The Full Story of an Incomplete Divorce - Chapter 38

Fresh blood flowed down the blade and soon soaked his hand. Lucius simply stood still, looking down at his red-stained palm. The surroundings were engulfed in a silence as deep as death.
Whether it was a simple mistake or a deliberate act with clear intent didn’t matter. What mattered was that the only people who knew the truth were Lucius and Ben, the sole witness present.
‘A tragic accident during a sparring match with a servant.’
Linert’s death was concluded as such, and no one questioned it.

***

Pitter-patter. The sound of raindrops hitting the windowpane grew increasingly fierce.
Fortunately, Charlotte, who seemed to be in a deep sleep, did not wake and continued to breathe softly. Lucius gently kissed her closed eyelids and carefully tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear.
It had been raining nonstop for days since their return from Kelston. Charlotte disliked rainy days. The characteristic gloominess dampened her spirits, and the ruin of her hair and clothes prevented her from taking comfortable walks.
In contrast, Lucius preferred rainy days over clear ones. Because they allowed him to fully recall the day he first met Charlotte.
Her rain-soaked golden hair, still dazzling like sunlight, and her bold, sparkling eyes brimming with vitality. The way she smiled as she offered her handkerchief. It was a moment he could only stare at, transfixed and afraid she might disappear if he approached. Every moment of it remained preserved in his memory like a painting.
“Mmm….”
Charlotte tossed and turned in her sleep. As he pulled the quilt back over her shoulders, Lucius looked at her complexion with concern. Her fine brow was furrowed, as if she were having a nightmare. Perhaps it was related to Ben, whose recent death had left her distraught these past few days.
“…….”
The day Linert died. The moment Lucius saw his own hands stained with his brother’s blood, he realized he had been corrupted.

There wasn’t a single day he wasn’t tormented by guilt. Not guilt over Linert’s death, but the guilt that came from his corrupted self daring to remain by Charlotte’s side. He couldn’t touch her with these filthy hands. He was too ugly and repulsive a being to stand beside her.
Finally, he had married Charlotte and become her husband, but Lucius could not smile. Though it was a moment he had so desperately longed for, the anguish was far greater than any happiness.
Every time they were in the same space, every time her sweet scent brushed past the tip of his nose, every time he heard her gentle voice, he wanted to kiss her and caress her soft skin. When filthy desires surged within him—to bury his c**k inside her right that instant, to densely carve his mark upon her—Lucius’s torment would double.
He tried to avoid Charlotte to restrain his urges, even going so far as to use a separate bedroom, but after hearing her mention divorce, he finally couldn’t hold back and embraced her. He found himself utterly despicable, to an unbearable degree.
Simultaneously, a bliss so intense he felt he could die for it washed over him, mingled with guilt. Charlotte, filled with pleasure from taking him inside, not knowing what to do with herself, was unbearably adorable. So much so that he would have no regrets even if he died right then.
Lucius whispered quietly so as not to wake Charlotte.
“I love you, Charlotte.”
Lately, he found himself uttering these words of love frequently. It was both a desperate wish to hear the same words from her and an incantation to suppress the anxiety that she might leave his side at any moment.
Lucius believed the feeling Charlotte held for him was closer to pity than love. ‘The Valentin family’s unwanted burden. An existence left neglected by his family’s indifference. The pitiful younger brother who lost his brother in an unfortunate accident.’ He thought these labels attached to him had stirred her sympathy.