memory of Celia turning away from him in bed, curling herself away from him, the corners of his lips lowered ever so slightly.
“My lady, Young Master.”
A servant approached and bowed.
“A messenger has arrived from the Imperial Palace.”
After Evandor left, Celia returned to her room and exhaled sharply, as though swallowing down the last remnants of her patience.
But in the end, she failed to contain her fury.
Kicking the walnut table beside her with the tip of her foot, she collapsed onto the sofa.
The cushions sank noisily beneath the impact of her body. The skirts of her dress spilled messily over her legs. She flung her arms wide, covering her eyes with one hand as she clenched her teeth. A cold rage spread along the line of her jaw.
“He’s definitely insane.”
Everything she had believed to be true reconciliation had been nothing but an illusion.
Her father and Evandor had hidden something like that from her and married her off to Lucius anyway?
Treason? And Lucius possessed the evidence?
“Ha…!”
A fury too great for words surged up her throat.
And beyond even that was another emotion—one she absolutely refused to acknowledge.
“Why does Evandor know something I don’t?”
A humiliation so immense it could freeze even the air brushing against her cheeks crashed over her.
Celia let her head fall back.
Sunlight slid down the graceful line of her neck. Beyond the window, the sky was as clear as untouched glass, unstained by even a drop of ink. That impossible clarity shattered inside her blue eyes like it was mocking her.
Maybe I should go outside for once.
The thought surfaced suddenly.
“If that were possible, I wouldn’t be sitting here like this…”
Evandor’s words still rang in her ears.
Filthy bastard.
He actually told me to seduce Lucius. What exactly does he expect me to do with him?
Rather than doing something so revolting, it would have been far easier for her to go down to Dunlow Hollow and pretend to perform charity work she didn’t even believe in.
But with her father standing behind Evandor, she couldn’t simply reject the order.
“...It’s fine. I’ll find another way.”
Even without resorting to something so disgusting, she could still uncover the evidence of treason Lucius possessed and protect Brickwell.
Search through the castle. Bribe one of Lucius’s men. Several possibilities began forming in her mind.
But soon Celia rolled over and buried her face deep into the sofa cushions.
Knock knock—
Not long after, she had to force her heavy body upright again.
“Come in.”
“M’lady.”
The woman who entered had originally been a maid of the Windmere household, but after Celia coaxed her over, she had faithfully served as Celia’s spy for the past two and a half years.
Even as the door closed, Lily checked the hallway carefully before Celia beckoned her closer with a silent motion of her fingers.
“So? What is it today?”
“The young duke has issued a new order. I came to inform you.”
Another matter involving Lucius.
At the very mention of the name she least wanted to hear, Celia idly flexed her foot in annoyance. Resting her chin against her hand, she listened as Lily lowered her voice.
“Please lend me your ear for a moment…”
Celia had initially listened with bored disinterest.
But as Lily continued speaking, her eyes slowly widened.
Celia stood in the middle of the hallway leading to Lucius’s office.
According to Lily, Lucius intended to reopen the office that had remained sealed for quite some time. For Celia, who needed to find something there, it was terrible news.
“There’s a high chance the documents Father wants are inside that office.”
As she clenched her fist, she felt the cold metal digging into her palm.
It was the key her father had handed her on the day of her wedding.
He had told her it was small, but capable of opening most doors.
Back then, she had never imagined she would actually use it someday.
A bitter taste filled her mouth.
Wind brushed over her thin nightgown. The air against her skin was cold, yet the chill only sharpened her thoughts.
I’ll just go in, quickly search the places where documents might be hidden, and leave.
Though she had caused countless incidents in her life, breaking into someone else’s office was a first for her.
Her heart beat slightly faster with tension.
Moonlight served as her only guide, while the carpet muffled her footsteps. Celia walked without hesitation. Though she had never entered it before, she knew exactly where his office was.
After walking for some time—
There?
Beside the staircase on the third floor stood a door engraved with the image of a hawk spreading its wings.
Carefully checking her surroundings, Celia approached and quietly turned the handle.
Locked, of course.
With swift fingers, she pulled out the key.
Sliding the delicately curved key into the lock beneath the handle, she twisted her wrist.
And—
“…?”
Why won’t it open?
Startled, Celia applied more force.
Clunk—!
The door shook loudly, but the lock remained completely unmoved.
Damn it!
Her father had clearly said it would open most doors!
A flicker of panic crossed her eyes.
Frowning deeply, she placed a hand against her waist and inhaled slowly.
Right. The young duke’s office shouldn’t have weak security.
Still, shouldn’t it open properly?!
Growing more frantic, she grabbed the key again and twisted it the other way.
Click, clunk, clack—!
Only strange grinding noises answered her. The door remained firmly shut.
Just as Celia, furious beyond reason, raised her arm to throw the key—
“Hm?”
A presence brushed against her from behind.
Startled like a cat caught stealing, Celia jerked her shoulders and spun around.
“The night air is cold. What are you doing here?”
A lantern swayed gently atop the stairs. Golden hair glimmered softly beneath its light.
Standing at the edge of that glow, Lucius gazed down at her, the lantern’s warmth reflected quietly in his green eyes.
Celia hurriedly hid the key behind her back.
Anyone watching would have found the movement suspicious beyond belief.
“Celia?”
Beneath the strands of hair falling over his forehead, his sleep-softened face tilted slightly, a faint question appearing in his eyes.
Lucius’s gaze slowly lowered.
The moment she realized he was looking toward the hand hidden behind her back, Celia immediately stepped forward.
Suppressing the complaints about Lucius erupting inside her mind, she blurted out the first words that came to her.
“I came… to see you.”
This had gone horribly wrong.
