066. Dream (4)

“Owen!”

As he was being helplessly shaken by the storm of memories, someone cupped his cheeks.

The warmth of the hands brought Owen’s focus back to reality.

Outside the window, thunder and lightning still raged as rain poured down.

“Get a hold of yourself.”

His breathing was still rough.

He could feel cold sweat beading on his forehead.

Owen slowly leaned his head on Lucia’s shoulder, trying hard to suppress the emotions that surged within him.

Lucia, who had been sitting across from him, was now standing close by.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Her worried gaze reached him.

Owen, too exhausted to reply, simply pulled Lucia into an embrace.

She responded by hugging him back and gently patting his back.

Her soothing touch was warm, as if to calm him down.

“Don’t be in pain. It worries me.”

Strangely, the fact that he could feel her warmth, and her concerned voice, quickly calmed Owen.

His uneven, labored breathing gradually returned to normal.

The overwhelming emotions that had threatened to drown him began to fade.

“Are you feeling a little better now?”

Perhaps Lucia noticed the change as she asked.

Owen lifted his head from her shoulder and nodded.

Seeing this, she carefully examined his expression and spoke.

“What happened all of a sudden? Are you really hurt somewhere?”

Her red eyes, filled with concern, caused Owen to let out a small laugh without realizing it.

At this, Lucia frowned slightly and retorted.

“This isn’t a time to laugh. You were really serious just now. Did you know you almost had a panic attack? Your face turned so pale….”

“I know.”

“You know, and you’re laughing? If you don’t know the reason, I should call a doctor.”

“There’s no need. I already know the reason.”

As Owen responded, Lucia’s gaze urged him on.

Her eyes seemed to demand that he tell her the reason, and Owen briefly replied.

“Trauma.”

That was probably it.

It seemed to be something the original Owen had experienced, but somehow, it was now affecting him as well.

“I remembered something, so I’m fine now.”

It seemed that the most terrible memory for Owen was from that time.

A rainy summer when he was seventeen, the day he lost both his father and mother in a carriage accident.

And later, after the investigation, he learned that both of his parents had been involved in affairs.

Owen had completely broken down, felt ultimate disappointment, and came to a realization.

—Love never existed.

A child who hadn’t been loved realized that even his parents’ love had been a lie, and he thought that way.

—I was such a fool. Even though I knew I couldn’t trust you, I still believed in you.

The sound of rain echoed.

The same rain from back then was still drumming against the window outside.

“…Trauma?”

Lucia’s voice rang out again as he traced back through the memories.

“You had something like that?”

Her expression was one of total surprise and shock, as if she had never known.

Owen blinked a few times at her reaction before nodding.

“I didn’t know. What kind of trauma….”

Lucia trailed off, lost in thought.

Owen looked at her, torn.

Would it be better to tell her the truth, or to keep it to himself?

He wanted to show Lucia only his best side, so he hesitated. But ignoring her concern wasn’t an option either, so he concluded that it was better to say something, even if brief.

“It’s just something related to my parents.”

“With the former Duke and Duchess of Verdun? I know about the part where they both had affairs….”

That was all people knew.

The rumors said that although the Duke and Duchess of Verdun pretended to be a loving couple, they were both cheating on each other.

Lucia knew as much.

She also understood that this was why Owen didn’t believe in love, but she couldn’t have known more than that.

That’s why she had spoken so casually.

She assumed that Owen’s childhood home, the Verdun estate, was a place he cherished.

Everyone likely thought the same.

The truth—that Owen had been abused by his parents—had never been revealed to society.

In fact, rumors had spread that the Verdun family took vacations together at their estate every holiday season.

It was a brazen lie since they always left him behind at the mansion.

It was a cover to avoid the scandal of neglecting or abusing their child.

“That’s definitely a problem too.”

Lucia nodded, acknowledging that what she knew was troubling enough for Owen.

“…But that’s not all, is it?”

She seemed to sense there was more to the story.

Owen wasn’t surprised—he had expected that reaction.

He hesitated, unsure of how to begin.

The abuse he had endured was violent and horrifying.

Yet, he had always done his best to hide any traces of it from others.

He believed it was necessary to become the “perfect head of the family.”

In truth, this was all part of the gaslighting and brainwashing he had suffered.

“We weren’t a loving family. That’s all.”

After much deliberation, those were the words he spoke.

They were heavily diluted, dressed up so that the horror within them barely showed.

But he couldn’t help it.

The truth was too horrifying to speak.

He feared that, if he spoke it aloud, he would start gasping for breath and be dragged back into the memories, just like before.

“…Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Lucia, hearing his vague explanation, simply asked again in a short reply.

Owen immediately answered.

Then, he reached for the bell cord, signaling that he wanted to end the conversation.

Lucia had no choice but to return to her seat.

Soon after, the servants came in and cleared the empty plates from the table.

They filled the table with the main dishes, served on trays.

The meal resumed.

It seemed that the conversation about Owen’s trauma had come to an end.

Unfortunately, the same situation would repeat itself soon enough, rendering it all meaningless.

* * *

Rainy weather was terrible.

In the original story, it was mentioned that Owen’s mood would sink whenever it rained, but this was worse than Lucia could have imagined.

The last time they visited the Mage Tower, the rain had been light, so Owen had managed better.

But now, even just the sound of rain and thunder made him repeatedly recall his past.

It was unbearable.

Even after finishing his meal and returning to his office, Owen couldn’t focus on anything.

Evening came, and the two of them sat down to dinner again.

This time, it was in a different dining room than the one they had used for lunch.

The dinner spread was just as extravagant.

Everything on the table seemed to suit Lucia’s tastes perfectly.

After dinner, they had tea, and then Lucia was led to her guest room by a maid.

Although it was a guest room, because of her status, Lucia was assigned a large, well-furnished room.

Since most of Owen’s rooms were on the fifth floor, Lucia’s bedroom was on the fourth floor.

“Rest well, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sleep well, Owen.”

There was no need for a long farewell since she would be staying for a few more days.

With brief goodbyes, they both went to their respective rooms.

Owen, heading to his fifth-floor bedroom, approached the window to gaze at the storm still raging outside.

What he thought was a passing shower had turned into a torrential downpour.

It seemed like a long and harsh monsoon, just like the one in the summer of his seventeenth year.

—You worthless thing.

A cold voice echoed in his ears.

Owen knew well who that icy voice belonged to now.

—M-Mother… I’m sorry. I did wrong.

A young child’s pleading voice sounded.

But the voice’s owner, his mother, remained firm.

—Who did you take after to be born so weak? You don’t belong in the Verdun family.

The child’s calves were already covered in red welts from the cane.

—If you have the ability, you should use it. Worrying over something as trivial as the life of an animal…

Still unsatisfied, she struck the child’s legs a few more times.

The child’s tender skin swelled and bruised easily.

When walking became too difficult from the beatings, his mother called for the priest.

The priest, of course, had been silenced with money.

Without asking any questions, he healed the boy’s wounds.

—Next time, if you say something like that again, I won’t let you off. Next time, it won’t just be you—I’ll punish your servant as well.

His mother easily threatened the child, using even his servant as leverage.

—Get up.

The memory faded, and a new one surfaced.

This time, the voice was different, but still familiar.

It was his father’s voice.

—If you give up over something like this, then you’re not a Verdun.

His father had swung the wooden sword at the child with all his might, and as the exhausted child collapsed, his father spoke those words.

That was how the former Duke of Verdun taught his child.

He didn’t teach the boy anything except how to endure attacks.

They sparred with wooden swords, but there was no way a young child could withstand the full strength of a grown man who was a sword expert.

Naturally, the boy’s body was covered in all sorts of wounds.

Bruises, cuts, and even places that bled.

After every sparring session, the priest would heal him, so no scars were left.

“…Let’s stop thinking about it.”

Owen closed his eyes, trying to push down the memories that were rising to the surface.

Then, he turned and headed to the bathroom.

He decided not to call a servant and washed alone, hoping the act would clear his mind.

When he emerged from the bathroom, he was dressed in nothing but a bathrobe.

Apart from the servants and knights, no one else lived in the mansion.

That’s why Owen didn’t care much about his attire.

Especially not when it came to sleeping clothes.

Though he had proper pajamas, he always chose to sleep in a shower robe instead.

It was made from a soft material, extremely comfortable, and its dark black color made it perfect for wearing at night.

He had been using it as a substitute for pajamas for a long time now.

“Let’s sleep early tonight.”

Though he usually slept late and woke up early, tonight he didn’t want to stay awake any longer.

The relentless rain made him dwell on unnecessary, exhausting thoughts.

Owen drew the curtains to block out the sight of the rain.

He could still hear the occasional tap of raindrops against the window, but at least he didn’t have to see it.

With the curtains drawn and the scenery outside hidden, Owen finally lay down on the bed.

He turned off the magical lights, and the room was swallowed by pitch-black darkness.

In that deep, dark void, Owen closed his eyes, unaware of what might happen in the dreams he had chosen over facing his memories.