Chapter 215

Chapter 215

Lucius imagined the scene of her meeting with the duke, confessing everything.

“It was Lucius.”

Her tragic voice echoed in his mind. The image of her sobbing as an actress painted itself vividly.

“Lucius did that. He pleaded with the emperor to seek revenge on my behalf. That day, when the imperial knights invaded us. That’s how Frederick almost died, and father, and I fell.”

In his imagination, the duke, enraged by the story, would grab his daughter’s shoulders.

“To think that such a wretched man is your husband. Unbearable. No, perhaps this could be a good opportunity. Abandon him now. Go to Frederick. Staying by the side of a man with such vengeful intentions has no benefits for you.'”

And thus, she solidified her decision, just as she did six years ago, choosing her father’s and her own authority over Lucius.

“It’s all nonsense.” Lucius spoke, dispelling the inflated, ridiculous thoughts.

It was all self-delusion. She wouldn’t do that. He had to remember all the countless words she said. Her confessions were different from six years ago.

“I miss you. I’m tormented by thoughts and feelings that can’t be expressed in a few lines.

If we meet, Lucy, how great it would be if I met you now.“

He could fall asleep imagining her riding her horse to him.

“Just… I feel like I can only love you.”

He had to remember the simple yet serious confessions that touched his heart.

But doubts crept in whenever he felt vulnerable again. Perhaps the thought that they matured was his misconception.

Moreover, this time, his wrongdoing was not as evident. No matter how much it was in the past, the fact that he wished for her downfall and pleaded with the emperor for revenge was wrong.

On that night, after Deatrice left, the emperor, staring blankly at the door through which she departed, spoke to Lucius.

“Let’s not talk about Effie’s son. Kill him, burn the corpse, and erase everything as if he never existed. Give it some time. It might be tough right now.”

The emperor, despite everything going according to his plan, or rather, because of it, consoled Lucius as if expressing sympathy for his knight.

“And Lucius, that hatred from back then won’t easily disappear. No matter how good things may seem now, marriage isn’t always pleasant. If your heart weakens even a bit, that hatred will resurface. So, let it be. Let go of her and find your own path.”

At that time, Lucius was angry towards the emperor, who had ruined everything. However, looking at his life over the past fortnight, he might find it difficult to disregard the emperor’s advice completely.

He wasn’t overtaken by hatred towards her. Not to that extent.

Sometimes, he doubted if she would abandon him, and sometimes, he believed in her love.

Alternating between doubt and trust, he spent the fortnight relentlessly carving through a corner of his heart with a sharp knife. And finally, Deatrice’s contact arrived.

With narrowed eyes, Lucius contemplated the news.

More than the joy of the end of uncertainty, the fear of confirming her choice was greater. Would she forgive him?

The prospect of the duke’s and her downfall, Lucius’ decision to marry her to annul the marriage afterward, the choice he once again contemplated to abandon her—would she be able to forgive him?

Lucius couldn’t help but wonder if there was still a trace of the hatred from back then buried somewhere in his heart, similar to the emperor’s situation.

Suddenly, a suffocating feeling overwhelmed him.

What if she truly decides to abandon him and annul their marriage? Lucius had been someone willing to sacrifice everything for her. However, if she were to abandon him, what would happen? If he lost her?

Even though it wasn’t thundering, Lucius felt suffocated. Desperately gasping for breath, he frantically untied his cravat and leaned his head on the desk, struggling to breathe.

In any case, there might be room for persuasion. She was a kind person and susceptible to sympathy.

He just needed to plead convincingly.

***

Upon arriving at the duke’s residence, Lucius was escorted to a small waiting room. He arrived earlier than expected and had to sit, holding an ornament idly as he waited for Deatrice.

Feeling an emptiness in his hands, he tried to appear serious, waiting for Deatrice with anticipation.

After some time, Deatrice finally entered.

Throughout his wait, Lucius had been preparing himself to read the first expression on her face, determined to choose his words carefully.

However, when she walked into the room, he found himself standing up instinctively, holding an ornament like a novice receiving a lady.

“Deatrice.”

The ornament Lucius had been holding rolled away as he approached Deatrice with a serious expression. Almost involuntarily, he tried to cup her face in his hands. However, she skillfully avoided his touch, brushing past him, leaving his hands suspended in the air.

Impatience surged through him. The feeling of a dreadful past repeating itself overwhelmed him.

“But I shouldn’t act hastily.”

Lucius clenched his fist, making a conscious effort to think.

After some contemplation, he realized that the reason for his gruesome failure six years ago was his impulsive reliance solely on his emotions in the final moments.

He had desperately hoped for Deatrice to empathize with him. That approach had frightened her away, and therefore, this time, he couldn’t afford to make the same mistake.

He needed to converse calmly, rationally apologize, and not expect Deatrice to automatically sympathize.

“Sorry. I startled you with my eagerness. Have you been in a lot of pain?”

He walked slowly towards her, asking. Deatrice still seemed to be in pain at first glance, appearing weak and forcing herself to rise just to meet him.

“I didn’t mean to rush you into meeting. I can wait as long as you need. We don’t have to talk about it today…”

“No. I thought we should talk as soon as possible.”