Acidity of Regret Ch 68
- Jan 23
- 8 min read
The Emperor’s fury erupted exactly as expected.
However, the bond of trust built over the years with the Count’s family did not shatter in a single instant. The Emperor was not a man to act on impulse; instead, the Imperial family launched a clandestine, internal investigation to verify the truth of Declan’s tip.
Declan had already anticipated this reaction.
If he had merely forged documents, the deception would have eventually crumbled under the weight of a persistent investigation. He had no intention of being caught so easily.
To prevent such a failure, he had temporarily reassigned several knights from his own Duchy to the Count’s estate, creating a mountain of undeniable physical evidence. It was a daring gamble that only the master of the Duchy could orchestrate.
A few days passed.
News arrived that the Imperial Guard had stormed the Count’s residence. The Emperor had finally found enough conviction in the evidence to strike. Although Declan remained in his Duchy, he received constant, minute-by-minute updates from the informants he had planted within the capital.
[Shiron] "They were taken into custody and placed in the Imperial dungeon at dawn, sir."
The report was exactly what he had predicted. It was the very news he had been waiting for. Once Vanessa’s location was confirmed, the tension finally bled out of his shoulders.
Treason was a grave matter that usually resulted in the summary execution of an entire family. Yet, for some reason, he found himself pulling strings in the final moments to ensure that Vanessa herself would not be sent to the block.
It was a strange contradiction. He had pushed her into the abyss without hesitation to exact his revenge on Hayden, yet he could not bring himself to let go of her entirely.
He remembered the way she had looked at him, the soft cadence of her voice, and the way their lips had met. It was as if those memories had revived something long since worn away and rotted, hidden beneath the thick layer of his resentment.
Regardless, the situation was irreversible. Because of the treason he had fabricated, she was now a high criminal of the state. This meant that no matter how hard Hayden struggled, he could never have Vanessa Rohawk.
The moment he had desired for years had finally arrived.
The illustrious Hayden would finally be forced to abandon something because of his own position. The Prince’s smooth, perfect life would finally be stained with unbearable unpleasantness and frustration. This was the revenge he had craved against the man who had dared to look at him with pity.
[Declan] "...Very well."
Yet, his heart did not feel as light as he had imagined. It felt as though a great burden had been removed, only for the ancient dust trapped beneath it to scatter into the air, clouding his lungs. A subtle, lingering discomfort made his chest feel heavy and tight.
Shiron gave a formal, stiff bow after completing his brief report and exited the office.
Left alone, he furrowed his brow and lit a cigar. He couldn't tell if the nauseating sensation was coming from the smell of the burning tobacco or from the chaotic state of his own mind after hearing the news.
One thing was certain: the victory was not nearly as pleasant as he had hoped.
Looking back later, he realized that an entire day of his memory had vanished.
The meticulously prepared plan had been executed, and the Rohawk family had been ruined. He had successfully dragged Vanessa down to a depth where Hayden could never reach her.
And yet.
From the moment he heard the news, he found it impossible to focus on anything. He caught himself thinking that he might have been more sane if the plan had failed and the Emperor had left the Count’s family alone.
Because he had lived a life of constant restraint since childhood, he was usually skilled at controlling his emotions. However, whenever his irritation rose to an uncontrollable level, he sought release by swinging his sword.
The sky was a dull, hazy grey, choked with heavy clouds.
Sharp gusts of wind whipped through the air every time his silver blade clashed against steel. Three knights, already exhausted from sparring with him, lay sprawled outside the training grounds.
Shiron, his current opponent, was also showing signs of deep fatigue, but he was too far gone to notice. Even as his sword carved through the air, his mind drifted far from the arena.
He felt as though a mass of black thread was tangled in his chest. He wanted to grab the end and pull it out; he felt that if he could just untangle it, this suffocating sensation would disappear.
But he didn't know what the thread was. Since he couldn't even define the feeling, there was no way to find its end. As time passed, the knot only grew tighter, leaving him feeling more dazed and distant.
Count Rohawk had been executed on the spot at dawn when the Imperial Guard raided the estate. Vanessa would have been there, watching as the Captain of the Guard carried out the sentence.
What had she looked like while the Count’s blood stained the early morning light?
Every time that thought crossed his mind, his heart throbbed as if a needle were being driven into it.
[Shiron] "Your Grace!"
Suddenly, someone grabbed his arm. The desperate strength of the grip snapped him back to reality.
The blurred surroundings came into sharp focus. Only then did he realize his sword was inches away from Shiron’s face. The strength left his tensed forearms, and he slowly lowered the blade.
He had pushed Shiron so far that they were now at the very edge of the arena, though they had started in the center. The three knights who had been resting had all rushed over, which explained the collective force holding his arm back.
[Shiron] "What is the matter?"
He asked, his breath coming in slow, ragged hitches.
[Shiron] "You are not acting like yourself."
Declan stared blankly at Shiron’s sweat-drenched face before dropping his gaze to the shimmering blade of his sword.
After a moment of silence, he clicked his tongue loudly enough for everyone to hear and turned away without a word.
That evening, amidst his lingering confusion, he received a new report from Shiron.
[Shiron] "She has been taken to the slave auction, Your Grace."
His fingers tightened around his fountain pen. Shiron hadn't used her name, but it was obvious who he meant.
She was supposed to be safe in a dark, damp dungeon. Since her removal wasn't part of his plan, it meant someone else had interfered.
He threw his pen down violently and stood up. He moved toward the door as if to see for himself, but Shiron quickly handed him the dispatch from their informant.
The report stated that after the Rohawk family was stripped of their title, Vanessa had been reduced to a commoner. Several corrupt nobles had conspired to smuggle her out of the dungeon to claim her for themselves.
He crushed the paper in his fist. A strange, burning heat was now consuming his insides.
[Declan] "I must go to the Empire."
His low voice was thick with an urgency he could no longer hide.
Throughout the entire journey to the capital, the informant’s report echoed in his mind.
A slave auction.
The treatment a high-ranking criminal would receive there was obvious. He couldn't stay still as he imagined horrific things happening to that pale, innocent face—the one that had smiled so shyly at him. Whether it was blood or bruises, the thought of her being harmed was unbearable.
[Shiron] "Your Grace, please slow down...!"
Acting on emotion was the worst thing a person could do. It was what had caused his father to destroy their family and his mother to torment him; it was how both their lives had ended in tragedy.
He knew this.
So why was he repeating their foolish mistakes?
Even though he knew better...
The journey, which usually took three full days, was completed in only two days. Even then, he did not allow his horse to rest.
Upon reaching the auction house, he deployed his knights to scour every corner of the underground facility.
[Shiron] "We found her."
Fortunately, it didn't take long to find her, though to Declan, every second had felt like an eternity.
As he followed Shiron, he felt an aching, desperate sensation in his chest. He still didn't understand why he had come all this way.
From the beginning, he had viewed Vanessa as a pawn he could discard at any time. If his goal was to prevent Hayden from having her, he had already succeeded. There was no way Hayden could marry a branded traitor of the Empire. Even if the Prince tried to save her, he would face nothing but hardship.
That should have been enough.
It was supposed to be a petty impulse to show a man who had everything what it felt like to fail.
So she was supposed to be useless now. Yet, why did he care so much? Why was he as restless as a man with a blade at his own throat?
He had thought about it the entire way, but he had no answer. And yet, here he was.
None of it mattered anymore.
Declan realized exactly what he wanted. He didn't know the reason, but he was certain that this unbearable state of mind would only improve if he saw her face and confirmed she was unharmed.
He was just turning a corner with that thought when he heard it.
Crack!
The sharp sound of a slap echoed through the dark corridor, making him flinch.
[Merchant] "Hey, Vanessa Rohawk. Do you still think you're some noble lady?"
The man’s voice was full of crude mockery.
[Merchant] "No one is coming to save you. Give up on that foolish hope."
A massive man held a handful of radiant blonde hair, his fingers tangled in the strands. Before the man could even see who was behind him, Declan drew his sword.
Without giving his knights a chance to stop him, he stepped forward and drove the blade into the man's thick back.
Declan kicked the corpse out of his way.
Only then did he finally face her.
He stood before the woman he had personally destroyed.
[Declan] "..."
Vanessa was as pale as someone who had been dragged to the gates of hell. It wasn't just her complexion; her entire appearance was a disaster. Her hair was a tangled mess, and her beauty—usually so perfect—was obscured by the chaos of her situation.
And yet, the sight of her, the sheer fact that she was alive, brought him such a profound sense of relief.
[Declan] "Will you come with me?"
His relationship with this woman had been nothing but a series of impulses.
That question, too, was an impulse not found in any plan.
But as she reached out and clung to him as if she had been waiting for him, the fire in his chest finally began to cool. It was like finding a single drop of water after wandering through a scorching desert.
As he began the journey back to the Duchy with her, he tried to rationalize it.
The plan wasn't over yet. Even if she was in the gutter, Hayden might still try to keep her by his side. So, he told himself, he was acting first to prevent that.
He repeated to himself over and over that this was just an extension of his plan to keep her away from Hayden—that it meant nothing more.
[Declan] "I shouldn't have brought her here."
But a small impulse eventually led to an uncontrollable disaster. That was the only thought in his mind as he clutched her bleeding neck.
[Declan] "Back then... no, from the very beginning..."
It felt as though that first day’s impulse had brought all of this upon them.
His insides swung between burning heat and cold nausea.
It was his wife who was losing blood, yet his own heart felt as though it had been shredded. He couldn't keep his thoughts straight.
[Declan] "What are you doing? Call the physician! Now!"
His voice was a series of raspy, cracked screams. His servants scrambled in confusion, terrified by the desperation in his tone.
Unable to give them further instructions, he dropped his head. His vision had been blurry for some time, as if he were looking through water. Because he couldn't see her face clearly, he felt like he was going insane.
[Declan] "No, Vanessa."
He whispered, his hand trembling as he applied pressure to her neck.
[Declan] "No. This... this isn't right."
Through his hazy vision, he watched as her white dress turned a deep, dark red.
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