My Ex-Husband Came Back Crazy - Chapter 24

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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 24
Chapter 3. Upheaval (4)
Evandor had sent word asking to meet quietly.
Late at night, with moonlight draping the garden, Celia moved through the sleeping household with careful steps. After walking for some time, she stopped only when she reached the base of the outer wall.
Windmere’s wall was higher than she’d expected.
Moss-covered brick was damp, glistening faintly in the moonlight. Celia drew her cloak close with one hand while her other felt for the seams in the stone.
“It’s been so long—I hope I can still do this.”
Evandor’s request for a meeting was unusually secretive.
Ordinarily she would have refused outright, but this time felt different.
‘He said Father would be coming too.’
She drew a breath as if to swallow the rising anticipation, and the cold night air sank deep into her lungs.
“I should have worn something lighter!”
Muttering to herself, she gathered up the hem of her dress and tucked it firmly at her waist, then felt along the stone gaps below with the toe of her flat-heeled shoe.
Her palm slipped across the wet moss.
The rough scrape against her skin stung, but Celia paid it no mind. Pressing her weight into her toes again, her lithe frame shifted naturally to the next crevice.
She wedged her fingers into a crevice she’d noted earlier and pulled herself up.
After repeating this several times, the wall rose to shoulder height.
“Hah… gasp…”
Moonlight stretched long across the bricks.
Now atop the wall, she balanced on one knee.
From up here, scents mingled together—the scent of night, of earth, of freedom.
Deep tree shadows and thin lines of moonlight covered the sleeping garden beyond. The world that stretched past it was silent yet boundlessly open.
The wind blew.
Her hair caught the silver light and dissolved into the moon’s glow. Celia steadied herself against the rough stone with her fingertips and gazed into the distant horizon.
“Ah…”
It was her favorite view in all the world.
“Sister.”
A stranger’s voice tore through the darkness then. Celia’s body went rigid.
The falling moonlight revealed the voice’s owner.
Hair white as snow, a neatly pressed shirt, and eyes that shone an unusual blue even in the darkness.
Beyond the wall, deep in the shadows, Evandor looked up at her.
“You! How did you get here!”
Her cry was almost a scream. Evandor shrugged, his familiar face twisting into a sneer.
“How do you think? There’s no one guarding the wall on your side of the castle, so I simply came. As for the main residence—goodness, how many knights have you stationed there? Truly fitting for cowards.”
His mockery was colder than the moonlight. His eyes, gleaming with both amusement and malice, fixed on Celia.
“But Sister, you should have given up climbing walls in childhood.”
Evandor had drawn close to the wall. He reached toward her ankle, which stuck out conspicuously above him.
“If you’d done this at House Brickwell, I’d wonder what I must have done instead—it’s so vulgar and ridiculous.”
“Ugh…!”
His grip tightened around her slender ankle.
Celia hissed and thrashed her leg against the arrogance masked as tenderness.
“Let go!”
“What if I don’t?”
“Then just break it instead!”
“Would you behave yourself then?”
Celia’s face hardened in an instant.
“…Evandor, you’ve lost your mind.”
Evandor, who had been savoring her reaction with keen interest, felt the knife-edge in her voice and flinched. His demeanor shifted.
“I was joking. Don’t be so angry. Surely you don’t think I’d lay hands on Sister?”
He tilted his head, his voice exaggerated in its tenderness.
“I was merely being kind. I wouldn’t want you to show me the ugly sight of crawling down the wall like some clumsy creature, would I?”
Evandor’s expression remained unmoved, soaking up Celia’s seething fury.
Finally, Celia swallowed a sigh and swung her leg hard. The blow caught his wrist squarely, hard enough to hurt, yet his face didn’t flicker.
“I’m coming down. Hold me properly.”
Wretched bastard.
Celia’s foot swept through empty air as she released herself. Her body fell straight into Evandor’s arms.
She landed without pause, pushing off his shoulder to steady herself. Her trembling feet found solid ground.
Before drawing a full breath, Celia was standing on her own two feet.
“That was reckless.”
“It’s none of your concern.”
“It would be wise not to test my patience like this.”
The siblings faced each other, now standing side by side.
Evandor’s lips curled in displeasure, and Celia’s eyes sank with an animal-like darkness. The silence born from two pairs of identical blue eyes was chill.
“…Enough of that. Where is Father?”
It was Celia who broke the silence first—she had something she wanted.
“Come with me.”
She followed the tilt of his chin.
How much farther they walked, Celia couldn’t say. When they rounded the final wall, a man grooming a horse’s mane came into view.
Immaculate military boots, a coat fastened sharply at the seams.
“Celia.”
It was Edmund, Duke of House Brickwell—her and Evandor’s father.
“Father!”
Celia’s face broke open with joy. The tension that had gathered at her lips melted away, replaced by an emerging smile.
Passing Evandor, she quickened her steps toward Edmund.
Edmund withdrew his hand from the horse’s muzzle and turned slowly to regard his daughter.
“You seem to have been well.”
His voice, pitched lower than the night air itself, sounded strangely tender.
She nodded, struggling to steady her overwhelming breath.
“Yes, Father. I’ve been very well, thanks to you.”
Unconcealed delight settled across her face.
It was enough for her that he had come in person, when his duties rarely allowed him to spare time for such things.
Edmund’s gaze lingered on her briefly.
In that subtle look, Celia searched desperately for warmth—the kind of genuine negation she could mistake for affection.
“Is that so?”
Until his voice reached her, Celia remained bathed in relief and joy.
“You’ve been doing well, then, truly.”
Celia unconsciously straightened her spine.
Edmund’s smile sat at the corners of his mouth, yet it had grown cold before ever kindling with warmth.
“Evandor told me something.”
A weighted gaze settled upon her. The horse’s breath came in irregular bursts, and her heart began to race in stuttering rhythm with that rough sound.
“That you’ve forgotten our House Brickwell.”
Wind slipped through the brief silence that followed.
Moonlight traced down his deeply furrowed cheeks, gleaming silver.
“Forgotten House Brickwell? I would never, Father. What could you mean?”
“I’m not reproaching you. You’ve been married now. Even if your husband is an enemy who would destroy our house, one’s heart can grow dull.”
“I would never—such a thing is—”
“If that’s not the case, then—”
Edmund placed his hand upon Celia’s shoulder.
“Why have you made no move, knowing that Lucius of Windmere possesses the Evidence of Rebellion?”
The gentler his voice grew, the tighter her breath constricted. Her vision wavered and her mouth went dry.
She opened her lips to offer some excuse, but no sound emerged.
‘How… did he find out?’
That command—to steal the Evidence of Rebellion by exploiting the amnesiac Lucius’s heart.
She had never forgotten it. But given how she had shrunk from him, could she honestly say she had faithfully obeyed that command? She had no answer.
“That is—”
At that moment, Edmund laughed softly.
A smile meant to erase the sharp air from moments before.
“Yes, I understand.”
His gaze softened, kindling with the light of warmth.
Celia found herself following that warmth with her eyes. Edmund’s bare hand brushed through her hair, arranging each strand as if with care.
“Given your nature, seducing that boy wouldn’t come easily.”
At his low-voiced affection, a faint relief crossed Celia’s lips.
It was a fleeting, meaningless hope.
“Even if it could save our family, you sacrificed House Brickwell for the sake of your own safety.”
Celia went ashen.
His words cut through her skin like a blade’s edge, and the delayed pain spread through her slowly.
“That’s not true! I could never abandon House Brickwell! How could you even think such a thing…!”
Struggling to contain her breath, she poured out her words in a panic.
“No matter where I am, I am of House Brickwell, as you yourself have always told me—”
“Enough. That’s not what matters now.”
At his firm voice, Celia’s mouth closed like a well-trained dog’s. Her shoulders, which had been trembling, stilled, and she held her breath, suppressing any further sound.
Edmund stepped closer to her, as if lost in thought, his eyes cast down.
“Celia, if this becomes too difficult, tell your father anytime.”
“Father…”
“If you cannot do it, I can simply send your younger sister instead.”
What? Celia lifted her head.
Moonlight flowed from her forehead to the tip of her nose, revealing Edmund’s face with stark clarity.
“Who do you think would be better suited? Diana, naturally. The girl is lovely and charming—a young, rigid man would be easy enough for her to handle.”
Her frozen mind struggled to understand what he was saying. She could not discern whether it was mercy or a declaration of abandonment.
Beneath the bite marks on her lower lip, a faint tremor leaked through.
“Just say the word, Celia. If you tell me you cannot do this, I will send Diana tomorrow itself.”
Diana.
She was Edmund’s illegitimate daughter—Celia’s fourth half-sister.
In how Edmund treated his bastard children, he had never once made the legitimate children feel slighted.
“Think carefully, and send word through Evandor.”
House Brickwell’s one and only Lady.
The woman who held Edmund’s trust, who carried out his commands, and who could labor for the sake of the house.
That had always been—and could only ever be—Celia alone.
“I don’t need time to think.”
Edmund, who had begun to turn away, froze.
His movement was strangely deliberate. His feet scraped softly across the earth as he stopped.
“I will always obey your word, Father. Lucius… I will handle him. I will place in your hands what you desire. I will do this myself.”
This was how it was always meant to be.
Nothing was more important than the family, and for that one purpose, Celia could sell herself without hesitation.
Even if yielding herself to Lucius was an insult, if it meant Father’s will was fulfilled—
At Celia’s resolute answer, Edmund’s smile deepened in the darkness.
And in that same moment, something formless shattered within her.

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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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