Something More Magical Than Magic
"Are you coming around a bit, hyungnim?"
"Yeah. Still pretty confused, but I'm mostly back..."
Smack!
"Guh!"
"Uncle!?"
I'd walloped the back of Edmund's head with all my strength, sending him pitching forward. Abel jumped in shock at the sight, but I played it cool.
"You still seemed a bit muddled, so I was just waking you up properly."
"That seemed awfully normal speech for someone who was..."
"There was a fly on the back of your head. A big one."
"It looked like there was mana in your hand..."
"Optical illusion."
Of course there was mana. No way my raw strength alone could deal proper damage to this guy, who was at least a decent swordsman.
"Let it go, Abel. Your uncle's just venting—it's only natural."
I hadn't even finished venting yet. But since he seemed aware of his own guilt, I decided to let it slide for now. There'd be another chance to smack him later.
"Anyway, I've got the gist of it. Looks like you were taking Tears of Memory."
"...Yeah."
"Were you that desperate to see your first wife again?"
"...I'm sorry. I wouldn't have a leg to stand on even with ten mouths."
"Hey, I'm not blaming you for missing her. Nobody knows better than I do how much you loved your first wife."
The problem was the actions he took because of it.
"It's a lame excuse, but I never meant for it to go that far. At first, it was just to forget the grief. But somehow, things that shouldn't fade started slipping away into oblivion."
"So you're saying now that you never meant to forget Liriet and your second wife? How convenient."
"Ah, no. I mean, it's not a lie, but... I don't expect forgiveness for that."
Truth be told, I thought the same. Considering the backstories of the characters in this story, it fit.
No villain exists without a story. It was the motto of The Beloved Lady, something the author always said. And in the original work, major antagonists usually had their reasons—misunderstandings, extenuating circumstances, or situations spiraling out of control.
But that didn't mean I was about to defend Edmund. The fact remained: this bastard had tried to erase his second wife and stepdaughter while clinging to the memory of his first.
Well, tried to erase them. Whether it was intentional made his crime far heavier—or slightly lighter. Just that thin line between them.
Forgiving him wasn't my job anyway.
"Whatever. You'll have memory lapses for a while, so skip official duties and focus on rest. And spend more time with Liriet."
"Liriet? Who's Li... ngh!"
Still some confusion, huh. No surprise—my magic alone couldn't fully cure it.
I wasn't telling him to play daddy now. Liriet just needed to stay close to anchor those memories before they slipped away again.
"You saw it. I only delayed it with my power—the drug's effects aren't gone. Unless you want to forget your wife and daughter tomorrow, follow my advice."
"Got it. I'll keep that in mind. Cassdia, I've troubled you too."
"No, I..."
Cassdia bit her lip and looked away at Edmund's apology. I walked over to an empty chair and sat.
Actually, I had plenty to ask her too. Maybe even more than Edmund.
"Since it came up, second sister-in-law, I have a few questions for you."
"...Ask away, young master."
She seemed to guess what I wanted, sitting gracefully on the bare floor. Worry etched her face—almost like resignation.
"You knew about the changes in my brother's body, right?"
"......"
"What do you mean, Uncle? Mom knew...?"
"Y-Yeah, how could Mom...?"
Cassdia said nothing to my question. Instead, her two stepchildren—the ones she hadn't borne—gaped in confusion.
"Think about it logically. In our family, who spent the most time with your father?"
"Mom, obviously?"
"Right. But as you saw, the memory loss comes and goes. No drug can fix that. So it must've happened frequently in everyday life."
I floated the vial in my hand with mana, landing it in Cassdia's palm. She gripped it with trembling fingers, biting her lip.
"And his wife—who shares his bedroom—didn't notice? Doesn't add up. Only one possibility: she hid it on purpose."
Right? I looked at her, and after a long silence, she finally spoke, her voice heavy.
"...Yes. I knew."
"M-Mom! Why didn't you tell us something that important?"
"Yeah! You could've at least taken him to a doctor sooner..."
"Fear."
I cut them off, answering for her. By then, most of the answers had fallen into place—including why she'd hidden it deliberately.
"Second sister-in-law, sorry for speculating on your past, but your marriage to my brother wasn't smooth, was it?"
"Yes. It started with just one night of folly."
"My mistake. I still feel sorry to Cassdia whenever I think about it."
No child came of it, but Cassdia had been a virgin then. Daughter of a respectable count's family, no less. The Argent house could cover it up, sure. But Edmund Argent wasn't the type. From what I remembered, young Edmund had been painfully kind-hearted.
No matter how broken or confused he got, seeing the bloodstains on the sheets that day would've made him vow to do right by her—at minimum.
The trouble started there. A marriage born of anything but love could never be smooth. Edmund naturally drifted from paying her attention.
It might've ended there without much issue. From Cassdia's view, basking in the duke's prestige, with no nagging about wifely duties—pure comfort.
But...
"It wasn't just one night of folly. That changes things, doesn't it?"
"......"
What if what Cassdia wanted most wasn't the prestige or wealth?
"B-Baal, what are you saying? That night was my mistake..."
"No, young master's right."
"Cassdia?"
I nodded as expected; Edmund stared at his wife in bewilderment.
"The start was folly, yes. Embarrassing, but I coveted the position of Argent matriarch. So that night, I approached my husband with welcoming eyes."
Recounting her past so flatly, Cassdia seemed almost confessional—or nostalgic.
"It worked out in the end. I got the role, my family benefited. And since he still pined for his first wife, he made no hard demands. But one problem arose."
Her gaze turned to Edmund, complex emotions swirling—resentment? Love? Maybe "mixed feelings" fit.
"I fell for him."
...Just as I thought.
"Curiosity at first. How much did he love her to grieve like that? But soon I envied her, and I fell for this man who didn't neglect me as his wife."
"Cassdia..."
Edmund apparently never imagined she truly loved him. Makes sense. Love doesn't make a marriage. It's a rare emotion, even among lovers or spouses.
"Funny thing, though. I started hating her. Why leave such a man alone? Why not fade from his heart?"
Not the husband who ignored her—but Viola. Ironic, but believable.
"Was that why you tormented Liriet?"
"Yes. Her eyes matched the portrait's so perfectly. I vented my jealousy on the wrong target. No excuses."
"Mom..."
Liriet still called her that, even now. From her view, the stepmother she'd seen for nearly ten years felt more maternal than the birth mother she'd never known. Strange, how that worked.
"Then I learned he was taking some drug. I hated it at first—thought he was crawling back under her skirts."
Complication flickered in her eyes.
"One day, he came back from the studio high on it and mistook me for her. Hugged me, said he loved me... We spent a passionate night."
"Ah..."
Everyone but me sighed, knowing what came next.
"Pathetic, but I was thrilled. I knew he wasn't seeing me, that he called another woman's name in my arms... But in that moment, I felt loved."
Poor woman. What else could I call her? How could something like love wreck a couple—no, a family—like this?
"Days became weeks, months, a year... I got used to it. Looking back, maybe I was the one addicted—not him."
Was it the drug or love? Who knows.
Cassdia bowed low from her seat. Her hunched shoulders shook; tears dripped onto her clasped hands.
"I'm truly, deeply sorry. To him, to this child. If I'd snapped out of it sooner, or if I weren't so petty... We all could've been happy."
Hiding her tears or making amends? She rasped on, feigning calm.
"I'll leave the Argent house tomorrow. My minimal atonement."
"Cassdia, no..."
"...Mom."
Edmund's protest drowned under another voice. We all turned to see Liriet, emotions barely contained.
"I'm not fit to be your mother, Liriet."
"I know. What you did to me, not stopping Father—I'll never forgive any of it."
But Liriet drew a deep breath.
"If you truly want atonement, don't leave. At minimum, vow to give everything as Father's wife, our mother."
"......"
Her words cut sharp, but no one misunderstood. She was offering a chance.
The one most scarred by this mess—the shrimp crushed in the whales' fight, ten years in darkness.
"I don't know how long it'll take. For me to see you as... no, for me to truly call Lady Cassdia 'Mother' from the heart. I don't even know if that day will come."
When. That word stuck in my chest.
She believed it would. Someday, even if it took a lifetime.
"But I want to start over. Because we're 'family'."
"...You're really giving me a chance?"
"Whether it becomes one is up to you, Mom."
"Ah..."
'Lady Cassdia' became 'Mom' again. She wasn't too dense to grasp what that meant.
I don't remember the rest of the talk. The studio filled only with the Argent couple's sobs.
When I finally turned, Viola's eyes in the canvas met mine. Somehow, color returned to the empty room—faint, but unmistakable.
If that's not magic, what is?