My Ex-Husband Came Back Crazy - Chapter 14

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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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Episode 14
Chapter 2. The Incident (4)
The Emperor had invited the Count and Countess of Windmere to a state dinner.
The pretext was the harmony of young nobles, but the reality was far more calculated.
The Duke of Windmere remained in the Western Region over a mining rights dispute, and with Lucius in seclusion following his accident, the power axis had loosened—a gap that those centered around Brickwell were quietly exploiting to raise their standing.
The Emperor needed to reinforce the symbol of “harmony between Windmere and Brickwell” in people’s minds to calibrate this delicate balance. That was why Celia and Lucius had been summoned like the Emperor’s marionettes.
“Why didn’t you refuse? You could have easily begged off with your health.”
Before the Eastern Corridor leading to Hadellion Fortress, where the dinner would be held, Celia stood on the crimson carpet, addressing Lucius, who wore a long navy Cape.
“They said if I seclude myself any further, rumors about my health will spread. Besides, moving about like this isn’t a problem. Thank you for worrying.”
“It’s not worry, it’s—never mind.”
Celia swallowed her irritation and drew her breath in short, sharp gasps. Lucius caught the edge of that breath gently, his eyes narrowing with a subtle curve.
“You don’t need to worry. The preparations were rushed, but I’ve grasped the fundamentals of etiquette. At least I won’t stumble carelessly in front of people or become a laughingstock that embarrasses you.”
He said he was still somewhat nervous, and his thumb traced across the back of her hand, which lay folded over his. At that oddly sensual motion, Celia’s shoulders curved inward.
‘I really should have let him stay home claiming illness!’
As she groaned inwardly, they had already passed beneath the arched doorway.
The sparse surroundings grew busier just then. Elaborately adorned nobles, bearing the insignias of Windmere and Brickwell, instinctively parted to make way for their entrance.
“Oh, you’ve arrived.”
“The two of them appearing together… it’s been quite some time, hasn’t it?”
“I’d heard the Count was in poor health, but it seems to have been merely idle gossip after all.”
The usual keen attention fell upon them.
Words and gazes she might normally have let pass by—but today, Celia felt like a knight cradling a bomb, so she found herself instinctively catching her lower lip between her teeth and composing her expression.
In contrast, the man who had become her bomb remained disturbingly composed.
Lucius walked with utterly steady steps, as though the nobles’ stares were mere raindrops falling far in the distance, entirely untroubled.
‘What is he drawing confidence from to remain so calm?’
As she looked up at him incredulously, Lucius crumpled his large frame without concern and leaned toward her slightly.
“How strange. Now that I’m standing here, I’m finally growing nervous.”
His voice carried something almost endearing, and Celia’s gait faltered.
“The etiquette will manage somehow, but if someone speaks to us, I have no confidence I can respond as though nothing’s amiss.”
Thanks to their clasped hands, Celia avoided falling ungracefully and straightened her head to reply to his absurd remark.
Why had he lost his memory at all?
And why hadn’t the gods been satisfied with marriage to him as a trial alone—why burden her with this tragedy too?
At their intimate appearance, those who had been gleaming like hunters tracking prey all drew in their breath at once. Some dropped their jaws; others gripped their fans, eyes wide.
Of all those present, only Lucius remained untouched by their shock.
“What if I make a mistake?”
He asked in an even voice.
“Don’t worry about that.”
Celia’s fingertips hardened subtly. Her hand, unable to push him away, twitched repeatedly.
“But what if someone insults us?”
Let them insult you, not me.
The words, twisted with irritation, were mercifully stopped by her position and honor from crossing her lips.
Instead, Celia caught a glimpse of his reflection in a passing window.
When learning something unfamiliar, he was always cautious, yet his comprehension was remarkably swift. Perhaps because of his ingrained habits, his elegant, restrained bearing remained unchanged.
With each step, the flow from ankle to knee to shoulder was smooth and flawless, without the slightest waver. When he turned his head, he traced a path that captured the light with perfect precision—slowly, sharply, yet gently. It seemed that the very air of the corridor shifted quietly whenever his gaze shifted.
Because of all this, Celia mocked her own baseless worry.
“Let them insult if they wish.”
Celia spoke low, eyes forward.
“Chatter behind our backs is worthless. I’ve never given it meaning.”
Lucius turned his head slightly. It was a quiet gaze, as though trying to read her profile.
“Others’ stares are not the measure by which I am judged.”
Lucius’s pace slowed just briefly. He seemed to savor each word she spoke, pressing his grip against their joined hands. His long hands—the kind that should be offered an instrument—clasped hers perfectly.
“You’re right.”
His pupils, touched by light and subtly deepened, traced her voice and expression, her small, close-set eyes and nose, down to the edge of her red lips.
Some invisible emotion lingered there, and his gaze grew persistent.
“Still, I’ll do my best. After all, I don’t want my mistakes to drag my wife into the line of fire as well.”
His voice, growing soft and ragged, held a tickling quality that made Celia stubborn in keeping her gaze forward.
At the same time, she twisted her wrist subtly, trying to extract her hand from his grip.
Today, her only goal was to help Lucius appear as though he hadn’t lost his memory.
Enduring uncomfortable stares and tolerating contact like this was never part of her original plan.
“Come to think of it… did I mention this?”
Celia fixed her attention on the hand holding hers and didn’t bother turning her head again.
Truly, revolting and insufferable—
“You’re so beautiful today.”
Lucius Windmere.
She, who had been moving forward toward her destination without hesitation, faltered for just a moment.
A breath so small no one else could hear escaped between her teeth.
“So beautiful I don’t want to show you to the others. I want to lock you away in my arms and hold you all day.”
His eyes widened. His crescent-curved pupils held light only in their upper portion, bright and subtle, while the lower half embraced a delicate shadow.
The truth of that shadow was laid bare in his whisper.
“How did I bear this before.”
His voice dropped abruptly. The voice that had been weaving sweet words like a spider’s thread flipped, and the surrounding air was pulled in that direction.
“Do you know what kind of eyes those men have been giving you? It’s so… repulsive. I want to—”
“Stop. Wait, stop!”
Celia grabbed him, her voice dropped to its lowest.
She, who had been trying to extract her hand, now held it fast in shock, looking up at him with an alarmed face.
“You can’t. You mustn’t. Lucius Windmere doesn’t say things like that!”
Celia, who had been disgusted at the thought of having to look after a fully healthy adult male just because he’d lost his mind, immediately retracted that thought.
“That’s why. You absolutely cannot speak that way in front of people.”
The man before her was a patient.
An unfortunate wretch who had lost his memory entirely and had false memories implanted, mistaking himself for being in love with her.
“Do you dislike it?”
“I dislike it. Completely dislike it. I hate it so much. So don’t.”
Celia deliberately stepped hard on his foot to emphasize her point, but Lucius showed not the slightest sign of pain.
Instead, he wrapped his arm around her waist without hesitation.
Damn it.
The stinging stares felt from behind were no illusion.
“If you dislike it, I won’t do it.”
He let his voice fall low against her ear, like the bass note beneath an organ, his eyes taking on a submissive light.
The raw, rough edge that had been spreading just moments before vanished instantly, and only a vast, gentle embrace as calm as the open sea quietly spread forth.
It was meant for her alone.
As Celia flinched like a captured insect, the Imperial Household’s chief attendant—who had shed tears enough to fill a lake just from all the trouble those two had caused in the capital since childhood—approached hesitantly.
“It is time for you to enter, Your Highness.”
At least for that moment, the summons she had never welcomed before sounded to her like salvation.
***
One cannot voice opinions of the Emperor to others. But if Celia were to judge him privately, he would rank among her deepest dislikes—no, the very worst.
“You two still seem to be on such good terms!”
While Brickwell and Windmere controlled several newspapers between them, some of those papers remained in the Imperial Household’s grasp.
Which meant that among the newspapers spewing absurd things about their relationship, some were the Imperial Household’s own.
“It is thanks to Your Majesty’s grace.”
Celia concealed her venomous gaze completely.
The Emperor, satisfied with her measured, honeyed response, broke into hearty laughter.
“Ha! A harmonious couple is the foundation of a strong house. Especially for you two, who bear names meant for the empire. Come now, raise your glasses!”
From the center, where the Emperor and Empress sat, nobles arranged themselves by rank, merit, bloodline, and honor, and raised their glasses.
Celia was among those sacrificial lambs.
Forced to sit among those who dangled flattery from their lips and hung politeness like ornaments at the end of every sentence, raising her glass with them.
“Speaking of which, Count Autrang, where is your wife? Has she come alone?”
“My wife is with child, and thus unable to attend today. She had wished to receive Your Majesty’s blessing in person, but we humbly hope you will forgive her absence.”
“Ah, a child! What more joyful news could there be! Nothing is more important than producing an heir.”
The Emperor laughed heartily, yet something in that laughter struck Celia as ominous.
And sure enough. The Emperor’s gaze turned quietly to Lucius and Celia, seated composedly. The moment his eyes touched them, Celia foresaw exactly what would follow.
“And how about you two? It’s been over three years since your marriage—have you no good news to share?”
It’s been a year and a half, you addled Emperor.
Does he lack a sense of time as much as he lacks hair?
If you simply lock two ill-matched beasts in a cage and force them to breed, a child doesn’t appear like magic.
‘…What would happen if I flipped this table? I remember hearing what happened to a Council member who pounded the table at the last meeting.’
Recalling that she’d heard his three generations of accumulated honor had crumbled, Celia finally opened her mouth with restraint.
“It is simply… too early. I confess I find your question somewhat embarrassing, as I haven’t given children much thought as yet.”
Celia chose her words with utmost care. She was nearly at the point of mindlessly moving her mouth while abandoning all reason.
“Still, one must first have children. Once a child is born, one’s heart changes, but it seems you’re still young to understand that.”
The old man, clucking his tongue behind a mask of reproach, soon smiled brightly again.
“Oh yes! Count, what do you think?”
Beneath her lowered eyelids, her pupils flashed with ferocity.
They were born in the same year, that man and I.
Her birthday was even four days earlier than his.
“Don’t you also wish to see your heir as soon as possible?”
The Emperor asked, pinpointing Lucius directly.
As the worst moment finally arrived, Celia nearly gnawed the tines of her fork, turning to look at Lucius with tense eyes.
Lucius, who had set down his cutlery, raised his head toward the Emperor as though he had been waiting for this very moment.
“I am grateful for Your Majesty’s deep concern. However…”
The sound of a glass settling, the quiet, metallic snap of silver against porcelain. Through it all, Lucius’s voice commanded the space.
“I am not yet ready to share my wife with a child.”
Though he spoke with all due courtesy, the words that came from Lucius’s lips would never have emerged had he been himself, and the gathering fell silent.

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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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