Lucius had something close to a germaphobia.
At least, that was what Celia knew of him.
He hated physical contact with anyone to an obsessive degree.
Whenever he went out, he wore gloves that covered even his wrists, and he rarely allowed others into his personal space.
And naturally, he was even stricter about that boundary with Celia.
Celia herself did not dislike contact with others, but Lucius did.
“I have something I want to ask you, Celia.”
That was the kind of relationship they had.
“Could you tell this inexperienced me what sort of nights we used to spend together?”
Not like this, of all ways to make contact!
Stiff as stone, Celia felt his body press against hers and awkwardly lowered her head. Before her chin could nearly touch her collarbone, her body reacted first.
She froze before she could even inhale.
Her shoulders jerked. Her fingertips curled inward as though clutching at herself. Her heart skipped into a strange rhythm that startled her, all in the span of an instant.
“L-let go…!”
Her eyes widened. Her lips pressed tightly shut.
“We were married. We’re not the kind of couple who should be embarrassed over something like this.”
He whispered it with deliberate gentleness.
People who go mad usually end up one of two ways, they said.
Either they lose their minds completely, or they start doing things they never used to do. Celia now realized that line from the book she once read had been absolutely correct.
The proof stood right in front of her.
“Or should I turn off the lights?”
His empty head must have absorbed the wrong kind of nonsense from newspapers or something.
The servants had probably been too afraid to tell their young master—who had barely returned alive—that his relationship with his wife had been terrible enough for them to want to kill each other.
“You and I… we weren’t… that kind of… relationship…”
Her tongue, usually so smooth and eloquent in front of him, stumbled uselessly and failed to form coherent words.
Even when she was fifteen and arguing with her father to avoid attending the academy, her mind had never felt this rigid.
As she squirmed wordlessly, a long sigh slipped lazily from his lips.
“My head may have gotten a little strange, but the fact that I’m your husband hasn’t changed. And there’s nothing strange about a happily married couple spending the night together, is there?”
His warm, firm hand pulled her toward him as she leaned back as far as possible.
Even through layers of fabric, the heat of his body made warmth rush all the way to her forehead.
“I heard you stayed by my side for two weeks without sleeping properly while taking care of me. I’m sorry for worrying you.”
That was because I thought you’d die and leave me a widow…!
“Give me a chance to prove that I’m alright—and to make up for leaving you lonely.”
Their stomachs touched. Their breaths mingled. Their gazes collided.
She quickly turned her face away, but their tightly pressed bodies left no room to escape.
The words gathering in her throat circled there before being swallowed back down.
Looking at him—holding her as though this were the most natural thing in the world, with those soft and leisurely eyes—Celia could not endure it anymore.
“You… you feel like a completely different person!”
She shouted and shoved him hard.
The strength that had seemed unwilling to release her vanished like smoke in an instant, and he stepped back.
The moment she realized her hands had been pressed against his solid chest, a strange feeling crawled over her.
For some reason, she suddenly wanted to scrub her hands raw with a handkerchief, so she clasped them together and hurriedly retreated from him.
“I feel like a stranger to you?”
He leaned back slightly, looking caught off guard.
Just insult me instead. Spit your usual venom.
“Sorry. I didn’t think of that.”
He lowered his upper body as though he truly meant to apologize, resting his hands on his knees.
He bent down, tilted his head upward, and looked at her from below.
Celia, who had been fully prepared to lash out at him, abruptly swallowed her breath when she saw the transparent green eyes that genuinely seemed bewildered.
Seeing that infuriating face of Lucius making such an expression—this had to be some kind of devilish trick.
He awkwardly lowered his gaze.
“The moment I saw you, you felt familiar to me. Familiar enough that hearing you were my wife made perfect sense. Even more than the woman they say is my mother.”
Familiar…?
She could not even begin to understand where things had gone wrong.
Was the problem that she had been the first person he saw upon waking? Or had dying and coming back erased even his sense of resentment?
At a time like this, Lucius should have been shouting at her, accusing her of being connected to the people from Brickwell who attacked him.
“To me, everything felt natural because you seemed close. But from your perspective, your husband suddenly lost his memories and became a different person. I didn’t realize how unsettling that must be.”
He was being disturbingly humble.
Celia clenched her hands and feet tightly. If she didn’t, she felt she would lose her grip on sanity in this absurd situation.
“Did I scare you by suddenly getting so close?”
Fragments of an old memory involving Lucius stabbed through her mind.
It had been a night like this, too.
A summer evening after the sun disappeared beyond the horizon and the heavy heat of midday had finally faded.
A major incident had erupted in the heart of the capital, and Celia had gotten caught up in it. At the time, Lucius had said to her:
“Celia Brickwell. I know very well by now that you’re a woman without fear, without hesitation. That’s why you caused this damned outcome, isn’t it?”
She didn’t know why that unpleasant memory resurfaced now.
Perhaps because of his soothing tone, stubbornness suddenly rose inside her.
Scared?
There was no way she could feel something like that toward Lucius of all people. Celia tightened her jaw and planted her palm against his shoulder, pushing hard to force his face away.
“There’s no way I’d ever be scared of you!”
At that moment, Lucius’s expression melted softly.
The corners of his eyes gentled as though he had swallowed sweet fruit wine, and Celia clamped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from hiccuping in shock.
“That’s a relief. Right now, I can’t think about anything except you. I was worried you might hate being near me.”
First, she needed to get this bastard out of her territory.
Alarm bells rang loudly in Celia’s head.
Her rational thoughts couldn’t last more than a few seconds before flipping over completely. This abnormal version of Lucius kept planting confusion in her and making panic bloom anew.
“Now… leave.”
“Mmm.”
He tilted his head awkwardly.
The drawn-out sound somehow felt almost coquettish, but surely that was only because she was too flustered to think properly.
“But Celia, wouldn’t it be better for both of us if we stayed close together?”
“…There’s no way that’s true.”
“That’s what the doctor said. If I want my memories back, I need to spend time with the people precious to me and naturally encounter things tied to happy memories. And naturally, for me, that person is you, isn’t it? And if I stay close, you’ll grow used to the current me as well.”
Before she realized it, his arms had settled over both her shoulders. The weight made her shudder, and her balance tilted with it. Reflexively, she stepped backward—and her back hit the wall.
When had she been cornered like this?
“And I don’t want tonight to end so meaninglessly.”
He took full advantage of her trapped position.
Lucius lowered his face over her head and pressed his body close.
It was an intimate sort of contact. Deliberate. Tempting her toward a kind of corruption she had never experienced before.
The scent of bergamot and lavender drifting from him mixed with cool dampness and rose subtly around her. The bitter citrus fragrance deepened with something warmer beneath it. What had once smelled fresh and faint transformed instantly into the unmistakable scent of a man.
“Even though it was only a brief moment, I missed you. If you pity your husband who returned from death without his memories, then please allow me to stay beside you tonight.”
Like an animal caught in a trap, she froze beneath the unfamiliar intensity of the contact.
“I’ll do my best to satisfy you.”
She jerked her head upward, doubting her own ears. Lucius narrowly avoided having his chin collide with the top of her head by swiftly turning his face aside.
“W-what?”
As he looked at her wide-eyed expression, his index finger slowly slid along the slender line of her neck glimpsed beneath her pale hair.
Celia shrank her neck like a startled turtle, and he pressed his lips gently to the crown of her head. She flinched at the sensation of something touching her.
“Of course, if I feel like a stranger to you, I understand why you’d be nervous. In that case, would it be alright if I suggested an alternative?”
“I hate whatever it is.”
The response escaped instinctively, the same cold tone she always used with the real Lucius.
Despite her sharp and firm rejection, he did not retreat for even a moment. Instead, he continued speaking as smoothly as flowing water. Celia narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
A faint red spread across the corners of his eyes. She could see something burning deep within them.
“Still, at least hear me out.”
The corners of his damp lips curved slowly upward.
“I’ll only go as far as you allow me to.”
