My Ex-Husband Came Back Crazy - Chapter 25

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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 25
Chapter 3. Upheaval (5)
The Silver Spoon on the tea table trembled faintly.
He felt the careful gaze of the woman seated across from him.
The moment Lucius perceived it, he arranged his features into a brief smile—lips moving while his eyes remained nearly unchanged.
“Lucius, if you don’t mind, why don’t you go down to the Southern Region for a while and recuperate?”
He studied the woman before him with measured eyes.
Elinor—mistress of House Windmere and his birth mother.
She was the legitimate daughter of House Ardela, which held dominion over the Western Continent, and had inherited centuries of territorial and military authority through her direct bloodline.
Yet the Elinor that Lucius knew was nothing but fragile and delicate.
The memory of her weeping at the sight of him unable to recover his memories remained vivid.
“I’m fine, Mother.”
“But—”
“Father is away in the Western Region as it is. If I were to leave for the South as well, it would only confuse the household. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with my health, so I have no need for recuperation.”
“Rest might do you good.”
“I may be mistaken, but I believe you mentioned the Southern Region has no relatives there. Rather than languishing alone in a place where I know no one, I find that spending time with you like this brings me far greater comfort.”
Thus he endeavored to play the role of the son she longed for—to soothe, however slightly, the heart of a mother who had lost a perfectly sound son in a single night.
This regular tea time was part of that performance.
Elinor, unaware of how meticulously he calibrated every gesture of his fingertips and every inflection of his voice, could only rejoice in his tender words.
“My goodness, Lucius. You’ve always had such depth of heart. Even with lost memories, there are things that don’t change.”
His lips grew taut, as though bitten by bitter medicine.
In truth, it was all pretense—an attempt to ease the guilt of committing yet another transgression against Elinor, who yearned for her beloved son’s return.
He no longer intended to recover his memories.
And he harbored no inclination to deny even the immorality of betraying his mother’s wishes for Celia’s sake.
“Still, if you change your mind, tell me. Who else would you rely on if not family in times like these?”
“Of course.”
He marshaled whatever tenderness he could muster.
He covered her withered hand with his own, leaned slightly forward, and brought his gaze level with hers.
He played the dutiful son to reassure her, to make her believe that today’s version of himself was not so different from the son she had known.
“Yes, I’ll tell you stories from your childhood to help your memory return. What would you like to hear? Oh! How about the day you first rode a horse? It was such a small pony. A pure white one, it was—”
The tea time proceeded smoothly.
Elinor delved into her memories and revealed to him piece by piece the man she knew he had been—details unknown to him. Lucius received them quietly, layering them in his mind like material, and on the foundation of these fragments he built the framework of “the perfectly sound Lucius Windmere.”
It was then that Elinor’s cheerful chatter came to a halt.
“Actually, Lucius—”
“Yes, Mother?”
She moistened her lips as she looked at her dutiful son.
The words had risen to the tip of her tongue, yet she hesitated at length.
“Actually, very soon… a young lady from the Southern Region will be coming here.”
Lucius straightened at the sight of his mother fingering her cup’s saucer.
The subtle narrowing of his eyes was one of his long-standing habits.
Elinor’s resolve wavered and shifted back and forth beneath that quiet, probing gaze—the one that emerged when he was seeking to divine another’s intentions.
“She is… a young lady who was once considered your Betrothed.”
His hand froze halfway through the air.
Forgetting even to set down the cup, his pupils moved with deliberate slowness toward Elinor’s lips.
“A lady who was nearly your Betrothed despite already being married… I wonder what reason brings her to seek me out?”
“I’m not entirely certain myself. But what I do know is that it was you who invited her first.”
Silence fell like fragments of time pulled apart.
His lips sealed into a thin, rigid line.
Lucius turned her words over in his mouth as though tasting them, then his eyes darkened in an instant—turning cold.
“So before I lost my memories, the person I nearly became Betrothed to was invited to this house by my own hand… Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes. She even sent separate word to me.”
Elinor watched the tension settle across Lucius’s face, unable to speak for some time. Only he would know what currents moved beneath those transparent eyes.
“Lucius… I admit that I don’t regard Celia favorably. I tried to hide it from you, but you likely sensed it to some degree.”
Elinor finally clenched her fist once, then released it—a slow gesture as her resolve hardened in her fingertips.
“But you wouldn’t turn your gaze toward another woman while your wife exists, would you? Would you?”
In Elinor’s face, which voiced this long-harbored question, lay a touch of desperation.
It was an expression where trust in her son mingled with the dread that such trust might crumble.
“She said she was coming to discuss a ‘future’ with you. Please, please tell me that isn’t the case.”
How could things have gone this terribly wrong?
A short sigh was swallowed down his throat.
As he watched his mother’s face, so lined with faith in him, contort in distress, he remained dry-eyed amid the wreckage of his past self’s making.
The pupils visible between his fingers sank to a chill so sharp it ached.
***
“This is absurd, madam!!”
Anne shrieked with a face drained of all color. She had only just heard the entire story from Celia.
“How could the Duke ask such a thing of you—to seduce the Windmere Prince, to—to use Seduction on him… Sob.”
Celia, who had been reviewing clothes in the wardrobe with little care, turned to regard Anne in solidarity with her anger.
Anne’s eyes were already glistening with tears, and with trembling hands she gripped Celia’s sleeve.
“What wrong has my lady done to deserve such an ordeal?!”
Her voice trailed off into a whimper.
Celia, observing the reddening bridge of Anne’s nose, placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head back. A sharp breath was drawn between her lips.
“If I’m not going to kill him, I might as well try the Seduction Father wanted me to use.”
“Sob…!”
She had even entertained, for a fleeting moment, the thought of simply killing him—Widow or no.
But he was a tenacious creature who had survived even when Edmund had set out with deliberate intent to destroy him. It was certain that mere flourishes of a Silver Knife on her part would not be enough to end him.
“Of all things, the Windmere Prince possesses the Documents Father needs—this is a curse!”
Since Celia had omitted all mention of treason and only explained it as “Father needs Documents that Lucius holds, and we must steal them,” Anne trembled all the more.
That she should seduce Lucius—her enemy!—over mere Documents!
“That’s enough, Anne. It’s what must be done either way. If you want to help me, stop crying and help me choose clothes.”
At Celia’s words, Anne had no choice but to wipe her eyes with her sleeve and rise.
She soon set about examining the garments, though her expression grew more troubled than when she had first heard the news.
“Lady… why exactly are you looking at these undergarments?”
From the very thin chemise with its deeply cut neckline to the abbreviated drawers in bold colors, adorned with garters edged in lace—
Celia swept away all the plain designs and held up a loose, sheer chemise that hid nothing beneath.
“If it’s Seduction, isn’t that what I need to wear?”
“Ah… I see. You mean that kind of seduction.”
“Is there another way?”
“Usually it’s the heart that’s seduced first, not the body… Anyway! I’ll take care of the clothes.”
Celia hurled the garment she wanted to tear to shreds and slumped into the chair prepared in the dressing room.
Understanding her intent, Anne took it upon herself to sort through the garments.
Celia’s wardrobe was consistent in one respect: it contained nothing suited to seducing a man, which only made Anne’s struggle plain to see.
‘I suppose just being half-naked will do.’
Celia, reclined against the chair’s back, grasped the armrest. A strand or two of her disheveled hair slipped from behind her ear, falling loosely against her cheek.
‘I’m no rutting beast. And since he was so eager to cling to me before, he’ll probably come running of his own accord.’
Had anyone overheard, they would have chastised her that seduction was not such a thing—but unfortunately, no one knew her private thoughts.
And so on the day when Anne had devoted all her efforts to selecting Celia’s outfit—
“Young Miss, the Prince says he wishes to see you alone this evening.”
Lucius summoned Celia, catching her yet unprepared.
As always, his timing was damnable.

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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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