My Vengeful Former Lover

He gently wrapped her wavy hair around his fingertips and lightly tugged.
Deatrice furrowed her brows and Lucius lowered his head with an unconcealable smile he stared at her face.

“Deatrice, wake up.”

Though he was telling her to wake up, his voice was so soft it was barely audible.

Lucius laid down with his arms crossed and stared at Deatrice once more.
Now that he examined her closely, he could see that her face is astonishingly the same as it was six years ago.

When he met her again, he thought she had changed completely, but it was because of his habit of giving her cursory glances only when she was awake.
But now that she’s asleep, he could see she truly looked the same.

Does she not age?

Her eyebrows appear just as soft as they were back then, and her skin is still as supple and jade white.

The door creaked and Lucius, who had been caressing the curves of her face, quickly stood up as if he had not been doing anything prior.
It was the priest who opened the door and entered.
The priest thought he was still asleep, so when he knocked on the door and went in without waiting for an answer, he was surprised to see that the lord was already awake.

Lucius noticed that the one who had entered was wearing a different attire than the ones worn by nearby temples.
He surmised that he might’ve been summoned from another place.

Perhaps his perception of time was wrong, and he had already been asleep for a long time?

“Are you the one who healed me?” Lucius asked, covering the duvet so that Deatrice’s disheveled condition could not be seen.

There was visible confusion on the priest’s face and a bit of embarrassment as if knowing he may have interrupted something between the couple.

“Ah? No, m’lord.
I have just arrived.”

It was then that the priest realized who the sleeping figure was beside him.

“Oh? Who did it then? It seems like my back is pretty much healed…”

It wasn’t a difficult question.
If he didn’t know, then he could’ve just said so.
However, the priest showed signs of hesitation, and after being engulfed in continued silence, Lucius turned his head to look at the man.

Then he saw the priest looking at Deatrice with a complicated gaze.

Why do you look at someone else’s wife with those eyes?

Does he know her?

Lucius scowled and made no attempt to hide his unpleasant expression.
The priest realized his mistake, took a step back, and bowed his head deeply.

“Seeing that she had treated you herself, I suppose she had finally decided to reveal her secret.”

“Secret?”

“Yes.” The priest uttered, then he took a few steps closer to Deatrice, “You may not be aware, but your wife is in possession of divine power.”

“…”

Silence.

Lucius’s face changed at the priest’s unexpected remarks.
After examining for a moment whether that statement was true or not, Lucius’ expression became sharp, as if dealing with official matters.
“Does that mean that Deatrice and the duke broke protocols regarding divine laws?”

“Not necessarily, but to say that the duke played no part in it is falsehood.
The main problem lies in the fact that the marquess’s divine power is,” the priest paused briefly to look at Lucius, “her power is incomplete.”

“…incomplete?”

“Yes, and that means she has extreme limitations.” Lucius was bemused.
“But for someone with limitations, she healed my wounds quite effectively.”

“There is nothing wrong with the power itself.” the priest clarified, “But she can only heal using the powers inside her body, without the gods’ power being channeled to aid her.
Therefore, her body is burdened, and there’s this additional mutation that causes pain to be transferred to her.”

“The pain is transferred…” Lucius’s composure had always been rarely unsettled, especially in front of outsiders.
But today…

“Are you saying that Deatrice shouldered the pain I felt when she healed me?!”

The priest nodded in acquiescence, “It usually doesn’t last very long, but it could stretch from an hour to over half a day.
Looking at her now, the limitations may have already receded, and she is simply asleep.”

He hurriedly reassured him that his wife would be fine as he guessed how the marquis might’ve felt after this revelation.

But just because she would be fine eventually doesn’t mean that Deatrice hadn’t gone through that pain in his stead.
Lucius felt a tingling sensation in the back of his head, feeling as if he had been struck heavily by something hard.

His head was dizzy at the thought that such a fragile body had to go through such agony that caused even a grown man like him, who had suffered through the fires of war, to finally succumb.

It was a mixture of pain and guilt Lucius himself could not bear that his vision blurred and he momentarily blacked out.

Grabbing ahold of himself, Lucius took a deep breath and put his hand under the collar on Deatrice’s neck to make sure there were no wounds.
Fortunately, her skin was still smooth and flawless to the touch with no wounds in sight.

Lucius clenched his jaw and asked, feeling an oppressive weight settle on top of his heart, “Did Deatrice collapse?”

“No, she would always fall into a deep sleep after having exhausted her divine powers.”

“How long before she awakens?”

“As long as she gets adequate rest, she will rouse from her sleep.”

Meaning, do not wake her up in haste.
Lucius realized that his impatience was all too clear for the priest to see, and he feared he would wake her prematurely.
There was nothing else he could do except wait.

Then he speculated on the logic behind her actions.

Why would Deatrice treat him even though she knew she would suffer?

The question touched a place in the depths of his chest and his body turned rigid.