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Chapitre 4: Realization

"From now on, you are nothing.

And you will always remain like that.

Whatever you have, it will all be mine."

–CREAK!

As the door was closed, the darkness returned once again.

–SOB!

I could still hear the sobbing of the girl who had been subjected to such feelings.

'...'

Elara.

The protagonist of the story.

The subject of the tragedy.

The young woman whose everything was taken by the very people that she had trusted.

And Lucavion.

The Isolde's fiancée.

That is me.

"Kurgh-!"

An immense headache struck me once again because continuous memories erupted in my head.

On a sunny afternoon in a lush garden, she sat on a bench with her usual frail demeanor. "Lucavion, please knead my hair," she requested softly, her voice filled with a delicate sweetness.

It was weird.

'Is this the same voice?'

How could a person have such different sides? Which one was real?

The answer was already revealed before me, though it was hard to accept it.

At that time, I just did what I was taught to. Isn't it right to show care to those who need it?

"Of course, Isolde." I sat beside her and gently ran my fingers through her hair, feeling the silkiness between my fingers.

Even now, I can remember that same silkiness.

But was that true?

Those memories.

Were they really mine?

Am I Lucavion?

Or am I...

Who was I in the first place?

'What? What was the name?'

I couldn't recall it.

"Urghk-!"

My headache worsened a lot more.

RUMBLE!

As well as the rumbling of my stomach. It was as if something was churning there as if my body was trying to throw something out of it.

Then, the same memory appeared in my head once again.

I was lying down, my head resting on the lap of her.

Her 'gentle' touch soothed my aching head, and I felt a sense of calm wash over me. She caressed my hair, her fingers moving with a tenderness that made the pain fade away.

"Lucavion," she whispered, her voice soft and sweet. "You love me, right?"

I tried to respond, but my voice felt distant as if it belonged to someone else. "Yeah, I love you, Isolde."

The smile was supposed to be radiant, yet now it looked as if it was the fake light of the moon.

"You believe in me, right?"

"Of course, Isolde," I heard myself say, the words feeling both familiar and strange. "I believe in you."

Yet, that feeling of strangeness.

I could now understand it.

It was my body that was warning me at that time.

"Good," she said softly. "Because you and I are meant to be together, always."

Just as in the dream, the nauseating feeling rose from my chest once again.

RUMBLE!

My stomach rumbled and churred.

"So, my Lucavion. Will you drink this for me?"

And she showed that thing to my face.

That thing that constantly made me want to puke.

"I will do anything for you."

And that moment.

"Urghk—!"

I couldn't hold it back any longer. The nausea overwhelmed me, and I threw up, the disgusting liquid spilling out onto the cold, stone floor of the cell.

"Orghk—!"

It felt like my insides were being wrung out, every drop of bile and acid forcing its way up and out of my body. I heaved again and again until there was nothing left but dry retching and the acrid taste of vomit in my mouth.

My body shook with the effort, and I collapsed back against the wall, gasping for breath. The memories, the pain, the betrayal—they all swirled together in a nauseating vortex that left me dizzy and weak.

As I lay there, trying to steady my breath, I noticed something moving in the pool of vomit. My eyes widened in horror as I saw a centipede writhing and squirming its way out of the mess. It was long, segmented, and grotesque, its many legs scuttling over the stone floor.

"Wh-what...?" I muttered, my voice shaking. The sight was revolting, and a chill ran down my spine.

I reached out, trying to grab it, to smash it, to do anything to stop it from moving. But my fingers were too slow, too weak, and the centipede slipped through my grasp, disappearing into the shadows of the cell.

Before I could react further, the door creaked open, and the blinding light pierced through the darkness, making me squint and cover my eyes.

"Get up," a gruff voice commanded, cutting through the haze of my disorientation.

I tried to push myself up, my body protesting with every movement. The light was harsh, and as my eyes adjusted, I saw the silhouette of a guard standing in the doorway.

"What...?" I managed to ask, my voice hoarse.

"You're being moved," the guard replied curtly, stepping aside to make way for another figure.

The new figure stepped into the cell, and I saw it was a face that didn't feel unfamiliar.

The face was something I had seen before.

'...Who…..'

I asked myself.

The answer came from the guard.

"Sir Alistair came here to take you out."

The moment the name came out of the guard's mouth, I realized who this was. It was my elder brother.

Alistair Thorne. The heir of the family.

Hope ignited in my heart. I opened my mouth to greet him, but before I could speak, suddenly, a fire ignited right before my face, and it burned fiercely.

"Argh-!"

I pushed myself back from the flames, my heart pounding with fear.

Following that, I heard a cold voice saying,

"Do not ever try to speak, you worm."

The voice was icy, and as I raised my eyes, I saw Alistair's gaze fixed on me with intense disdain. His eyes were sharp, unforgiving, and filled with contempt.

At that moment, I realized I was not in a good position at all.

"….." I wanted to say something, but the words died in my throat as the flames flickered menacingly closer.

"Silence," Alistair hissed, his expression darkening. "You…..After all the things that you have done…You have no right to speak….."

The hope that had briefly flickered in my heart was extinguished, replaced by a cold dread.

"..."

Thus, I decided not to make anything complicated since nothing would matter anyway.

"Take him," I heard Alistair commanding the people behind him.

–TAK!

–TAK!

–TAK!

Following that, the sound of metal hitting the ground could be heard. As I looked, I could see the light reflecting from the armor they wore.

And the insignia right on their chest.

It was a familiar one.

The insignia of Thorne Viscounty.

Insignia of my family.

They were the Thorne family's knights.

The knights grabbed me roughly by my arms. Was there a need to do such a thing? After all, it was not like I could escape from here right now, and not like I wanted to do so.

And these guys were supposed to serve us, weren't they?

"I can walk by myself," I protested.

Instead of replying with words, another burst of fire ignited near my face, scorching my mouth. The intense heat and pain forced me to recoil, choking back a cry of pain.

I looked up to see Alistair's cold eyes locked onto me, and I quickly averted my gaze, understanding that no mercy would come from him.

I shut my mouth, realizing that speaking would only bring more pain.

Yeah, it was time to accept it right now.

From now on, I would not be treated as a normal human being but as a criminal that would need to be punished.

Until I cleared my name, at least, it was not like it was impossible or anything. If I can drag people on my side, if I can talk to them to at least explain my situation, I think they will believe me.

Though it will be hard, they are my family.

Right, let's keep ourselves silent for a while. When the time comes, we can talk. This is not the place to do so.

"Move."

The knights dragged me forward, their grips like iron. Each step was a struggle, my body still weak and trembling from the ordeal.

But, just before we left the place, I made eye contact with the girl in the other cell.

Elara.

Her clear blue eyes were now filled with redness, most likely because of the tears that she had shed.

Yet, as we made eye contact, her eyes took on a different shape. A glint was there. A glint that I had just seen in another person's eyes.

The glint of hatred.

It was a raw, burning hatred that cut through the haze of my own confusion and pain. Elara's gaze was piercing, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that left no room for misunderstanding.

She hated me.

'Right…..'

Not that it mattered now since I could do nothing to change it.

–CREAK!

The door closed once again as we left the confinement room or whatever it was.

The corridor outside the cell was dimly lit, the walls closing in around me as if to emphasize the hopelessness of my situation.

We emerged into a larger, grander corridor, the light here brighter and more oppressive. I could hear the murmurs of others and feel their eyes on me, judging, condemning.

The weight of their disdain pressed down on me, and I struggled to keep my head up to maintain some semblance of dignity.

The knights led me outside, where a carriage awaited. But instead of being placed inside, I was roughly handled and thrown into the luggage compartment.

The floor was rough, and every bump and jolt of the carriage was magnified by the uncomfortable ride.

I lay there, the rough wood digging into my back, every movement causing more discomfort. The reality of my situation was stark and unforgiving.

I was a prisoner, a criminal in the eyes of my family and everyone around me.

But, still.

If I could clear my name.

No, I needed to.

Since that was the only way.

Since there was no mention of Lucavion in the novel, I was free to carve my fate right.

Or was there a mention?

I couldn't remember.

And I was tired.

'It is fine if I sleep a little, right?'

Well, there was no one to answer that question anyway, so I just closed my eyes.

-----------------------

You can check my discord if you want. The link is in the description.

I am open to any criticism; you can comment on things that you would like to see in the story. 


Chapitre 5: Returning Home

The journey to our destination was long and arduous. The trip would take several days, and each day was a test of endurance and resilience.

The rough floor of the luggage compartment became my bed, and every jolt of the carriage was a reminder of my precarious situation.

The knights allowed me to leave the carriage only twice a day, just to relieve myself. Each time, I was watched closely, and any attempt at escape was immediately quashed by their stern vigilance.

The brief moments outside the carriage were a reprieve, but they were also humiliating as if I was a mere prisoner.

'Just endure it.'

It was a bit unfair, at least I felt like.

But there was nothing that could be done at all.

Meals were sparse and infrequent. I was given food only once a day, and what I received was stone-hard and barely edible.

Stale bread, tough meat, and the occasional bruised fruit. My stomach growled incessantly, but I forced myself to eat, knowing I needed the strength.

Water was rationed, and I was given only a small amount each day, just enough to keep me from dehydrating. The dryness in my throat was a constant companion, and each sip of water somehow felt like I was relieving myself in the holy water itself.

The days blurred together in a haze of discomfort and fatigue. The nights were the worst, the cold seeping into my bones as I lay on the hard floor of the carriage. I wanted to coat my body with mana, but since the amount of food I was eating was low, it was hard for my body to recover.

And I had never been good at using mana efficiently, to begin with. Compared to my elder brother and elder sister, I was a lot worse.

In the darkness, left to my thoughts, even sleep eluded me. Each time I closed my eyes, my stomach would churn with the memory of that centipede and the time Isolde had fed it to me. The grotesque image haunted my mind, making it impossible to find any semblance of peace.

I lay there, counting the ticks of the carriage wheels, each quaking of the rough road jarring me further. The isolation and the darkness pressed in on me, amplifying my fears and doubts.

My mind wandered to Elara, to the hatred in her eyes and the betrayal that had shattered her life as well as mine.

'The plot of the novel, Shattered Innocence.'

I didn't know how I was here. Was it because I just said something about the novel itself? I remembered talking about the novel on the bus with someone.

'Who?'

I asked myself. There was someone there, yet it was blurry. I couldn't recall anything at all.

'How did it come to this?'

Another question. And the answer was unknown.

'Why hadn't I seen it? The façade that she was showing to.'

Thinking about Isolde….I couldn't help but feel a sense of knowing in my heart. All the time that was spent.

All the memories.

Were they nothing but fake?

Was that all it amounted to?

"A stupid country bumpkin who had no idea what was happening around him."

I remembered the words that were spoken by the very fiancée that I had.

'A country bumpkin who had no idea, huh? That seems to be true…..'

Considering that I was never aware of such a thing happening, it seems her words were true. It was not like I was an exceptional person either, not that I ever pretended I was one.

"Lucavion, you are going to meet your fiancée."

The memory flashed vividly in my mind. My father's stern face loomed over me, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and sternness.

"Lucavion, you are going to meet your fiancée," he repeated, his voice carrying the weight of duty and expectation.

I stood before him, feeling the pressure of his gaze. "Yes, Father."

He sighed, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Listen to me, son. You must be careful and never annoy the Lady. The Valoria family is a dukedom that our family, the Thorne family, has been a vassal to for generations. It was because of a promise between me and the Duke when we were on the frontlines that the engagement between our two families was made. This is an opportunity for us to strengthen our position in the noble society. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father," I replied, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on my shoulders. "I will do my best."

At the start, I couldn't understand why I was the one who would be the fiancée of such a lady. After all, wouldn't my brother, who was not engaged with anyone at that time, be better?

But then, after meeting Isolde, I realized.

She was sick.

Someone who could hardly move outside and spent most of her time in her room. Her standing in her family was weak, just like her body.

Most of the time, it was her sister, Elara, who got all the attention and the responsibilities.

And since her standing was low and she wouldn't be able to influence the noble world too much, sending me instead of my brother would be the right choice.

There was also the requirement of having an heir for the family. Since Isolde was always viewed as weak and sick, expecting an heir from her would be hard.

At the end of the day, even my engagement to her was a way for my family to show that I was not useful.

After all, I was not good at controlling mana, nor was I good at the spear that our family specialized in.

TOK!

As these thoughts swirled in my mind, the carriage suddenly stopped. The abrupt halt jolted me from my reflections, and I listened intently to the sounds outside.

–TAP!

–TAP!

Footsteps approached, heavy and deliberate.

The doors of the carriage swung open, and daylight flooded in, momentarily blinding me. I squinted, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness.

The knights stood there, their expressions stern and unreadable.

Finally, my trip had ended.

I climbed out of the carriage with some effort, my body stiff and aching from the rough journey.

As my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw the familiar sight of the Thorne mansion, the place where I had spent all of my childhood.

The grand structure loomed before me, a mixture of imposing and nostalgic.

"Move."

The knights did not give me any time to reminisce. They grabbed me by the arms and started leading me toward the mansion.

Normally, such an act that was made to a noble would be detrimental and would mostly end with execution since disrespecting a noble meant such punishment.

'I can move on my own.'

I wanted to protest, but I couldn't. I could feel the eyes that were piercing through me even now.

He was there, and I knew if I were to just open my mouth, I would be burned. If he was watching this and was now, then the fact that he was keeping it silent meant he was allowing the knights to act like this.

Thus, I could only shut it and accept the treatment.

The path was lined with well-kept gardens and ornate statues, all of which felt strangely alien despite their familiarity.

As we approached the entrance, the heavy doors of the mansion opened, revealing a man and a woman standing there. The faces were familiar, and I immediately recognized the man from the memory I had just now.

It was my father, Gerald Thorne. His tall and imposing figure was draped in fine, dark clothes, his face stern and weathered from years of duty and responsibility.

His sharp eyes were as usual. His demeanor was stern, as usual.

Yet, in his eyes, I could see something different. 

'Anger.'

Yes, it was anger. His eyes contained immense anger that was parallel to elder brother as well.

His jaw was set tight, and his silver hair was combed back, giving him an air of severe authority.

Beside him stood another person, a woman whose presence brought a rush of childhood memories flooding back.

Mother.

Eleanor Thorne.

She was a picture of grace and poise, her elegant dress flowing around her as she stood with a regal bearing.

Her hair, a rich chestnut brown, was neatly styled, and her green eyes….

In my memories, she had always been gentle, a comforting figure in my life, always quick with a kind word or a soft touch. But at this moment, her expression told a different story. Her face was hard, her lips pressed into a thin line, and her eyes contained a look….

"Fa-"

I wanted to speak, but before I could even say anything, he just turned back. And then said, "Take him to the basement. And keep him there until the trial commences."

His words were cold, and with each one of those, I felt the words I planned to speak stuck in my throat.

"Understood, my Lord."

Following that, someone familiar appeared before me.

"Excuse my rudeness, Young Lord Lucavion."

It was a man with a wrinkled face.

"….."

The butler of our family.

"Sebastian," I muttered, recognizing the loyal servant who had always been a part of our household.

"Please follow me, Young Lord."

He gestured for the knights to leave me alone and then took over, guiding me through the corridors of the mansion.

As we walked, the grandeur of the place seemed to mock my current state. The tapestries, the chandeliers, the finely crafted furniture—all reminders of the life I had once known, now seemingly out of reach.

We descended a narrow staircase that led to the basement. The air grew colder and damper with each step, and the light dimmed.

The basement was a stark contrast to the opulence above. It was a place meant for storage, for things hidden away and forgotten.

Sebastian led me to a small, dank cell. He opened the door and gestured for me to enter.

"I am sorry, Young Lord," he said softly, his eyes betraying a hint of sorrow. "This is for your own protection until the trial."

"….." I nodded, as I knew he couldn't do anything better than this.

Since I could see a slight mat on the ground.

---------------------

You can check my discord if you want. The link is in the description.

I am open to any criticism; you can comment on things that you would like to see in the story. 


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