My Ex-Husband Came Back Crazy - Chapter 29

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

Chapter 30
Chapter 3. Upheaval (9)
Sweat traced down her brow and temples, her arm muscles taut and defined, her chest rising and falling with exertion—and Celia simply sat on the bed, staring blankly at the sight before her.
Her eyes still heavy with the remnants of sleep, she groped through the unreality of the moment.
Unlike lazy Celia, who slept late as a matter of course, Lucius had woken before dawn, already finished his workout, and was now checking her breakfast.
Watching him prepare his own meal, she rubbed her eyes.
‘I still don’t understand what he meant by that.’
Only look at him from now on. That sounds almost like… a confession, doesn’t it?
Whether he’d spoken with intention or carelessly, Celia tried to discern his meaning by narrowing her eyes, but Lucius—wiping away his sweat—gleamed like he’d swallowed the sun itself.
“I’ll go wash up, so eat first.”
Celia, who detested breakfast, pushed the sandwich he’d brought to her bed with her pinky finger and glared at his receding figure.
Lucius trudged into the washroom and vanished completely inside.
Only then did Celia swing her legs off the bed and stretch her stiff shoulders.
Last night, he’d insisted it would be difficult for her to return home in the cold at such a late hour—he would take the sofa, she should use the bed, and since they were rebuilding their relationship from the start despite being married, he wanted to take things step by step. With relentless persuasion like that, Celia had fallen asleep in his bed.
It wasn’t that she’d been won over by Lucius’s smooth tongue; she simply hadn’t had the energy to leave.
Though the servants’ shocked expressions when they saw her at breakfast that morning did weigh on her mind.
Celia had no talent for optimism, but now she forced herself to find comfort in the thought that at least things were as they were.
‘Confidential documents are usually kept in frequently visited places, like a bedroom or study.’
Rubbing her gritty eyelids, she began surveying his room. Its stark, orderly arrangement of furniture aided her reconnaissance.
Soon, though, she had to frown.
‘There’s barely anything here.’
His desk held only a few papers, neatly arranged writing implements, and an inkwell half-empty; the bookshelf was much the same.
Everything was maintained so meticulously that not a speck of dust seemed to have settled in days, and the spacing was immaculate.
‘…Well, let me at least look through the papers.’
But the documents scattered carelessly across the desk yielded nothing except one piece of unwelcome news: the Duke of Windermere, who’d been in the western territories, would soon return.
‘The drawers below are all locked. And there’s nowhere else that looks like a hiding place.’
She felt along the walls just to be sure and even lifted the heavy carpet, but found nothing.
‘Where on earth has he hidden Father’s consignment note?’
Whoosh—
When she finally collapsed onto the sofa in exhaustion, Celia belatedly realized how strange this situation truly was.
Whoosh—
Were the washroom and bedroom really this close?
The sound of Lucius bathing was far more vivid than she’d expected.
“…….”
Unable to bear listening to it, Celia bolted from her seat.
She had no interest in listening to anyone bathe—least of all Lucius! She dragged herself away and picked up the documents again, forcing herself to focus.
As she skimmed the black text, she noticed something she’d missed before.
“Larendel… a marquess’s daughter?”
Celia’s expression hardened subtly.
Even Celia, who rarely remembered people’s faces, knew Larendel. The woman had a history of picking fights with her over Lucius, however irrationally she’d developed feelings for him.
And she’d done so in a particularly unpleasant way.
‘Why is this woman’s name here?’
After noting the small portrait and brief biographical information, Celia’s eyes drifted toward the washroom where he was.
***
“Take a deep breath, sir.”
Lucius complied quietly with the instruction.
As the stethoscope pressed against his chest, the Doctor focused intently, as if concentrating all his senses on his ears. Celia, who’d been standing still, could only step back a few paces.
“Now, exhale slowly, please.”
After the awkward morning ended, Lucius had summoned the Doctor, apparently remembering what she’d said yesterday.
Starting with a simple examination, the Doctor proceeded to part Lucius’s shirt and press the stethoscope against his bare chest.
‘Is that really how it’s supposed to work?’
Celia, who rarely saw doctors due to her robust health, rolled her lost eyes and perked up her ears.
The Doctor, who’d been examining the clearly recovering Lucius with a simpering smile, suddenly deflated like a punctured frog when the conversation turned to his memories.
“I see, so the memories still…”
The Doctor, who’d been asking about his favorite color, his grandmother’s name, and what creature he’d hunted at last year’s hunting party, forced a smile.
“While the absence of returned memories is lamentable, surely it is a blessing that you experience no difficulty in daily life, sir?”
Unable to stay silent any longer, Celia opened her mouth.
“So, what’s the likelihood his memories will return?”
This Doctor—now that she thought of it—was the very man who’d implanted false memories into the original Lucius. The ungrateful wretch who’d spouted that ridiculous lie about the two of them being close.
Aware of her glare, the Doctor dabbed his cold sweat with a yellowed handkerchief and cleared his throat nervously.
“As I’ve explained, the brain is terribly ambiguous, so I cannot provide any definitive—”
“Then speak in probabilities. I hate math, but I’m good at it.”
“Young lady… surely you don’t need to press this far—of course, of course, I’ll tell you everything.”
The Doctor, whose courage was the size of a bean, couldn’t withstand Celia’s intensity and glanced back at Lucius.
He seemed to be asking for help, but the man, who was casually buttoning his shirt, merely glanced at her with warm eyes before turning his attention back to her.
“So, the probability?”
“Well, I am a bit curious about that myself.”
Lucius, now fully dressed, supported Celia.
“Perhaps…”
“Perhaps?”
“Five out of ten… or rather, two… or so…”
The Doctor stammered with striking severity.
He seemed prepared for them to be outraged at such pathetically low odds.
Having already lied to a young lady, he was apparently so terrified that he dropped that expensive stethoscope on the floor once.
Fortunately for him, however, both Celia and Lucius seemed relieved by the low probability.
Celia needed to extract something from him while his memories were gone, and Lucius wished that his past self would never see light again.
In fact, he even muttered, “That’s too high,” to himself.
“Of c-course, it’s not a precise figure! And you haven’t yet undergone intensive memory recovery treatment! Ah, if you would wish it, I know a psychotherapist and a hypnotherapist who are quite skilled—”
“Yes, I understand what you’re saying. Don’t worry; I’m not disappointed. Go on home now.”
“Sir…!”
The quack Doctor fled as though granted salvation, so hastily that medical supplies jutted out of his bag.
“Hearing things like that, even my past self wouldn’t want to come back, it seems?”
Left alone in the room, Lucius spread his arms and smiled like an affable man.
Seeing him in such good spirits, Celia countered with a petulant face.
“That’s sophistry. The Doctor said so from the start—that memories could return while you’re sleeping, or while you’re eating.”
Celia walked over slyly and sat in his chair as if it were her own.
“That won’t happen. I won’t allow it.”
“Can you decide that?”
“As long as I’m awake and standing, as long as I exist as myself… there will be no foothold for my past self to return to.”
Why was he suddenly so intense about his past self?
This added one more thing about Lucius that Celia didn’t understand.
“This is a restraint I place upon myself, and a promise to you—it will exist as that.”
“…Do as you please.”
Celia answered a beat late and abruptly turned her shoulder away.
She reached for the biscuit she’d prepared for the Doctor but which he’d never used. As she nibbled at the edge, Lucius’s gaze followed.
He planted both hands firmly on the chair’s armrests.
As his body tilted forward, Celia naturally slid back against the backrest, completely enclosed in the narrow space he’d created.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m in a good mood.”
“Why do you say that so often?”
“You ask me ‘why’ quite frequently.”
Half-eaten, the biscuit had a simple, nutty flavor. She swallowed without properly chewing it, her tongue dry.
“From the Doctor, I heard a definite answer that my chances of recovering my memories are low.”
“So why… um, what.”
Reflexively spilling the word “why,” Celia bit her own tongue. Lucius smiled knowingly and bent lower.
Soft lips brushed against her fingers, then withdrew. The half of the biscuit loosely caught between her index and thumb disappeared between his lips.
“Does that mean you’re now willing to look only at me?”
Crunch.
The sound of the biscuit crumbling echoed unusually loud.
“I hope so. That way, we can move forward to the next stage.”
As he drew closer, Celia became increasingly one with the chair.
“What… are you trying to say?”
He licked away the crumbs from the corner of his mouth and tilted his head lazily.
“I’m asking my wife out on a date.”
“…!”
“Would you go out with me?”
His relentless gaze swept across her and fell away.

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