Acidity of Regret Ch 70
- Jan 24
- 9 min read
A sharp, piercing migraine throbbed behind his eyes.
Declan felt the relentless pulsing of the pain even before he fully regained consciousness. He sat up abruptly, his hands clutching the bedsheets as he fought to steady his breathing.
He struggled to piece together his fragmented memories.
What had happened? How did he end up here?
As the moments before he lost consciousness flickered back to him, his face hardened into a mask of frozen tension.
He whipped his head around. The moment he realized he was the only person in the vast bed, he bolted from the room.
[Maid] "Master, you’re awake? Good mor—eek!"
[Declan] "Where did Vanessa go?"
[Maid] "Pardon? I... I don’t understand..."
[Declan] "I asked you where Vanessa is!"
He was terrifying. His eyes were bloodshot, the red veins stark against the white.
The maid, who had the misfortune of being caught while cleaning the hallway, trembled violently in her master’s iron grip. She could only shake her head in terror.
[Maid] "I... I don't know who you are talking about, Your Grace..."
[Butler] "Master? What is the matter?"
As the maid looked ready to burst into tears, the butler approached, drawn by the commotion.
He shoved the maid aside without a second thought and turned his predatory gaze toward the butler.
[Declan] "Where is Vanessa? Tell me."
[Butler] "Master?"
Declan was certain of it. He believed that during the moment he had finally collapsed after three days of madness, they must have taken his wife and hidden her somewhere.
However, the butler only tilted his head in confusion, looking as if he were hearing a stranger's name. It was a rare reaction for a butler so seasoned and professional that he rarely questioned an order. But Declan didn't have the patience to analyze the butler’s behavior.
[Declan] "I am asking you where you took her!"
He shouted, grabbing the butler’s shoulders just as he had done to the maid. The roar tore through his throat, vibrating with the intensity of his rage.
[Butler] "Master, please. I don't know what you mean. This 'Vanessa'... who is the person you are referring to?"
The butler spoke the name hesitantly, his face a picture of genuine bewilderment.
Declan let out a dry, hollow laugh, convinced that this was a piece of perfect, shameless acting meant to deceive him.
He left the butler behind and began to tear through the castle himself.
The knights, having heard reports of their master’s bizarre behavior so early in the morning, hurried to follow him.
[Shiron] "Your Grace! What has happened?"
[Declan] "Shiron, find Vanessa immediately. She must be in the castle somewhere. Dammit. How long was I asleep?"
[Shiron] "Pardon?"
It felt as if everyone had turned into a fool overnight. They only offered him blank stares and repetitive questions. He felt as if his chest would explode from the sheer frustration of it all.
He shoved past the knights who tried to block his path and continued his frantic search. But no matter where he turned, he couldn't find a single trace of his wife. Only his confused servants followed in his wake, breathless and lost.
He finally came to a dead stop when he reached the castle’s chapel.
[Declan] "...What is this?"
This was the chapel where the two of them had become husband and wife. Before the wedding, he had personally ordered it to be cleaned and decorated. He could still see the scene as clearly as if it were yesterday—the flowers blooming everywhere, the long red carpet, and the warm, peaceful atmosphere of their ceremony.
But the place he stood in now was filthy, as if it hadn't been touched by a human hand in years.
[Declan] "Why is it so... dirty?"
It was as if his orders had never existed. Dust lay thick over every surface, and cobwebs stretched between the pews, making him scowl in disgust.
His intense gaze clouded over with a heavy, mounting confusion.
[Shiron] "Your Grace, what is wrong? If there is someone you are looking for, we will find them. Please, give us your command."
Shiron, who usually knew better than to step in front of Declan, stepped forward with an urgent question.
[Declan] "...Shiron."
[Shiron] "Yes, Your Grace."
[Declan] "Why is this place... so filthy?"
[Shiron] "Pardon? Well, it is because it hasn't been used in a very long time, sir."
[Declan] "...Not used?"
That was impossible. He and Vanessa had held their private wedding right here. He remembered every detail, especially her face as she smiled with such pure radiance.
He ruminated on the answer he had just received and slowly turned his head. He met Shiron’s puzzled eyes and swallowed hard.
[Declan] "What is the date? No..."
[Shiron] "..."
[Declan] "What year is it?"
A heavy silence fell over the group at their master's bizarre question.
[Butler] "It is the year 211 of the Imperial Calendar, Master."
The butler, who had followed the knights, answered in place of Shiron, who was still trying to calculate the date.
In that moment, Declan froze like a statue, unable to even draw a breath. His heart, which had been racing with anxiety, went stiff, and his mind momentarily went blank.
[Declan] "The year... 211?"
There was only one reason that specific year was burned into his memory.
It was the year Hayden had returned from his studies abroad and fallen for Vanessa Rohawk. It was the year Declan’s own petty, impulsive choices had first taken root.
When he first realized in front of the chapel that he had returned to the past, Declan flew into a rage.
At first, he assumed this ridiculous situation was some kind of misguided attempt by his servants to comfort him in his grief. However, he finally ceased his violent outburst only after reviewing the business records Shiron brought him—projects that were currently underway in the year 211.
His servants might have staged a play to humiliate him while he mourned his wife, but they could never have erased years of completed business ventures and turned them back into blank pages.
But still...
He couldn't help but think that returning to the past was even more absurd.
The fact that it was the period shortly after Hayden’s return, before any of the tragedies had occurred, felt utterly surreal.
Yet, if this truly was the past, the only thing that mattered to him was Vanessa’s whereabouts. Because his last memory of her was so heartbreaking, he could not endure another moment without seeing her safety with his own eyes.
He took his horse and rode toward the capital without a plan. He pushed the animal so hard that he didn't even have the presence of mind to show mercy to the escort knights following him.
Along the way, he heard news that the Imperial Palace was currently hosting a banquet for Hayden’s birthday.
He thought it was for the best. He wouldn't need to storm the Rohawk estate and cause a scene; he could simply head straight to the palace.
He arrived at the palace without stopping.
Shiron, who had struggled to keep up, suggested that Declan should take a moment to fix his appearance before entering, but he had no room for such luxury. He was burning with impatience.
The doors opened for him immediately as the guards recognized his rank, and the brilliant light of the banquet spilled through the gap. Music echoed through the halls, and colorful fabrics fluttered in the air. It was exactly as he remembered.
Declan had never enjoyed banquets. He usually found them loathsome. Yet, for the first time in his life, his heart was full of anticipation.
It was all because of one woman.
The possibility that she might be alive made his heart hammer against his ribs. This impossible situation was almost laughable, but to him, it offered a thread of absolute hope.
[Guest] "Oh, my."
[Guest] "Is that the Grand Duke...?"
[Guest] "But why does he look like that...?"
He paid no attention to the crowd buzzing around him.
Like a predator stalking a specific prey, he scanned the banquet hall. He didn't even need to look carefully. Vanessa Rohawk was so beautiful that one only needed a fleeting glance to be captivated.
Even at the very end, she had been beautiful. As he recalled her radiant face, his gaze brushed past someone familiar.
In a corner of the room, tucked away and surrounded by a crowd so thick she was almost invisible, he saw a tiny opening.
The moment their eyes met, his instincts sharpened.
Found you.
He watched her turn to leave almost as soon as she had arrived, and he chased after her with frantic urgency.
In the cold wind, the hem of her dress fluttered like a vision. The situation felt like a dream—a surreal, sweet dream that might shatter at any moment. He felt a surge of anxiety. He couldn't let her go. It was the most suffocating pursuit of his life.
[Vanessa] "Ugh!"
Finally, he grabbed her shoulder and pinned her against the wall. Her neatly arranged golden hair swirled before his eyes like falling snow.
His gaze, trembling with uncertainty, searched her face obsessively.
Vanessa.
She was exactly the same. This was the face he had watched over for three days and nights without sleep. Unlike the pale, lifeless woman of a few days ago, this face was full of life, and the sight of it bound his nerves tight.
[Declan] "...I couldn't tell if the rest of the world had gone mad, or if I had finally lost my mind."
[Vanessa] "..."
[Declan] "I couldn't tell the difference."
Slowly, his lips twisted into a smile of pure ecstasy.
It made sense, didn't it?
The moment he had accepted his wife’s death, he had closed his eyes, only to wake up and find her breathing and whole. That was enough. Nothing else mattered to him anymore—not why he had returned, nor for what purpose.
[Declan] "Now I see."
As long as she was alive, it was enough.
As long as she hadn't died.
As long as her life was still within his reach.
[Declan] "I know now that I haven't gone mad."
Because he would have more than enough chances to make her his again.
Knock, knock.
The sound of the door snapped his mind back from the depths of the past.
Looking back now, he realized that Vanessa hadn't been wrong about anything. Even after experiencing her death and returning, he still hadn't come to his senses.
After their reunion, he hadn't intended to act so violently or selfishly. But every move provoked him. She ignored him and denied their marriage as if she were desperate to stifle him.
The more she pushed him away, the more he resolved to keep her by his side this time.
To do that, he needed to buy as much time as possible in the capital.
He had initially returned to the Duchy because he couldn't focus on winning her back without first handling the tedious matters that were due to occur during this time.
A storm of emotions had raged within him, but a sliver of returning logic had kept them suppressed. He told himself that Vanessa was alive, and since he had returned to the past, he still had time before the marriage talk began.
He clung to that single thought. He wasn't thinking like the leader of a nation; he was thinking like a man who had completely lost his mind over a woman.
But how had he reacted when news of the engagement between the two reached the Duchy?
He had behaved exactly as he was doing now. Unable to contain his fury, he had turned his office and the adjoining bedroom into a wreck, radiating a lethal aura. Reason had been useless. The atmosphere in the Grand Duke's residence had been so cold that the servants were too terrified to even swallow.
And things hadn't changed much after he returned to the capital. His days were ruled by emotion rather than logic.
But it wasn't as if he had any other choice. Unlike the past, where he had approached her under a mask of politeness, his ugly true nature had already been exposed. All that remained was the anxiety and restlessness of wanting to reclaim her as soon as possible. He was like a child throwing a tantrum because he couldn't have what he wanted.
And that is how I ended up in this state.
At the very least, he had realized one thing for certain. He could no longer dismiss his desire for Vanessa as a mere impulse.
[Julian] "Declan."
He slowly raised his head at the sound of his name. Julian, who had left with Helia a short while ago, was leaning against the doorway. He approached with a white first-aid kit and sat down across from him.
[Julian] "I suppose your tantrum is over?"
He let out a long sigh and pulled Declan’s arm across his lap. Only then did Declan notice that his hand was covered in blood.
While Julian treated the hand in place of a servant, Declan stared out the window with dark, sunken eyes.
[Julian] "I tried to wait until you were ready to speak, but you really won't open your mouth, will you? It’s a bit hurtful."
He whispered as he applied ointment and wrapped a bandage around the hand.
[Julian] "Aren't you going to tell me? What exactly is the relationship between you and that young lady?"
The relationship?
Declan dwelled on the question for a long time. He couldn't find a single word to define his connection to Vanessa.
To call it a secret romance full of fluttering hearts would be wrong; that relationship had been stained black long ago. And the time when he could call her his wife was now a forgotten past that no one else knew.
No, a deep canyon had formed between them—one that could not be defined so easily. It was a divide that no matter what he did, could never be bridged. It was something he could never, ever undo.
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