Acidity of Regret Ch 85
- Feb 8
- 7 min read
Declan had lost track of when consciousness finally slipped away.
When he forced his leaden eyelids open, the bedroom ceiling greeted him.
He pushed himself up slowly, surveying the room. The chaotic mess that had once defined the space was gone, replaced by an eerie, sterile order.
He shielded his eyes with one hand. A sharp, rhythmic throb pierced his temples like needles—a headache that refused to subside.
Then came the voice—Vanessa’s voice, cold and accusatory, echoing in his mind.
Before he could empty his thoughts, the memory of her condemnation filled his head, threatening to tear his composure apart once more.
He reached out habitually, searching for wine, a cigar—anything to numb the sensation.
[Julian] "You look like a walking corpse."
The sudden voice startled him. He lowered his hand to find Julian, standing just beyond the edge of the bed curtains.
[Declan] "Get out."
[Julian] "How much longer will you rot here? The butler says it has already been two weeks."
Two weeks?
His sharp jab forced Declan to realize how much time had evaporated into nothingness.
Usually, he would have mourned the loss of productivity, but now he felt only a hollow vacancy. He felt like a man who had lost his mind. If anything, the headache only intensified.
He scowled and reached for a cigar, finally pressing it to his lips. Julian marched over and snatched it away. Declan’s brow twitched with irritation as he directed a savage glare at his friend.
It was only then that he noticed the wound near Julian’s mouth. His mind, dulled by drink and sleep, finally made the connection. He had put that mark there himself with his own fist.
[Julian] "Have you even considered how many people are pacing outside that door because you banned everyone from entering?"
[Declan] "I should have banned you as well."
His voice was ice as he ran a hand through his obsidian hair. His eyes scanned the room. Since the cigar was gone, he searched for something else. He wanted to exhaust his body, to punish himself. As long as he remained sober, the traces of Vanessa refused to leave his mind.
The memories were driving him toward madness.
He looked around frantically, but the crates of alcohol he had ordered to be stacked in the corner were gone. He reached for the bell pull to summon a servant.
[Julian] "The royal wedding. They moved it up."
He spoke with a heavy sigh, his expression full of frustration.
Declan froze. The savage fire in his eyes died instantly, replaced by a shrinking, haunted hollow.
[Julian] "You sent that lady back yourself. If you went after her only to let her go, you must have realized something. So why are you still doing this?"
[Declan] "......"
[Julian] "Why, for heaven's sake?"
Julian thrashed his hand against his chest, unable to fathom Declan's behavior.
Declan ignored him. His gaze drifted across the room. The bedroom, once a site of a violent storm, was clean. Yet, something remained to clutter his vision and haunt his sight.
The wedding dress.
The gown Vanessa should have worn while standing by his side hung there, mockingly visible. He stared at every fold of the fabric, finally recalling the emotion he felt right before he had collapsed.
A searing heat flooded his eyes—a sensation he had not felt in years.
He rarely wept, even in a life as tumultuous as his. He had shed no tears during his mother’s cruelty or his father’s neglect. The pain created by his parents' selfishness had fallen entirely on him, but the cold indifference he received since birth had hardened him far too early. His parents were monsters driven by a twisted love; he was a monster raised in their shadow.
He only ever wept for one person. She possessed an absolute, colossal influence over him, capable of shattering every layer of defense he had built.
This eruption of unfamiliar emotion had happened when he watched her die before his eyes, and it was happening again. As tears blurred his vision, he remembered his final realization.
He shed his robe and donned a fresh suit. His movements were surgical, betraying none of the drunken stupor of the past fortnight.
[Julian] "What are you...... Declan! Where are you going!"
Julian shouted in confusion, but Declan had already vanished through the door like an arrow from a bow.
The small chapel within the Rohawk estate was silent.
The weather was overcast, and the interior glowed with the light of several candles. The flickering flames cast shadows upon the statue of the Goddess, making the stone figure appear so holy and pure that one hardly dared to look at it.
Vanessa stared at the statue. It felt more familiar to her now than ever before.
Are you enjoying this?
Convinced the Goddess was watching this scene play out, Vanessa formed the words in her mind.
If you undeniably wanted my revenge, you should have erased his memories.
The words Rohodre had spoken to her were still vivid.
[Rohodre] There are things you must endure. If everything were easy, it would be boring...…
A divine obstacle, placed there to prevent boredom, had pushed Vanessa to her absolute limit.
[Vanessa] "......"
She had chosen to return to the past because she refused to live with regret. Her situation was better than before.
Yet, the life she had carved out with this choice was not one of sheer happiness. It was a life trembling with the fear of losing everything again, of being wounded once more.
She clutched her chest.
Two weeks had passed since she returned to her family's warm embrace. During that time, she had suffered three episodes of unidentifiable chest pain.
Two days ago, she had finally lost consciousness. She had tried to keep her suffering a secret to avoid upsetting her father, but her silence had only led to disaster.
As expected, the Count had turned pale with fright and rushed to her side with the physician.
[Physician] "I can find no physical trauma to cause such pain. In cases like this, the injury is likely internal."
[Count] "Internal?"
Standing by the bed, he paced restlessly.
[Physician] "Her heart is festering. My Lady, you mentioned a tightening in your chest and severe migraines, yes? And that sleep eludes you at night?"
Vanessa glanced at her father’s face and nodded slightly.
[Physician] "These are classic symptoms of suppressed rage."
[Count] "Suppressed rage?"
[Physician] "She is holding back too much. These emotions are not being expressed; they are stacking up inside her, rotting her from within."
The physician prescribed medicine to stabilize her mind and advised total rest before departing.
The Count immediately handed her the prepared bowl, his face ghostly with worry.
[Count] "Vanessa, is something troubling you?"
[Vanessa] "......"
[Count] "Is this... an aftermath of what happened recently?"
His voice was cautious. He desperately wanted to uncover the cause of his daughter’s pain, yet he feared that prying too deeply would only open fresh wounds.
Vanessa swallowed the medicine and set the empty bowl down, shaking her head.
[Vanessa] "No. Nothing is wrong, Father. I think I am just exhausted."
[Count] "Rest then, and think of nothing."
He stroked her pale cheek with a warm hand. She smiled faintly, covering the back of his hand with hers to ease his concern.
[Count] "...Vanessa. If you need help with anything, tell me without hesitation. I am your greatest ally in this world."
[Vanessa] "......"
[Count] "And you have the Crown Prince as well."
She remembered the warmth of her father’s touch. She remembered his voice as he mentioned Hayden. Naturally, her thoughts drifted to the upcoming wedding.
[Vanessa] "The royal wedding......"
She knew marriage to Hayden was not a perfect solution. She knew this path was flawed from the start. Yet, she refused to undo the decision for one reason.
She was sick of Declan—the man who had gone as far as kidnapping her. She was terrified of what he might do next. He had let her go this time, but who knew when his mind would snap again?
The only reason she had received help from those around her was her title as the 'Crown Prince’s Fiancée.' The royal wedding was the only path she could take. She wanted something simple at the end of that road: Comfort. Peace.
If things continued this way, her situation would be ideal. She was with her living family, and she was marrying a man who looked only at her. It was a cozy, sheltered existence. Compared to her life before the regression, this was a luxury.
Yet, her heart continued to sink.
The reason was clear. A choice made out of necessity and circumstance could never lead to genuine happiness. But it seemed she had forgotten what happiness even was.
What did it feel like? What color was it? How did it fill a heart?
It was a riddle she could not solve. She cut her thoughts short and stood up.
Dina, who had been waiting at a distance to avoid disturbing her, scurried over.
[Dina] "Are you feeling better, My Lady?"
She had been just as terrified as the Count on the day Vanessa collapsed. Since then, she had monitored Vanessa’s condition with obsessive care.
Vanessa nodded and began to walk, Dina trailing closely behind.
As they neared the main building, she noticed her maid was unusually restless.
Since the chapel was located behind the main house, they were using the rear entrance. When they finally stepped inside, Dina let out a visible sigh of relief.
[Vanessa] "Is something wrong?"
Dina’s shoulders flinched at the question.
[Dina] "Oh, My Lady. The thing is... I heard something at the chapel earlier......"
Dina fidgeted with her fingers, unable to finish her sentence. Since the girl was often clumsy, she assumed it was nothing and turned away.
As she looked out the window, she finally understood Dina’s anxiety.
Her gaze locked onto the main gate. Through a heavy layer of clouds, a single, stray beam of sunlight pierced through.
Standing there, just outside the reach of the light, was Declan Vinkart.
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