Officially, Celia had two younger brothers.
One of them was Evandor, two years younger than her—the next heir of the Brickwell family, and a strikingly handsome man with the same silver-white hair as Celia.
Countless people threw themselves at him, enchanted by the beauty mark just beneath his eye and the charming dimples that appeared whenever he smiled.
Only two days ago, he had been caught in a scandal with a widow, yet no one thought much of it. He was the kind of man who never stopped those who came to him and never held onto those who left—a true libertine, acknowledged by all as the greatest rake in high society.
To Celia, he was nothing more than a vulgar disgrace of a younger brother.
Still, even she had to admit how overwhelmingly popular he was.
The problem was—
Evandor was the last person who should be in Windmere.
“Why are you here?”
At her cold question, his eyes lazily rolled before he shrugged.
“That’s the first thing you say to your little brother after so long?”
“I’m not in the mood for jokes. Why did you come to Windmere?”
Her hand shot out urgently, gripping his forearm tightly.
The bright smile on Evandor’s face vanished instantly.
With a sharp motion, he yanked his arm upward and shook her off.
Her hand bounced away painfully from the force.
Celia bit her lip hard and glared at him, while Evandor frowned back in irritation.
“I obviously came because I had business here. Why interrogate me over it?”
Growling low under his breath, he tapped the end of her shoulder. His fingers pressed heavily against her collarbone as he looked down at her with chilling eyes.
“……”
“……”
A tense silence stretched between them.
Eventually, Celia clicked her tongue and turned her head away sharply. Above her came the sound of a faint sigh.
“We haven’t seen each other in ages, and you came at me like that. You startled me too, you know. I’m not angry, noona.”
As if he hadn’t been scowling moments ago, Evandor smiled lazily again, swaying slightly where he stood.
“I came to see you too, but Father also told me to pass a message to the young duke here.”
“Father told you to deliver something to Lucius?”
At the mention of the man who had thrown her thoughts into complete chaos, Celia—who had been ready to leave immediately—found her feet rooted to the floor.
“What, you think I’m lying? But they said I can’t meet the young duke right now, so I was looking for you instead.”
Something about his relaxed attitude filled her with unease.
The two ducal families had joined hands under the name of reconciliation, but that was all it was.
Just as Celia was treated like an outsider within this house, Windmere was practically enemy territory for Evandor.
Their father knew that better than anyone.
Yet he had still sent his most beloved child directly into the heart of Windmere Castle.
Celia couldn’t understand it.
What kind of message is so important that Father sent Evandor personally? Or…
As her body unconsciously tilted toward Lucius’s room in the main castle, Evandor suddenly stepped forward and trapped her feet between his own.
“But did something happen to Lucius Windmere?”
Celia carefully looked up at him.
“He’s definitely inside the castle. So why won’t they let me meet him?”
He didn’t bend down or reach for her.
Instead, he leaned forward slightly, standing close enough that his shadow swallowed her whole.
His broad shoulders blocked even the chandelier light above them, leaving half the room dim. Darkness spread over her collarbone and settled across her chest.
It felt as though his presence itself was pressing beneath her skin.
“Noona. I’m asking you.”
His voice dripped sweetly like honey, but his eyes were cold.
The air suddenly felt heavy as lead.
“...Lucius was attacked. He was injured.”
The eastern annex they stood in now had once been given to Celia by Lucius after their marriage.
No matter how many private rooms she had, she couldn’t bear spending every day inside the main castle surrounded by Windmere people.
After enduring all her furious complaints, Lucius had compromised by giving her this place.
It was supposed to be somewhere no one could enter without her permission.
And yet her heart trembled.
“He was attacked?”
“Yes. They’re busy treating him right now, so you probably won’t be able to see him.”
A faintly mocking voice escaped him.
“So he didn’t die?”
“He’s perfectly alive.”
Should she mention the memory loss too?
Or should she stay silent since it might only be temporary?
As hesitation briefly crossed Celia’s face, Evandor narrowed his eyes.
“That’s disappointing.”
A hollow laugh escaped her lips.
Evandor wasn’t surprised in the slightest that Lucius had been attacked.
If anything, he sounded genuinely regretful that Lucius had survived.
If that reaction means anything… then was the duchess right? Was Brickwell really behind the attack?
But why?
It certainly sounded possible, yet now that she herself had become part of Windmere, too many things no longer made sense.
Her father had reconciled with Windmere out of necessity.
So why reignite conflict now?
“Well, it can’t be helped. I’ll just wait a few more days until the young duke recovers.”
“...What? Wait. Evandor. You’re staying here for several days?”
Only someone out of their mind would say such a thing.
“Why that reaction, noona? You get to spend time with your favorite little brother. Don’t tell me you dislike that.”
“That’s not what I mean. The duchess is already blaming Brickwell for Lucius’s attack. If you stay in the main castle in a situation like this, do you have any idea what could happen?”
With Lucius unable to function properly right now, suspicion toward him would only intensify.
Celia firmly tried to send him away, but perhaps sensing that, Evandor’s smile slowly faded.
Discarding the cheerful mask entirely, he crossed his arms deeply.
“This was already decided by Father. You’re not about to tell me no now, are you?”
“Evan—”
“Surely you’re not opposing Father’s decision. Or my choice?”
...Damn it.
Celia bit down hard on her own tongue.
Otherwise, she felt like she might lose control for a moment and slap that arrogant brat across the face.
“O-Of course not.”
Even though he knew it was a lie dragged painfully from her lips, Evandor pretended not to notice.
“More importantly, I’m happy to see you again. This is the first time since the imperial award ceremony sixty-two days ago, isn’t it?”
You damned bastard.
Now there would be two irredeemable sons of bitches she despised living under this roof.
“Aren’t you happy to see me too, noona?”
Tapping the marble floor lightly with the tip of his shoe, he tilted sideways playfully. His gaze pressed for an answer.
When she only rubbed at her forehead instead of replying, a large hand wrapped around her arm.
The pressure tightened enough to hurt faintly.
This bastard would lick Father’s boots if asked, and now he’s treating me like this again…
The hand clutching her dress trembled.
“I’m really happy though. Aren’t you...?”
His voice toward her was smooth, yet heavy like unsweetened black tea.
She tried not to answer him.
Tried not to meet his eyes.
But under that relentless stare, her lips finally parted.
“How could I not be happy?”
“Really? I knew it.”
The hand gripping her arm vanished instantly.
A warm breath escaped through lips curled in faint mockery.
“I missed you too.”
That evening, as the servants busied themselves preparing for the night, Celia finally dismissed the noisy maids and emerged from the bath looking like a drenched mouse.
She sank loosely into the armchair beside the window.
Moonlight slipped faintly through the curtains, painting the room in soft blue shadows.
“Why is Evandor here...?”
He said Father sent him, but surely he wouldn’t explain why.
And she had no idea how long he intended to stay.
The situation, already tangled, only seemed to worsen around her.
Then suddenly—
The lights in the room went out.
“Ah.”
The candles that had flickered so warmly moments ago finally burned themselves out.
Come to think of it, one of the maids had been about to replace them earlier.
Celia had thrown them out halfway through.
Panicked, she looked around the darkened room.
Then—
Creak.
A sound came from somewhere nearby.
Startled, Celia stumbled backward. Her foot caught on the carpet, her body tipping sideways helplessly.
With no one there to catch her, falling was inevitable.
A faint groan escaped her as she twisted awkwardly—
Then a thin line of light spread over her body.
The glow brushed across her ankle and slowly widened.
“Celia?”
A shadow swallowed the light whole.
The heavy door opened, and along with a voice both familiar and strangely unfamiliar, someone stepped inside.
Their eyes locked instantly.
“...Lucius.”
Holding a small lantern glowing with amber firelight, he stood at the entrance to her room.
Celia slowly lifted her gaze upward.
The trembling light behind the glass cast soft shadows across his cheekbones, jawline, and straight nose.
A droplet slid from the tip of her wet hair down across her collarbone.
Her robe had loosened from the fall, exposing one bare shoulder where damp strands clung to her skin. The sash around her waist had been tied carelessly, leaving pale skin faintly visible through the opening.
Lucius’s eyes moved as if assessing the situation—
Then slowly swept over her as though devouring the sight.
The sound of wind outside barely filled the silence between them.
Celia slowly curled and uncurled her fingers against the floor. Her wet fingertips were cold.
For a long while, he simply stood there without speaking.
Lucius had never been the type to look away first.
And this time was no different.
Then finally, he took a step forward.
The carpet muffled his footsteps as he approached.
“Are you alright? You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?”
His long strides quickly closed the distance between them.
More shocked than hurt from the fall, Celia could only stare blankly as he neared her.
A hand suddenly appeared before her eyes.
“Can you stand?”
At the unexpectedly gentle voice, her trembling gaze avoided his hand.
“Why are you here?”
The lantern he carried illuminated the room around them.
Lucius standing inside her room.
The sight of him in a space decorated entirely to her taste felt so foreign it bordered on surreal.
“Ah, did I surprise you by coming so suddenly?”
His tone had always been naturally soft.
It was only the coldness he directed toward her that sharpened it like a blade.
But now—
With both a gentle tone and a gentle voice—
It was unbearable.
“As if I’d be surprised because of you!”
She snapped angrily, yet somehow his smile only deepened.
Slowly, the arm holding the lantern lowered, leaving the room submerged in dim golden light.
Freeing both hands, Lucius slipped the hand she had refused around her waist.
A shiver ran down her spine.
She turned sharply, trying to shove him away—
But the sudden closeness of his chest stopped her breath cold.
Even after half a month bedridden, the solid muscle beneath his clothes hadn’t weakened at all.
Just before she could push him away, Lucius lowered his face beside the pale curve of her exposed neck and whispered softly,
“I thought so.”
“...What?”
“It’s only natural for a husband to visit his wife’s bedroom. So of course you wouldn’t be surprised.”
“...Huh?”
He suddenly lifted his head.
“I may have forgotten many things, but I’ll do my best, Celia.”
A laugh escaped him like a soft exhale.
Tilting his head slightly, he bared his teeth faintly in a smile.
He brushed aside her wet hair.
Then his long fingers wrapped around the back of her neck.
His quiet laughter slid across her skin like a shiver.
“How should a night like this be spent...?”
His voice dropped lower.
“Wouldn’t my body remember, even if my mind doesn’t?”
Celia froze solid.