Chapter 21

Wiggins hated the light.

Whether it was sunlight or firelight, any bright and warm light would send Wiggins into uncontrollable fits.

Some said it was because of a childhood accident that left him with this fear, while others claimed it was because he dreaded seeing his disfigured face in the brightness.

Both explanations seemed plausible. For her son, who would tremble at the mere sight of light, Richelle made every effort to keep him in the dark. Whether it was truly to protect him from his fears, or because she herself couldn’t bear to expose her hideous son to the world, even Richelle wasn’t sure.

Perhaps it was both.

Richelle raised her teacup to her nose.

The strong floral scent calmed her nerves.

She hadn’t expected Wiggins, who usually hid in the shadows, to be in the lord’s bedroom. When the guards rushed upstairs at the sound of Catherine’s scream and brought Wiggins down, Richelle couldn’t believe her eyes.

“Wiggins.”

“Y-Yes, y-yes.”

Afraid that he might sneak out again and wander around the castle, Richelle tied a rope to Wiggins’ wrist and secured it to the bedpost.

“What were you doing in there?”

Richelle was curious about why Wiggins had secretly hidden upstairs. Even when they had lived together in Leonard Castle, Wiggins had never left his room to climb upstairs.

“Why?”

At Richelle’s question, Wiggins shook his head vigorously. He didn’t understand what she was asking.

“Wiggins.”

“Y-Yes.”

“Upstairs. Why. Did you. Go?”

She enunciated each word clearly and slowly. Finally, Wiggins, watching her lips closely, nodded.

“P-Pretty. L-Like.”

“Pretty?”

Pretty? Liking something because it was pretty? It didn’t seem like he was talking about the bedroom being pretty, so what was he referring to?

“L-Like. P-Pretty.”

Wiggins stammered, smiling bashfully. To others, it might not even look like a smile, but as his mother, Richelle could easily recognize expressions on Wiggins’ disfigured face.

“Could it be… the Lady Annette?”

Richelle’s expression turned grim. Wiggins had never shown interest in people before. Though he was too old to be called a child, to Richelle, Wiggins would always be her child.

“Catherine?”

Richelle held Wiggins’ hand and looked straight into his eyes.

“Is the pretty thing Catherine?”

Wiggins rolled his single remaining eye, his lips moving as if he wanted to say something.

“P-Pretty.”

His answer was the same. He kept mumbling that it was pretty.

Richelle set her teacup down and turned Wiggins’ body toward her.

“Wiggins, look at me. Pretty Catherine, do you like her?”

Wiggins, who had been rolling his eye fervently, opened his mouth and nodded his head vigorously. He moved so quickly that it was dizzying to watch. It was amusing that he hadn’t understood the question when she asked if it was Catherine but immediately nodded when she said “Pretty Catherine.”

“Wiggins, stop. You’ll hurt your neck if you keep doing that.”

It was strange enough that Wiggins, who usually stayed locked in the dark, had wandered outside on his own, but it was even more peculiar that he had called someone pretty.

Richelle felt a sense of pride that Wiggins was starting to form his own opinions. Though she had been a cruel stepmother to Henry, she had always been a devoted mother to Wiggins.

She recalled the advice given by Wiggins’ doctor years ago. The doctor had explained that while Wiggins’ mind remained like that of a child, his body was that of an adult man, and the disparity might cause him distress. When Richelle had asked what that meant, the doctor hesitated before responding.

‘He might feel s*xual desire without realizing it and could attempt to express it toward the object of his desire.’

At the time, Richelle had dismissed the comment with a laugh. Wiggins never left the shadows and showed no interest in anything outside himself, so how could he possibly feel s*xual desire?

Still, just in case, Richelle had paid a pr*stitute to approach Wiggins. After all, if the doctor’s words were true and Wiggins experienced desire, it was possible he could father a child.

If the one who produced an heir could inherit all of Leonard’s fortune, then Wiggins had a chance at inheritance. When Richelle first entertained this thought, she was filled with hope that she could push Henry aside and make Wiggins the heir to Leonard Castle.

But the results were disastrous.

The moment Wiggins saw the women, he began screaming incomprehensible sounds and wailing. Thinking it might be because of the lamps they had brought in, Richelle turned off all the lights, but Wiggins’ reaction was the same. He trembled and had fits at the sight of any woman other than Richelle.

To make matters worse, the prostitutes, upon seeing Wiggins’ face, threw the money back at Richelle and fled, saying they couldn’t sleep with such a monster no matter how much they were paid.

Thus, Richelle abandoned her plan to produce an heir through Wiggins and inherit Leonard Castle’s fortune.

“P-Pretty. L-Like. Pretty.”

Wiggins smiled again. Rolling his single eye, his grin was grotesque.

“Catherine…”

Wiggins’ repeated mentions of “pretty” were undoubtedly about Catherine. Richelle’s mind began to race.

The first woman Wiggins had ever shown interest in—Catherine.

The fortune that could be inherited by producing an heir.

And Henry’s absence.

The three elements aligned perfectly, presenting an opportunity Richelle couldn’t ignore. She began to devise a sinister plan involving Catherine.

If Wiggins could satisfy his desires with Catherine, and if she bore Wiggins’ child instead of Henry’s…

Richelle’s heart swelled with excitement.

“Fate hasn’t abandoned me.”

If it worked out, it would be perfect. She would get what she wanted while watching Henry fall into despair.

“Wiggins, come here.”

Richelle opened her arms toward Wiggins. While he couldn’t understand others, he had an uncanny ability to comprehend his mother’s words. Looking back and forth between her hands, Wiggins leaned his face forward.

It was a gesture asking to be embraced.

Richelle pulled Wiggins’ head into her chest.

“My baby.”

“L-Like. Like.”

Wiggins rubbed his face against Richelle’s chest, grinning.

“My baby. You must do exactly as Mommy says.”

Still holding Wiggins, Richelle gently stroked the back of his head. Since his skin had melted and necrotized from burns, Wiggins had no hair. Her fingers traced the uneven scars on his scalp.

***

Marina’s hands were busy preparing Catherine’s night water. She tried to dissolve the powder Richelle had given her into the glass, but the passing servants made it difficult.

After glancing around nervously, Marina finally managed to pour the powder into Catherine’s glass.

Marina didn’t know what the powder was. She was simply following orders.

Placing the glass on a tray, Marina began ascending the stairs. Judging by the continued silence outside the castle, it seemed Henry wouldn’t return tonight either. As she hurried up the stairs, Alto suddenly appeared and called out to her.

“Marina!”

“Oh my, you startled me.”

Having not heard his footsteps, Marina jumped at Alto’s voice.

“Why are you so startled? You look like someone caught doing something bad.”

“Doing something bad? Who wouldn’t be startled when someone sneaks up and shouts their name?”

Marina scolded Alto. He pouted and nodded in agreement.

“Fair enough. But what’s that? Water?”

“It’s a glass of water for Madame. Stop making a fuss and go do your business.”

“I am doing my business.”

Alto’s business was to guard Catherine’s quarters. That was why he was climbing the stairs with Marina.

“I see.”

Marina nodded. While Alto wasn’t popular with young women because of his talkativeness, older women like Marina found him quite likable.

“Oh dear.”

Marina’s body had aged faster than her years. Even climbing a single step sent a sharp pain through her knees, making her groan.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“My knees ache, as always.”

“Then give it to me. I’ll carry it up.”

“No, I can handle my own tasks. Don’t worry about it.”

“And then you’ll complain, ‘Oh, my knees, my shoulders, my whole body hurts.’ Just give it to me and go rest.”

Alto reached out to take the tray from Marina.

“What are you doing? I told you I’m fine!”

Richelle had ordered Marina to ensure Catherine drank the water. Determined not to let Alto take it, Marina clutched the tray tightly and turned it toward her body.

“I said give it here.”

But Marina couldn’t match Alto’s strength. With one quick motion, he snatched the tray from her.

“Unbelievable.”

Not wanting to appear ungrateful, Marina sighed dramatically and glared at Alto.

“You’re welcome? Don’t mention it.”

Grinning slyly, Alto climbed the stairs.

“Make sure Madame drinks it. Got it?”

“Got it. Don’t worry and go rest.”

Whistling cheerfully, Alto continued up the stairs.