Chapter 183 - 19: Memories

Chapter 183: Chapter 19: Memories

It had happened about half a year ago, yet the memory remained incredibly clear in his mind.

Selas hated it... hated just how vivid that memory was.

He didn’t even need to close his eyes to see the gloomy sky of Taronia.

Not yet six years old at the time, he had stood on an empty lawn, staring at the tombstone bathed in the drizzle. He tried hard to gasp for breath, his lungs expanding and contracting in vain. The fine, dense rain felt like an impenetrable film that cut off all the oxygen he needed to survive. His vision darkened in waves until he could barely make out the name carved into the stone.

Marian Brooks.

She was supposed to be his mother, the lover of Count Beaumont. Yet, the only thing engraved on the stone was her name.

"Young Master Selas," the butler, dressed in a black suit, called out as he approached with an umbrella. "The funeral is over. It is time to head back."

A funeral...

Selas snapped back to reality and slowly looked around. In the vast cemetery, there was only him, the butler, and a few funeral parlor workers.

Selas did not like to talk. Even when he was with his mother, he was usually silent because he knew that she did not actually like him. All of her care and concern for him stemmed entirely from his usefulness to her. As long as he existed—as long as he remained alive and healthy—that man would come to visit her every month or two.

Relying solely on her longing and anticipation for those visits, the gentle, kind, yet pitifully foolish woman had managed to suffer through more than five years. She had been waiting in her sickbed right up until the very last moment of her life. She hadn’t spared a single glance for her son, who was keeping watch by her bedside. Instead, her hopeful gaze remained fixed on the brightly lit French windows of the balcony. It offered the best view in the entire house; if a carriage were to pull up and park in the courtyard, she would be able to see it immediately through that glass.

Unfortunately, that man did not love her as much as she thought he did. He hadn’t even bothered to attend her funeral.

An inexplicable emotion surged within Selas’s chest. It was an incredibly foreign sensation, like a ball of fire burning in his stomach. The volatile feelings built up like steam threatening to blow the lid off a boiler, forcing him to open his mouth and vent the suffocating frustration that was driving him mad.

"Where is he?"

The butler did not respond.

Selas lowered his eyes. His childlike voice, which should have been crisp and clear, came out as hoarse as a crow’s croak. "Antonio Beaumont. Where is he now?"

"Addressing the Earl by his full name is highly impolite, Young Master Selas."

The butler’s voice was steady but utterly cold. He didn’t bother answering Selas’s question, likely believing the boy had no right to know.

Selas gritted his teeth and turned to leave. The butler followed silently behind him.

The carriage from the Earl Mansion was parked not far away. Now that his mother was dead, it was naturally impossible for a child not yet six years old to live on his own. After learning the news from a maid, Count Beaumont had sent his men to collect him. With the carriage parked here, the obvious plan was to take him to a temporary residence.

But Selas no longer wanted to submit to his arrangements. He bypassed the carriage and walked straight ahead.

"Young Master Selas," the butler called out from behind. "The Earl is still at home, waiting for your return."

"Home?" Selas didn’t even turn his head as he continued walking away. "Do you mean the apartment I’m staying in right now, or the Beaumont Mansion in the Queen District? If he dares to take me back to the Beaumont Mansion, then I’ll go back with you."

The butler fell silent at those words.

Selas was entirely unsurprised by the reaction. Of course. Of course that man wouldn’t dare take him back. He had a beloved wife, the judging eyes of society, and the Beaumont family’s reputation among the Nobles to consider. That hypocrite had far too many concerns. On the grand scale of his interests, an illegitimate, unrecognized child like Selas was utterly insignificant.

If that was the case... If that was the case, why did he have to deceive his mother?

Selas walked all the way out of the cemetery. Perhaps noticing his bloodshot eyes, the old cemetery groundskeeper casually picked up a day-old white rose from a nearby pile and shoved it into the boy’s hands, offering a perfunctory condolence.

Selas paused in his tracks. He stared at the rose and its slightly withered petals, then murmured a soft, "Thank you."

If he remembered correctly, this was the first time his mother had ever received a rose from someone. And it was from a complete stranger.

Selas carefully tucked the rose into his breast pocket. Following his memory, he made his way back to the villa where he and his mother had lived.

The villa was a property belonging to the Beaumont family. Following his mother’s death, the maids who usually staffed the home had packed up and left on Count Beaumont’s orders. By now, the place was likely completely empty.

Selas slipped inside through an unlocked window. After searching the premises, he managed to find only a few linen garments and some cheap trinkets typical of a street stall.

His mother had always been incredibly frugal. Count Beaumont had never mistreated her when it came to material provisions, but material comfort had never been what she wanted. She disliked buying new clothes and jewelry; the few items he found were things she had purchased long before she ever met the Count. Perhaps because they were so incredibly cheap, the lazy maids had simply balled them up and shoved them into the corner of a wardrobe.

Selas stared at the pile for a moment before finding a tablecloth to bundle them up in.

As he was leaving with his meager haul, he ran into a familiar face.

It was the only woman who could genuinely be called his mother’s friend. Selas remembered her name was Alina, a nurse at a local hospital.

He had never liked the way she looked at his mother. It wasn’t the gentle, kind look of a friend; rather, it was a complex gaze muddied with admiration, jealousy, fear, and greed. She had been using his mother. Just like Count Beaumont.

Still, on the day of his mother’s death, Alina was the only person who had come to mourn her. Even if paying respects hadn’t been her true motive, Selas was still grateful for the gesture. So, he walked up to her and handed her the white rose from his breast pocket.

It was the very last thing his mother could give her.

Alina seemed unable to believe what she had just heard. She stood there in a daze, remaining rooted to the spot even as he walked away.

Selas didn’t care.

The misty drizzle had stopped at some point.

Selas walked down the damp streets, an empty sense of bewilderment weighing on his heart. He didn’t want to return to Beaumont’s control, but at the end of the day, he was still a child who wasn’t even six years old. Other than the apartment Count Beaumont had arranged for him, he had nowhere else to live.

After wandering the streets for several hours, he eventually made his way back to the apartment just as the sun began to set. This place was also a property owned by the Beaumont family, staffed by a maid who was responsible for taking care of his daily needs. Ironically enough, after his mother died, Count Beaumont had started visiting more frequently, almost as if he were afraid the boy would run away.

Selas arrived at the ground floor of the apartment building. Before he could head upstairs, he suddenly sensed that something was wrong. He instinctively tried to step back, but his young body was simply too slow to react.

Two men in plain clothes rushed him. One blocked his path while the other circled around behind him, swiftly restraining the boy and clamping a handkerchief over his nose and mouth.

Just like that, he was taken away.