When You Started to Regret - Chapter 33

“You’re Liliana’s family?”

Vanessa stopped just three steps away and looked at him with intrigued eyes.

“Go wash.”

With a tone that was both elegant and commanding, she gave the order and walked past him without another word.

Go wash.
Only then did Dominic look at himself again. In his desperation to find Liliana, he hadn’t noticed how filthy he’d become. The same shame he’d felt a week ago in Edmund’s Garden washed over him again. He could almost hear the echoes of their cheerful, mocking laughter in his ears.

“What are you doing? Hurry and come this way.”

Bella led him to the bath. There, Dominic cleaned himself thoroughly and changed into clean clothes. When he looked in the mirror, a boy with black hair and a proper, human appearance stared back.

He barely recognized himself.

Sitting awkwardly in a small room, he waited. Before long, the door opened, and the voice he had longed to hear called out.

“Dominic!”

“Liliana…!”

Dominic jumped to his feet, and Liliana ran straight into his arms. Her curly black hair, just like their mother’s, tickled his face.

“Liliana, Liliana, you… you…”

“I missed you so much, Dominic!”

Liliana began to cry in his arms. She smelled clean and sweet, like fresh linen. Dominic could immediately tell—she was being treated well, far better than he had been.

“I’m okay. The Princess is very kind.”

“Has anyone… ever hurt you? Maybe when no one’s looking?”

“Not at all. If anything…”

Liliana hesitated, her lips pressing tightly together as if stopping herself from saying too much.

“Liliana?”

“She treats me very well. Look, Dominic. Doesn’t my skin look healthier now?”

As if trying to prove it, she stretched out her arms and gave him a bright smile. Her skin was smooth and unblemished. Seeing it, Dominic finally let out a breath of relief.

“I’m so glad.”

That day, the siblings spent a long time catching up—thanks to Princess Vanessa’s kindness in allowing it.

As the sun began to set and it was time for Dominic to leave, he noticed a stack of papers in the corner of the room, filled with partially written text. As he stared curiously at the sheets, Liliana explained.

“The Princess wrote those. She’s been learning calligraphy from Lady Aiola.”

The graceful, elegant handwriting stirred a memory—of the note and small box of medicine that had been left outside his cage not long ago.

Don’t die.

The same handwriting. The same precise, deliberate strokes. Realization hit him just as Vanessa appeared.

“Your Highness…!”

Liliana quickly turned and bowed. Dominic, caught off guard, stood there staring up at her, speechless.

“You’re still here?”

Her tone was indifferent, but her eyes, locked onto Dominic, were filled with subtle curiosity.

“You do look like Liliana… and yet, not quite.”

She reached out and gently lifted his chin. Embarrassed, Dominic lowered his gaze, his face growing hot.

“You shouldn’t hide such a pretty face. Lift your head.”

Vanessa tilted his jaw again, forcing him to meet her eyes. A pleased smile spread across her lips.

“What’s your name?”

“Dominic…”

“Good. Dominic—come visit often. Make Liliana smile.”

With her hand still holding his chin, he nodded silently. As she walked away, Dominic watched her retreating figure and thought:

She’s nothing like Edmund. She’s kind.

That night, Dominic returned to Edmund’s palace late and was immediately slapped across the face.

Still, he didn’t regret it.

He had reunited with his beloved sister, Liliana.
And he had met her.

The noble, beautiful, and gentle Princess Vanessa.
The kind of woman who made him feel guilty for even daring to meet her eyes.

From that day on, Dominic hid the small medicine box—marked by her warmth—and the three-syllable note in the deepest, most worn corner of his shabby room. Every night, without fail, he would take them out and look at them.

Don’t die.

Those three syllables remained the only light in the darkness that filled the depths of his soul. Dominic etched the words “Don’t die” into his heart, holding tightly to the warmth and kindness they carried.

From then on, Dominic began to sneak off to Vanessa’s palace whenever he found the chance—careful to avoid Edmund’s watchful eyes. Before long, it became part of his daily life.

My Vanessa, the one I want to tear apart with my bare hands.
Yes, even then—I wanted to kill you. From the moment you dared to show pity to that pathetic slave boy.

Sometimes Dominic thought about that.
If only he hadn’t gone to see Vanessa that day.
If only he had ignored the kindness she offered.
Then perhaps he wouldn’t have been foolish enough to mistake that noble woman’s whim for love.

The reason those memories resurfaced now—memories he had tried so hard to bury—was likely because he had finally realized who that small girl at the Crown Prince’s garden tea party really was.

The memory of the day he had lost his humanity and become a beast was a scar of pure disgrace—one he had long wished to forget, but never could. So he had tried instead to bury that pain and erase the name attached to it.

“I learned from my mother. She was of the royal family of Carta.”
“I could read and write by the time I was four. My parents were strict—unlike Fernando.”

Dominic glanced at the sleeping Elaine. His hand, which had been nervously tracing the old wooden box, flinched.

After clenching and releasing his fist a few times, he slowly lowered his gaze and stared at the box.

He hadn’t opened it since Bella handed it to him upon his return to the capital. He’d told himself he wouldn’t—not until his revenge was complete.
And yet, now, he found himself tempted to open it again. What was it he needed to confirm so badly?

He ran a hand over the lid, then clenched his jaw and pulled back. Hesitated again. Then, finally, made up his mind and opened the box.

Creak.

With a long-forgotten metallic groan, the lid gave way, and a few old items tumbled into view. Among them, nestled carefully in the corner, were the small medicine box and a faded slip of paper.

Don’t die.

He had always assumed it was from Vanessa.
He knew that Vanessa’s mentor—an elegant noblewoman of imperial Carta blood—was also Fernando Aiola’s mother. But somehow, he had never thought to connect that woman and Elaine.

The writing style, elegant and noble, did resemble Vanessa’s—but on closer inspection, there were subtle differences.

Don’t die.

It was far too polished to be from a five-year-old child—yet it was undeniably softer, more innocent, more tender than the handwriting of the woman he had longed to kill.

“Elaine… Aiola.”

Sleeping quietly, radiating an angelic kind of beauty, was the same girl who had once been so small and brave.

Dominic splashed cold water on his face and slowly walked toward the bed where she slept. The sheets shifted under his weight as he sat down.

“…But you wouldn’t remember me, would you? A pitiful, filthy little slave boy—someone like me would never be worth remembering to someone like you.”

He looked down at the back of his hand, slack in his lap, and his face twisted in pain.

Back then, he had pushed away that small hand out of fear. The thought of tainting her clean, white skin with his filth had been unbearable—humiliating.

Now, slowly and carefully, Dominic took Elaine’s hand in his and held it gently. He bowed his head and pressed his cool lips to her hand.

Elaine Aiola.
Why did you have to be the one who showed me kindness?
Even as a child, you were bold enough to defy the Crown Prince out of nothing but compassion.

But even now, knowing it was her—that she was the one who had sustained him with those three words—nothing had changed.

Elaine was still a precious offering, a tool to swallow Aiola and Hermanda whole.
And Vanessa… Vanessa remained the woman who had ruled his entire life.

To Dominic, love had always been a name reserved for her the cunning, ruthless woman who owned every piece of him. Even if she hadn’t written that note.

So, there was no reason for him to feel this… confusion.

“…Hah.”

He let out a short, strained breath.
His heart ached strangely—tight and uncomfortable.
What was he even thinking?

He didn’t know. And that frustrated him.

“Master.”

A soft knock came at the door. The voice of the butler, Walker, followed.

At the same time, Elaine stirred slightly in her sleep.

Dominic frowned and quietly rose from the bed, striding toward the door without a sound—his steps light despite the dark storm in his chest.

Before closing it behind him, he glanced one last time at Elaine, still peacefully asleep, and then shut the door.

“What is it, Walker?”

His voice was cool, low, and sharp.
He had almost woken her. And just the thought of that made irritation rise within him.

“…You have a visitor. Fernando Aiola.”

Before the butler could even finish his sentence, Dominic had already spotted Fernando boldly striding down the far end of the corridor, having entered his estate without so much as an invitation.

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