An opera. Why on earth did she have to endure a situation like this over something as trivial as an opera?
The moment the door to the private box closed, a heavy silence settled over them, as though the outside world had been completely cut away.
Celia had no choice but to accept Lucius’s invitation. It had not been her decision, but one forced upon her. Too many eyes had been watching, and Evandor had been glaring at them like a hawk ready to strike.
I think I’m going to be sick.
An opera with Lucius? She would sooner believe a harbor had appeared in the middle of a mountain range.
Still, once she escaped the banquet hall—where every movement had been restrained—she finally felt able to breathe again. Leaning back against the curve of the leather seat, she let herself sink into its softness.
Beyond the parted curtains, the stage spread out beneath dim golden lights.
Needing somewhere—anywhere—to rest her gaze, she stared blankly at the brass chandelier glittering overhead.
“My heart’s racing,” Lucius said quietly. “It’s my first time in a place like this.”
“……”
As far as she leaned back, he leaned forward.
A faint anticipation lingered at the corners of his lips, unhidden and sincere.
For some reason, he truly looked like an excited young man.
Celia shut down her thoughts and repeated only one thing to herself.
Just for today. Only today.
With her eyes gently closed, she comforted herself by imagining a happy future.
Finding proof of treason. Avoiding Lucius entirely. Remaining secluded until half a year passed and calmly stamping the divorce papers.
What a sweet fantasy.
But before she could continue savoring it, he abruptly cut the dream short.
“Aren’t you going to ask why I suddenly wanted to see an opera?”
Celia bit the inside of her cheek.
She genuinely did not care. Ever since the banquet began, she had been forced to keep all her attention fixed on him, and both mind and body were exhausted because of it.
She had no interest in whatever bizarre thought process or ridiculous calculations had led him to this conclusion, either.
Yet the words that left her mouth were unlike her usual self, as though forced out against her will.
“Why… did you want to?”
“Haha.”
Shadows of laughter flickered wherever the light touched his face.
“I got a recommendation. They said it’s good for couples to watch together…”
After casually listing the information he had apparently gathered while she was away, he finished softly,
“I thought I wanted to see it with you.”
Lucius tilted his head ever so slightly toward her.
His eyes rested calmly beneath lowered lids. Long lashes cast shadows beneath the light, softening the lines of his nose and lips. His profile, as though quietly drawing breath—
Annoying.
Celia abruptly turned her head away.
Instead, she repeatedly clenched and unclenched her fingers.
Ever since she had noticed it once, the warmth lingering in his eyes had continued to assert its presence, as though trying to prove itself to her. It was one of the things Lucius should never have shown her.
And she could not bear it.
Once they divorced, she would finally be free from all of this.
Even now, the calendar in her mind continued counting down toward the day they would separate.
Divorce… divorce…
But then why did it feel as though she were overlooking something important?
Was it because of the evidence of treason her father had ordered her to obtain?
No. That was not it. Until six months ago, she had been fully confident she could find it somehow.
At last, Celia dragged the real issue lurking beneath the surface into the open.
What if Lucius still hasn’t recovered his memories after six months?
That bastard wouldn’t refuse, would he?
Every procedure for the divorce had already been completed. Once the agreed date arrived, all they had left to do was press their seals onto a sheet of white paper.
Any person with functioning fingers could manage that.
Right then, the curtains onstage slowly lifted.
The lights dimmed, and from deep within the stage came the first pull of a violin string. Majestic music filled the theater, and even Celia—who had no interest in it whatsoever—found herself quietly staring at the performance.
She needed something to focus on.
Several minutes passed like that.
Then Celia slowly turned her head.
Sneaking a glance at Lucius, she straightened her posture and quietly steadied her breathing.
His clothes matched hers, yet somehow looked as though they had been crafted by an entirely different artisan.
Perfectly Lucius.
As the faint stage lights brushed across him, his calm face appeared both softer and infinitely colder at the same time. Perhaps it was because his eyes, though reflecting the entire opera house, somehow looked utterly empty.
Celia could not pull her gaze away.
He feels like some other creature wearing Lucius’s skin.
Was it because she now knew things she had never wanted to know? The way those eyes changed when filled with warmth. The tone of his voice when he spoke gently.
Like a tiny stain on clothing that kept drawing the eye, he continuously bothered her.
A hangnail at the tip of her finger—that was exactly the sort of irritation he had become.
Then he noticed her gaze and lifted the eyelids he had lowered.
“Bored?”
The moment those hollow eyes tightened with warmth as they focused solely on her, Celia witnessed it clearly.
Startled, she snapped her eyes away.
“N-no. It’s just… not really my taste.”
Celia hated everything about him.
His tone. His gaze. His breathing. His attitude. His fingertips.
Everything.
So naturally, she hated this version of him too.
I hate Lucius.
Who was she even saying it to?
No matter what kind of person he was—whether a child or an old man, infinitely gentle or monstrously cruel—she would have hated him anywhere, anytime.
That truth would never change.
“How was the opera?”
Feeling something drape across her shoulders, Celia opened eyes that had nearly fallen shut.
The brilliant lights of the theater were fading one by one, and the audience was beginning to leave amid applause.
I almost fell asleep.
People might ask how anyone could sleep through an opera singer’s booming voice, but the seats were warm, no one had been watching her, and the grand music had made her drowsy.
“Did you enjoy it?”
Celia hurriedly straightened herself.
Thankfully, Lucius did not seem to realize she had nearly nodded off. Relieved, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“That heroine… smiling after losing the keepsake…”
She recalled the only scene she actually remembered.
“It felt like she was smiling because she wanted to cry. Like there were a lot of ways to interpret it.”
Lucius let out a short breath that sounded almost like laughter.
“That’s not a common interpretation.”
Without replying, Celia rose from her seat.
“I want to go back now.”
“Shall we?”
To avoid getting caught in the crowd exiting the theater, they deliberately waited and left a little later.
During that time, Lucius offered his own entirely unnecessary thoughts.
“The protagonists’ story left a deep impression on me. They longed for each other so desperately, yet coincidence after coincidence kept them apart. It was tragic and heartbreaking… and because of that, almost sacred.”
“……”
“It felt meaningful in many ways. Like I understood what it truly means to treasure something precious.”
He had called her interpretation unusual, but honestly, his own thoughts were hardly ordinary either.
He looked like he was paying close attention, and that’s the conclusion he came to?
Love stories like that only exhausted Celia. She could never understand what was supposed to be so desperate or heartbreaking about them.
As they exited into the hallway and approached the stairs, Lucius suddenly stopped her.
“There are too many people. What should we do…? Celia, would you wait here for a moment? I’ll have the carriage brought around.”
The front of the theater was crowded and chaotic—surely there was no need for that.
But Lucius was surprisingly firm, and unable to resist the pressure of it, Celia halted.
“Just wait a little.”
He disappeared down the stairs.
Half asleep, blinking sluggishly, Celia suddenly thought:
Why do I even have to listen to him?
A sharp rebelliousness surged up inside her, instantly driving away her drowsiness.
There was no logic behind it. No proper reason.
But that was simply how she was.
Without hesitation, she began walking.
The hem of her layered dress slid slowly over the staircase.
One step.
Then another.
She followed the exact path Lucius had taken.
And almost immediately, she ran into trouble.
Murmurs swelled around her.
The crowd thickened, and before she knew it, Celia was trapped among the sea of people.
Then a broad arm wrapped around her back.
A familiar scent guided her through the crowd, slipping into her lungs.
“Why did you come down?”
Celia lifted her gaze from the floor and looked straight ahead.
“I wanted to leave quickly.”
She answered calmly while trying to shake herself free from his hold.
The problem was that outside his arms, there was nowhere left for her to step.
Lucius brushed aside her disheveled hair and forced the corners of his lips upward into the faintest smile.
“Well, you see…”
Suddenly, a terrible feeling washed over her.
Following his gaze, Celia turned toward the theater entrance.
Shhhhhh—
Beyond the doors, rain was pouring down.
A sudden downpour so violent that even the carriages could no longer move.
