Chapter 1: The Crack (3)

Celia hated Lucius.

It was true that she had grown up hearing complaints about Windmere because of the long-standing feud between their families, but even setting that aside, she simply disliked Lucius himself.

The only son of House Windmere, born just three days before her.

Wasn’t that exactly the sort of thing that gossip-loving nobles loved talking about?

People had been interested in them since before they were even born.

They constantly wondered who would be better, which child would outshine the other, and what kind of history this generation would create.

And as if determined to meet those expectations, Celia and Lucius got along terribly.

“If you knew I would be attending this party, shouldn’t you have stayed away, even if it meant cutting off your own legs?”

“Really? The lady hosting this party personally asked me to come. Since I received a direct invitation, perhaps you should be the one to leave, considering you’re only here because your younger sibling was invited.”

They were the kind of people who could exchange remarks like that in front of an entire room full of guests.

Five years old.

Six.

Seven.

Eighteen.

Nineteen.

From their first meeting at age five onward, they created a new disaster every year.

The infamous incident at the Imperial charity event, where they rolled around on the ground grabbing each other’s collars because they had insulted each other’s fathers, was only the beginning.

Celia had slapped Lucius across the face.

Lucius had pushed Celia into the water.

Celia had stolen his hunting hawk.

Lucius had nearly beaten one of her former marriage candidates to death.

Celia had thrown tea at him.

Lucius had stepped on one of her books and ruined it.

Things like that.

The feud between their families eventually became nothing more than an excuse.

At some point, they stopped hating each other because of their families.

They simply hated each other.

Just as much as Celia despised him, he looked down on her.

Everyone knew it.

People even said things like:

“Lady Celia won’t even glance at anyone who has ever stepped foot inside Windmere.”

“Lord Lucius refuses to visit any place Lady Celia has even looked at.”

Because of that, the impact of a single newspaper article two and a half years ago had been enormous.

[ Windmere and Brickwell End Their Long Feud Through a Marriage Alliance! A Symbol of Reconciliation Is Established! ]

Rumor had it that the Marchioness of Wexley, the famous noblewoman known for sleeping more than anyone else and regarded as the godmother of all ladies as well as a respected member of the Privy Council, had jumped out of bed and fallen onto the floor after reading it.

The reconciliation between the two families was one thing.

But a marriage between those two children?

The pair who were famous for hating each other?

Everyone had something to say.

Rumors spread that Celia had gone on a hunger strike.

Others claimed Lucius had run away from home.

As people eagerly watched to see what would happen, the grand wedding was finally held.

The two of them had skipped an engagement entirely and walked into the ceremony with completely expressionless faces.

No one doubted they were doing their absolute best to endure it.

People were so nervous that they spent the entire ceremony swallowing dryly.

Would one of them tear up the vows?

Throw the rings?

Crush the bouquet?

Everyone worried about something.

Fortunately, none of that happened.

Because the two people who hated each other more than anyone had secretly made a different promise.

[ We will divorce after three years of marriage. ]

Yes.

The only reason Celia could tolerate the humiliation of marrying into Windmere was because of that single promise.

A promise she had made privately with Lucius Windmere.

***

“Aah, my son…! My son, Lucius!!”

“There was an attack! An attack! There were civilians behind him, so the young duke fought desperately to protect them, but… he was struck by an arrow and fell from his horse. He hit his head badly!”

The blond hair that had made Celia dislike the color gold was soaked with blood.

The smell of blood filled the entire castle.

“We’ve already done everything medically possible. Now… all we can do is leave the rest to the young duke’s will to survive.”

The voices of doctors, servants, and the duchess, who sounded on the verge of fainting, blended together and pounded against her head.

Celia looked coldly at the man lying on the bed, barely breathing.

Because of that damned man who had spent the entire night hovering between life and death, she had not slept at all.

Dark circles were visible beneath her eyes.

Divorce after three years.

With only six months left until that promise came due, a new problem had appeared.

Their agreement had not included any plans for a situation like this.

*

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The oak clock produced a steady rhythm.

It had already been fifteen days.

Lucius, who had returned gravely injured, still had not opened his eyes.

Exhausted from days of poor sleep, Celia rubbed her brow and glared at the clock.

The delicate hands continued moving steadily, completely indifferent to her frustration.

“Young Madam, the young duke passed the critical stage long ago… Please go get some rest. If not for yourself, then at least spare this old man from having another patient to care for.”

Only after the doctor finally spoke did Celia move.

“You say he’s no longer in danger. Then why hasn’t he woken up yet?”

The doctor wiped away cold sweat.

“He suffered a serious head injury. The stab wound in his abdomen wasn’t immediately life-threatening, but it will take time to heal.”

The doctor’s face looked terrible after two weeks of nonstop work.

Honestly, someone could have mistaken him for the patient instead of Lucius.

Celia turned her gaze back to the man on the bed.

Why am I even doing this because of him?

Lucius lay on the white sheets with a blanket covering half his body.

Her mood immediately soured.

The bandages wrapped tightly around his abdomen were neatly secured at his side.

Yet dark stains still slowly spread across the cloth.

They said the stitching was fine. He’s not going to die, is he?

His face looked far too peaceful for someone who had been so badly injured.

Only his breathing revealed he was alive.

Each breath caused a faint rise and fall near his stomach.

Without that, she might have believed he was dead rather than asleep.

“Instead of telling me to leave, shouldn’t you be the one resting? You look exhausted.”

“Young Madam, how could I possibly leave you here alone—”

“All the other doctors have already gone to rest. And you just said he’s out of danger. Whether you’re here or not won’t make much difference. Go.”

Eventually, the doctor gave in and shuffled toward the door.

Once he left, Celia stood up as well.

Expressionless, she approached the bedside.

A shadow fell across Lucius’s face.

Slowly, she looked him over.

His pale lips were closed neatly.

Several strands of blond hair had slipped free from the bandages around his head, flattened as though damp with water.

They resembled stalks of wheat covered in dew.

The white cloth wrapped around his forehead, ears, and the back of his head showed just how severe his injuries had been.

But Celia didn’t particularly care.

“You’re not planning to die like this, are you, Lucius Windmere?”

She stepped closer and leaned over him.

Fixing her gaze on a man who couldn’t hear her, she spoke quietly.

“I won’t forgive you if you die and leave me a widow.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“And if you survive just enough to make me spend the rest of my life nursing you, I won’t forgive that either.”

Only six months remained before their divorce.

If he never woke up…

Or if he became disabled and couldn’t even sign the divorce papers…

Then she might as well kill him herself and be done with it.

Just then, the door flew open.

Celia straightened immediately.

A furious voice came from behind her.

“What are you doing there?!”

The duchess stormed into the room looking completely disheveled.

She rushed forward and weakly shoved Celia.

“What did you do to my son?!”

Naturally, just as Celia didn’t trust the people of Windmere, they didn’t trust her.

A two-hundred-year feud wouldn’t disappear simply because someone called it reconciliation.

If it did, that would be magic.

“I’ve been taking care of him. While Your Grace spent fifteen days sick with worry, I was the one overseeing everything.”

“Taking care of him? Are you sure you weren’t doing something else? Children! Fetch the doctor immediately. I need confirmation that nothing else has happened to my son.”

People quickly gathered around them.

The Windmere servants stood behind the duchess.

The servants who had followed Celia since before her marriage stood behind her.

The room seemed to split into two camps.

“Are you seriously suggesting our lady harmed the young duke?”

“How can you say that after she cared for him day and night?”

Her attendants immediately defended her.

The duchess’s servants bristled.

“Oh? Then are you saying she stayed here because she was genuinely worried about him? Perhaps we should check whether there are two suns in the sky today!”

“What are you standing around for? Go get the doctor!”

No one found the argument unusual.

The duchess held her forehead as though suffering a headache.

Meanwhile, Celia calmly examined her fingernails.

“Oh dear, oh dear. I’ll take care of the young duke. Raising your voices like this in front of a patient won’t help anyone!”

The doctor, who had only recently been dismissed, returned and practically threw them out.

His assistants looked ready to cry.

Outside the room, the two groups of maids immediately began glaring at each other again.

“It’s all your fault!”

At that moment, the duchess suddenly pushed through the crowd.

“Did you call for me?”

Celia pointed at herself with one finger.

The duchess’s face had turned red with anger.

“Do you know what I just heard?!”

Until now, Celia had done her best to avoid conflict with the lady of Windmere.

They wouldn’t be living together forever.

Once the divorce happened, she would leave.

There was no reason to create unnecessary trouble.

Because of that, she didn’t know much about the duchess.

Only one thing was certain.

“Someone suggested the people who attacked Lucius were Brickwell spies!”

The duchess adored her son.

After giving birth to Lucius, she could no longer have children.

Perhaps because of that, all of her affection had become focused on her only child.

It was completely different from Celia’s family, where she had two younger brothers and no idea how many illegitimate children her father had produced.

“It’s only a suspicion.”

“You think that’s enough to dismiss it? The attackers were carrying swords that were awarded as prizes at a hunting competition hosted by your family a few years ago!”

The duchess looked truly furious today.

Perhaps because she knew Celia usually tried to avoid conflict.

“Nothing good has happened since you entered this house!”

Celia had been a fighter since childhood.

She certainly wasn’t going to ignore that.

“Whether I came here or not, Windmere would still be exactly the same. It seems Windmere can’t endure its own shortcomings without blaming me for them. How unfortunate.”

“Ah… Aaaah…”

The duchess clutched the back of her neck and collapsed once again.

It was far from her first fainting spell.

How delicate.

Celia let out a scoff while watching the servants rush to support the duchess.

Lucius was every bit as argumentative as she was.

He started fights readily and never backed down when challenged.

And yet his mother, who had given birth to him, was this fragile.

At that moment, the heavy door that had remained tightly shut suddenly burst open.

“My lady! My laaady!!”

An elderly doctor who should have been taking care of his own health came running out, his face bright red.

He spotted Celia near the doorway and immediately caught his breath.

“What is it—”

“The young duke has woken up!”