Sorry, the Patricidal Tyrant Seems Beastly (1 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 2
Fainting outright like that was unexpected even for her.
It had been fortunate enough that she’d managed to bring her mother to the House of Windsor, but the moment she let her guard down, disaster struck.
“The child just collapsed all of a sudden.”
An unfamiliar voice reached her ears.
“Who are you? I’ve never seen your face before. Did you do something to the young lady?”
Cold metal touched her skin. Annoyed by the intrusive sensation, she waved her arm to push it away.
Perhaps it was exhaustion. Sleepiness kept washing over her. Her body still felt heavy, yet somewhat better than before.
“I’ll check your temperature first.”
Someone said, “Just a moment, miss,” and brought the cold metal close again.
“Your fever is high. I had no idea the Windsors had a young lady like you.”
“We aren’t related—she’s Colette’s… Perhaps because she takes after her mother, she’s fearless. She came alone at this hour and fainted right away—it’s I who am flustered.”
She felt as if she’d turned into a speck of dust. Once more, her consciousness slipped away.
[This is the timeline separator]“It seems to be accumulated fatigue. Didn’t you say her complexion looked poor the moment you first saw her?”
The unfamiliar voice returned. Her body felt much lighter now—almost fully recovered.
“Awake?”
Noticing her wary glance around, the man belatedly explained.
“This is the Windsor estate. I am Aster Windsor—your maternal uncle.”
To prove his harmlessness, Aster raised both arms.
He was the second son of the House of Windsor and Charlotte’s maternal uncle.
Beside him, the family physician Linton also introduced himself.
“I am Linton, physician to the House of Windsor. You truly resemble Miss Colette. Even from afar, one can tell you carry Windsor blood.”
Though they’d never met before, they instinctively recognized their shared resemblance.
The Windsors were born with vivid crimson hair—and so was Charlotte.
Her crimson hair, tinged with black, held a deep hue, yet its presence was unmistakable.
“Where is this…?”
“The Windsor estate.”
Charlotte slowly surveyed her surroundings—the pink wallpaper, the flowing canopy, and the soft bedding.
Only then did she truly grasp that she was indeed in the Windsor estate.
Seeing her blink with a dazed expression, Aster sat beside the bed and called out to someone.
“Look here, Linton.”
At the summons, Linton stepped closer to the bed.
“What’s wrong with her? Unless her head’s injured, why’s the child acting like this?”
“Aster, please watch your words. She can hear you clearly.”
Charlotte sighed. It seemed she’d collapsed the moment she escaped the Tuteo House and let her tension ease.
“Where’s the urn?”
Aster turned to Linton and asked.
“Is this still considered an overreaction? The girl just woke up and immediately asks for her mother’s ashes—is that normal?”
“She’s simply mature. Please, mind your words—she’s right here.”
Aster dismissed Linton with a wave and turned back toward Charlotte.
“In your current state, there’s no point explaining anything.”
He recalled Charlotte’s pale face as she collapsed at the mansion’s entrance. Now, at last, some color had returned to her cheeks.
She looked as if she might die any moment. How could he possibly scold her for arriving in such a pitiful state?
She seemed so fragile that a single wrong word might shatter her entirely. Thus, Aster swallowed the question rising in his throat.
‘Colette, you fool…’
Ruffling his hair, he finally managed to utter just one sentence.
“What about your father?”
What had her father been like around that time? The memory felt impossibly distant—over a decade had passed, counting her previous life.
“Charlotte.”
Charlotte barely met Aster’s eyes.
“He’s not at home.”
“He left you alone again… Did he abandon you to chase another one of his damned, hopeless ventures? After the funeral, no less?”
They’d already received news of her mother’s passing, though their visit had been refused.
“He told us not to come and left you all alone?”
Aster gripped the armrest of the sofa and slowly reined in his anger. In that moment, Charlotte glanced around the room.
The urn was nowhere to be seen. Her memory ended right after meeting him at the gate, and now her mind grew increasingly hollow.
“I’ve kept your mother’s urn safe myself.”
Aster spoke with a sigh.
“Stop looking around like that.”
Only then did Charlotte relax.
Aster pressed his temples firmly and averted his gaze.
“Shouldn’t you explain about that urn?”
“…”
“No. If you were in any state to explain it yourself, you wouldn’t have come to me looking like this.”
She’d dug up her mother’s grave herself to retrieve the urn. That dark night, she hadn’t even felt fear.
Her eyes stared blankly into empty space. Her vacant gaze sent ambiguous signals—impossible to tell if she was smiling or crying. Clutching the blanket, Charlotte whispered in a weary tone.
“Let me stay here just for tonight.”
Then, like a child, she tugged at Aster’s sleeve.
“Just one day.”
Charlotte lowered her head and opened her eyes emptily. Her hollow eyes had grown cold—devoid of warmth.
“We’ll talk again when dawn breaks.”
Aster slowly rose and left. Once she confirmed everyone had gone, Charlotte lifted her head.
She swept back her long crimson hair and got out of bed.
Running her fingers along the wall, she walked to the window. Pushing gently with her fingertips, the window slid open smoothly.
It was deep into the early hours before dawn—the sky still dark.
“Aaah… Ah…”
Her chest slowly ached. Anger rose. Everything about this was utterly wretched.
[This is the timeline separator]Leandro Windsor,
Head of the House of Windsor and her maternal grandfather.
Though Leandro’s hair was thick with white, he appeared more firm and sturdy than frail.
“So this is Colette’s ashes.”
Leandro gently touched the urn before him, his calm eyes absorbing the last trace of his daughter.
“Colette, Colette… Did she resent me?”
Charlotte fell into deep thought. Her mother wasn’t the type to resent anyone.
“I’m not sure. She missed you, but never said she hated you.”
“Do you know why she severed ties with us?”
Charlotte bit her lip.
“Was it because of me?”
“No, Grandfather.”
She didn’t know the full details herself.
Their marriage had been arranged for political reasons.
Both families had built their fortunes through business, and their union served as a symbol of a joint venture.
That was where their connection began.
However, her father had been domineering and suffered repeated business failures. In the process, the two families often clashed.
Eventually, her maternal family cut off support.
It was the result of three consecutive business failures. Around that time, Charlotte was born.
“If she wanted to leave for the House of Windsor, she was told to relinquish custody of the child.”
In the Empire, legal precedence granted child custody primarily to the father.
Regardless of the father’s flaws, custody rights always belonged to him first.
Unless the father voluntarily relinquished custody, the mother could not claim it herself.
She had to choose: either give up custody or sever ties with the Windsors.
“Mother didn’t want to show me that kind of life. I think she chose to let go herself.”
That had been her mother’s final decision.
“I’ll leave now.”
Charlotte placed the urn in Leandro’s study and stepped out.
‘It’s fine if I break.’
Even if this life shatters, it’s fine. Even if this path leads to a dead end, it’s fine. She held no regrets, no lingering attachments—not even a speck of sentiment remained.
“How was Colette’s final moment?”
Aster asked from behind her.
“She passed peacefully.”
I can’t even recall her last expression now. At least let me see her body with my own eyes.
Then I’d remember something. Why—why now, of all times?
I was the one who dug up the urn from her grave. I was the one who stayed by her side in her final moments.
‘I can’t remember.’
Not even her final expression comes to mind.
Charlotte clenched her fists uselessly. Her nails dug into her palms.
“When will the urn be buried?”
She asked, sensing someone behind her.
“We’ll bury it tomorrow morning.”
Aster watched her retreating figure with a complex, unreadable gaze.
“Yes. Thank you.”
She turned her head and resumed walking.
[This is the timeline separator]Charlotte clutched a single chrysanthemum in her hand.
She’d gone out to buy flowers to place beside the urn when burying her mother.
After paying for the chrysanthemums, she cradled the bouquet against her chest. The pure white blooms nestled amid her long crimson hair looked strangely ethereal.
“I noticed Miss Charlotte’s room was empty this morning.”
As she swept back her hair and flicked a petal with her fingertip, a familiar voice reached her.
“They said you went out? After crying for days until your head felt like splitting, the house suddenly felt quiet.”
“I saw her that day—the girl opened her eyes, and it was strange. She asked where her mother’s grave was and laughed like a madwoman when she saw the portrait.”
Charlotte turned toward the source of the familiar voices.
They were the Tuteo House maids.
Charlotte tousled her curly crimson hair. They were walking straight toward her.
“She seemed like a crazy bitch.”
“No, she really was insane. Did you see her laughing in front of her own mother’s grave? She knelt there and laughed like a lunatic. I was too scared to go near her.”
They were utterly disloyal servants—mocking and giggling over their mistress’s death.
Disgusting. Vile. Was that death just an ordinary, trivial thing to you?
She pulled her shawl over her head and hid in a side alley.
‘Was that death amusing to you?’
It was a death you had no right to mock.
As she concealed herself in the alley, someone stepped inside.
“Let me pass first.”
Charlotte shifted aside to make room, but the man quickly moved past her.
He bumped his shoulder against the wall. Staggering, he crouched down—
when something suddenly enveloped her.
The man wrapped his large hands around her and looked down.
Rustle—
He stepped on fallen leaves.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Once he confirmed she stood steady, he continued on his way.
His figure grew distant. Just as she tried to look away,
“Miss Charlotte…?”
One of the maids’ eyes turned toward her. Oh—they’d made eye contact.
“Hey, wait a moment!”
If they caught her, it’d only get more troublesome.
Charlotte pressed her shawl tighter and followed behind him. He stopped walking.
“Why are you following me?”
His robe slipped slightly, revealing his features. A few strands of hair fell across his face.
And then she smelled it—the sharp tang of blood. Droplets trickled from beneath his knuckles.
“…Help me.”
The moment Charlotte lightly grasped his sleeve, he looked fully at her. Then his gaze shifted behind her.
“What is it.”
A low voice echoed from deeper in the alley.
“Let go.”
The maid startled and snatched her hand back.
“Get lost.”
That was all he said.
Male lead is reincarnated to save his wife
I’ve also read this one twice already. The female lead is kinda soft and gets embarrassed easily—not really my type, but the plot is definitely worth reading. Hurry up and read it, y’all!
Intro
When Shen Yuan encountered Su Jin again in his previous life, she had already become the Prime Minister of the current dynasty. As for him, the former top young master of the capital, he had long since fallen into the abyss, becoming a singer on a pleasure boat.
After a song ended, he was redeemed and sent to the Su Residence.
Su Jin respected and cherished him, gave him a roof over his head, and bestowed him with warmth. Shen Yuan fell deeper and deeper, but before he could express his feelings, Su Jin passed away.
Shen Yuan died to follow her in death, but instead, he returned to when he was fifteen years old.
At that time, he was not yet engaged, and Su Jin was just a poor scholar.
Shen Yuan gritted his teeth, casting aside all his pride, and thought of ways to coax and entice her every day.
The colder and more indifferent Su Jin was towards him, the more proactive Shen Yuan became.
He was not afraid of being mocked by the world, only wanting to marry his Wife-master early, to hold her hand and never let go for a lifetime.
[Note: This story will not specifically point out the male lead’s reincarnation time point; it’s all in the details. Whenever you feel that the male lead is acting strangely, he has most likely been reincarnated.]
[Touch the gear icon in the bottom right corner of the screen to move to the next chapter if you want.]
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