My Ex-Husband Came Back Crazy - Chapter 4

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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 4
Chapter 1. The Fracture (4)
Every eye turned toward the Physician. For a moment, the air seemed to still.
“The Young Master has awakened!”
The Physician burst out, his coat clutched in one hand, his medical attire not yet properly arranged, and he paused to catch his breath before speaking again.
At last, joy bloomed across the faces of those who had been shrouded in funeral gloom over the Duchess’s collapse. The corridor erupted into chaos.
Celia was able to release the tension she’d been holding in her shoulders.
It was enough that he had awakened.
Yet her relief carried a distance from the joy the others felt.
‘If I become a widow, there’s no way out. If I don’t remarry, I’ll have to keep the Windmere name forever.’
And she’d have to wear black for at least a year.
“I’ll go in and check on him.”
News that Windmere’s sole heir—the future of the House—had awakened sent the servants dancing with excitement, but Celia pushed past them and approached the door.
Had the Duchess been awake, she would have bellowed at Celia to turn back, but at that very moment, that great lady was being hurried away by the servants’ hands.
There was no one here now to stop Celia’s steps as she moved toward the newly awakened Lucius.
She had no intention of showing it, but her gait was weightless.
‘As long as he has enough wits about him to think, he’ll stamp the Divorce Documents for me.’
He wouldn’t want to be buried beside her either, after all.
The firmly shut door swung halfway open.
Passing through the thick herbal scent, she entered to find the Physician and his assistants bustling about frantically.
And beyond the figures of several people, a man sat on the bed.
The man with thick lashes that fluttered slowly as if clearing his clouded vision exchanged a few answers with the Physician’s assistants.
“What is your name?”
“Lucius.”
“Do you know where you are?”
“…My room, I suppose.”
His voice was slightly hoarse, yet unhurried. With its low, quiet timbre, people naturally leaned in to listen.
“Do you know what day it is?”
“…I’m not sure.”
But something about the conversation felt strange.
“Do you remember how you were injured?”
“No.”
Celia, whose eyes had been rolling in the gap of the half-open door, finally pushed the heavy door open with her fingertips. The soft creak of the hinges melted into the noise of the room, and at the same moment, Lucius—who had been blurred among the crowd—came into sharp focus.
“I don’t think the mind I’m carrying right now is functioning properly.”
From the bed, Lucius Windmere—his pallor betraying the severity of his illness—pressed his temple with his index finger as his dry lips parted.
“I can’t remember anything.”
The scratch of the Physicians’ pens against ink bottles stopped abruptly.
Celia, just crossing the threshold, went rigid as a wooden doll.
A full two weeks.
Two weeks since he had hovered between life and death, and finally awakened, sparing her from becoming a widow.
“May I ask what you mean by not remembering? Do you remember me, at least?”
“Were we acquainted? I’m afraid I can only tell you that I don’t recognize any of the faces here.”
It was deep in the pre-dawn hours, before the sun had yet risen—darkness settling like shelter.
Pale dawn mist flowed down beyond the windowpane.
Beyond the window that had been slightly opened to dispel the heavy herbal scent, the aroma of summer frost drifted in.
The anxious Physicians posed questions, and his voice emerged intermittently. His words were polished, his tone refined.
His eyes, usually cold as if they had swallowed frost and dull as if they held silence, were blurred with something now. Those eyes, devoid of any trace of emotion, flickering like damp smoke, turned toward her.
From beyond the Physician’s shoulder, a quiet gaze pierced through her, standing frozen at the doorway.
His eyes widened slowly. Pupils that had hung vacant began to sharpen, and the focus of his stare landed precisely on her.
“…”
“…”
His breathing shifted subtly. His regular rhythm grew slower, more careful, and tension crept silently into Celia’s fingertips.
They recognized each other, yet neither opened their lips.
Lucius, looking up at her from the bed, and Celia, standing at the doorway. Between them were several people. There was the gentle sound of water, the scent of medicines, the light rustle of cloth—yet a taut silence stretched between the two of them alone.
Just before that silence, shared only by these two, could press down upon the entire room, one maidservant who had overheard the Physicians’ conversation held her breath in the corner. The tension that had flowed across the moment shattered like cracked glass.
“Good heavens…”
That sound was like a pebble thrown into still water.
Celia exhaled the breath she had been holding, her fingertips white with pressure. It did not take long for her frozen thoughts to begin moving normally again.
“Ah, Young Master. You’ll be quite all right.”
“It’s nothing serious. You’ll surely recover your memory soon, so please don’t worry too much—”
“We will do everything in our power to find a solution.”
The flustered Physicians began offering him comfort without thought.
He answered their words dutifully, yet soullessly, his gaze never leaving Celia.
As Lucius kept his head fixed on one spot, unable to turn away, the others soon noticed her as well.
“Everyone out.”
Celia issued the order as she stepped forward.
Her neatly tied ribbon fluttered as it followed. Reaching the foot of the bed, she stood with her spine straight, looking down at him. Soon the servants rushed out, and the two were alone.
He was looking up at her precisely.
A few seconds of silence stretched. Lucius’s brow furrowed slightly. He opened his mouth to speak, but Celia cut him off.
“Don’t talk nonsense.”
Her eyes gleamed like a hunting dog’s. Her pale hands flushed with anger in an instant.
‘Memory loss? That’s absurd. He’s definitely trying to trick me again.’
The foolishness of those two weeks spent worrying he might die and leave her a widow ignited into flame.
Lucius regarded her steadily.
“I won’t fall for that lie.”
The Divorce Documents, prepared for the divorce that would take place in six months, had arrived at the estate just two days ago. So what? Even if she began preparations now, it would barely be enough—and he wants her to forget?
‘If he’s lying to deceive me, I’ll kill him. And if he’s genuinely lost his memory, I’ll kill him too.’
She looked down at him with eyes that mingled absurdity and fury.
As she drew closer, he—who had been sitting unguarded with his arm draped across the pristine sheets—showed his first sign of change. His nostrils flared slightly, and his eyes deepened.
As she trembled and bit her lip with her front teeth, Lucius’s eyes traced her face.
The light pooling in his pupils coalesced into a single point, and that focus landed on her lips—bitten raw and ravaged countless times.
“You—”
But the words she was about to pour out were smothered beneath the hand that seized her cheek and the fingers that pressed against her lips.
“Huh!?”
Her closed mouth yielded helplessly beneath that touch.
Watching her lips indent pathetically beneath his thumb, he lowered himself. Her teeth, grinding as she tried to speak, scraped against his finger, but Lucius paid no heed.
Celia’s breath caught. Bewilderment flickered across her face, which had been ripening with rage, and her lips—open by instinct—would not close. Her blinking eyes stilled, and her pupils wavered beneath them.
A smile slowly spread across Lucius’s lips as he watched her.
“There’s one thing I do remember.”
His arm braced itself just before her, at the foot of the bed.
The bed sheet wrinkled smoothly with his movement, and his upper body tilted toward her. His large frame drew close as if it would swallow even her breath. His breathing drifted past, brushing her chin. That shadow fell across the hem of her dress.
In that instant, Lucius’s eyes curved.
A line of a smile traced across his pale face. Celia went rigid as a statue at the sight of his smile—one she was encountering for the first time.
“How beautiful you looked, crying beneath me.”
It was the height of summer.
Lucius Windmere had returned mad.

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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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