Chapter 190 (R18)

Chapter 190 (R18)

It went on, countless times, until the faint light of dawn finally broke, and she could barely fall asleep. Later, she wouldn’t even be able to distinguish between dreams and reality.

His touch, his gaze, and his words seemed to invade her, blurring the boundaries between dream and reality, shaking her back and forth.

How could a person be so cruel?

She stuck out her tongue in disgust. It was because she had never experienced such behavior from him before.

He had always been gentle, sometimes playfully teasing, but never relentless. She recalled when they returned from Dixie’s house, how he laid her down on the grass and kissed her.

That tenderness had been a bit different, but his behavior in bed had matured. He was always considerate, and willing to compromise.

But yesterday, something had broken that chain of protection he held over her. And it was abundantly clear why.

“Freaking Frederick Joel Balancingar.”

She spoke his name as if casting a curse.

All of this was because of Frederick’s kiss, that insidious act of touching her bare hand. Throughout the night they spent together, Lucius had trembled at the thought of Frederick’s kiss lingering on her hand, even biting it in the end.

Just as sleep began to embrace her, she was awakened by another round of torment, with Lucius once again acting like a snake, bringing her to hell.

Her body was marked all over.

Most of the maids’ faces, who hardly blushed at anything, were filled with confusion. Deatrice had pretty much said all she needed to say. She hoped that this incident would put Lucius’s jealousy to rest forever.

No, it had to. If he didn’t let her sleep, Deatrice didn’t know if she could resist the urge to grab the object on the nightstand and bash Lucius’s head with it.

However, as Deatrice prepared her heavy body and descended to the reception room, she found herself in yet another state of bewilderment. Gifts were spread out from the hallway to the reception room.

At first, she thought they might be presents Lucius had sent out of guilt, but when the maids handed her the note with awkward expressions, Deatrice’s face turned pale.

[A gift. Just send it back. I’ll make sure it’s packed full, even in the garden. -Frederick Joel Balancingar]

That darn name appeared once again.

“What should I do?”

The prince had kissed his former fiancee, the woman he shot, in an attempt to forgive her, and the following day, he sent a bunch of gifts.

It was bound to be the talk of the social circles. But Deatrice’s mind was completely blank.

If Lucius knows this…

She felt like today, tomorrow, and the next day would never end.

Holding the note tightly in her hand, Deatrice grabbed the steward’s hand with urgency and said, “Send them back immediately. No one but us should know that the gifts have arrived. Especially not Lucius. Got it?”

The urgency in her words was so intense that the steward nodded firmly, almost violently. Breathing a sigh of relief, Deatrice turned away and suddenly thought of something, turning her body back to face him.

“The prince is staying at the Dawn Palace. There’s a small garden there. Tell them to bury the gifts there.”

“What? Bury the gifts in the ground?”

“Yeah. That way, they won’t be sent back immediately. Make sure to tell them that they should bury them in the ground.”

It was a strange command, but the steward nodded in agreement. After all, he was not the one selling land; he was the one delivering orders.

Perhaps the knights responsible for returning the gifts would take care of the task. Knights often underwent training in digging so that it wouldn’t be that difficult of a task. Considering it as someone else’s work, the steward answered to please his mistress.

“I will do as you command, madam.”

* * *

She spent the whole day feeling unwell, not eating dinner, lying in bed. When Lucius returned from the palace, he heard the news and, after hearing about her condition, bothered the kitchen staff to prepare nutritious food late at night, even calling for the doctor.

Deatrice once said she would rather die than show herself in this state to anyone. Seeing her, who looked like she had been seriously ill for years due to lack of sleep, Lucius sighed and walked around the room.

“Please. If you’re in pain, you should see a doctor.”

“It’s not because I’m in pain, it’s because of someone else that I pushed myself too hard. If I rest, I’ll get better, so please, leave me alone. I’m not as resilient as someone else.”

“Now you’re going to keep calling me ‘someone else’?”

With a playful sigh, Lucius, sitting on the bed where Deatrice was lying, placed his hand on her forehead.

Even with this everyday gesture, Deatrice was slightly wary after the ordeal of the previous night. Lucius shrugged his shoulders like a cat, and only after confirming that nothing untoward was happening did he breathe a sigh of relief, observing Deatrice relaxing her tension.

“Look, you have a slight fever.”

“It’s because I pushed myself too hard….”

“Just because you pushed yourself too hard for one night and ended up like this, do you think that’s any different from being sick?”

Lucius, who had been healthy since birth and lived a life of daily training, couldn’t quite understand Deatrice’s current state. She regarded him with eyes full of resentment as she gazed at him with the lingering bitterness of “It’s because of someone else” that had been brewing in her all day.

In response, he sighed and took her hand.

“I’m sorry about yesterday. I was out of my mind. I could tell even without you saying anything. Should I try kneeling to show you? My knees are feeling weak.”

If only he had come out like this earlier, without using the word ‘sick’. Finally, Deatrice softened her stance a little, her guilt and frustration slightly subsiding as she looked at Lucius’s face.

She came quietly, holding back what she was about to say, ‘Don’t do this again.’

“Next time, let me sleep. Do you understand?”