Acidity of Regret Ch 10
- Dec 15, 2025
- 8 min read
Updated: Dec 16, 2025
Just a week ago, her world had been flawlessly peaceful.
She had a benevolent father, the warmth of the Count’s household, and a society that showered her with favor—perhaps due to her beauty, but favor nonetheless. It was a life without blemish, a wide-open road of endless promise.
But the moment her status and honor crumbled, all that goodwill curdled into mockery.
In less than a week, she had endured more ridicule and scorn than she could count. Even the knights, seeing her stripped of power, had looked at her with eyes full of filthy intent, eager to exploit her vulnerability.
The slave auction was a testament to that horror. Had Declan arrived even a moment later, she would have been sold off to face a fate far worse than anything she had yet suffered.
She had heard rumors about the aristocrats who frequented these clandestine auctions—especially the so-called ‘VIPs’ who threw around colossal sums without hesitation.
They were men with grotesque appetites, seeking an outlet for the depraved desires they couldn't indulge in polite society. Surviving two days in a place built for such transactions was a commendable feat for Vanessa.
As the daughter of a Count, born into a family where women were cherished, she had grown up seeing and hearing only the finest things.
While she had always been grateful, a part of her had taken it for granted, assuming it was simply her due. She had never once imagined a life where she wasn't a noblewoman.
But that life was never truly hers. Power, she realized now, was as fragile as a glass bead—shattering at the slightest impact.
[Vanessal "Hic."
She flinched at the sudden warmth touching her cheek.
[Declan] "I'm not exactly talented at comforting people."
Through her blurred vision, his low voice cut in abruptly.
[Declan] "This is about the only thing I know how to do."
His large hand stroked her cheek repeatedly. She knew he was trying to wipe away the tears soaking her face.
His touch was rough and unpracticed, clearly showing he had little experience in offering solace. Yet, strangely enough, that clumsy comfort was the only sedative that worked on her now.
As her tears were wiped away, his face came into focus. She nuzzled her face against the palm cupping her cheek. The pitiful gesture was reminiscent of an abandoned animal seeking warmth.
Declan leaned in and pressed his lips to her cheek. It was lighter than their kiss on the balcony, yet the emotional weight of it felt far deeper.
After rubbing the clear tears away with his lips, he rested his forehead against hers. At the unfamiliar intimacy of the contact, her shoulders curled inward.
[Declan] "Your fever has gone down a bit."
Realizing he was checking her temperature, Vanessa pressed her lips together tightly. Even as she sobbed, his unshakable calm seemed to seep into her, grounding her.
Swallowing the turmoil churning inside, she managed to ask.
[Vanessa] "How... did you know? That I was there..."
[Declan] "The moment I arrived in Ingzella, my ears were practically bleeding with gossip about the Rohawk family."
[Vanessa] "..."
[Declan] "When I heard the famous Vanessa Rohawk was about to be sold as a slave for treason, I even heard some dog-like bastards joking about buying you themselves."
The mention of such degrading jokes brought painful memories flooding back, and she clenched her hands into fists.
[Vanessa] "I... I don't even know how it happened... The Imperial Knight barged in at dawn, and then it just..."
[Vanessa] "..."
[Vanessa] "My father isn't that kind of person. Treason? Why would he ever..."
Just thinking about the scene of her father’s death felt like her heart was being hacked to pieces. Yet, everyone spoke as if his guilt were a fact, and treated her accordingly, until she no longer knew what the truth was.
Even as she told herself it was impossible, a dark corner of her mind whispered a poisonous 'What if?' like mold spreading in the damp.
Maybe her father really, truly had...
[Declan] "Stay here."
Just as she was about to sink into the swamp of confusion threatening to consume her sanity, his low voice pulled her out.
Vanessa looked up with tear-filled eyes. Declan swept her disheveled blonde hair back from her face.
[Declan] "You have nowhere else to go, do you?"
It was a statement she couldn't refute, even if she wanted to.
Technically, she had relatives, but they were few in number. More importantly, the stigma of treason weighed heavily on her. She didn't need to see it with her own eyes to know they would want nothing to do with a blood relative branded a criminal.
Honestly, she doubted they would accept her now that she was no longer a Count's daughter.
From her childhood memories, her few relatives had been exceptionally greedy people. Incompetent yet overflowing with avarice, they had always been a hindrance rather than a help to the Rohawk family.
Furthermore, the men among them had often cast unpleasant glances her way, making any interaction with them deeply uncomfortable.
Perhaps if she went to them, realizing her only remaining value lay in her face, they might have sold her off as a slave themselves for a hefty price.
Whether by the Emperor’s decree or at the hands of her relatives, her end would be equally miserable and tragic.
Rather than falling into their clutches, remaining by Declan’s side—where she had only good memories—seemed the far better option.
[Vanessa] "Is that... allowed?"
[Declan] "If I didn't intend to let you stay, I wouldn't have brought you here in the first place."
Looking back, he had asked her at the auction house:
Will you come with me?
Had that question implied permission to stay in the Grand Duchy all along?
As the realization settled in, a warmth began to fill her chest that had been frozen cold since the day the guards stormed her home.
Vanessa had nothing left to offer him. Even if, by some miracle, their relationship developed into a future together, she was no longer a noblewoman. She could bring him neither power nor honor—not even the smallest advantage.
This was no exaggeration; her position had plummeted to that of a commoner. All she held in her hands now was futility and emptiness.
Perhaps she even carried the disgrace of being a 'former noble who dared to rebel against the Imperial Family.' Far from helping his smooth life, she would inevitably be an obstacle.
Yet, Declan showed no hesitation in harboring her. His attitude made it crystal clear that he sought neither wealth nor status from her.
In this moment, that genuine stance was the most comforting embrace she could have asked for.
Having endured endless humiliation and contempt before coming here, his acceptance meant everything.
[Vanessa] "Thank you."
[Declan] "..."
[Vanessa] "Thank you, deeply..."
Tears threatened to spill again, but for a different reason this time. She felt as though she had been trapped in pitch-black darkness, only to finally find a ray of light.
This man, dark as the night itself, had strangely become her beacon, guiding her out of the abyss.
Suddenly, the image of a bright lantern floating in a dark dungeon corridor flashed in her mind.
It was Crown Prince Hayden who had come holding that light. But faced with Declan’s overwhelming presence right before her, that memory scattered like thin mist.
[Declan] "You should rest a bit more. You still have a slight fever."
Still caressing her cheek, he gently laid her back down.
Resting her head on a pillow as soft as his embrace, she drifted into sleep, the tear tracks still fresh on her face.
When the high fever had ravaged her, she hadn't dreamt at all. But as her body found some comfort, an endless parade of nightmares began.
[Vanessa] "Gasp!"
Moaning in distress throughout her sleep, she suddenly bolted upright, trembling as if in a seizure.
Her pupils, dilating and shaking without focus, slowly returned to normal as she buried her face in her hands. Her palms came away damp; her face was drenched in cold sweat.
Stumbling out of bed, she headed for the table in the corner of the room. She gulped down the water the maid had poured from a pitcher, following Declan’s orders, and tried to steady her erratic breathing.
It had been ten days already. Waking up screaming from nightmares had become a nightly ritual.
The dream was always the same.
It was that dawn, the moment everything began. But in the dream, after her father, Vanessa too was beheaded by the Captain of the Guard. The moment her severed head made eye contact with her own body, she would wake up.
Her body felt sticky with sweat. Setting down the glass, she stood dazed for a moment before heading to the terrace for some fresh air.
Opening the door quietly, a cool breeze brushed over her face like a cleansing wash. It reminded her of the balcony at the banquet—once her secret hideaway, now a memory inextricably linked to Declan.
The Grand Duchy of Vinkart, locked in the dead of night, reminded her of a black forest in winter. It was infinitely silent, yet that silence brought a profound sense of calm.
She had once told Declan she wanted to visit Vinkart if given the chance, but she never imagined she would arrive like this.
As she had expected back in the capital, this place was in perfect harmony with him.
Consequently, Vanessa—colorful and vibrant like the capital—felt like a foreign object here, unable to blend into the scenery.
[Declan] "Why are you up?"
Suddenly, a deep voice pierced her ear.
Startled by the unexpected presence, she turned her head to find Declan standing on the adjacent terrace. In the pitch-black darkness, only the ember of his cigar glowed vividly.
The pungent scent of tobacco drifted toward her. Noticing her gaze on the cigar, he crushed it out against the railing without a second thought and moved closer to her side of the partition.
[Declan] "Another nightmare?"
Her lips parted slightly before she nodded. His gaze swept over her frail frame before settling on her gaunt face.
[Declan] "Would you like to come over here?"
[Vanessa] "Pardon?"
[Declan] "To my bedroom."
She stood there with a blank expression, deliberating.
If any other man had made such an offer, she would have refused without a second thought. But this was Declan, so she couldn't.
She was terrified of the night—she couldn't even remember the last time she had slept peacefully. And he was the only light in the nightmare threatening to swallow her whole.
After a long hesitation, she summoned her courage and nodded.
Declan smiled softly. It was a smile as captivating as the night view, impossible to look away from.
She left her terrace and opened the door to the adjoining room.
Declan was leaning against the doorframe, as if he had been waiting for her.
The room she had been using, which she thought was his, was actually a guest room. And this room, right next to it, was his true bedroom.
She stood outside the door, looking up at him blankly. Being this close to him brought a mix of relief and tension.
The relief was natural; it proved that he was the person she trusted most right now. And the tension... it was identical to what she had felt when they first kissed at the banquet.
It felt exactly like... crossing a dangerous line.
[Declan] "Aren't you coming in?"
He asked, his eyes crinkling at the corners as if tempting her.
She swallowed hard and stepped over the threshold—a line that felt like a point of no return.
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