Chapter 120
‘What’s happening? I’m right here. Who are you holding so dearly and crying over?’
‘Could it be that something happened to Theo?’
Carcel panicked as the thought crossed his mind, recalling every incident that had happened to Theo in the past. He tried to rush toward his parents.
‘Not Theo. Anything but Theo. I’d rather be hurt myself than let anything happen to Theo.’
But as he took a few hurried steps, his father turned to look back.
The joy of seeing his father again lasted only for a fleeting moment. Carcel froze in his tracks, fear taking hold.
His father, who almost never showed his emotions, had a face soaked in tears.
“Father…?”
Before he could ask what was happening, his father shouted.
“Carcel, why are you here? Don’t come any closer!”
The tone was scolding, but his voice carried an indescribable sorrow.
Even as his father commanded him, Carcel couldn’t move.
His gaze shifted to his mother, who was sitting on the floor, clutching someone tightly. She didn’t even notice Carcel had arrived.
“Oh, my poor child!”
“Mother…”
“Go back to your room at once.”
His father stepped forward and grabbed Carcel by the arm. But it was too late. Carcel had already seen everything.
His mother was cradling a child who seemed to be around his age, weeping inconsolably.
The child’s arm hung limp outside her embrace. Not just the arm, but the entire body lay slack and lifeless.
It was as if… the child were dead.
As the thought struck, Carcel’s entire body broke out in chills.
“What is…?”
Carcel shifted his position to glance past his father’s side and see the child’s face. The moment he did, he gasped and clamped a hand over his mouth.
The child his mother was holding was him.
The black hair, the pale, white face—it was him. Every single feature was unmistakably Carcel.
But something was wrong. He was alive, standing here, so why was his mother weeping over a lifeless version of himself? His father had told him to leave, yet he was here.
Who is that child?
What came next was even more shocking.
As if answering his own question, Carcel whispered, almost involuntarily.
“…Edgar?”
At that single word, his mother turned to look at him.
“Carcel? How in the world…?”
She turned her back to him immediately, shielding ‘Edgar’ from his gaze.
A sense of dread overwhelmed him. Desperate to see the child more clearly, Carcel lunged toward her.
But his father swept him into his arms and pulled him away from his mother.
His father carried him farther and farther as Carcel stretched his arms over his shoulder and screamed.
“Edgar! Edgar! Edgar!”
And with that, he jolted awake, shouting Edgar’s name.
Carcel woke to find his cheeks damp with tears.
He buried his face in his hands, sobbing. He didn’t even know who Edgar was or what had happened to the child, yet his emotions surged uncontrollably.
Beneath his left ribcage, his heart throbbed as if it were being torn apart. But the emotional pain he felt in his chest was even worse than the physical ache.
‘Edgar. Edgar. Edgar.’
He repeated the unfamiliar name to himself, over and over. It was a name he didn’t recognize, yet it felt hauntingly familiar and achingly nostalgic.
Who was that child?
Why did he look exactly like me?
Why was he limp and lifeless? Was he… already dead?
The thought brought a sharper stab of pain. Clutching his chest as if to tear the hurt away, Carcel got out of bed.
His body moved before his mind could catch up, driven by instinct.
He ran—not to Theo, who would usually comfort him with his innocent laughter, but to the person who truly brought him solace.
The person who always greeted him with a soft smile and called his name so tenderly.
Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud.
Instead of knocking gently, Carcel pounded his fist against Charlotte’s door.
He wasn’t even aware of his own rudeness.
When she didn’t respond immediately, panic rose in his chest.
Please, please come out. I don’t care what you say—just show me your face.
No, tell me it’s all right again.
If you say it’s okay, then I’ll be okay too.
Each passing second stretched unbearably. His head leaned against the door, his hand gripping the handle.
He was so close to barging in, but a faint shred of reason held him back.
But if Charlotte took much longer, that thread of restraint would snap. He’d push the door open and rush to her side.
Please, come out.
And as if answering his silent plea—
“Carcel? Goodness, what’s going on?”
Charlotte’s voice rang out as the door opened, her round eyes full of surprise.
Without hesitation, Carcel wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her shoulder.
If he didn’t cling to her, he felt as though he might truly die—not from the pain in his chest, but from the crushing weight of his emotions.
Desperately, he pulled her closer, holding her as though she were the lifeline that could save him.
Charlotte had been roused from sleep by the loud banging on her door.
Thud, thud, thud.
The harsh sound shattered the silence of the night, and she instinctively cocooned herself in her blanket.
Who could be knocking like that at this hour? No one she knew would pound on her door so violently. Fear prickled at her, making her heart pound.
There were only a handful of people who might visit her room at this hour: Carcel, Emma, or Theo.
Carcel always knocked politely, Emma’s knock was soft and tentative, and Theo never knocked at all—he’d burst in shouting, ‘Nuna!’
So who could it be?
‘An intruder?’
The thought briefly crossed her mind, but she shook it off. No intruder would announce themselves by making such a commotion.
And the door was unlocked. If someone meant to harm her, they’d already be inside.
Reassured by this realization, Charlotte’s racing heart began to slow.
She hastily threw on a robe over her nightgown and approached the door.
Whoever it was, if they were this desperate, they must need her help.
But when she opened the door, she was stunned.
“Car…cel?”
It wasn’t his unusual behavior that shocked her—it was his face.
His hair was damp with sweat, his eyes were bloodshot and swollen, and tears streamed down his cheeks. Even now, fresh tears spilled from his eyes.
Carcel didn’t even seem aware that he was crying.
Charlotte had only seen him cry once before, on the anniversary of the late duchess’s passing. Even then, he had hidden his emotions, trembling as he held her close but keeping his face out of view.
Now, to see him so openly distraught—it was clear something terrible had happened.
‘Could it be his chest pains again?’
If the pain was bad enough to make him cry, it must have been excruciating.
Reaching out to steady him, Charlotte intended to use her mana to soothe him.
But before she could, Carcel’s arms wrapped tightly around her.
Unlike his usual gentle touches, his grip was rough and frantic, devoid of his usual care.
Charlotte realized immediately that he was too distraught to think clearly.
She didn’t push him away. Instead, she reached up to stroke his hair, just as she would with a crying Theo.
But his strength overwhelmed her, and she stumbled backward under the force of his embrace.
Clinging to the idea of staying upright, she managed to guide them both to the sofa.
Even after they sat, Carcel didn’t loosen his grip. His body burned with heat, and his trembling hands clutched her waist tightly.
Charlotte tried again to channel mana into his hands, just as she had done the last time he sought her out in the middle of the night.
But to her dismay, it didn’t work.
‘Why isn’t it working?’
Last time, her mana had soothed him easily. This time, it rebounded as if hitting an invisible wall, flowing back into her own body.
It must have been because Carcel was even more distressed than before.
‘What should I do?’
She thought back to what she knew about calming someone like Carcel—a Rosito.
Physical contact was the most effective way to stabilize their mana. The closer the contact, the greater the soothing effect.
‘How fitting for a romance novel,’ she thought wryly.
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