My Ex-Husband Came Back Crazy - Chapter 32

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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 32
Chapter 3. Upheaval (12)
Dunlow Hallow.
From the point where the sewage system began, the place stretched long—wherever the water’s edge reached, people gathered; wherever trash piled up, shanties clung like afterthoughts. It was the Empire’s final gap, the one the Imperial Family had never managed to seal, and the dwelling place of those who had lost both employment and protection, who lived stripped of even a name.
“Relax your face a little.”
A man bearing a scar that split his face tapped Celia’s cheek repeatedly with the back of his hand.
Dragged to the end of a dark alley, Celia had been shoved into a crumbling shack.
Her leg throbbed where she’d struck it falling to the ground, but the indignity being inflicted now made that pain seem trivial by comparison.
“Why are Dunlow Hallow’s trash heaps here, when they ought to be next to that foul-smelling sewage?”
“Well now, your mouth’s filthy. Didn’t you know? This place is ours now too.”
The man grinned wickedly.
“That high and mighty emperor decided to clean us up by sealing the sewer. So if you want to complain, complain to the emperor—not to us.”
……
As if kidnapping people gave them any right to put on airs.
When Celia glared at him, the man slowly dragged his tongue across his lips.
He crouched in front of her, draped an arm across her thighs, and tilted his head. His eyes swept up and down before his mouth opened, as if he found her interesting.
“But you know… normally when things get like this, a girl from some high family cries or begs for her life. You’re not scared at all?”
“Why should I fear things I’ve swallowed my whole life? Trash and cheap poison.”
The man’s cheek twitched unpleasantly.
“Watch your mouth. Don’t you know what’s coming for you?”
Celia’s jaw clenched.
“And you—do you know who I am?”
The man laughed coldly at the sight of her ice-blue indifference.
“If I knew who you were, would we be scared of you?”
No. They would not be.
Celia knew this all too well.
“Miss. Here, we’re all the same. Bleed once and you rot like the rest.”
His hand descended from her cheek, stretching toward her throat as if to strangle.
Celia lifted her bound hands and struck him roughly away.
“Huh?”
She would not yield, even unto death.
Better to die than submit to creatures like these. She turned her head stubbornly, though she could not hide the shallowness of her breath.
The man, watching that breath, laughed low.
They’d stripped away everything worth money; she clung to a single undergarment. Her body, clad barely and battered, rose and fell with ragged breaths. Each time that pale, flawless flesh trembled beneath his gaze, something obscene flickered across his face.
“Shame to sell this as-is.”
Hands that had somehow come to grip her shoulders sent a chill through her. At the sight of a man ready to claw beneath her thin clothes, Celia raised her hands again.
Crack!
“Aagh!”
Caught off guard, he took the full impact across the eye and lurched upright.
“You—!”
Her hair was seized ruthlessly.
The force was brutal enough that her crouched body was wrenched upward, a strangled cry escaping her.
“I was nice to you, nice, and you don’t even know your place—!”
The moment the man raised his hand to strike, others loitering outside rushed in at the noise.
“Hey, hey! Don’t touch her, I said!”
Of course, not for Celia’s sake.
“Don’t mark her if you can help it. She’s worth more unspoiled.”
Filthy, loathsome creatures.
That day too, had been like this.
A cloudless sky. A cool wind and laughter bright with festival cheer. The night eighteen-year-old Celia was dragged to Dunlow Hallow wore the same mask of indifference—nothing unusual happening at all.
“…Shall I make a prophecy?”
Just released from the man’s grip, Celia had fallen to the ground and was breathing hard. A twisted, bitter smile bent her lips.
“You’ll regret what you do today for the rest of your lives.”
With trembling hands braced against the earth, she forced her upper body upright with immense effort.
“There are more than a few looking for me. When they come to save me, you’ll find your faces pressed to my boot heels, begging. Please, spare us, you’ll plead.”
They looked at Celia as one might regard a madwoman.
Light vanished, and the stench of rot and ancient mold rose thick. An oily film gleamed across puddles of filthy water.
“I don’t care much for the squealing of pigs, but you’ll do just fine. Ah, of course—even your worthless minds should work out who the pig is, yes?”
Terror crept in by degrees, multiple pairs of eyes fixed upon her. Celia exhaled ragged breath while drawing her spine straighter still, mocking the debased faces surrounding her.
“What’s this woman saying—!”
The men, who had stared at her blankly, seemed to lag a beat before grasping her meaning and erupted into furious shouts.
The sound made her ears ring, and her vision tilted slowly sideways.
Strength drained from the arms barely holding her up, her breath pulled in harsh, gasping draughts.
“You grew soft, with nothing to fear?”
“Time you learned what real punishment feels like—wait—?”
The memory of being dragged helplessly to Dunlow Hallow in the past overlaid itself upon the present.
A memory she had believed wiped away came rushing back like an ebb tide, then swelled into a massive wave that swallowed her consciousness whole.
“Ugh…!”
Her luck was cursed.
To set foot in this place twice.
“Hey, wait—why is she—!”
And the one who saved her that day was…neither Evandor, whose life hung in the balance, nor her father, who had chosen Evandor and turned away from her.
“Luci—”
Lucius.
Unable to finish his name, Celia surrendered to the dark.
***
Whistle!
Rowald gave a soft whistle as he watched Lucius, who had gone rigid.
“Quite a beautiful woman.”
Having sent his own people ahead, he spoke lightly.
Lucius withdrew his suspended hand and turned to Rowald, awkwardly.
The man approached without formality, making it difficult to adapt. He could gather roughly what their relationship was, but unlike his dealings with other nobility, information was scant, so he kept silent.
“You said it was a date—girlfriend? Or a fiancée?”
Rowald brushed his coat collar and drew a cigar from its case with the ease of habit.
Acrid smoke spread like mist across the Riverside. Lucius examined the man who had settled naturally before him in neat dress.
There was the faint smell of alcohol, but his shirt was fastened crisply with buttons properly aligned, his posture unbent by a single wasted motion, his expression thinly layered with both ennui and curiosity.
His tone was casual, but his gaze was not.
Lucius let his eyes follow the drift of cigar smoke and answered with a smile instead.
Rowald did not press further.
“Rowald. I’m sorry, but I’m short on time. Would it be all right if you finished what you were about to say?”
“Ah yes, that’s right.”
Rowald gave him the answer he sought without difficulty.
“That favor you asked before—to look into an estate for you.”
“…Yes.”
“I had no connections in the Southern Region, so it took time. Those southern nobles have such stiff necks that a gentry like me hardly qualifies for their attention. And purchasing an estate involves so much red tape that, honestly, I’d sooner wait for the carriage-maker to deliver wheels on his promised date. But whatever hoops they threw up, I managed what you asked for.”
He released a hearty laugh. Each time he laughed, smoke curled sharply between his teeth.
“Though no matter how complicated the procedures, I’m giving you what you demanded.”
Lucius lowered his gaze. His dense lashes curved, and within those clear green eyes—bright as forest light filtering through reeds—he concealed the emotion written there.
Unaware of this, Rowald continued to chatter away happily, filling the silence with stories Lucius did not know.
“It’s warm enough that snow doesn’t even fall in winter, close to a lake or sea, hardly any people around—but a woman in her twenties living alone, and you want the Public Security Force nearby? What in the world is that supposed to mean?”
Rowald tapped his shoulder, saying ‘There’s no way to have the Public Security Force in a place with hardly anyone around,’ his sharp eyes crinkling with mock confusion.
The distance between them spoke of familiarity, the familiar ease of old friends.
Lucius, by contrast, kept his expression unchanged and folded his fingertips carefully.
“In any case, God seems to be on your side—I found a suitable place and made the purchase. But you’ll need to go pay the money yourself.”
He tapped ash to the ground and began scribbling in a notebook he’d drawn from his breast pocket.
“Whether you buy it or not, see it yourself if you’re curious and decide then. Anyway, I’ve done what I can.”
Lucius gazed at the half-folded paper Rowald offered for a long while without speaking.
The more he learned of his past self, the more complicated it became. Suddenly an estate in the Southern Region, with no prior connection. And a woman’s estate at that.
An uneasy feeling stirred in him.
Perhaps that young lady from the South.
He hoped—he truly hoped—it wasn’t what he suspected.
The soft green of his eyes deepened, grew damp.
“…For now, thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. What’s between us?”
“I’ll repay you properly.”
“What you did last time is enough. But—Celia? Aren’t you going after her?”
At that, Lucius’s gaze moved in the direction she had vanished.
“I hope she hasn’t gone far.”
“What’s there to worry about? There are crowds, sure, but it’s not a place to lose yourself in. There are some drunks, but you know as well as I do that the Public Security Force is stationed throughout.”
“I suppose that’s true, but…”
Lucius clenched and unclenched his fists uneasily. Watching him—a beast ready to bolt, feigning calm—Rowald let out a hollow laugh.
‘If the women from our discussion group saw this, they’d lose their minds.’
Unaware that noble society had already caused a stir once, he ended the conversation with a helpless expression.
“…Just don’t worry too much. Long as she doesn’t cross the line where the lamps end, it’ll be fine. She’d know better than that anyway.”
“Why?”
“Why, you ask?”
Rowald, hearing what seemed like a naive question, narrowed his eyes and tilted his head slightly.
“Because that’s Dunlow Hallow.”

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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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