The Missing Daughter of House Lundren Returns as a Regressor

Sylvia hugged her knees to shield herself from the cold winds swirling in the moldy cell. A patch of decaying straw laid between her freezing body and the grimy stone floor that appeared to have never seen sunlight.

The underground prison carried the stench of sweat and piss, and these scents were starting to cause a headache.

Her pale, tear-stained face grimaced, despair clawing at her heart but she had to hold on until the trial in order to clear her name.

“I’m innocent,” she mumbled as she splayed a hand over her lower belly.

The reply came in the form of an echo—heels clacking against the floor—getting louder by the second.

“What a terribly lovely sight,” said the newcomer in a mocking tone, her voice tainted with shrill delight.

It was Lady Clementine, the woman who seduced her husband, the patriarch of House Winston, Duke Alec Winston.

A guard who had accompanied her held a torch and positioned himself near the walls further behind.

“Ho-ho-ho,” she laughed haughtily, the back of a pale hand covering her open mouth. Her golden curls bounced with the rise of her shoulders. “This place suits you rather well, commoner.”

Lady Clementine wore a dress that Sylvia had custom-made months prior for Lord Marcus’s birthday banquet. Like a bad omen, the red dress in the torches’ lighting seemed to take on the color of blood.

Her laughter grated on Sylvia’s nerves like nails scraping metal.

“Clementine,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Sylvia,” Lady Clementine acknowledged calmly, letting her insult pass. “I came all this way for you and you won’t even greet me? Truly, no dress can hide your poor upbringing.”

“Why are you here?” Sylvia questioned, cutting to the chase, having decided that it’d make the unwanted guest leave sooner.

But the esteemed flower of high society, Lady Clementine, had other plans in mind. She’d went down to this poorly maintained dungeon in the first place to torment its sole prisoner.

It was annoying that this filthy prisoner still had some arrogance in her, but as a gracious noble, Lady Clementine chose to be a little more understanding.

That’s why she answered Sylvia as if she were speaking to a servant and not to a duchess.

“The duke wishes to spare you from humiliating his name further. By order of the emperor, you shall be beheaded in private tomorrow at dawn.”

In that moment, her ruby red eyes gleamed like a demon. Maliciousness coated her expression. A smile stretched from ear to ear. It was unbecoming of a noble, but it didn’t matter because the sole audience was due to die in a few hours.

How long Lady Clementine had wished for this. Soon, she’d take her rightful place as Duke Alec’s wife and become the Duchess of House Winston.

It was hers to begin with, anyway, until this girl from the slums took it from her.

As Lady Clementine reveled in her delight, the recipient of the news fell silent.

Sylvia struggled to understand the words she’d just heard.

The trial was supposed to start tomorrow. She’d hoped to clear her name and assure her husband that she’d always been faithful to him.

Infidelity was something she’d never considered even though he entertained Lady Clementine and didn’t push her away despite her advances on him.

Sylvia tried to be understanding.

She’d tell herself, “It’s for the sake of House Winston.”

Whenever her husband returned with the scent of flowers clinging to him, she’d tell herself that it was merely from his acquaintances.

When she saw a suspicious shade of red on his neck, she’d tell herself that it must be the lighting.

And when her husband stayed out for nights on end, she’d convince herself that he was busy working.

Time and time again, for years on end, Sylvia endured the duke’s heart turning cold towards her, hoping that if she did as he asked, he would look her way once more—with affection and love like when they were lovers, and the duke hungered for her undivided attention.

Which was why, though her heart and mind sparred, Sylvia once again chose to comfort herself with a lie.

“The duke wouldn’t say that,” she replied as she rose to her feet.

Blood rushed to her head, causing a bit of dizziness that she staggered for a moment before regaining her balance.

Regardless, her pink eyes shone with determination even as her chest tightened with every breath.

Sylvia slammed a fist in her heart and raised her voice.

“I am the Duchess of House Winston. By right, I am entitled to a trial to prove my innocence,” she boldly declared.

But Lady Clementine, unfazed, began to laugh.

She laughed like a child untaught of manners, her folded fan pointed at Sylvia, and her face bearing an expression as if to say, ‘what a daft woman.’

She wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes as she recovered. And when she took a deep breath, she immediately exhaled as if insulted.

“Ugh. It reeks in here!”

Lady Clementine sighed as she folded her arms.

“If nothing else, it was entertaining watching a street rat skitter about thinking it’d receive some cheese.”

Sylvia scowled, unable to hide her distaste for the hypocrite woman before her.

Though she had forgiven her husband countless times because she believed he’d return to her arms, she’d harbored hatred towards the serpent that tempted him and slowly ate his heart.

If it weren’t for her, Sylvia would be happy.

Now that she had a chance to be happy again, this woman had appeared and was attempting to take it away from her once more.

“If that’s all you’ve come here to say, leave,” she said firmly. “I will hear what the duke has to say from my husband himself.”

Lady Clementine’s smile dropped for a second.

One could feel the hostility radiating from her, and Sylvia matched it just the same.

“Hmph.”

The noble lady stepped forward, closer to the prison bars.

“My lady—”

Her accompanying guard tried to intervene, but she waved him a hand, ordering him to stay quiet.

“You still don’t get it, do you?” she said in a condescending tone.

Sylvia’s calm expression despite any prodding had always irritated her. This time, she was determined to break that façade and she knew just how to do so.

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

What she was about to share, after all, were secrets that the duke had repeatedly warned her not to divulge to anyone. But since Sylvia was going to die, she deemed it an unnecessary worry.

“Has it never occurred to you that the man from that night wasn’t the duke?”

“What?”

Sylvia’s brows furrowed.

“You might have thought yourself lucky that he was intoxicated that night and sought you in his stupor. Even if it was dark, how could you not recognize His Grace?” Lady Clementine continued, pleased with herself.

“Were you so happy to have a man between your filthy legs that you couldn’t tell it was your friend?”

Sylvia’s heart dropped to her stomach. The words echoed in her head, forcing themselves on her consciousness even as she tried to fight back.

The air seemed heavier and harder to take in.

Her head felt dizzy, and the legs holding her up felt like they were weighing her down. It was a feeling akin to drowning and losing the capacity to breathe.

Try as she could, this time, there were no lies she could conjure.

Because she knew, deep down, of her suspicions from that night.

“No,” she whispered, barely audible even to her own ears.

Her hand moved across her lower belly as if to protect the growing life from hearing it.

Sylvia had thought the man’s touch to be rougher, his voice deeper, and his scent of steel peculiar, but she had pushed those thoughts aside. In the moment, she drowned in the pleasure of his firmness and in the heat of his embrace.

It had been so long since her husband shared a bed with her; she was simply happy to receive his favor once again.

“You know it, too, don’t you?” Lady Clementine prodded, and she couldn’t bring herself to deny her words.

“But that’s not why His Grace threw you here.”

Lady Clementine snickered. The sadistic look in her eyes drew shivers up her spine.

Even as curiosity sparked, her mouth remained shut.

Sylvia didn’t want to hear anymore, but the lady had always been cruel to her.

 “His Grace has no use for you anymore. Accept his mercy in sending you after your brothers.”

A pause ensued between them.

The weight of everything Sylvia had believed in crashing down on her shoulders sent her to the floor.

“No,” she whispered once more as if to comfort herself. Surely, her husband wouldn’t allow such a thing to happen to her.

He might have treated her coldly, but he wouldn’t be so cruel.

“That’s … impossible.”

Lady Clementine merely laughed at her plight. Seeing this insignificant thing learn the truth and crumble down was worth disobeying the duke’s orders, not that he’d ever find out.

His Grace need not concern himself anymore with someone below him.

Her smile widened. Since the thing hadn’t moved from where she fell, she didn’t want to be around when its cries grew.

Her future husband, after all, was patiently waiting for her outside. This cold nature of his thrilled her so, and it was the reason she fell for him in the first place.

Lady Clementine turned on her heels to leave, fully satisfied with her revenge.

The last traces of her visit vanished with the last echo of her steps.

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