Secret Wardrobe of the Duchess

Chapter 43

 
On that day, the small faith in love Edgar had was shattered with that carriage.

“The difference between a curse and a blessing is very small.”

That was how his life was. Everyone said he was blessed. High rank, immense wealth, perfect brain and beautiful appearance. However, those things were a curse to Edgar.

He was always surrounded by people attracted to the sweet smell of what he had.

They wanted him. They craved him. However, he couldn’t find himself in their greedy eyes. What they truly wanted was what he had. They were not interested in Edgar himself. They just wanted themselves with Edgar in hand.

-You are my proud son. Your very existence gives me joy.
Oh, Edgar had been relieved so much by that promise of his father. He even said Edgar didn’t have to be perfect. He said he loved him for who he was.

-Eddie, do not hate those who temporarily lose reason because of your excessive beauty too much.
Moreover, his mother with unworldly beauty was the only one who could understand his suffering. Who else could understand that he was in pain and troubled because of people who loved him?

Until now, Edgar’s mother, father, and a few servants who had served him since his childhood had supported him through the greed that surrounded him.

At least he had believed in their affection and love. But today, everything was being destroyed like a tower made of sand.

He wanted to turn back time and ask his father if he had truly loved his mother.

He couldn’t find any difference in his father and that knight who had ignored his mother’s opinion and tried to flirt with her. Now the only person left to him was the butler with a mad love toward the Claymore Family.
No, could it be called love?

Edgar wanted to ask that to Carl. If he had truly cared about his father, he should have stopped him and asked for others’ help. Carl was just drunk with himself putting the Claymore Family in front of everything else.
Edgar was sick of it.

So twisted. Only twisted affection now remained around him. His mother had been right, too much beauty was poison. The world was full of people who couldn’t tell love apart from desire. They pouted out unwanted affection and blamed him when it was not rewarded.

‘You are too harsh. Don’t you know Ellie likes you? You can at least smile to her once.’

‘You are way too cold.’

‘Felix was just trying to be friends with you, did you have to treat him that way?’

They all said he was wrong. They said he was cold for not giving any affection in return.

That was what men would say when he dropped by shortly at a coffee house or cigar storage after late night’s conferences.

How hard it is to reward a woman’s love? Just put down your morals for a short time, give pleasure to each other and part ways.

They advised he would lose nothing.
Each time that happened, Edgar recalled his father. The man who said he had no choice because the woman begged. According to their logic, his father was more generous and more humane than him.

Was it love?

Was it affection?

Affection literally surrounded him, but his heart was hollow. His outside shined like sweet honey, but his inside was like a vast desert.

‘Too much beauty is poison.’

The difference between curse and beauty was very small. Edgar hated his own face that others couldn’t praise more.