He’d fallen from his horse and smashed his head against a massive rock, hadn’t he?
Clearly, it wasn’t just his memories that had broken. Something else in his head had gone terribly wrong too.
“Endure it. You’re not the only one enduring.”
Those had been Lucius’s words on the night they had been forced to share their first night together.
The Lucius Celia knew had never been interested in physical desire.
Men were said to lose control of themselves when it came to women, but Lucius had always seemed detached from that entire breed. She had never once heard rumors of secret romances. Unlike other noblemen, he never invited women into the estate or kept mistresses at his side. Even Celia, who had once been certain he must have a lover somewhere, abandoned that suspicion after a year of marriage.
He lived with mechanical regularity—leaving at fixed hours, returning at fixed hours—and openly despised vulgar, debauched men whose names even she recognized.
Strangely enough, his sharp, composed eyes inspired trust despite his dazzling appearance. Irritatingly so.
It had been fortunate for Celia.
Lucius had played the role of trash in many aspects of her life, but at least in that regard, he had never behaved disgracefully.
Maybe he simply didn’t want to touch a woman he disliked.
Which was exactly why this sudden intimacy was enough to make her feel faint.
Speechless, she focused all her effort on keeping her expression under control.
“Hm? Celia.”
His voice scraped low from his throat like a starving beast. Deep and heavy enough to burrow into bone.
“...As if I’d ever allow that.”
Her ears rang with confusion. Her mind bleached white. Yet despite her rejection, the corners of his eyes curved softly.
“Didn’t we always do things like this?”
“We... didn’t. We never did anything so shameless.”
Because of the summer heat, the thin robe he wore revealed the outline of his body beneath it. Thick arms veined beneath loosely rolled sleeves caught dimly in the light.
“That’s strange. Maybe I was insane before I lost my memory.”
A quiet laugh escaped him. His slightly bared teeth shifted as his red tongue flickered briefly into view.
“How could I not be, with such a beautiful wife beside me? How could I have resisted kissing you... wanting you?”
Strength vanished from her legs.
The moment her knees buckled, a hand slid beneath her waist. Wet strands of Celia’s hair scattered over his body.
Pinned lightly against his arm, she barely managed to stay standing. When she inhaled sharply, he flinched. The muscles along the inside of his forearm tightened instinctively before relaxing again.
Lucius lifted her easily, straightening her bent knees.
Unaware that her powerless body had already begun leaning naturally against him, Celia cried out through uneven breaths.
“Why do you keep saying things like that?!”
Lucius had never treated her warmly, but he had always maintained the manners of a gentleman. He avoided vulgarity, never cornered others with indecent remarks, and kept himself far from anything crude or lowborn.
At least, he had once been a man incapable of speaking such shameless words.
When her shoulders trembled within his arms, Lucius hurriedly tilted her chin upward. The moment he saw her face flushed red like ripened flower petals, he smiled, his own eyes darkening faintly.
“I can’t hold someone who says no. So I’m trying to tempt you until you feel the same way I do.”
The loosely tied sash at his waist slackened, his robe parting further. Beneath it, his body remained flawless.
Her heartbeat lurched painfully near her throat.
“I don’t remember anything,” he murmured, “but while I drifted near death, it felt like I was dreaming. A dream with you in it.”
Within the quiet green of his eyes spread something crimson, like cracks spreading through glass. The calm, orderly face only she had ever managed to distort now held a silent hunger.
His eyelids lowered slowly as he looked down at her, then lifted again.
“I kept longing for something like a lake on a sweltering summer day. Even after I woke from that sweet dream into a world of confusion, I searched for only that one thing. And then... you walked in.”
Until now, Lucius’s hands had remained carefully above the collar of her robe.
Then he moved.
“So you were the owner of the greed I’d been chasing. I knew it immediately.”
Her exposed nape appeared beneath the slipping collar, followed by the elegant line of her back disappearing into shadow.
The dim light made it difficult to see clearly, which only stirred darker thoughts.
The hand wandering near her neck and shoulders curled slightly. His fingers threaded through strands of her damp hair before brushing across wet skin.
Electricity shot through her.
Instinctively, Celia kicked out. Her foot struck his shin with a solid thud, and Lucius sucked in a breath, curling forward sharply.
The hand that had nearly slipped beneath her robe stopped at once. Instead, he lowered his head against the back of her neck. His forehead rested on her shoulder.
For several moments, he stayed there silently, his breathing gradually cooling.
Then, still leaning against her, he tilted his head. His face slid over her shoulder, the edge of his jaw brushing softly against her collarbone. His eyes rose to meet hers from that slanted angle.
Between their skin remained barely enough distance for a single breath.
“For my innocent-looking wife, it’s nothing more than filthy imagination. But still, Celia...”
At some point, his hand had risen to her cheek. His thumb brushed against her skin as he smiled. The sound of his laughter spread low and lingering, like the deep note of a viola.
“I have a feeling you wore this same expression on the night we first slept together.”
The instant he said it, Celia shoved him away with all her strength and immediately retreated.
She sensed him hesitate behind her, but ignored it and strode quickly across the room.
Isn’t there something heavy around here? Something dangerous? If I hit his head one more time, maybe he’ll go back to normal.
Half out of her mind already, Celia scanned the familiar bedroom as though seeing it for the first time. Objects blurred past her vision, yet nothing registered.
The room was too dark.
The farther she moved from the lone candlelight, the more everything drowned in shadow. Only a faint glow stretched weakly across the wall.
And relying on that dim light, Celia turned her head desperately—
Only to meet her own reflection in the mirror.
Near the window stood a tall mirror leaning against the wall. The trembling flame of a single candle split her face in two.
Heat flooded both her cheeks.
Red.
Painfully, unmistakably red with embarrassment.
That can’t be true!
Celia immediately turned away from the mirror as though fleeing from herself.
Her lips trembled faintly. Forcing out a steady breath, she made excuses.
It’s just the candlelight. That’s all.
She simply wasn’t used to this kind of contact. Touching Lucius disgusted her. The anger from that revulsion had merely risen to her face.
“Celia.”
While she struggled to compose herself, Lucius stepped behind her.
“Show me your face.”
A solid arm slipped beneath hers. His embrace wrapped fully around her back, his arms crossing in front of her waist. It was an absurdly intimate posture—close enough that she could hear his heartbeat right beside her ear.
“I don’t remember anything,” he murmured, “so I suppose I’ll have to fill the emptiness with new memories. Did you always make this kind of face?”
She could say with certainty that she had not.
Whatever fantasies he was weaving in his mind, their marriage had been nothing more than a miserable duty forced upon them by powerful people above them.
Even on that unforgettable first night—which had ended in lies—she had not crumbled like this.
Driven into the bedroom by the sharp stares of priests and the judgment of their elders, she had screamed at him not to come closer and hurled whatever she could grab. One of those objects—a small silver knife for cutting cheese—had struck Lucius’s shoulder and left a scar.
The scar still visible now beneath the parted robe was the only remnant of that night.
“Stop... stop touching me.”
She twisted free from his dangerously unsteady arms.
The backs of her wool-lined slippers dragged across the floor as she stumbled away. Each time she widened the distance, Lucius lengthened his stride and followed.
“If we knew each other since childhood and ended up married like this... were we promised to each other from a young age?”
Every step she took backward sent her hair swaying through the air.
Soon, that drifting hair settled into his hand. Holding the pure white strands—so unlike an old man’s gray hair—he lowered his head and pressed a respectful kiss to the ends.
Like a gentleman greeting a lady, he bent carefully and touched his red lips against them.
“Or maybe we were childhood friends who ran barefoot through fields before we even understood what men and women were... and one day, we suddenly saw each other differently.”
But the gentlemanly hand soon changed into the hand of a man consumed by desire. His grip on her arm slowly slid upward.
“What was I like, wanting a woman I’d known for so long?”
His fingers rubbed softly against the pale skin visible through the thin fabric before he pressed another kiss there.
“Did we steal kisses in secret at first, like playing with fire? Or... was it me who lost control and desired you before you understood anything at all?”
The heat of his breath melted away her thoughts.
The moment a man looked at her with naked desire, the air itself thickened and grew unbearably heavy.
