Acidity of Regret Ch 25
- Dec 23, 2025
- 9 min read
Vanessa licked her parched lips, the unexpected confrontation sending a fresh jolt of adrenaline through her veins.
In the suffocating silence, she let his question grate against her mind.
How ironic, coming from him. This was the man who had coaxed her with honeyed promises of protection, only to cast her into the bowels of a slave auction.
Now, he dared to be curious about her journey to the Duchy?
[Vanessa] "The Grand Duke was... instrumental in my survival."
Her voice came out sharper than intended, a blade of ice. She didn't bother softening it.
She wanted the subtext to bleed through:
Declan gave me the salvation you were too weak to provide.
Hayden cleared his throat, a low, guttural sound. His face was a map of conflict, looking like a man drowning in a thousand unspoken apologies.
But Vanessa had no patience for his hesitation. More importantly, she had no desire to be alone with the Crown Prince in a place this secluded.
Being near him was an ordeal. Every time she looked at him, the nightmares she fought so hard to bury resurfaced: the glint of the blade that took her father’s life, the spray of crimson, the cold touch of death that had nearly claimed her, too.
[Vanessa] "I must take my leave. You’ve traveled a long way, Your Highness. I trust you will find the rest of the evening... entertaining."
She wanted to sweep past him without a second glance, but as long as he held the title of Crown Prince, such a slight was impossible.
After a curt, dutiful bow, she attempted to brush past him.
Or she would have, if his voice hadn't snared her like a trap.
[Hayden] "This marriage."
[Vanessa] "..."
[Hayden] "Was it... truly what you wanted?"
Vanessa felt the blood in her veins turn to lead.
She didn't know his intent, but in that moment, the question felt like a poisoned barb. It sounded as if he were asking if she had bartered her body and this marriage just to claw back her stolen status.
Perhaps it was because he represented the very Imperial family that had branded her a traitor, but his words felt no different from the whispers of the noblewomen in the hall—the ones who claimed she had used her face to seduce the Duke.
She knew she was spinning out of control.
Logically, a question of "choice" shouldn't feel like a slur. But her self-esteem, already fractured and bruised, twisted his words into a mockery. Everything felt like a calculated attempt to gnaw at her and drag her back down to the dirt.
[Vanessa] "Even if my dignity has been dragged through the mud..."
She spoke without turning to face him.
[Vanessa] "I would never have consented to a union I did not desire. I hope that answers your question."
The staccato rhythm of her heels echoed through the stone gallery as she walked away.
Hayden did not try to stop her again.
*****
Vanessa retreated to the bedroom, her mind a turbulent storm. Though her body felt lighter after shedding the heavy jewelry and the oppressive layers of her gown, her heart felt as heavy as stone.
She had been a radiant bride by day and was now the wife of the man she loved by night, yet joy remained elusive.
She stood on the terrace for a long time, staring out at the hushed, moonlit Duchy.
She didn't turn until she felt the weight of a blanket being draped over her shoulders. Declan had entered the room without a sound.
[Vanessa] "When did you get here?"
[Declan] "Just now. Aren't you cold? Your face is flushed."
He turned her to face him, his thumb tracing the heat in her cheeks.
[Declan] "Your skin is like ice."
He frowned, but she only offered a small nod to reassure him.
[Vanessa] "And the guests?"
[Declan] "They’ll find their own amusement. A party only begins once the hosts make their exit, anyway."
Vanessa managed a small, tired smile.
Declan adjusted the blanket, ensuring it was snug around her shoulders, before leaning in.
His face was so close she could feel the heat radiating from him.
He kissed her then—a gesture as tender as his touch. Under the warmth of his devotion, the restless anxiety that had been clawing at her began to dissipate.
[Declan] "And besides..."
He pulled back just an inch, his voice a low vibration against her lips.
[Declan] "Guests or no guests, we have duties to attend to."
[Vanessa] "Duties?"
Her breath hitched as he suddenly hooked an arm behind her knees and swept her off her feet. Instinctively, she wound her arms around his neck to steady herself.
[Declan] "Did you forget? This is our wedding night."
The realization hit her, sending a heat through her body that far surpassed the chill of the night.
[Declan] "Consummation is a husband’s right, and a wife’s duty."
[Vanessa] "I... I get it, so please..."
Flustered, she pressed her hand over his mouth to silence him.
Declan let out a low, predatory chuckle and pressed a kiss to her palm. Just like before, the sensation made her heart tingle more than her skin.
The walk to the bed felt like an eternity. Distance always seemed to warp when she was with him—the red carpet at the chapel had felt like a mile, and now, the mere ten steps from the terrace to the bed felt like an odyssey.
Perhaps it was her heart, thudding so violently it threatened to burst from her chest, that was slowing down time itself.
But every journey has an end.
Declan sat on the edge of the bed and lowered her onto the sheets with agonizing care.
Her golden hair, fragrant with essential oils, spilled across the silk like a halo. Tiny, colorful blossoms from the ceremony were still tangled in her tresses.
Declan gathered a handful of her hair and kissed it. In the half-light of the moon, his face was devastatingly handsome.
He caught the flicker of nerves in her eyes and offered a languid, knowing smile.
As he leaned over her, she felt as if this contact—one they had shared dozens of times before—was entirely new.
Their breaths tangled, becoming a single, ragged rhythm.
The bridge of his nose grazed her cheek. Her eyes fluttered shut, then snapped open as a sudden heat invaded the hem of her chemise.
Her body, cooled by the terrace wind, jolted at the touch of his hand, which felt several degrees hotter than usual.
[Declan] "Are you afraid?"
He murmured the question against the sensitive skin of her neck. His hot breath clung to her. He seemed to interpret her trembling as fear.
She managed to shake her head. He lifted his gaze to hers.
[Declan] "Your heart is racing."
[Vanessa] "Is it?"
[Declan] "Yes."
[Vanessa] "It's... it's not me..."
The lie tasted like ash, but she said it anyway. Her heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
[Declan] "Then it must be mine."
He gave her a picture-perfect smile and guided her hand to his chest.
Thump. Thump.
The beat was heavy, jagged, and impossibly fast. It mirrored her own.
[Vanessa] "It's so fast."
She whispered, her senses narrowing down to the vibration beneath her fingertips.
He gripped her chin, tilting her head back to deepen the kiss. She hadn't touched a drop of wine, yet she felt utterly intoxicated.
[Declan] "Undo them."
He nipped at her finger before placing her hand back on his chest. His voice had gone raspy, a low growl that made her eyelids quiver.
Vanessa swallowed hard and began to unbutton his shirt, one by one.
Each time her skin brushed his, his jaw tightened.
Looking up at his sculpted features, Vanessa found herself parched with a new kind of thirst.
They moved with a sudden, shared urgency, casting aside their hesitations.
Finally, her last layer of silk slid down her legs and pooled on the floor.
His burning gaze roamed over her pale, bared form.
[Declan] "Have I ever told you?"
His voice was a dark velvet, like a demon whispering secrets in the dead of night.
[Declan] "From the moment I brought you into this room, I’ve wanted this."
She gasped as his hands found her thighs. Before she could even process the breath—
[Vanessa] "Hngh!"
He surged into her like a rising tide. She trembled as she was instantly consumed.
[Declan] "Does it hurt?"
He went still, giving her time to adjust, his hand brushing the hair from her forehead.
His voice was gentle, but his blue eyes were dark with a turbulent, suppressed hunger. It was clear he was fighting his every instinct to move.
[Vanessa] "I... I'm okay."
[Declan] "Really?"
[Vanessa] "If you go slow..."
It was a simple request, but it seemed to snap the final thread of his restraint. He began to move, fighting the urge to be violent, his movements a symphony of controlled passion.
[Declan] "Tell me if it hurts."
[Vanessa] "Ah... hss..."
[Declan] "I can't promise I'll be able to stop, though..."
His breath was as sweltering as summer air.
In the delicate balance of pain and pleasure, something new began to bloom within her. It was an unfamiliar, clumsy sensation.
Embarrassed by the small whimpers escaping her, she tried to cover her mouth.
[Declan] "Don't hide it."
He wouldn't allow it.
[Vanessa] "Wait... ah!"
[Declan] "I want to hear you."
Vanessa wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, clinging to him like a lifeline.
He ignored her silent plea for mercy, his movements growing more feral as he pushed them both toward the edge. Her mind, once foggy, now flared with a blinding, white-hot clarity.
[Vanessa] "Declan!"
By the time the single candle on the bedside table flickered and died, she was weeping. But they weren't tears of sorrow.
In the long months of hardship, she had felt hollowed out, her soul worn down to nothing. But tonight was different. He filled her. His warmth, his touch, his heat—it filled every empty crevice of her being. Through Declan, she felt whole.
Perhaps that was why, for the first time in an eternity, she felt the ghost of true happiness.
*****
Married life with Declan was not the sanctuary Vanessa had imagined.
For one, the position of Grand Duchess, long vacant, came with a mountain of responsibilities.
As the mistress of the castle, everything from the internal budget to the management of the staff fell onto her shoulders.
Fortunately, her noble upbringing and years of lessons as a young lady made these tasks manageable.
The real challenge was winning the trust of the local nobility.
The Grand Duke was the sovereign of this vast land. As his wife, Vanessa, needed to maintain alliances.
At first, it seemed easy; she had naively assumed that after the wedding reception, she wouldn't have to face the other nobles often.
But a week later, the invitations for social gatherings began to pour in.
In the Ingzella Empire, the Imperial family led the social scene; here in the Duchy, the nobles expected the same from the Grand Ducal house. Since Declan was buried in state affairs, these galas fell to Vanessa.
She loathed the idea, but she had to strengthen the bond between the nobles and the Duchy. Besides, she figured Declan would always be there to shield her.
However...
[Vanessa] "What? In the middle of the night?"
Declan appeared in their bedroom fully armed. He looked ready to step onto a blood-soaked battlefield, and her heart sank.
He gently pushed her back onto the pillows as she tried to rise.
[Declan] "I'll be back soon. Go to sleep."
[Vanessa] "Is it dangerous?"
[Declan] "Something 'unusual' appeared in the canyon where the monsters gather. I’m just going to investigate. Don't worry."
He returned the next day without a scratch. But after that, his absences became more frequent because of that "unusual thing."
With Declan away, Vanessa was forced to host the galas alone. This meant she was surrounded by noble "hyenas" looking for any flaw to tear her apart—and Declan wasn't there to anchor her.
Naturally, the parties were a disaster.
It wasn't because of her mistakes. The problem was a certain young lady.
Vanessa finally realized who she was after several disastrous events: the brown-haired girl who had been on the verge of tears at the wedding.
That woman—Lady Helia Quasar, sister to Count Quasar—was the "Queen Bee" of the Duchy’s social circle.
Vanessa hadn't even spoken to her properly, but she could see the truth instantly. Every subtle act of sabotage and every whisper among the nobles was orchestrated by Helia.
And Vanessa quickly realized why Helia was so vicious.
There was only one reason for that level of hostility. The way she looked at Vanessa wasn't just disdain; it was the look of a woman facing a romantic rival.
Helia Quasar wanted Declan.
And because a "traitor" had stolen the prize she had coveted, she was taking her revenge in the most public way possible.
[Vanessa] "Haaa..."
She collapsed onto the massive bed after another grueling gala. She stared blankly at the ceiling.
This was her fifth gala as Grand Duchess, and like the others, it had ended in a mess of quiet insults.
Helia, like a clever fox, stayed on the sidelines while Vanessa was forced to bow and apologize to guests for "mishaps" she hadn't caused.
She closed her eyes as a dull migraine began to throb.
Would it have been different if Declan were here?
She reached out, her hand brushing the space beside her. The coldness of the bed made her heart feel just as hollow.
She had married Declan for love, yes, but also because she wanted a single soul on her side in this foreign land.
She had been so lonely since arriving here. Declan was the only person she could talk to. She had thought marriage would cure that void.
But...
Vanessa curled into a ball, clutching the duvet. Her toes felt like ice.
Contrary to her hopes, the loneliness was not over. It was only just a beginning.
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