Acidity of Regret Ch 16
- Dec 15, 2025
- 7 min read
Updated: Dec 16, 2025
It was quite burdensome to treat the woman the Grand Duke had brought in such a manner. The butler distinctly remembered the Master taking meticulous care of her.
Yet, ironically, the person who issued the instruction was also the Master.
Thus, the butler tried his utmost to avoid encountering her. Since she tended to remain stationary in her bedroom all day, it didn't require much effort.
Coincidentally, a strange spark ignited among the servants.
The first malicious gossip originated from the maids assigned to Vanessa’s bedroom.
Although their position required them to maintain discretion, they had ears and were well aware of the circulating rumors.
Since the subject was none other than the famous ‘Vanessa Rohawk’ from the Ingzella Empire, the spark flared into a blaze even faster.
It was usually the butler’s responsibility to curb the disorderly atmosphere among the servants. Since everyone knew he was the most trusted retainer in the castle, they acted subserviently to avoid incurring his displeasure.
However, due to Declan’s explicit command, the butler made no effort this time to actively rectify the fractured discipline.
He inferred that Declan’s instruction, ‘She is no longer a noble, so treat her accordingly,’ must include allowing the mild dissent to continue unchecked.
If the butler had scolded them immediately, the servants would have instantly cowered, but since he said nothing, the atmosphere quickly became emboldened.
They likely assumed that the butler felt the same way: that a woman degraded to a commoner like Vanessa did not belong with Declan.
For this reason, whenever the servants gathered these days, they gossiped relentlessly about the woman their master had brought home.
The butler had assumed, when Declan brought her, that he must harbor feelings for her.
Declan utterly loathed having guests in the Grand Ducal Castle. The fact that he personally brought someone—a woman, no less, whom he had never kept close before—could only be interpreted as having romantic intent.
He thought the swift dismissal of the long-serving physician and the provision of the bedroom right next to his own were all signs of this affection.
However, the assumption, which had grown increasingly solid, crumbled with one command and became ambiguous.
Perhaps Declan had been briefly charmed by her pretty face and brought her home impulsively, but was now expressing his discomfort.
As a collateral member of the Imperial family, associating closely with a woman implicated in treason would bring him no benefits.
Yet, Declan’s act of immediately asking about Vanessa upon his return made even that assumption hazy. Despite being much younger than him, Declan was an utterly inscrutable man.
[Butler] "I thought you... harbored feelings?"
The butler was prepared to follow whatever Declan commanded in silence. But when the Master's true sentiments were so impossible to gauge, he didn't know which side to play along with.
He knew Declan's instructions were paramount, yet the Master's words and actions were consistently at odds.
Therefore, the butler—abandoning the practiced shrewdness of a man decades older—exhaled the question like a sigh.
Declan, who had just finished washing and was drying his hands with a towel, turned his head. In contrast to his earlier eagerness in asking after Vanessa, his expression was utterly indifferent.
[Declan] "Feelings?"
He rolled his deep blue eyes, quietly chewing over the question, then let out a cynical scoff as if he had heard a ridiculous joke.
[Declan] "I have none."
[Butler] "......."
[Declan] "Enough of your strange notions. Go summon Carter."
[Butler] "Yes, My Lord."
A sharp gaze latched onto the butler's retreating form as he exited the study.
Though the butler swiftly vanished, his irresponsibly cast words were enough to drop a small stone into the pool of Declan's mind. The ripple effect remained strong, like water was disturbed.
Declan silently stared at the water in the wide, round bowl.
Despite answering as if there was no need for contemplation, a strange unease lingered deep within him.
Her clear green eyes, which had looked straight at him, flickered before him like reality.
Yes. It was always like this before.
Even when he received the report that Vanessa Rohawk was imprisoned in the dungeon, a lukewarm sense of discomfort had persisted, constricting his chest uncomfortably.
Then, too, he had struggled against this feeling, lashing out...
He changed the water in the bowl and this time, washed his face entirely. The faint bloodstains he hadn't wiped off were completely rinsed away.
Yet, this sensation, clinging like thick mud to his heart, could not be shaken off. It felt piercing and vivid—impossible to erase unless he literally tore open his chest and washed the heart itself.
Just then, a knock sounded, and the door opened.
[Carter] "Your Grace. Were you bathing? Should I come back later?"
Carter, his aide, asked hastily, wearing an apologetic expression for the intrusion.
Declan brushed his wet hair back from his forehead and waved a hand, dismissing the concern.
Carter cautiously stepped further inside, watching his master.
Sitting on the sofa, Declan pulled out a cigar and put it to his lips. Carter quickly approached and lit it for him.
He took a deep drag, puffing his cheeks, and the red glow of the filler ignited, then subsided. A haze of smoke, as murky as his inner thoughts, drifted from his lips.
[Declan] "The investigation I requested."
[Carter] "Ah, yes. Just as you surmised, His Highness the Crown Prince is looking for Lady Vanessa Rohawk. He had sent people early to the Drayson Viscounty, the Rohawk family’s maternal home, and there were also traces of a thorough search around the Viscounty estate."
Declan twisted one corner of his mouth at Carter’s report.
Just as expected.
[Declan] "The possibility of him knowing she is here?"
[Carter] "Currently, none. The only potential lead was the slave auction house, but since you personally dealt with all the eyewitness staff there, the trail must have been broken at that point."
[Declan] "Even so, keep watching closely, just in case."
[Carter] "Understood, Your Grace."
Declan took a deep pull from the cigar. The acrid scent clung to his tongue like a marsh. His pupils, watching the wispy smoke rise, were hazy with contemplation.
Carter, sitting opposite him and examining the documents he had brought, muttered questioningly to himself.
[Carter] "But why is His Highness the Crown Prince searching for Lady Vanessa Rohawk so intensely?"
[Declan] "......."
[Carter] "Wasn't the execution concluded with the punishment of Count Rohawk and the stripping of his title?"
Hayden was looking for Vanessa. Fervently, tracing the remaining trails with desperate haste.
Chewing over this report made his insides feel blocked and suffocated. Declan stood and walked toward the window.
Carter’s gaze quietly followed his movements.
Standing before the window, he resolved Carter’s doubt in an offhand tone.
[Declan] "He likes her, that fellow does."
[Carter] "Pardon?"
The scenery outside the window was bright and clear. But in the study, where the sunlight was subtly blocked, it was merely dim.
His gaze, melted into the shadow-like gloom, deepened until his intentions were fathomless.
He quickly corrected himself.
[Declan] "No, he must be in love. Probably."
He had thought that by dragging her down to the absolute bottom, Hayden would naturally give up.
He assumed Hayden would face a situation where he had to abandon the person he desired so intensely due to his position.
Yet, far from giving up, Hayden continued to search for Vanessa. That could no longer be described as mere liking. It must be love to prompt such action.
A scoff escaped him.
Why is he looking for her?
She was a traitor. A traitor who dared to defy the Imperial Family. Her status now made it impossible for her to ever be associated with Hayden.
The marriage proposal was long off the table. So what, did Hayden intend to hide her away as a mistress?
Even though it was his own conclusion, the thought ignited his temper.
Declan put out the cigar against the windowsill with a nervous, agitated touch. A deep black mark was left behind.
Staring intently at the mark, he slowly lifted his head. The reflected, opaque face on the windowpane had long since lost its composure.
Startled by the word 'love,' Carter’s eyes widened. As soon as he recovered, he carelessly blurted out the question that sprang to mind.
[Carter] "What? Then why are you keeping Lady Vanessa Rohawk, Your Grace?"
The Crown Prince harbored feelings for Vanessa Rohawk. That’s why he was looking for her. But the Grand Duke was concealing her. Hindering his search so no trace could be found.
Suddenly, like an answer to his own question, Carter understood the implication. He quickly clamped his mouth shut and rolled his eyes at the conclusion he had reached.
He felt he had crossed a line in his momentary curiosity. He anxiously scanned Declan's mood, but with his back turned, it was impossible to gauge.
Fearing a frosty glare might snap back at him at any moment, Carter gripped his knees.
Declan gripped the windowsill tightly with both arms. His upper body, densely woven with muscle, writhed as if angered.
As the air in the room settled heavily, he slowly turned toward Carter.
[Declan] "Well."
The distorted face reflected on the window was now completely erased; no trace of agitation could be found.
[Declan] "Perhaps I wanted to start a love feud?"
He smoothly curved his lips, looking at the dumbfounded Carter. It was a smile like a mask.
Vanessa had heard the news of Declan’s safe return. Still, she remained motionless in her bedroom.
Thankfully, her cold had subsided and didn't worsen, yet she almost wished she had gotten sicker.
She feared that her self-imposed isolation, despite having no physical ailments, might be perceived by others as dramatic self-pity.
Declan came to her around dinner time. The bedroom door opened, and his scent, which had faded considerably over two weeks, wafted in.
Vanessa turned her head slowly, as if pulled by a magnet.
He strode confidently across the room and sat on the window ledge.
She clutched her pounding heart and looked up at him.
[Declan] "It's been a while."
The man she hadn't seen in two weeks looked the same. She hoped she looked similarly unchanged and offered a faint smile.
He gently removed the hair that was pressed down by the blanket draped over her shoulders.
[Declan] "Did you eat?"
[Vanessa] "Not yet."
[Declan] "You skipped dinner yesterday, too."
[Vanessa] "I didn't have much appetite."
He tilted his head slightly. His gaze was sharp, as if attempting to pierce through the true feelings she was struggling to hide.
[Declan] "Are you unwell?"
She maintained her smiling face and shook her head.
[Vanessa] "No. I ate too many snacks."
[Declan] "Get up. Let's go to the dining hall."
He stood first and extended his hand. Vanessa stared blankly at his hand.
For a moment, the thought—Do I deserve to take this hand?—surged like a mist, then dissipated.
But because he was waiting, she hesitantly raised her arm.
Declan, as if impatient with her slow pace, clasped his palm over hers and gently pulled her toward him.
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