My Ex-Husband Came Back Crazy - Chapter 53

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

Episode 53
Chapter 5. Secrets (10)
The Glass Corridor lay nestled between the main house and the garden, a long passage linking the two.
Celia inspected the orderly arrangement of decorative plants lining both sides of the passage, her feet pressed demurely together but secretly fidgeting beneath her skirts. The tepid air and the leaves that had flourished all summer, now wilting at their edges, held little interest for her.
And the rigid iron chairs, as if making a show of how much emphasis was placed on propriety and discipline, were hardly worth mentioning.
“…….”
“…….”
Only after the minute hand had traced its path several times did Celia finally turn her head to observe the woman seated across from her.
Elinor sat opposite her.
“So, why did you call for me?”
Unable to bear the silence any longer, Celia spoke, her tone flat.
At her blunt question, Elinor’s eyelashes fluttered.
“I hear that you still find my handmaidens… troublesome.”
“Of course I do. Surely you didn’t expect me not to be?”
At Celia’s indifferent attitude, Elinor, who had begun to shift in her seat, quickly pressed her lips together and lowered her head.
“Still, you must accept them. Take those girls with you when you go out.”
She had called this a tea time, and Celia was already tiring of the two of them sitting here alone together, when her eyebrows slowly rose.
“And why should I do that?”
“You… that is not something you need concern yourself with.”
Elinor’s hands moved repeatedly, her gaze flickering between the interior of the corridor and the garden beyond.
Celia watched her for a moment, then rested her chin on her hand.
“Is it because of the Duke?”
At that moment, color drained from Elinor’s face.
It seemed Celia had hit upon the truth. She released her supporting hand and narrowed one eye.
“Well, that’s fortunate. Tell me now—there’s no point in hiding it anymore. Why should I avoid the Duke?”
“That is…….”
Elinor’s lips opened and closed rapidly.
No further words came. Celia regarded her with the detached expression of one watching a stage comedy, until something occurred to her and she leaned forward, her posture sharpening.
“From that reaction, surely you’re not saying that every time Lucius was struck by the Duke, it was always like this?”
Elinor went rigid, ashen.
The quality of her response—as if to ask how Celia could possibly know—allowed Celia to read volumes. Her lips twisted coldly.
“What…? Truly?”
“No. That is, I—!”
Elinor’s head snapped up urgently.
Before she could complete her sentence, hurried footsteps sounded from beyond the corridor.
“Madam! Terrible news has—!”
A servant came running, his breathing ragged.
His face drained of color as he looked between the two women, then spoke.
“The Duke and the Young Master are—!”
***
Having finished the Groundbreaking Ceremony for Albion Bridge, Lucius turned his steps toward the Western Hallway without even changing his clothes.
The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky.
Sunset streamed through every window, casting long, clean bands of red light across the parquetry of the floor. The servants standing against the walls straightened in unison at the sight of him.
Unlike usual, Lucius paid no attention to their bows as he walked the corridor.
Rotten already stood before the door.
“I heard Father was asking for me.”
“Yes, the Duke is waiting for you, sir.”
The aged butler bowed, then pushed the heavy door open.
The Study was half-lit by the glow streaming through the western windows. Alzner, seated before his desk, rested one hand over a half-folded sheaf of papers as his son entered, regarding him in silence.
“You’re back earlier than expected.”
“Yes. The ceremony went more smoothly than scheduled.”
Lucius stopped at a measured distance before the desk.
Alzner studied him briefly, then pushed the papers aside.
“The Albion Bridge project remains yours to manage. Even with your memory loss, you should be capable of handling work of that scale, I presume?”
“Since I was already overseeing it, the work feels familiar again quite quickly.”
After the brief exchange, silence settled over the room. Somewhere beyond the window, the cry of a crow cut through the air and faded.
Alzner did not rise from his seat, and his gaze remained fixed upon his son—still dull, still heavy.
His heart beat slowly once, but Lucius mastered the response without difficulty.
He was no longer afraid of Alzner.
It was a stark contrast to the last encounter, when his body had stiffened of its own accord. The traces that required no explanation. The habits worn deep since childhood. The ancient dread that had lodged itself in his flesh rather than his mind—when he chose to reckon with it anew, it no longer held sway.
It was one of the advantages of the void that had appeared after losing his memory.
‘Violence alone won’t sustain this system for long. To manage a grown son requires something far more subtle than brute force. Perhaps… today he means to attempt a conversation.’
It was a tedious line of reasoning. Lucius did not delay further.
“I have something to report.”
“What is it?”
“Once work on Albion Bridge begins in earnest, shuttling between the site and the castle would be gravely inefficient. I intend to stay in a residence prepared for the purpose for the time being.”
The Albion Bridge project was one of the major undertakings he had overseen before his memory loss.
The Albion Bridge was not merely a span of stone and steel, but a strategic nexus that could simultaneously control the Empire’s primary trade routes and military movements. He deemed the project sufficiently significant to warrant such a proposal.
Alzner did not answer at once.
His fingertips tapped once against the desktop, then stilled.
“You mean you would live separately?”
“Yes.”
A low, clipped laugh sounded.
“I forbid it.”
It was a clean refusal, brooking no reconsideration.
Having expected this, Lucius voiced the prepared response instead of showing alarm.
“Regardless of your wishes, Imperial noble custom permits a Direct Heir of age to maintain separate quarters and his own household staff. No matter that you are my father, you lack the authority to deny me the residence that accompanies my assigned duties.”
This silence was brief.
“You?”
Alzner pulled himself up from the chair’s back. The heavy seat scraped briefly across the carpet as it was shoved aside.
“You speak of rights before me?”
Cold fury spilled forth.
“So your mind is truly gone if you’ve lost all sense of propriety as well.”
Lucius’s body reacted sharply. His spine contracted for a moment, and his breath caught in his throat. The ancient dread had resurged in this sordid manner.
“……What I am saying now is not a request for permission. It is a notification.”
“A notification?”
“Yes. While I have observed the forms of asking, the decision is already made.”
A muscle twitched faintly at Alzner’s temple. The suppressed fury stirred first in that small place.
“How dare you—!”
He seized the heavy Paperweight from the desktop. The late sunset caught the metal, making it gleam a sanguine red.
“You haven’t come to your senses yet!”
“Your Grace!”
Rotten, who had been quietly observing the situation, rushed forward.
The old butler hung upon Alzner’s arm with both hands.
“You must compose yourself. Now is not the—”
His raspy voice did not finish.
As Alzner wrenched his arm away, the sharp edge of the Paperweight still in his grip caught Rotten’s temple directly.
A dull sound rang out.
Blood spattered between the old man’s white hair, and Rotten’s body crumpled lifelessly to one side. His hunched shoulders struck the carpet, and a belated groan escaped—all in an instant.
Lucius watched the scene unfold helplessly.
“What is—”
The warm green eyes that Celia had praised for their gentleness dilated noticeably. His throat tightened, and his breath came ragged and harsh.
Eyes shot with blood fixed slowly upon Alzner.
“Rotten!”
In that moment, Lucius recognized the tempest of emotion roiling within him.
Blood is cruel in what it reveals. It was the very instant that Lucius’s hand, seized with strength, began to reach toward Alzner.
The door swung open.
“So this is indeed the Study of the Duke of House of Windmere.”
Tap-tap.
Scattering snow-white hair, a familiar woman emerged with the sound of sharp footsteps.
She took in the scene in sequence—Rotten on the ground, Alzner holding the Paperweight, Lucius standing before him—and touched her fan lightly to her lips.
“The marketplace must be far quieter than this.”

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