My Vengeful Former Lover

After bathing in cold salt water, Lucius laid his body down on the freshly made bed and felt the air’s warmth trying to penetrate into his flesh. His wet blonde hair dampened the sheets and a gap appeared between his robe, revealing his bare chest.

It was the first time he had lazily lied in bed in the morning instead of being productive with work. After the war, he always woke up at dawn and busily trained away in the Knights Templar. But lying here, it seemed like his habits in the years prior were shrouded and it felt good.

The scent of the garden outside that came in through the half-open window, the texture of the crisp bed linens, the dampness of the robe against his muscled back… Things that Lucius normally thought of as insignificant gradually took hold of him and made him marvel a little.

Perhaps it’s because his senses have become more sensitive.

Various scenes and fragmented images flashed past his mind and, once more, yesterday’s kiss occupied his head. He recollected the memory of being desperately hungry for her, the feeling of coveting her body as he stood before her, and holding Deatrice’s small face as he buried himself within her.

Lucius moaned, then lifted a pillow and slammed it into his face.

It wasn’t because he was terrified of his desires as he had previously been. Instead, he was pondering more on how much he wanted her for himself and how much his desire for her grew by the day.

When she lay underneath him yesterday, it was like his pride and self-esteem were all blown away from his mind and he wanted to be the one to surrender to her.

It was truly a sudden change.

The day before, he had wandered around the library, wondering if she would ever come down.

But even then, an aura of anxiety and breakdown haunted him with every step. The whole time, he thought about the possible reasons for her celebration and where that letter came from.

They weren’t staying at Northum. Therefore, if a letter came to his sister’s residence and says it was for Deatrice, it only goes to show that Deatrice had been regularly exchanging letters with the sender for the other person to know exactly where she was.

Lucius imagined how she would have written the letter.

[We’ve decided to stay at the Bellute’s mansion for a while. Please send your correspondence there.

With all my heart.

From: D.]

Lucius’ eyes blinked open.

Did she already have a new man?

To wait long enough for the reply, not to mention the two- to three-day journey from their home… The owner of that letter must be someone Lucius would have a hard time identifying.

He knew it was just a nonsensical, obsessive thought. But he was already overwhelmed with impulse and emotions to the point where he could not think rationally. So he sat in his study and repeated the names of the men who had shown interest in her.

Several men including Rivan Atals, Wissone Palden, and Hamilton Winble came to mind. However, most of them were now married and had already settled in their estates, becoming idle aristocrats.

He realized that all the men’s names he knew were from six years past and were utterly meaningless now.

So, who would she have taken a fancy to during the six years he wasn’t present?

As far as he knew, the only man she had had in the meantime was Fredhi, the deceased second prince of Galaba. Lucius didn’t know how much room that man had claimed in her heart, but he can’t just simply erase the fact that he was the one closest to her for some time. Shortly after his first reunion with Deatrice, when Lucius talked about how dull the prince was, she had a displeased expression and said:

“Don’t belittle Fredhi like that. He lost his life because of his father. I don’t want to hear anyone look down on him.”

Until then, the only attitude she had shown was resignation, so Lucius remembered the dryness of her tone quite vividly.

As he was trying to reach the newspaper over the table, he accidentally hit a cup and tea water came into his sleeve. The tea that had just been brought in was piping hot and Lucius, feeling the burn on his skin, rolled up his sleeves with a weak groan. He didn’t want to do anything about it though and simply rested his arm on the armrest of the sofa as he stared at the ceiling.

He didn’t say that out of jealousy. In fact, the prince that Lucius met was truly such a bore it was enough to make him yawn.

The former was dressed in an outfit that, although it did not break any rules of the banquet, would’ve been the option that most nobles chose the least. His hair was slick with wax and he happened to see Lucius standing in front of him with a lighter, so he spoke to him.

“Looks good.”

At the sudden remark, Lucius thought that he was being sarcastic. But Fredhi naturally gestured towards the lighter he was holding and started listing its features.