The sole young heir of House Windmere had lost his memory.
At that horrifying and shocking revelation, the duchess let out a scream.
“M-My son…! My son has become an idiot!”
The physicians who had delivered the news hurriedly rushed forward to support the staggering duchess.
“C-Cough… I do not believe he has become foolish, Your Grace. He still remembers his own name and retains basic knowledge tied to his daily life. This appears to be temporary memory loss caused by external trauma…”
“But his memories are incomplete…! Oh, merciful heavens!”
By now, the duchess had already ruined her third handkerchief with tears. Watching her from a short distance away, Celia turned toward the doctor.
“Then when will his memory come back?”
At dawn yesterday, Lucius had briefly regained consciousness only to spout complete nonsense before collapsing back into sleep like a corpse.
She had hoped that the next time he woke, he would at least be sane. But when she asked the question, the doctor subtly avoided her gaze.
That reaction wrapped itself around her ankles like creeping darkness.
“The answer to the young lady’s question… is something only the gods can know.”
“...Why?”
“When he awakens again, his memories may return immediately. Or perhaps they will return one ordinary day during daily life. Or maybe…”
The doctor hesitated before finally forcing out the ill-fated words.
“For the rest of his life.”
At that, the duchess—who had been moments from collapsing onto the floor—sprang upright like a startled frog.
“How dare you!!”
The doctor visibly shrank beneath the duchess’s furious shout.
Of course, Celia was equally shocked.
It felt as though someone had smashed her over the head three times with a hammer. She bit down hard on her lip.
What did he just say?
Lucius might never regain his memories?
As everyone stood frozen in shock, a maid approached cautiously.
“M-My lady… the young duke has awakened.”
It seemed the very man who had dumped this lightning-strike catastrophe onto her life before peacefully falling asleep had awakened once more.
The duchess, who had looked ready to waste away moments ago, quickly accepted her cane.
“Lucius is awake? Of course. Of course I’m going.”
Then the maid hesitated.
“M-My lady… there is one more thing.”
“What is it? Don’t tell me something else has happened to Lucius?”
Until then, Celia’s thoughts had been entirely consumed by Lucius’s broken mind.
If he woke again without recovering his memories… what then?
But her thoughts didn’t continue for long.
“T-The young duke… is asking for the younger lady.”
Celia’s chin jerked upward.
Her widened eyes reflected her shock perfectly.
“What?”
The first person Lucius asked to see after fully regaining consciousness… was Celia.
It was something neither Celia nor anyone else could believe.
‘If he were in his right mind, he would never make that choice!’
To want to see her face of all things—when she certainly wouldn’t help his recovery in any way.
She stepped into the room, still thick with the scent of medicinal herbs. Celia’s expression looked like someone who had bitten into something rotten, but she repeated the doctor’s warning to herself and steadied her mind.
“The young duke is a patient! Absolutely—absolutely do not provoke him!”
If something happened to Lucius’s health, it would become troublesome for her side as well. So she intended to cooperate as much as possible.
“Ah.”
Lucius, sitting alone on the bed and staring down at the still-steaming food before him, noticed her standing at the doorway.
“Come here.”
He gestured toward the chair beside the bed.
The excessively polite manner made her flinch for a moment.
Perhaps because of the bizarre behavior he had shown upon first awakening, her footsteps gradually slowed.
Me? Afraid of someone like Lucius?
The instant she realized that, she lengthened her stride and walked forward. Pulling the chair back slightly farther than necessary, she sat down stiffly with a quiet exhale.
“I heard you asked for me first.”
She immediately crossed her legs and folded her arms defensively. Her tone came out sharp and crooked.
But the memoryless Lucius merely nodded calmly without reacting much to her hostility.
Only his gaze remained fixed on her in a strangely persistent way.
As his eyes lingered on her, Celia narrowed her own in return.
For a man who had spent over half a month bedridden, his skin was pale like porcelain untouched by sunlight. The marks of his bandages had disappeared beneath the loosely draped clothes, but in their place, glimpses of a firm, solid body remained.
‘That lunatic… How does he still look like that after lying in bed for two weeks?’
If he had wasted away into skin and bones, perhaps she might have treated him more gently.
“Why were you looking for me?”
She waited for an answer while staring at the faintly dry line of his lips.
As the silence stretched on, Celia found herself growing increasingly anxious instead.
‘Why call me here if you’re not going to say anything?’
Celia had never once experienced silence between herself and him. Just as she was about to lose her patience, Lucius finally moved his lips.
“I heard… that you are my wife.”
Celia’s head snapped upward instantly.
That absurdly formal title made goosebumps rise across her skin.
‘My wife? He called me that just now?’
At most, he had occasionally called her by name in front of others when appearances demanded it. But something that polite had never suited the relationship between them.
“You…! Just call me you.”
The words burst out reflexively.
Lucius tilted his head as if confused by her reaction.
His eyes followed only her, without leaving even the smallest gap for anything else. There was an emotion in them Celia could not understand.
His gaze traced the line of her jaw, accompanied by a slow, measured breath.
After a brief hesitation, he spoke.
“So that’s what we used to call each other.”
It was such an airheaded answer that her fingers tightened hard around the armrest of the chair.
A Lucius wearing such an innocent expression.
Her throat itched uncomfortably. Even when she tried convincing herself he was only pretending ignorance, his gaze and behavior made it impossible.
‘Is he seriously thinking of me as his wife?’
Legally, she was his wife, yes—but this was completely wrong!
Lucius pushed aside the pale porridge and picked up a bottle of medicine instead. Popping open the glass vial, he spoke in a low, dry voice.
“Before you came, the doctor told me the rough details.”
He swallowed the medicine in one gulp before brushing the inside of his cheek with his tongue at the bitterness.
Then he lightly shook his head and continued.
“You must be having a difficult time because I lost my memory.”
Difficult?
No. This situation could not possibly be summed up with such a weak word. This was a catastrophe capable of overturning heaven and earth.
Anger began boiling up from deep inside her.
The duchess had compared her son to an idiot.
Yes. Rage surged inside her toward the man who had become exactly that. How could he manage to be useless from beginning to end, without a single helpful moment in his entire life?
“How troublesome could it be? The fact that you’re still Lucius Windmere hasn’t changed.”
She poured all her bitterness into the mocking remark.
Normally, Lucius would have curled his lips into a smirk, lifted an eyebrow, and thrown her sarcasm right back at her.
But this Lucius—less useful than a stable horse—only widened his eyes slightly in surprise before lowering his gaze silently.
He inhaled slowly, as though savoring the uncomfortable silence, before speaking again.
“I heard we were childhood friends.”
“......”
What kind of ridiculous game was this now?
Had someone taught him the wrong definition of childhood friends? The only thing their relationship shared with that word was that they had known each other since they were young.
Calmly, he continued.
“Since I lost my memories, I asked them to tell me about my wife. The doctor gave me some newspapers. I read through them a little.”
Newspapers?
Only then did Celia notice the stack of half-read papers on the nearby table.
Just skimming them for a few seconds made her dizzy.
Every single article exaggerated their relationship into some sickeningly affectionate fantasy.
Of course, those papers had been fabricated to serve as proof that Windmere and Brickwell had reconciled.
There was nothing to gain from rumors claiming the newlywed couple still wanted to rip each other’s hair out.
Leaning forward with genuine interest, Lucius spoke again about the lies their fathers had created together.
“I’m sorry for losing my memory. It must have been difficult for you when I suddenly returned like this.”
Before she realized it, he had moved right in front of her.
The distance was far too close.
Celia inhaled sharply. His large frame became oppressive within the narrowed space.
“That’s… why you called me? Because you thought I’d be troubled?”
The words spilled out rapidly. She didn’t even have time to notice her breathing quickening.
“Of course. And because I thought the first person I should see was you. You’re my wife.”
Lucius Windmere.
If you ever recover your memories, Celia could already picture you writhing in agony over the nonsense you’re saying now.
She covered her mouth with one hand to calm the nausea twisting inside her.
Perhaps misunderstanding her reaction, he pulled back slightly before tilting his head again.
The familiar gaze resting on her was unchanged, but the emotion within it was completely foreign.
“For such a ridiculous reason? For that alone?!”
Celia shot to her feet so abruptly she nearly stumbled.
A large hand instantly wrapped around her waist to steady her.
Feeling his warmth even through the fabric of her clothes, she flailed like a startled bird and shouted,
“I can’t accept this!”
Lucius looked at her with utterly pure eyes.
The sincerity in them stole the words from her mouth.
The man before her was undoubtedly Lucius. Lucius Windmere.
The owner of every scar left in her life.
And yet now, he looked at her with eyes cleaner than an innocent child’s—pure white and untouched.
The contradiction between the man she knew and the man before her twisted her insides into confusion.
“So I only need to explain it in a way you can accept?”
He guided her gently back into the chair.
The soft cushion wrapped around her, but then his rough, calloused hand settled over hers.
His hand was large enough to cover both of hers completely.
The warmth made every muscle in her back tense instantly.
‘T-This is insane.’
She barely managed to swallow the curse before it escaped aloud.
“Can I be honest?”
“...What, were you planning to lie?”
His index finger lazily stroked the back of her thin hand.
His eyelids lowered deeply as he glanced briefly at their intertwined hands before meeting her eyes again.
“My memories are incomplete, just like the doctors said. But there’s one thing I do remember.”
The corners of his eyes curved as his lips slowly stretched into a smile.
His red tongue slid across his dry lips before he spoke in a low, sleep-heavy voice.
“You crying.”
“Kh—! Cough!”
“The image of you clinging to me with red eyes, crying in my arms… that’s the only thing that keeps coming back.”
When she tried to yank her hand free, he only intertwined their fingers more tightly.
His fingers slid deeper between hers.
“In this empty head of mine… there’s only you.”
Before she realized it, her helpless hand had been lifted beneath his chin.
Then his damp lips pressed softly against it.
“That’s why I looked for you, Celia.”
Unable to endure it any longer, Celia burst out through the doors and braced herself against the wall.
“Crazy… he’s completely insane!”
Her tightly clenched fist slammed against the wall with a loud bang.
Lucius Windmere had lost his memory.
Lucius Windmere had gone mad!
“What? I did what beneath him—?”
Dear heavens.
Those memories were horrifying.
What in the world had remained inside that damned man’s head?
Out of everything, why had only those memories survived in that empty brain of his?!
She truly, truly could not understand.
Nausea churned violently inside her.
Wanting nothing more than cold water, she staggered upright.
That was when the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the hall.
Celia lifted her pale face.
The moment she recognized the figure approaching, she bit her lip and hardened her gaze.
“What are you doing standing here alone?”
The closer he came, the clearer he became.
A dark crimson velvet coat cinched tightly around his waist. Beneath the carelessly loosened buttons, his pale neck and collarbone stood out sharply.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Soft hair spilled over her rigid figure like flowing silk.
The faint scent of perfume drifted toward her.
“Noona.”
The future heir of Brickwell, bearing the same snow-white hair as Celia, grinned deeply enough to form dimples.
“Didn’t miss me?”
The youthful traces she remembered had nearly vanished from Evandor. Smiling lazily, he nudged the tip of his shoe against hers.