Acidity of Regret Ch 14
- Dec 15, 2025
- 8 min read
Updated: Dec 16, 2025
Vanessa sat leaning against the large bathtub, her eyes blankly absorbing the scene of the water filling up.
The petals floating on the surface were a vivid crimson. They moved languidly with the ripples, appearing quite elegant. She playfully poked a petal, then dipped her finger into the water.
Contrary to her expectation of a warm steam, the temperature she felt was lukewarm. She had been so distracted lately that she failed to notice the water wasn't steaming, unlike usual.
Only now did she realize the bathroom, which was always filled with muggy warmth, was colder and chillier than normal.
The Duchy’s climate was perpetually cool, day and night. Bathing in this water would surely give her a cold.
[Vanessa] "Excuse me."
She tentatively spoke to the maid pouring water.
[Vanessa] "Could you make the water a little hotter?"
The maid, transferring water from a container, paused.
[Vanessa] "Washing with this temperature is a little... difficult..."
Her voice trailed off as she added the explanation, witnessing the maid's expression staring back at her.
The gaze directed at her was clearly sulky. Facing it, her tongue felt like it had turned into a stone, freezing solid.
The maid’s eyes said it all:
Why should I take orders from the likes of you?
Surprised by this hostile gaze, her throat tightened. Her fingertips felt cold, as if frostbitten.
[Maid] "Yes, I will prepare it immediately."
If someone had stood outside the door and only heard her voice, they would have assumed the maid was utterly devoted. Her tone was polite and solicitous, like someone serving a superior with utmost sincerity.
Her expression, however, was different. Or rather, there was hardly an expression at all.
There was a clear smile on the maid’s lips. It was as if the upper and lower halves of her face were perfectly separated; only her eyes held a sharp, glittering edge.
Vanessa felt a sense of déjà vu. It was similar to the chilling stare she had felt yesterday, which made her uncomfortable from head to toe.
The gaze she had dismissed as her imagination was no illusion.
The maids who cleaned her room yesterday were probably wearing the same look as this maid now: one heavy with boredom and palpable irritation.
As the maid had politely answered, she warmed the water. As the hot water cascaded in, the floating petals trembled precariously. A few couldn't withstand the force and were swept outside the tub.
A red petal fell at her feet, pooling like blood. Steam finally began to rise in the bathroom, but her spirit felt desolate, trapped in the dead of winter.
Life with the castle’s staff was uncomfortable and awkward, like sleeping with the enemy. Their attitude had changed, as if they had merely been waiting for Declan to leave.
No, their attitude was consistent. But they had shifted to a more subtle and covert method of revealing their true feelings.
Since that day, the bathtub had never once been filled with truly warm water. Instead, the temperature steadily dropped, mirroring their cold disposition.
Finally, on the seventh day of Declan’s absence from the castle, the bathwater was frigid—cold enough to make the fine hairs on her body stand on end.
Vanessa could only settle for washing her face and hands. She tried to find hot water herself but, knowing nothing about this place, gave up, fearing she would only cause more trouble.
Splashing the cold water onto her face, she suddenly remembered her time at the Count's manor. She missed that time, which now felt like a peaceful dream.
[Vanessa] “Haa.”
She sighed heavily and lay down on the bed. That indescribable former sensation—a feeling of being choked up—filled her chest heavily again. It was like indigestion.
Yet, she hadn't eaten today, having skipped her meal due to lack of appetite, so it wasn't actual physical discomfort.
It wasn't that she couldn't guess why the servants disliked her so much. Even setting aside everything else and considering only her current status, she could vaguely surmise the reason.
In the past—when she was the Count of Rohawk’s daughter—it might have been different. But now, she was a prisoner of the great Ingzella Empire.
Not only would they be displeased about having to serve such a person, but she was also still acting haughtily, as if she were a noble.
How irritating must that be? They openly displayed their contempt, keenly aware of her diminished circumstances.
It was then that the realization struck her.
Ah, I see.
She vividly remembered the sharp treatment she had received before coming to the Grand Duchy. But because the servants here had treated her no differently from those at her own former manor, she had become complacent.
Looking back, it was all thanks to Declan. When he was present, their fear of the master’s cold nature prevented them from showing their true colors. They were forced to display superficial kindness to a guest personally brought by him.
The reality was revealed the moment Declan’s gaze was withdrawn. He had been a shield, willingly concealing her from this bitter ordeal.
[Vanessa] “...Ah!”
The skin around her fingernail, which she now habitually and unconsciously chewed, tore open.
A sharp throbbing pain came with blood oozing out like pus. Her gesture of wiping the blood on the edge of her clothes was familiar and impassive.
A dull ache pulsed in her fingertips, but she hid her hand under the pillow, as if to conceal it from everyone’s eyes. She didn't want anyone to see it.
Already deeply hated, she felt no inclination to expose anything easily. Whatever she showed might become a weakness they could exploit.
Only then could she finally define the sensation that tightly constricted her belly.
Misery.
It was the misery of her own circumstances, having instantly plunged into the gutter.
The reality that she couldn’t even utter a simple retort to their cruel treatment made her feel truly inexpressibly wretched.
Her head throbbed. Vanessa tightly clutched the pillow, where his lingering scent was already fading.
I wish he would return... soon.
The only thing she desired was the owner of this wide bed. She missed his warmth.
In her mind, the moments he came to her replayed repeatedly. The touch of his hand on her cheek, his gaze upon her, his low voice.
As she ruminated on those vivid sensations, which felt as fresh as yesterday, her agonizing solitude seemed to abate slightly.
For her, he was the only memory that brought relief and joy upon reflection.
Amidst these cold, icy people, he alone was warm. Like a fireplace encountered in the dead of winter, like an ember discovered on a freezing roadside.
She didn't know when it started, when his presence began to be the anchor for her stability.
Vanessa suddenly grew afraid of how much bigger he might become in her heart in the future.
The next day.
Perhaps because of bathing in the cold water, her body condition worsened; immediately upon waking, she felt light-headed and had a headache.
Occasional shivers, which made goosebumps rise, wracked her body. She spent the morning hours wrapped in a thick blanket like a garment, drinking warm tea.
No one cared about her pitiable state.
The maids, who came by dutifully to deliver her meals, offered obligatory greetings without meeting her eyes and swiftly retreated. Their movements were quick, as if they didn't want to remain in the same space as her for a second longer.
A physician would come if summoned, but since her condition wasn't yet that severe, Vanessa didn't call one.
Declan’s message came to mind as she sat staring blankly into the bottom of her teacup.
[Vanessa] "The library... he said I could go."
The end of her whispered voice was slightly hoarse. It seemed this would likely escalate into a severe cold later.
She rubbed her stinging nose ridge and got up from the sofa.
If I ask the butler, he will tell me the location.
Declan had said so, but even that felt daunting to her.
Finding the butler in this vast Grand Duke’s castle was a task in itself.
She pulled the bell rope just in case, but no one came. She tugged a few more times, stubbornly, before stopping, feeling sorry for herself.
Having no choice, she decided to go look for it herself and left the bedroom.
Stepping into the corridor, the familiar scenery unfolded.
His bedroom was here on the third floor, and his office was said to be on the second floor.
She ventured to go down the stairs, thinking perhaps the library and the study might be connected.
As the floor changed, the faces of the servants she saw also changed. They would flinch whenever they encountered Vanessa, stopping abruptly in their tracks.
Embarrassed by the stares, which were like those reserved for a strange outsider, Vanessa hurried past them.
Fortunately, finding the study wasn't too difficult. Opening a door that looked different from the others, a scene similar to where her father conducted his affairs was revealed.
Locating the study even gave her a sense of accomplishment, as if she had completed her first mission.
It should be somewhere nearby.
Vanessa looked around the rooms near the study. The adjacent room was unremarkable. Turning away without any gain, she then opened the door across the hall, facing the study.
It was not the library. But it stopped her in her tracks for another reason.
The room, which looked like it might have once been a bedroom, was in utter disarray, as if a storm had ripped through it.
The bed canopy was completely torn, dangling like a tangled spiderweb, and the vanity mirror was shattered into pieces, leaving sharp fragments everywhere.
On the floor, she saw horrifying, dried bloodstains, leaving only residual traces. The faint sunlight filtering through the broken windowpane cast a pallid atmosphere over the room.
The servants belonging to the castle were professional and meticulous. It was their job, of course, but the people working here seemed utterly incapable of slacking off, cleaning even areas that showed no signs of use repeatedly.
It was surprising that such a place existed within the castle. The number of servants she had encountered on her way here suggested there was enough manpower to attend to this room.
So why was this place left in such a horrific condition?
[Butler] "My Lady."
A voice that abruptly severed her surging curiosity sounded. Startled by the sudden presence behind her, Vanessa spun around hastily.
The butler, who served Declan most closely, stood there, looking polite and proper.
She rushed out of the room, feeling as if she had committed a grave transgression.
The butler closed the door to the room without asking her anything. It felt like a signal—that he wished her, like himself, would ask no questions.
The butler asked casually, as if nothing had happened.
[Butler] "Is there something you need on the second floor?"
[Vanessa] "Ah, I—I was looking for the library."
[Butler] "The library?"
[Vanessa] "I thought I might read some books."
She hoped that by saying this, he would naturally guide her.
Recalling Declan's instructions about the butler, she assumed he had given prior notice before leaving.
However, the butler remained rooted to the spot, keeping his polite smile. No, the smile shifted into one of slight embarrassment.
[Butler] "I am afraid I cannot let anyone enter without my master's explicit permission."
Comments