My Ex-Husband Came Back Crazy - Chapter 7

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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 7
Chapter 1. Fissure (7)
Lucius had something resembling obsessive cleanliness.
At least, that was what Celia understood.
He recoiled from touching anyone with almost pathological aversion.
He always wore gloves that covered all the way to his wrists when he went out, and he rarely allowed anyone into his private space.
And that aversion to contact, predictably, was far stricter with Celia.
Celia didn’t mind contact with others, but Lucius did.
“I have something I want to ask you, Celia.”
That was the nature of their relationship.
“Could you tell me—immature as I am now—what kind of nights we’ve spent together?”
Not like this—not this kind of contact!
Rigid as stone, she felt him draw close and lowered her chin with a creak. Before it could even touch her collarbone, her body sensed what was happening first.
She had stiffened before she could draw her next breath.
Her shoulder flinched, her fingertips curling inward as if of their own accord. Her heart struck an erratic rhythm, and what startled her happened in an instant.
“Let—let go……!”
Her eyes flew wide. Her lips pressed together firmly.
“We were husband and wife. There’s no need for you to be shy with me about this.”
He whispered, deliberately tender.
There’s a saying about what happens when ordinary people lose their minds: one of two things.
Either they become vacant, or they do things they never did before. Celia was now experiencing firsthand the truth of a passage she’d read somewhere long ago.
The evidence was right before her eyes.
“Or shall I call for fire?”
His skull must be utterly hollow, and a few newspapers had been shoved in by mistake.
The servants—who had only just escaped death’s door—couldn’t have told their young master that his wife and he were barely on speaking terms. That had to be it.
“You and I…… weren’t…… like this.”
Her mouth, which always flowed eloquent before him, gasped uselessly, severing clear communication.
At fifteen, when she’d wagered with her father about not wanting to attend the Academy, her mind had never felt this stiff.
As she stumbled over her words, shifting her hips, a long, sluggish breath escaped from him.
“My mind may have become strange, but the fact that I’m your husband hasn’t changed. There’s nothing wrong with a fond couple spending the night together, is there?”
Warm, firm hands pulled her toward him—she had arched her back as far away as she could manage.
The body heat felt through the fabric made her forehead burn.
“I heard you barely slept these past two weeks, nursing me. I’m sorry for worrying you.”
As if you might die and make me a widow……
“Let me prove I’m all right, and give me the chance to repay the debt of having left you alone.”
Their torsos touched, their breathing aligned, their gazes merged.
She turned her face away quickly, but his pressed form left no room to escape.
The words caught in her throat dissolved and were swallowed.
Looking at him as he held her close with soft, unhurried eyes—as though this were the most natural thing—Celia found herself at her wit’s end.
“You…… you’re like a stranger!”
She cried out and shoved him away with force.
The strength that seemed like it would never release her vanished like smoke, and he pulled back from her.
She became aware that her palms had pressed against his solid chest, and the sensation felt strange.
For some reason, she wanted to find a handkerchief and scrub her hands—so she clasped them together and quickly put distance between herself and him.
“Do I feel like a stranger to you?”
He drew his shoulders back slightly, as if a little taken aback.
Rather than that, she wished he’d curse at her. Pour out bitter words.
“I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought of that.”
He inclined his upper body as though offering a genuine apology, hands resting on his knees.
Lowering his torso, lifting his gaze from below to look up at her.
Celia, who had been ready to fling insults at him without delay, saw those transparent green eyes full of genuine bewilderment and swallowed her words as though they’d caught in her throat.
That insufferable Lucius, wearing such an expression. It had to be a devil’s plot.
He looked away awkwardly.
“When I saw you, I felt close to you immediately. Enough to understand why when I heard you were my wife. More than my mother, even.”
Close……?
She couldn’t even fathom where or how things had gone so wrong.
Was it a problem that she was there when he woke? Or had he, having brushed against death, forgotten what resentment even meant?
Right now, Lucius should have been shouting at her that the person who attacked him seemed to be connected to Brickwell—not doing this.
“Since I felt you were close to me, everything seemed natural. But I didn’t consider that from your perspective, your husband lost his memory overnight and changed, so it might feel unfamiliar.”
It was stiflingly submissive.
Celia pressed hard against her uncontrollable hands and feet. Otherwise, she couldn’t keep hold of her senses in this absurd situation.
“Did I frighten you by approaching so suddenly?”
A fragment of memory from some time with Lucius pierced her.
It had been just such a night.
The sun had sunk beyond the horizon, and the heavy air of midday had been washed away—a summer evening on the Archipelago.
A great incident had occurred in the heart of the Archipelago, and this was what Lucius had said to Celia, caught up in its wake.
“Celia Brickwell. Now I understand well enough that you’re a woman without fear, without terror. So naturally you’d create this damnable outcome. Isn’t that right?”
She didn’t understand why that unpleasant memory surfaced now.
His soothing tone kindled spite within her.
Frighten her?
She couldn’t possibly feel such an emotion toward someone like Lucius. Celia set her jaw hard. To shake off his face drawing near, she planted her palms on his shoulders and shoved.
“I’m not afraid of you!”
In that instant, Lucius’s expression softened like melting wax.
His eyes grew gentle as if he’d drunk something sweet, and Celia covered her mouth to stifle the hiccup rising in her throat.
“Thank goodness. Right now, there’s nothing I can think about except you—I was worried you’d find me repulsive.”
She had to get him out of her space.
A warning bell was clanging in Celia’s head.
Rational thought couldn’t hold for more than a few seconds before tumbling backward again. The irrational Lucius kept sowing confusion and sprouting panic in her with each repetition.
“Now, leave.”
“Mm.”
He tilted his head, looking troubled.
The drawn-out tone felt almost coquettish, surely only because she was too frazzled to judge it clearly.
“But Celia, shouldn’t we be close to each other for both our sakes?”
“……That’s not—that doesn’t make sense.”
“The doctor said so. To recover my memories, I need to spend time with people dear to me and have chances to naturally recall happy moments. Surely, for me, that person is you? And you’ll grow accustomed to what I am now if I’m near you.”
His arms had settled across her shoulders without her noticing. The heavy weight made her wince, and as his center shifted, her body tilted slightly. Reflexively, she stepped back to steady herself, and her back met the wall.
When had she been driven into this corner?
“And I don’t want to spend tonight like this—so emptily.”
He was using her cornered position expertly.
Lucius dropped his face over hers and pressed his body close.
The contact was damp. Intent was palpable. It was a seduction to fall into something she’d never experienced before.
The bergamot and lavender scent that came from him rose subtly on cool moisture. A different note wove into the tart citrus—what had been fresh and delicate transformed in an instant into something masculine.
“Even in that brief moment, I wanted to see you. If you’d take pity on your husband who lost his memory and returned from the brink, I beg you—allow me to be at your side tonight.”
Like a creature caught in a trap, she stiffened for a moment under the weight of an intensity she’d never felt before.
“I’ll try my best to satisfy you.”
She jerked her head up, doubting her own ears. Lucius nimbly turned his cheek to avoid colliding with her forehead.
“What—what did you just say?”
As she stared at him, eyes wide, he slid his index finger along her neck where a wisp of white hair had fallen aside.
When Celia’s neck shrank back like a turtle’s, he pressed his lips to the crown of her head. At the sensation of contact, she flinched.
“Of course, you might be frightened because I feel like a stranger. Would it be all right if I proposed an alternative?”
“Whatever it is, I hate it.”
The words tumbled out reflexively, as though she were addressing the Lucius she’d always known.
Despite her cold, decisive reply, he continued smoothly, as if he would not hesitate. Celia’s eyes narrowed. His eyes reddened at the edges. She saw fire kindle in the depths of his pupils.
“At least listen.”
His damp lips curved upward crookedly.
“I’ll only go as far as you permit me.”

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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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