Acidity of Regret Ch 65
- Jan 21
- 6 min read
[Declan] "I remember."
Hayden’s eyes widened. Declan’s lack of courtesy was so blatant that the Prince had likely assumed he wasn't recognized.
Declan found the situation almost amusing, though a small part of him wondered how a member of the Imperial family would react to such disrespect. Would he be offended?
The response, however, was entirely unexpected.
[Hayden] "You’re even pricklier than I heard."
[Declan] "...Than you heard?"
[Hayden] "I came here because I wanted to be friends. I was disappointed that we didn't get to talk much during your last visit."
Hayden stepped forward and slung an arm around his shoulders. He flinched, his brow furrowing at the unfamiliar contact. He had never been touched so casually by anyone.
[Hayden] "Tell me, how do you do that?"
[Declan] "Do what?"
[Hayden] "That move you just did—the way you lunged so fast."
[Declan] "...How long have you been watching me?"
[Hayden] "Hmm. Two days? I saw you out here practicing every dawn."
He let out a dry, hollow laugh. The Crown Prince of the Empire had traveled all the way to the Duchy just to spend his mornings spying on a training session.
Realizing the Prince had no urgent business, his annoyance returned. He shook off Hayden’s arm and turned to leave. He assumed the Prince’s sudden appearance was merely a passing whim.
But Hayden was relentless. From that day on, he followed him everywhere. His personality was unnervingly bright; even when he refused to speak, Hayden carried on the conversation with ease.
It was hard to tell if it was even a conversation at all, or just Hayden talking to himself.
Anyone could see that Hayden was a man without shadows. Yet, to Declan, that radiance only deepened his sense of defeat. The more he realized how different they were, the more uncomfortable Hayden’s presence became.
Finally, one day, he could no longer stay silent.
[Declan] "What is it you want?"
The subtext was clear: Tell me what you want so you can leave.
But even under his sharp gaze, Hayden’s grin did not fade.
[Hayden] "I already told you."
[Declan] "What?"
[Hayden] "I want us to be friends."
He paused, momentarily stunned by the directness of the answer.
[Declan] "...Why?"
Hayden looked down, appearing to give the question serious thought.
[Hayden] "Because you’re good with a sword?"
The answer was so simple it felt insulting. It was like a needle popping a balloon of built-up tension.
[Hayden] "Why won’t you teach me some of your techniques?"
It was so absurd that Declan found himself letting out a faint, involuntary laugh.
[Hayden] "Oh! You smiled."
The moment Hayden pointed it out, the smile vanished.
[Hayden] "That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile. You should do it more often."
[Declan] "..."
He is incredibly annoying.
Yet, despite his irritation, he found he could no longer ignore the Prince.
Strangely, the two of them grew close at a rapid pace.
It was a baffling development, mostly because he hadn't wanted it at all. Despite his best efforts to remain distant, he found himself swept up in Hayden’s infectious energy.
Being with the Prince was, as much as he hated to admit it, enjoyable. The proof was in the small, rare smiles that escaped him when he wasn't paying attention.
After a year of this odd companionship, Declan had to face the truth. He didn't hate Hayden. In fact, he actually liked him—just a little.
Hayden was both a comfort and a burden.
When they crossed swords or went riding, life felt genuinely pleasant. Hayden was inherently kind, and his words were always laced with a natural consideration that made it impossible to take offense.
But his very existence was a constant reminder of Declan’s trauma. Every time he looked at the Prince, he remembered his father’s hand tenderly stroking Hayden’s silver hair.
Declan knew this was jealousy, and he knew how useless that emotion was. His mother had spent her whole life consumed by it, only to meet a tragic end.
He understood the danger, yet his heart refused to listen.
His friend, Julian Quasar, once told him that negative thoughts only grow the more you dwell on them. He advised him to let go of the bitterness as quickly as possible.
Declan agreed; he wanted to end the cycle of resentment that had plagued his parents’ generation.
He wanted to believe that... until he overheard the conversation.
Declan’s memories of the capital were scarred by his mother’s death, which had happened almost immediately after his first visit. He had thought he would never return.
However, Hayden’s upcoming departure for studies abroad changed that. Despite having everything, he possessed a fierce hunger for knowledge. He had managed to convince the Emperor to let him attend a prestigious academy in another empire.
A farewell dinner was arranged—a formal, stifling affair. He had insisted Declan attend, and he couldn't find a way to refuse.
Every time the Emperor and Empress looked at Hayden with warmth, Declan felt his stomach churn. It was impossible not to compare them to his own broken family, where his parents had only ever known how to hurt one another.
The sight of the elegant Empress, looking like a delicate flower, made Declan see the ghost of his mother hanging from the ceiling.
The weight of it became too much. He excused himself from the table to compose himself.
As he was about to re-enter the banquet hall, he heard voices through the door.
[Emperor] "It seems the two of you have become quite close."
[Hayden] "Yes. He’s a good man."
For a brief moment, a rare warmth spread through his chest.
[Emperor] "I am glad. If you treat him well, perhaps the Empress’ guilt will finally fade."
The Emperor sighed.
Guilt?
His hand froze on the doorknob.
[Empress] "Hayden."
[Hayden] "I know, Mother. I know what you’re going to say. You want me to be kind to him because he’s a pitiful child."
Hayden spoke as if he had heard the phrase a thousand times before.
Declan’s heart gave a sickening thud. He couldn't believe his own ears.
A pitiful child.
Pitiful...
[Empress] "Yes. I haven't been able to find peace since I heard how the Duchess passed. He must have been so deeply scarred by his parents’ troubles. Hayden, I want you to look after him."
The Empress’ kindness was vast, but to Declan, it felt like a wave of nausea. He turned and walked away as fast as he could.
The cool night air did nothing to calm the knot in his gut. He felt as though his skin had been peeled back, exposing the darkness he had tried so hard to hide.
Hayden had said he wanted to be friends. Given his nature, that wasn't a lie. But the friendship hadn't started from a place of equality. It was born of pity. He didn't want a friend; he wanted to comfort a broken soul he looked down upon.
He thinks I'm beneath him. He realized.
To Declan, pity was the ultimate form of condescension. You don't feel pity for those you respect or fear.
Hayden had known all along about the misery lurking beneath Declan’s surface. He had played the part of the perfect friend while secretly viewing Declan as a charity case.
It was a sickening sense of superiority.
He covered his eyes and let out a short, bitter laugh.
In the end, Hayden de Ingzella was exactly like the sun, only existing to highlight the depth of Declan's shadows.
The wall he had briefly lowered slammed shut, becoming an impenetrable fortress. Inside, his heart turned a shade of black darker than ever before.
The transition didn't take long. Not long after, he arranged for his father’s death—masking it as an accident, just as his father had done for his mother. Finally, the Grand Duke’s seat was his.
It happened on a rainy night, hidden from the world.
He felt no guilt. His childhood had broken his capacity for such things. Instead, he felt a strange sense of relief, much like the day he had first left the Duchy.
As a boy, he had wished for his parents to die. Now, as the Grand Duke, that wish was fulfilled.
Yet, he felt hollow. He was a man of high status and fine clothes, but inside, he was empty. He lived each day in a void, waiting for a purpose.
Then, Hayden returned.
The Empire was in an uproar over the return of the Emperor’s favorite heir.
Hayden was immediately swept up in balls and meetings. It was several days before they finally met again.
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