My Ex-Husband Came Back Crazy - Chapter 15

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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 15
Chapter 2. The Upheaval (5)
If you’re going to lose your mind, do it gracefully and alone.
Once the Emperor and Empress rose from their seats, the remaining guests moved to the Reception Hall and began to spend time in an entirely different atmosphere.
With the watchful Emperor gone, the leisure and indolence of society reached their peak, and there was no dispute whatsoever about what the hottest topic of conversation was.
Lucius and Celia—those two, precisely.
The Reception Hall was nothing like the golden solemnity of the Banquet Hall.
It was a space that flowed softer, more luxurious, more elegantly. Beneath a ceiling that rose gently like a dome, violin and viola wove their melody together as Celia lifted her Wine with rough urgency.
“Ah, I’ll have the same as the lady, if you please.”
Lucius, seated across a small table from her, accepted the same glass.
The way he referred to Celia so naturally as “the lady” tangled with his mad nonsense from just moments before, drawing every eye. The nobles turned their gaze to the pair in sequence, as if taking turns.
“Are you very tired?”
“…No, why suddenly?”
“You look bored. I was thinking we might discuss when to leave.”
Following Lucius’s rather crude remark, a flicker of light returned to Celia’s eyes, which had seemed to sink into death.
She showed some initiative and snatched the Pocket Watch from him. After checking the time, she tapped her fingers and called to him quietly.
“Roughly…”
At her soft summons, Lucius brought his ear down to her.
“About an hour. I think we can leave after about an hour.”
The needle of the platinum-bright Pocket Watch with its spring mechanism glided smoothly as it rotated. She did not spare affectionate glances each time the minute hand moved.
Unlike the Banquet Hall where conversation was limited, the reception required attention to far more things.
The exchange of “personal” conversation carried its own danger, and more than anything, unlike Lucius’s expectations, Celia did not know his relationships properly.
If someone came and spoke to him, she would be utterly without recourse.
“Lucius! It’s been so long—how have you been?”
Fortune was not on her side.
Though despair flickered across Celia’s eyes for only an instant before she looked up, the one who had so boldly addressed Lucius first was…
Who?
Celia’s complexion clouded at once. She had no talent whatsoever for remembering faces. She seemed to have seen him somewhere before, but his name simply would not come to her.
She felt frustration rising at the fact that she could not remember Lucius’s relationships—but then Lucius wrapped his hand around hers with perfect naturalness.
At the warmth of his touch, the tip of Celia’s nose twitched slightly, and her gaze moved to follow him of its own accord.
“Aberon, it’s been ages.”
Lucius held her hand briefly and then released it, rising from his seat.
“It really has been forever! I last saw you just before I left for the Western Region—has it been six months?”
“It couldn’t have been more than four months.”
“Couldn’t it? Well, in any case, I’m delighted to see you so soon after arriving!”
Lucius’s words flowed seamlessly. His tone was confident, as if he knew not only the man’s name but also where and in what capacity they had met.
Only then did Celia understand the situation.
Among Lucius’s people, there were naturally those who knew him far better than Celia did. And he, whose talent lay in absorbing knowledge like a sponge, seemed to have learned without difficulty what relationships he had forged in his past.
“Ah, I ought to pay my respects to the lady, shouldn’t I?”
For Lucius to remain at her side in such a setting was unprecedented. Even that word fell short. There was quite simply no precedent for it at all.
Even when they attended a party together by necessity, they would soon diverge from each other’s orbit and scatter into their separate roles and circles.
Perhaps for that reason, the man turned back to her with some awkwardness.
“Though you must surely remember… I am Aberon Colton.”
“Yes… Lord Aberon.”
Aberon pressed his lips briefly to the back of Celia’s hand and withdrew.
Lucius’s shoulders behind him trembled very slightly. It was so brief that no one else would have noticed.
“Aberon.”
He stepped forward and positioned himself naturally between Aberon and Celia. Lucius continued the conversation with unhurried ease.
“Now that I think of it, how was the Western Region? I’d love to hear about it.”
“That’s a topic always welcome! The men there pride themselves on their horsemanship—you should hear how boastful they are—”
As Celia caught herself snorting softly at Lucius’s affected expression, people began to gather around him.
Since most of the faces were unfamiliar, Celia felt a moment of urgency.
But she lost interest quickly enough.
Whether from sharp perception or good social acumen, Lucius continued the conversation in such a way that no one could so much as suspect his transformation.
‘Tedious. Unbearable.’
The sight of Lucius draped in a kindness that had always excluded only her seemed strange to her.
Had he always smiled that way? Might this smile, now that his memory was lost, be closer to artifice? Thought after thought surfaced, yet Celia, unable to resolve any of them, found herself unable to look away from his face.
Each time the shadow beneath his golden lashes shifted and lifted, his green eyes caught the light in dazzling, scattering brilliance.
When she realized their eyes had met across the crowd of people, Celia found she could bear it no longer.
She gathered strength in her two legs, which lay composed before her, and rose to her feet.
She thought she might take a walk in the Garden.
“Cel—”
For a moment it seemed someone was calling her, but guessing who it was, she stubbornly kept her gaze forward.
She slipped out of the Reception Hall, seeking a place where no one would be.
***
Amilda Rostin seized the opportunity that had finally arrived and positioned herself at Lucius’s side as if she had been waiting for it all along.
With the lady of House of Brickwell and the only wife of House of Windmere now absent, there was no obstruction.
Gentlemen who had business with the House of Windmere’s lord greeted him as if they were old acquaintances, and the ladies who had merely been watching made their move into the space the men had opened.
Lucius Ellaire Rowan Windmere.
Was there anyone who would dare not covet him?
Amilda’s eyes sparkled as she thought of herself—once the eldest daughter of an ancient earldom that wielded deep influence over the Treasury Ministry, now facing the brink of ruin due to her father’s gambling addiction.
The Lucius she saw after so long was still beautiful.
Lucius had a different texture than other men—those thin and frail creatures. He recalled a soldier’s framework: a straight spine, a solidly built chest, broad shoulders. Beyond his powerful back, his waist narrowed gracefully, his hips and pelvis unburdened by the flab that so many men wore with pride.
“I heard the Treasury Ministry submitted another customs revision bill in this session.”
“Ah yes, that matter will eventually be resolved. No matter how loud the merchants cry, we stand above them.”
The exaggerated words of men posturing before the ladies gathered to see Lucius were tedious.
Yet Lucius listened to their hollow speech with perfect composure. The way he inclined his head very slowly to meet their eyes was perhaps a small habit that only Amilda, who had watched him for so long, would know.
‘How can he be so magnificent?’
As if entranced, Amilda moved toward Lucius, then suddenly stopped in her tracks.
With a glass in one hand, he occasionally tapped his fingers lightly against its surface, and each time he did so, his eyes moved in a single direction. Repeatedly gazing toward the place where ‘someone’ had disappeared, those eyes grew imperceptibly deeper.
‘Surely I’m mistaken.’
Amilda turned her head to follow Lucius’s gaze, then quickly looked away again.
That was the direction in which Celia had vanished. It made no sense for Lucius to look for her. How poorly Lucius and Celia got along was something no aristocrat born and raised in the empire could fail to know.
‘He seems a little different since the marriage, but… it must all be for appearance’s sake.’
His manner just now had been shocking, certainly, but there must be a reason for his behavior. Perhaps something like the Emperor’s presence.
Having resolved her thoughts, Amilda approached him lightly, gracefully, like an elegant bird.
“My Lord.”
The gaze of Lucius, which had been moving without affect, fell upon her.
“It’s Amilda. How have you been?”
“…Lady Amilda.”
Lucius answered a beat too late.
Fortunately, entranced by the curve of his lips, which darkened slightly before falling away again, Amilda did not notice the discord.
“It’s been so long since we’ve met. Last time, my father asked me to give you his deepest thanks for the help you gave him. I’m delighted to offer my respects in person now.”
She clasped her hands lightly before her belly.
Lucius, narrowing his eyes slightly, looked down at Amilda for quite a long time. Her eyelids fluttered under his steady gaze.
‘What is this?’
Why was he looking at her that way?
She heard the sound of her own heartbeat beginning to quicken as she quietly drew her feet together.
“Please tell your father that his thanks were received with gratitude.”
“Yes, of course.”
Yet Lucius’s gaze did not fall away.
That habit of Lucius—listening intently to what someone said, or wanting to understand something—had begun. From that point, Amilda’s nervousness transformed into hope.
“Now that I think of it, my Lord. I’ve heard that a newly opened opera has become popular among the ladies recently. Have you heard of it?”
That hope pushed Amilda forward where she would normally have retreated long ago.
“An opera?”
“Yes, yes! Very famous actors are performing in it—they say it’s quite difficult to obtain tickets. To attend with one’s beloved and appreciate such a work is… quite… wonderful…”
Lucius’s body, which had been facing forward, turned toward Amilda.
“Might I ask what opera it is?”
It was interest she had never imagined.
She had harbored an unrequited love for Lucius since her Debutante season, but he had never once given her reason to hope.
‘Suddenly, why is he acting this way?’
It was only natural that her cheeks flushed like those of a young girl.
Though he had married, his value remained unchanged. Any woman with a keen eye and sense would covet such a form—his flawless beauty, his genteel character without fault, his elegant manner of speech.
For that reason, there had always been women seeking to become Lucius’s Mistress, and there remained many still. Nor were there few who, even if not his Mistress, wished to dream of just one night with him. Everyone who knew anything of society understood how sordid its hidden side could be.
Though Lucius was certainly famous for not being easily swayed by indulgence and pleasure…
“Ah, it’s… it’s called Donavera…”
Amilda had heard the speculation that if Lucius lived with Celia Brickwell as his wife, perhaps one day he might seek something else.
“A man sets out for war while a woman waits for him, her heart withering day by day. Even after the war ends, the man does not return for a long time, and a great misunderstanding grows between them.”
Lucius listened to Amilda’s words as he had to the other men just before—with his full attention.
Amilda’s mouth had gone quite dry.
“But in the final act, the man confesses his heart while looking into the woman’s eyes. It’s said to be a very, very sweet story.”
She looked straight at Lucius and drew a breath, as if composing herself.
She felt the eyes of the crowd focus upon them.
“It’s such a sad, tender, and beautiful tale that lovers leave the theater having rediscovered their beloved’s value and reaffirmed their love for one another.”
“Lovers reaffirming… their beloved’s value…”
But Amilda’s eyes held only Lucius.
If she could receive his love even once, if he would look upon her with affectionate eyes—many ladies harbored this simple wish and still carried him in their hearts.
Amilda was merely one of those ordinary women.
Perhaps Celia Brickwell—now Windmere—that woman, hoped to feel superiority in receiving his love, something she might struggle to obtain even in a lifetime.
“Does my Lord… enjoy such stories?”
Amilda gathered her courage and extended her hand.
“That manner toward your lady just now—that was for the Emperor’s presence, wasn’t it?”
Lucius’s wrist, exposed above his glove, showed sinew living subtly beneath the surface, and even a brush of fingertips seemed as if it would convey burning warmth.
In that moment.
“I fear I must take the blame for this situation. I had not anticipated that there existed a lady bold enough to approach me despite the presence of my wife, Celia—a failure of foresight on my part.”
Lucius caught Amilda’s hand just as it reached toward his arm, his face contorting wretchedly.
Contempt, kindled by belated understanding, seeped into those brilliant eyes in an instant.
“It seems, lady, that you have yet to learn how discourteous it is to lay hands upon a married man without permission.”
Amilda’s flushed face transformed at once into shame.

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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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