I Regret The Kindness I Gave You (20 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 8

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The moment Merche asked, she already knew the answer—even without hearing a reply.

Eyes wildly trembling as if caught in a storm, a mouth left agape in unguarded shock, arms and legs frozen stiff, unable even to tremble.

All these fragments pieced together into a single, complete image.

Greta Martin had stolen the Lupinus child.

Just as that single sentence concluded in Merche’s mind, Mrs. Martin finally collapsed onto the floor.

“Please, I beg you—keep it secret from the Head. Please don’t let him find out. If he learns of this, my child will…”

Genovefa Lupinus was a cruel man.

Though often praised as a gracious master with a ready smile and generous toward his servants, those who had served him closely or glimpsed the depths of his soul knew it was nothing but a thin disguise.

Greta Martin knew this as well.

She had committed an unforgivable sin against Elizabeth—her dearest friend, who had stood by her under the guise of a lady’s maid—but if Elizabeth truly understood Greta’s circumstances, she would wail and scream yet still never bring herself to kill Greta.

Because Elizabeth was simply that kind of person.

But Genovefa was not.

If he ever discovered what Greta had done… he would ruthlessly crush everything Greta held dear without mercy.

Her beloved daughter, her miraculously gained granddaughter, even the modest red-roofed house she’d secured after years of hardship—

Under the name of “punishment,” Genovefa would personally burn every last thing Greta owned to ashes.

Greta was certain of that future.

That was why she could discard her pride as if it were less than rags.

Kneeling down came as easily as breathing.

Please, let this young Lupinus woman pretend she never saw me.

Just this once, let the gods Nilam and Nisha grant me their aid.

Tears rolled steadily down her cheeks as she repeated her desperate pleas without pause.

Greta knelt, prostrated, and wept silently.

In the midst of that chilling silence, a woman of terrifying beauty stepped before Greta and leaned forward slightly.

Merche, was it? With luscious golden hair and clear eyes so strikingly beautiful they bordered on unnerving.

This very Merche placed a gentle hand on Greta’s hunched shoulder and applied the faintest pressure.

Even that feather-light touch pulled Greta upright as though bewitched.

“I’m not here to reproach you. Nor do I intend to threaten you—please rise.”

Strangely enough, that voice—normally so cold—now sounded almost kind.

The sudden wave of relief from what might have been empty words was astonishing.

Just maybe… though it sounded absurd—even this cold-hearted woman might keep my secret.

Clutching that sliver of hope, Greta shakily lowered herself onto the creaking chair.

It was then—after patiently waiting without the slightest urge to hurry her—that Merche finally spoke.

“I heard you were a longtime dear friend of Lord Komeo’s. That you shared an exceptionally close bond. If even so, you stole his child, there must surely be a compelling reason.”

“…….”

“May I hear that reason?”

Just thinking of Elizabeth made her eyes burn with fresh tears.

What good would it do to confess the whole story now?

If it were for Elizabeth’s ears, perhaps—but otherwise, it would surely be nothing more than a useless confession.

Yet Greta opened her mouth.

Perhaps she simply needed to unburden the full truth to someone, however selfishly, if only to ease her guilt by the slightest measure.

“There is… Lord Torben Kani, the Head’s younger brother.”

It was a tale rooted in ancient, festering resentment.

Genovefa—the eldest son, blessed with overwhelming power—and Torben, the greedy younger brother who endlessly schemed and challenged him.

Though Genovefa had long been the undisputed heir, Torben never ceased his attempts to usurp him.

Yet born as he was, there was no way for the younger brother to surpass his elder, and in the end, victory belonged solely to Genovefa.

The trouble began afterward.

The very first act Genovefa undertook after becoming Head and holding his succession ceremony

was to kill Torben’s beloved—and then his young son as well.

The Lupinus bloodline is bound to love only one partner for life and bear children only with that one soul.

Knowing this full well, Genovefa murdered his own brother’s partner and child.

Trending

Naturally, Torben went mad with rage.

Torben waited in silence, harboring a pitch-black poison that would rot even his soul,

biding his time until Genovefa found a partner—and that partner bore his child.

When that moment finally arrived, Torben did not hesitate.

He targeted Elizabeth’s handmaiden and seized her only daughter as leverage.

“Kill Elizabeth’s child if you want your daughter to live.”

How could any parent possibly defy such a demand when their own child was held hostage?

No parent in such a situation would think of friendship before their child.

And so Greta Martin—mother before friend—chose to kill Elizabeth’s child to save her own.

“But… every time I looked at Elly, I felt so guilty I couldn’t bring myself to kill the baby….”

Each time she saw Elizabeth gently stroking her swollen belly and smiling with joy, Greta burned with unbearable pain.

Her heart became a living hell—so agonizing she clung desperately to even the faintest hope, discarding all logic.

…If I try hard enough, maybe I can steal the child away in secret?

That fleeting resolve immediately turned into action.

Obtaining the corpse of a newborn was difficult—but for Elizabeth’s sake, she couldn’t give up.

After endless attempts, she finally found a dark-haired, swarthy-skinned infant who resembled Genovefa’s lineage.

She pitied Elizabeth, who fainted believing her child dead—but for Greta, this was the only way.

“I planned to leave the child at the doorstep of a couple who longed desperately for a baby. I’d barely managed to sneak the child out… but I was such a fool. Of course Torben would have been watching me.”

Clutching the wailing, red-faced infant, she stumbled out—only to meet Torben, smiling grimly in her path.

“So you stole the child.”

Terrified he’d draw his sword and cleave the baby in two, Greta clutched the infant to her chest in desperation.

But instead of drawing his blade to kill the child, Torben simply took the baby from her arms.

“…Hmph. But now that I think about it, this isn’t so bad after all. Let that bastard’s son grow up an orphan in the back alleys. He’ll never even dream of the truth.”

That was Greta’s last memory of the child.

Torben took the baby and vanished—and Greta wept, torn between despair and relief.

She rejoiced that her daughter was safe and returned to her arms.

Yet she loathed herself with revulsion.

To feel such relief after stealing her friend’s child—she nearly vomited from self-disgust.

“Yes… I know. I know full well how monstrous my actions were… and how much Elly has suffered because of me. But… but I just…”

Having poured out her entire story, Greta dissolved into choked sobs.

No matter how fiercely she shook her head or pounded her chest, the suffocating weight would not lift—until a pale, slender hand gently grasped hers.

The blue eyes gazing at her were calm.

Greta stared blankly into those seemingly emotionless, cerulean depths.

“It must have been unavoidable. After all, your child’s life was at stake.”

“…….”

“I am not Lord Komeo—I have no right to punish or condemn you. If you seek forgiveness, it is not from me, but from Lord Komeo himself.”

Greta listened to Merche’s words, holding her breath—her tears had already ceased.

How could she be so warm? How could her words taste so sweet?

These were the exact words Greta had longed to hear ever since fleeing with Elizabeth’s child.

That it was unavoidable—that this choice had been inevitable for her—such comforting understanding.

From the moment those words touched her, Greta knew she would obey every word Merche spoke.

She told her,

“By confessing your sin to Lord Komeo, you will also gain the chance to repent before the child you stole. I have one request tied to that chance—will you grant it?”

[This is the timeline separator]

The pre-dawn sky was far darker than the one lingering in his memories.

Having slept deeply during the day, Lud was wide awake and gazed out the window.

His eyesight—restored by an astonishingly beautiful woman’s fortune—was remarkably clear.

Each time he opened his eyes and saw the world anew, the reality struck him so vividly he was overwhelmed with mixed feelings.

Gratitude toward Merche for healing him warred with irritation—feeling as though she’d pitied him without his consent.

Following that irritation always led him back to a single question.

ads

Why?

Why had she brought him here? Why heal him and treat him as a person, not a slave?

To him, Merche was unfamiliar, strange, unsettling—and frightening.

When he looked at her, an uncanny dread crept over him—

a deep-seated unease running from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes, as if everything about him would shatter in her presence.

Just thinking of her shimmering golden hair and piercing blue eyes made his stomach churn—

when a sharp, clear sound shattered the silent stillness of dawn.

Thud!

A woman burst through the door with a loud, clumsy crash.

Rather, she practically tumbled in.

“…What?”

Annoyance flared—this was clearly not Merche.

Lud lowered his voice into a threatening growl, “Who the hell are you?”

Still sprawled on the floor, the woman stammered back in obvious terror.

“W-Who are you?”

“You broke into my room—how dare you ask that so brazenly? It’s absurd.”

“I didn’t mean to break in… I just…”

“What the hell are you, some dumbstruck brat? Stop babbling like an idiot and speak clearly. Who are you?”

With every word Lud uttered, the woman shrank further into herself.

She clumsily groped for the floor with trembling fingertips and staggered upright—her movements oddly familiar, making Lud tilt his chin skeptically.

This looks exactly like how he used to act back when he was blind.

“…Sister. Where’s my sister? Do you know her?”

“Do I look like a fortune-teller? How would I possibly know your—”

He almost snapped at her as usual—but froze mid-sentence.

Sister? The only woman this girl’s age might call “sister” and who’d be allowed into this estate… could only be one person.

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