Acidity of Regret Ch 63
- Jan 20
- 5 min read
Declan had grown numb to the constant, one-sided storms of his childhood. Experience had taught him that staying perfectly still was the fastest way to make the pain end. His head throbbed where his mother had struck him, but his mind remained strangely blank.
While held in his mother’s embrace, he looked down at his own palms. He felt no physical pain now, but the scars remained—reminders of a time long ago. When he was still a small child, the Duchess had used him as a weapon to threaten his father.
[Duchess] "I’ll die! I’ll die and take Declan with me! If you go to that woman, I’ll end it all!"
He remembered his father’s expression during those moments. The Grand Duke had looked at his wife with the cold indifference of a stranger. He didn't care what madness his wife inflicted upon their son. Without a hint of hesitation, he had turned his back on her screams and left for the capital. Even after marriage, he could not give up on the woman he loved.
That day, the price of his mother’s rage was etched deep into Declan’s skin.
[Duchess] "I’m sorry. I love your father so much that I can’t let go. I’m sorry..."
To his mother, Declan was sometimes a stand-in for his father, and other times a mere possession she could treat however she pleased.
Because she was rarely in her right mind, Declan never knew which version of him she saw. To her, he wasn't a son; he was either a target for her resentment or a ghost of the man who had abandoned her.
Her cycle of grief was always the same.
[Duchess] "I hate that you look like him. It’s horrible. I want to kill you."
Then, in a heartbeat, she would flip.
[Duchess] "Mommy is sorry. I only did it because I love your father so much. Please, forgive me..."
His life was a sequence of these pathetic, repetitive days. Declan was exhausted by it all.
Though his parents were opposites, they shared one common trait: they were both driven mad by love. He despised his father for being unable to forget a first love even after starting a family, and he loathed his mother for her daily fits of manic rage.
I wish they would both just die.
It was a dark thought for a child, but in such an unstable home, his twisted logic felt like a natural survival instinct.
There was only one small escape. Julian Quasar, the young son of Count Quasar, had become his friend after they met at a ball. At first, Declan was wary, but Julian’s persistent efforts eventually broke through his walls. Yet, even a loyal friend couldn't fill the void inside him. Declan remained profoundly lonely.
No one knew exactly when the Duchess’ madness had truly begun. His father didn't care if she struck the boy, and his mother’s mind was a blurred mess. Even Declan couldn't remember the first time it happened; it had been his reality for as long as he could remember.
As the years passed, Declan grew.
Despite the neglect and the pressure, he thrived physically. He inherited his father’s famous good looks and his mother’s once-celebrated grace. Soon, he towered over his mother. His limbs grew strong, and the training sword that once felt heavy now sat easily in his hand.
Yet, he never resisted her. A learned helplessness kept him shackled. The violent, destructive days continued to flow by.
Declan was thirteen when he first met Hayden.
[Grand Duke] "I intend to take Declan to the Imperial Palace."
The words were dropped like a match into a pile of dry wood during breakfast. It was a rare moment of communication from the Grand Duke, who had just returned from a long journey.
The Duchess, who had dressed elegantly to welcome him, immediately lost control. She screamed that she would never let her son go.
Plates of food crashed to the floor, and tea splashed across the table. The dining room became a scene of chaos in an instant.
[Duchess] "If you take him, I’ll kill myself! You can’t take my son away from me!"
Declan knew he was nothing more than a trophy to her—a prize she kept to soothe her own loneliness. Seeing her scream with such venom made him feel hollow.
[Grand Duke] "Declan. You decide."
His father was always like this. He would start a fire and then step back, leaving others to deal with the ashes. It was a cowardly, disgusting trait.
But at that moment, the most nauseating thing in the room was his mother, who was desperate not to lose her final possession.
[Declan] "I will go."
At his words, the Duchess looked as if her entire world had collapsed. She looked like someone whose final lifeline had been cut by the very person she trusted.
Declan ignored her and prepared to leave.
[Duchess] "Declan, I was wrong. Please don't go. What will I do without you? I’ll die of loneliness. Please, stay."
Until the day he left, she begged and pleaded. She was unnervingly quiet, abandoning her usual violence and insults. She didn't strike him once.
Declan wasn't as heartless as his father, nor was he blinded by love. He hesitated for a moment, but he ultimately steeled his heart. He hoped that his absence might finally force his mother to face reality.
As he left the Duchy, he felt a strange sense of relief. It was as if he had finally stepped out of prison.
To him, the castle was a place of nightmares. He didn't even care that his mother refused to see him off; her begging was just another form of the madness he was leaving behind.
Why is my father taking me to the capital?
The question haunted him from the moment they crossed the border. He only found the answer after they arrived at the palace and stood before the Emperor.
[Grand Duke] "You mentioned before that the Crown Prince needs a friend. My son is of a similar age, so I brought him here to be close to His Highness."
It was for the Empress.
Because the Empress had once mentioned in passing that she wished the Crown Prince had a companion, the Grand Duke had offered up his own son like a sacrifice.
The man who was a block of ice to his own wife was a humble servant to the Empress. Declan thought he couldn't be more disappointed in his father, yet the man found new ways to let him down.
For a brief, foolish moment, he had wondered if his father had finally taken an interest in him.
It was a useless hope. He felt smaller than the dust on the floor.
As he stood there with a hollow expression, the doors to the audience chamber opened.
The first thing he noticed was silver hair shimmering in the sunlight. Whether it was the brilliant color or the radiant smile on the boy’s face, he seemed to glow.
The silver hair of the Imperial line.
He realized this was the famous Crown Prince, Hayden de Ingzella.
After a brief introduction, Declan left the chamber and sat by a fountain. He had no intention of becoming friends with the prince.
He watched the water flow. It reminded him of his mother’s endless tears. She was as exhausting as his father, but far more fragile, making her harder to hate.
He found himself thinking of her pleading face. It was annoying, yet he felt a flicker of anxiety. He wondered if he should have left her alone.
He stood up, deciding he wanted to return home as soon as possible. But then, he saw his father between the pillars. The Grand Duke was speaking with the Crown Prince.
Declan couldn't look away.
He’s smiling.
His father was laughing as he spoke to Hayden. It was an expression Declan had never once seen in his entire life.
The sight felt surreal, like a scene from a dream that didn't belong to him.
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