As If I've Never Loved (Completed Main Story) - Side Story 1

The Viscount Monmouth, returning after two years, was unchanged as if time itself held no power over him. If anything had changed, it was the location where the viscount summoned his only son.

Instead of the viscount’s study, where the scent of stuffed animal hides used to choke the throat, Ansel now sat face-to-face with his father in the summer garden bathed in abundant sunlight.

With all servants dismissed, their conversation began in silence and flowed more smoothly than expected. Father and son listened earnestly to each other’s stories without interjecting questions or objections, as if they had long yearned for this very moment.

“My goodness, I haven’t even given you a chance to drink your tea. Go ahead and have it comfortably.”

“…Yes.”

Ansel stared blankly at his half-cooled teacup. At twenty-six, he had never once shared tea alone with his father. This simple refreshment and casual chat were, surprisingly, a first for the two of them.

Though now only a faint memory, when Helen was still alive, the three of them had spent much time together.

After his wife passed away from illness, however, the viscount threw himself obsessively into work. Even when he stayed at the estate, he was only visible in his study outside of mealtimes.

To reach his father, one had to walk down the central corridor to the innermost room in the north wing, passing through a door carved with a fierce eagle whose eyes seemed ready to strike with its sharp beak at any moment. To young Ansel, that door had been an overwhelmingly intimidating barrier—so much so that even grasping the doorknob had filled him with fear.

The boy, longing for his father’s warmth, often lingered outside the door for long stretches before finally turning away. Yet the cold scent of death seeping through the crack would inevitably chase after him, occasionally haunting his dreams.

Still, Ansel always missed and loved his father deeply. He respected him sincerely as both his protector and mirror, and obeyed him unconditionally. He never once resented his father’s apparent indifference or neglect.

It had simply been difficult and overwhelming. Even after growing into a man who resembled his father, meeting those piercing, raptor-like eyes head-on remained a heavy burden. It felt like living with a kind of trauma.

It was hardly surprising, then, that he sometimes thought this chasm between them might never be bridged.

Only today—only after surviving the battlefield blanketed in cold corpses and returning home—did Ansel finally hear his father’s innermost thoughts. He learned the truth: that this relationship had been just as difficult and overwhelming for his father as well.

“…All I feel toward you is regret.”

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