CWMBR 84

Chapter 84

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His mood swung wildly dozens of times a day.

He now found even trying to recall that night unpleasant. The more he traced the faint lingering traces, the more his anger flared. What angered him most was the fact that he found himself casually longing for that day he couldn't remember.

Relying on a few very fragmented sensations, he imagined her and began to want her. If she were beside him now, he felt he would reach out to her at any moment.

The thought he once held—that he could leave anytime—seemed utterly ridiculous now. Leave? Did he ever intend to do such a thing?

Ah, how could that be possible? She and he were inextricably entangled. What horrified him even more was the damp, dark pleasure lurking in a corner of his heart, reveling in this forced union.

He must not share the same space with that woman.

She was a thoroughly harmful and vicious seed. Had he been just a little foolish, he might have lost his mind and welcomed this entire situation with pure joy. He imagined himself like some fool, enchanted, chasing after her even when blatantly deceived. It was that woman who had turned him into such an idiot.

Facing Bridget in this state was impossible. He couldn't maintain his composure in front of her and couldn't guarantee what he might do.

While leaving her alone, he consciously blocked any interest in her. Colman's report was the bare minimum concession he'd allowed. The thick envelopes of letters she sent were all tossed into a drawer unopened. They soon filled an entire drawer, but he left them there.

But if only he'd known his choice would destroy her life so utterly.

"She... she wasn't recognized as the mistress of the house..."

"I heard she wasn't even allowed in the family register...!"

"I saw it in the newspaper! She's scheduled to be evicted soon!"

"I heard the master deliberately sent the lady to this remote mansion. Mr. Coleman said it was an unspoken order, so we had to act discreetly."

"I only did as I was told!"

The servants' tearful, chaotic cries ultimately converged on one conclusion.

That she was slowly withering away in that remote mansion.

At first, he thought it was her karma. Since it was flawed from the start, a bad outcome was only natural.

But now.

Was it still right to consider all of that her karma?

"All I ever wanted was a normal, happy family."

Could a woman saying such things really have drugged him, forced herself on him to deliberately get pregnant?

Or even pretended to? A woman who said she wanted a normal family of her own.

Lost in thought, the carriage had already reached its destination. It was the residential district of Glynford.

Out of habit, Ain took his usual spot where Bridget's mansion came into view and stared at it for a long while. Sensing movement, he turned his gaze. His subordinate, who had been investigating various issues within Glynford for some time and was now stationed permanently in front of Bridget's mansion, was approaching to report.

"The royal investigators came by, but they didn't stay long. It seems they haven't mentioned the allegations regarding illegal drug dealings at the Glynford Grand Theater yet."

Sitting in the carriage, listening to the report from his subordinate outside the window, Ain swallowed hard.

People with particular tastes do not hesitate to use special drugs to maximize their pleasure. Ain knew this fact well. It was something shared discreetly within high society. Human tastes and desires are diverse and vast—how could one possibly curb them all?

However, following Ain’s kidnapping, Alencia launched a massive campaign to eradicate illegal drug distribution. They urged people to use only substances certified by the Royal Medical Institute, warning against consuming concoctions of unknown composition. Indeed, severe punishments followed for illegal drug-related offenses thereafter.

Yet, as the years passed, enforcement inevitably loosened. The Royal Medical Institute's certified drugs proved too mild to satisfy those seeking stronger stimulation. Once again, potent, illegally manufactured drugs began to circulate underground. The problem escalated dramatically as social gatherings increasingly crossed class boundaries.

Though not reported in the newspapers, there was an incident where a high-ranking noble's child, severely addicted to drugs, lost control of their impulses and met an untimely death. With a fatality occurring, the royal family could no longer turn a blind eye.

They tried to uncover who supplied the drugs to that child and what exactly was supplied, but he heard they failed.

For one thing, the young man frequented far too many social gatherings. From clubs where he mingled with other high-ranking offspring to regular meetings at coffee houses that brought together artists from all walks of life. It was said he even occasionally frequented pubs while concealing his identity, making the investigation a real headache.

Moreover, those who indulged in drugs refused to cooperate properly with the investigation. Worse still, they formed a secretive atmosphere, covering for one another.

But when Ain mentioned re-examining the incident at the Glynford Grand Theater, Sanne came down.

Ain surmised that the drug Sanne was investigating was the same one he had taken. When he had tested it to identify the culprit, he had confirmed it was also an illegal substance.

If true, it was impossible for Bridget to have procured that drug. He had already witnessed her suffering humiliation at the tavern. She was a woman who didn't even know which taverns in Glynford dealt in illicit trade.

Let alone an illegally manufactured drug that had spread to the upper classes? Where on earth could she possibly get hold of something like that?

That foolish woman who ran all over town volunteering as a guide, claiming she couldn't afford to delay the theater employees' wages.

The idea that she had tried to use him was now truly hard to believe.

"And the lady hasn't gone out anywhere since the day you mentioned."

Was she afraid? Afraid hospital staff would appear somewhere and take her away?

Did she not think he would help her again? Or that anyone else around her would look after her...

"Instead, she briefly stopped a passing officer to talk. The distance was too far to hear the exact conversation."

Ain could guess the conversation without hearing it. Whatever she said to the officer stopped at a timid request like asking them to patrol the area more often. As if the only ones she could rely on were those official law enforcement officers. Even though he knew full well that to those officers, she and the people tormenting her were just subjects they had to protect.

Realizing anew that Bridget had absolutely no one else to rely on besides the officers, Ain felt his mind rapidly grow cold. Her attitude toward him, though he'd long been accustomed to it, felt like a final, brutal confirmation, leaving him feeling dirty.

Ain loosened the cravat that had been tightening around his throat. But the suffocating feeling didn't go away.

"And………………." 

"Hold on."

Ain cut off his subordinate, who was about to continue the report, and narrowed his eyes. Having been intently watching the road leading to Bridget's mansion, he suddenly stepped down from the carriage.

"Wait here."

With each stride of his long legs, his unbuttoned coat fluttered. Closing the distance in an instant, he blocked the path of an elderly gentleman hurrying along, eyes fixed on the ground.

The man, who had been walking stooped and looking down, raised his head in surprise.

"Lord Wise?"

He was Magnus, the physician attending to Bridget. Meeting someone unexpected in an unexpected place, Magnus looked thoroughly startled.

"What brings you here...?"

"Just passing by."

Magnus reflexively frowned at Ain’s reply, then quickly smoothed out the wrinkles, seemingly conscious of Ain’s gaze.

"Ah, yes."

"Here to see Bridget?"

"Well, yes."

Magnus answered reluctantly. He was managing his expression somehow, but couldn't quite shake the unease in his voice. He eyed Ain suspiciously, who had suddenly appeared near Bridget's mansion, grabbed his ankle, and was now asking these questions.

How he saw him wasn't Ain's concern. Instead, he focused on resolving his lingering doubts.

"Bridget didn't look well. How exactly have you been treating her? Does she have any chronic conditions?"

Magnus, who had been glaring at Ain, changed his expression.

"I cannot freely discuss a patient's condition with just anyone."