I Woke Up from Hibernation and Found a Husband - Chapter 23

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 23
Blood poured from Claire’s lips. Her shoulder and side had been pierced through by something.
“Claire!”
Theodore’s face drained of all color as he reached out in panic. Warm blood continued to spill from Claire’s trembling body. After laying her down, Theodore looked up at Gregory with resentment burning in his eyes.
“Gregory!”
“Pity. I wish I could have killed her in one blow.”
He raised his eyebrows and smiled playfully, gazing down at Theodore with eyes that seemed to ask: so, what will you do now?
“You.”
Theodore pulled Claire’s body into his arms, trembling violently. The bed where the crimson talisman had burst open, Claire’s side gushing blood—surrounded by such a red and ominous sight, his head spun.
‘This is all because of you, Gregory!’
Resentment, fury, hatred—all these burning emotions coalesced and ignited fiercely in the depths of Theodore’s being.
“Never.”
It felt as though fire had ignited around his eyes, the skin burning hot. A blue light flickered across his irises. It was at that very moment that moonlight touched his ashen hair.
“I will never forgive you.”
Theodore’s ashen hair transformed into silver in an instant.
* * *
“Gregory, we are those who serve House Voltier.”
A boy of about ten years old, with short navy-blue hair, sat with perfect posture and listened intently to his father’s words.
“On the battlefield or in the territory. We are their limbs and their shadow. Do you remember the duty of a shadow?”
“Yes, Father. To never surpass our master.”
“That’s right.”
The man smiled broadly at the obedient boy’s answer and stroked his hair. Gregory, receiving the rough caress, thought to himself.
‘How pathetic.’
An eternal shadow—a life as servile and tedious as a bug flattened against the ground.
Young Gregory could not understand his father.
His father was a zealot of sorts, someone intensely imprinted with something, eternally chasing only the light of House Voltier—the very embodiment of a shadow.
I don’t know what overwhelmed him, but I will never become like that, Gregory always vowed to himself.
Yet the boy’s resolve was torn like tissue paper before a tremendous force.
“Gregory, that is a living god.”
His father, holding Gregory’s hand, gazed at Ludwig’s back with eyes trembling with awe. Having lost all his troops, Ludwig walked alone toward a vast army composed of monsters.
“That is House Voltier.”
A blue cloak was caught by wind sweeping across the Mountain Range and billowed fiercely. As Ludwig raised his gauntleted hand, hundreds of enormous boulders floated in the vast sky, casting shadows upon the ground.
“True House Voltier….”
The moment a precise, brief gesture fell, the terrain transformed. The monsters were minced into nothing, leaving no trace, and the Rocky Terrain that seemed centuries old was gouged out in countless places as if someone had scooped it away with a giant spoon.
Who could dare oppose such power? Could one truly call a being with such ability merely ‘human’?
In that moment, Gregory felt no shame in living as a creature so small.
‘Father’s devotion to him is only natural.’
What moth, having witnessed such radiant and beautiful light, would not rush toward it? The boy raised as a shadow willingly served the light. The dark emotions—inferiority and shame—that bloomed like mold in the corners of his heart were helplessly consumed by such brilliant radiance.
“Your father died as a true Knight should, unwavering to the end. I will never forget his death.”
Father died as a shadow should. Chasing that light, burning away in it, yet closing his eyes in rapture. Even with half his body torn away, his sleeping face looked so peaceful that Gregory glimpsed his own future.
‘A life like that wouldn’t be worthless, would it?’
Light. Such brilliant light that it could give form to the damp shadows. Even after the name Voltier was appended to his own, Gregory chased that light.
‘I’m a fake. The true Voltier must shine perfectly and completely.’
A worm dressed itself in clothes. Adorned in fine formal wear, antennae neatly arranged, it pretended to be a complete human.
‘Merely human won’t do. A Voltier must be a god.’
“I’m Leopold.”
The red-haired boy smiled. Hands far too soft to be Voltier. A body devoid of talent not just in supernatural abilities, but even in swordsmanship—the basic foundation of knighthood.
‘How strange. He’s a Voltier, yet he doesn’t shine at all.’
He was weak. A Voltier could never be so weak. Too feeble to suppress the shadow.
A shadow must never surpass its master. But what if the master had no right to be master? When light grows dim, darkness swells. The shadow, nourished by that darkness, multiplied until it finally consumed the light.
Gregory loved the Voltier.
Only in the moments when he could live as a shadow.
* * *
“Finally!”
Ecstasy flooded the man’s eyes as he gazed upon the silver hair. The whites of his eyes gleamed, pupils glistening with fervent delight. His trembling hands shook with overwhelming joy.
Shattered glass fragments floated slowly into the air around the man. It was a harbinger of the awakening of House Voltier’s unique ability—Levitation.
“Gregory!”
A group of Knights poured into the Corridor, then stopped upon spotting Theodore.
“That is….”
Murmurs swelled.
“A Voltier ability.”
Bewilderment crossed the faces of those who had sought to expel Theodore and elevate Gregory as heir. Gregory observed their expressions as though it were only natural.
‘That’s the expected reaction upon witnessing a true Voltier.’
I was not wrong. I mocked the dead, stole their abilities, consumed hundreds of lives—yet in the end, I kindled this light.
Exultation rippled through the man’s gaze. Eyes entranced as though beholding a god. Even as the Knights watched his every move, the man savored this moment without hesitation.
‘He’s a complete deviant.’
Claire, resting her head on Theodore’s knee, rolled her eyes and regarded Gregory with an expression of utter disdain.
‘I thought he was just insane, but he’s a perverted lunatic.’
Her pierced body throbbed with pain, yet she was far too resilient to lose consciousness.
‘The bleeding stopped, thankfully. Is this how beastkin naturally are?’
Hemorrhaging that ceased without intervention was beyond her understanding, but since this was her first time sustaining such injuries, the question didn’t linger long.
‘The Young Master is the real problem.’
Theodore, now crowned with silver hair, stood rigid as a statue. His expressionless face gazed down at Claire, his eyes shimmering with an ethereal light. She recognized the quality of that luminescence.
‘He looks just like his father.’
She wanted to tell him not to worry, that everything was fine, but blood kept rising in her throat from her internal injuries, making speech difficult.
‘Even if I cough up blood, should I still speak? Wouldn’t that just frighten him more?’
Supernatural abilities or not, her companion was a sickly raccoon. Caution was necessary. As Claire deliberated whether to swallow or spit out the blood, Theodore moved first.
“Theodore.”
Gregory called his name softly as he watched Theodore, still expressionless, raise one hand.
“That’s exactly it.”
The moment his hand released, glass shards suspended in the air hurtled forward with terrifying speed, piercing through Gregory’s body. He accepted the attack with an enraptured expression, as though he had never intended to dodge from the start. Yet Theodore remained unsatisfied, raising his remaining hand.
In that instant, the Mansion trembled.
‘Young Master!’
Windows rattled violently, and debris from the shattered floor swirled through the air like a vortex. Glancing outside, I saw small trees already uprooted and flying skyward, while ancient oaks swayed as though about to be torn from the earth itself.
‘At this rate, he’ll tear the entire Mansion apart.’
Claire spat out blood urgently and seized Theodore’s arm.
“Young Master! Compose yourself! Miss Isabella is on the lower floor!”
The sudden movement reopened her wounds, fresh blood spilling forth, but such concerns were trivial now.
‘If this continues, the young lady will be swept away too.’
Gregory could be hurled into the sky a thousand times for all I cared, but that soft little raccoon was another matter entirely.
“A moment of true awakening,” Gregory proclaimed proudly.
Ignoring Gregory’s boastful declaration, Claire shook Theodore’s arm desperately. Yet he remained intoxicated by something, his gaze distant and unfocused, as though lost in madness.
“Young Master!”
He did not respond. He could not hear. The Mansion shook as though it might be torn asunder at any moment. Finally, Claire screamed.
“Theodore!!!”
The moment Claire spoke his name, the trembling ceased.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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