After I Died, My Husband Went Mad

Splat.

 

Long strands of hair fell to the floor.

 

“God! I should have done this sooner,” Sebelia said with a soft smile, her shoulders feeling much lighter.

 

“Neat.”

 

She ran her fingers through her hair once before scanning the floor.

 

The hair that she had been growing for a long time sprawled like threads. She couldn’t believe they had come from her.

 

“Still, you’ve cut too much. Cutting it up to the shoulders is a bit….”

 

Ignoring Denisa’s dismay, Sebelia picked up the broom; she didn’t want to give the old woman time to contemplate the terrible sight.

 

“Hair grows over time, you know,” Sebelia finally replied in a nonchalant tone as she disposed of the hair in the trash can. “I don’t need the hair that grew out of pain because I’ve already let go of the past. So don’t be so heartbroken, Denisa.”

 

Sebelia was sincere. Neither her memories of Weddon nor her time in Inverness meant anything to her anymore.

 

“And truth be told, I’ve thought about cutting it before. Well, some people opposed my decision, so I never went through with it.”

 

Thinking back to that time, Sebelia laughed bitterly.

 

After moving to Inverness, she had wanted to cut her hair just like she did today. If it weren’t for Dehart’s words, she surely would have.

 

[The North’s temperature drops more unexpectedly than you imagine.] 

 

[What?]

 

It was a random remark, but Dehart looked dead serious.

 

[For Northerners, hair is like a coat. And… doesn’t your neck feel cold when you keep it tied up like that?]

 

Then after getting closer with a disapproving look, he untied her hair, and gently brushed it down.

 

[Yes. This is much better.]

 

A hint of joy coating his voice.

 

At one point, when Sebelia finally regained her senses, she found a small hairpin had been stuck by her ear. And in the end, she gave up on cutting her hair.

 

There was such a time.

 

Sebelia lowered her head, recalling memories that were beyond alteration. In the past, she had dreamed for reconciliation with Dehart while reminiscing about that day.

 

“But not anymore.”

 

 Sebelia Inverness was dead.

 

Now, it was time to start a new life that had nothing to do with Dehart. So, there was no reason to carry around the hair that had grown over time like a burden.

 

“Sigh…….”

 

Still, Denisa couldn’t seem to shake off her regret.

 

Still, deciding to cut off hair that had been nurtured for over twenty years, in one go, is not an ordinary decision: Sebelia thought, remembering how Nelia cherished her hair as much as her life before shrugging.

 

 “It will grow back if I just leave it alone. Stop sighing and help me with the dyeing,” Sebelia begged, pulling on Denisa’s sleeve like a child.

 

“Denisa, do you know how envious I was of your hair when I was a kid? It looked soooo much prettier compared to my pale-colored one.” She reminisced as she pulled out the brown hair dye she had bought from the drugstore before placing it on the table.

 

“You sure know how to sweet talk.” 

 

“Well, now that I’m no longer a Duchess, I have to speak well so you’ll take care of me.”

 

Denisa smiled helplessly at her unflinching attitude.

 

Shortly after, the two of them sat by the sunny window. Sebelia entrusted her head to Denisa and was busy flipping through the pages of a book. The faint smell coming from the dye tickled her nose, but not so much that it bothered her.

 

In fact, something completely different was bothering her. Then at some point, realizing that she had been reading the same page over and over again, Sebelia closed the book and asked Denissa:

 

“Father… you said he was at the funeral.”

 

A very brief silence hovered between the two women.

 

Then, after hesitating for a moment, Denisa nodded. She wasn’t allowed to attend the funeral as she wasn’t an aristocrat, however she had heard some stories before leaving the mansion.

 

“I heard that he looked deeply saddened. Of course… he probably was faking it.”

 

“Yes. Of course he did,” Sebelia agreed.

 

If he had truly felt remorseful, he wouldn’t have dared to show his face at her funeral.

 

“It’s ridiculous but I guess I was foolishly expecting something different.” Sebelia sighed, fiddling with her cold fingertips.

 

It was only natural for Marquess of Whedon to attend. her funeral

 

It was expected.

 

[Your mother passed on her filthy blood to you, huh.]

 

[Pathetic!  I was expecting at least a drop of Weddon’s blood to flow in you.]

 

Regardless of how her father really treated her, to outsiders, he seemed very caring towards his youngest illegitimate daughter.

 

A memory of her father flashed through her mind.

 

[I don’t understand the content of your letter. Are you saying I used you to steal information about the North?  I’ve known you had a victim complex since you were a kid, but you’ve crossed the line this time.]

 

Although his true self was a ruthless person who took advantage of his children and abandoned them miserably without any remorse.

 

“But there was a vast difference between expecting something to happen and seeing it become concrete reality.”

 

Realizing her sudden depressed condition, Sebelia leaned back in her chair. She had faintly hoped that he would feel some guilt about her death.

 

That will never happen.

 

Closing her eyes, Sebelia thought that, if possible, she would have loved to scrape off the blood she had inherited from him.

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile, Marquis Weddon, the object of a considerable amount of resentment, was leisurely spending time in a salon.

 

It was a party hosted by a prominent figure from the North, and Silas had to buy quite a few bottles of wine to attend.

 

Still, it wasn’t a wasted expense; he thought as he sat down, and raised his glass to his lips, listening to the whispered conversations floating around him.

 

Today, as usual, Inverness dominated the discussions.

 

“The lightning is still striking there, isn’t it?”

 

“Indeed. The Duke seems to have become a bit strange. You know, there’s that curse that occasionally appears…”

 

The nobles gathered in the salon chatted avidly, every single one of them contributing to the blossoming gossip.

 

The hottest ones undoubtedly revolved around the Inverness family. From the Duchess who committed suicide due to a ghost, to the awakening of the curse flowing in the Ducal family’s bloodline. Those were a series of events that made the idle nobles’ hearts throb.

 

“It seems Hylend Hall’s servants are leaving one by one; they say they can’t bear it anymore. It’s too terrifying or something.”

 

“Oh my God. If it’s coming from them, then that’s credible.” 

 

“Fear, it’s a curse that drives people crazy one by one. The Duke might follow his wife and commit suicide.”

 

A small laugh broke out from the group, and a strange smile spread on Silas’ lips as he listened to the conversation.

 

Suicide; he repeated inwardly.

 

Was that child capable of committing suicide?

 

Silas remembered where the blood flowing in her veins came from and shook his head. Despite her humble origins, she was a child with an obsession for life and a tenacious vitality.

 

And above all else…….

 

That wench has undoubtedly awakened her powers; Silas thought as he emptied his glass, recalling Nathan, who returned home with a defeated expression, and recounted what had happened to him.

 

[She’s definitely gone mad. I don’t know where she learned those bizarre tricks, but she conjured spiders!]

 

Letting out a sigh of belated regret, Silas realized that he should have checked on Sebelia as soon as he heard the story.

 

But what could he do now? The funeral had already taken place, and Sebelia was either in that coffin or . . .

 

“Running away,” he muttered.

 

He knew very well what she was capable of. After all, her mother had used the same trick to stab him in the back and run away.

 

“I won’t fall for it twice.”

 

 The man’s despicable face reflected on the empty glass.

 

* * *

 

Standing in front of the mirror, Sebelia ran her hand through her shortened hair.  A woman with short brown hair, reminiscent of ripe hazelnut, was looking back at her. The pale, dull-looking Sebelia was nowhere to be found.

 

“I like it.”

 

For the first time in a long time, Sebelia looked at herself in the mirror and smiled without reservation.

 

Even though she couldn’t do anything about the blue eyes she got from her father, just changing the hair made her look like a completely different person.

 

“I just changed the color of my hair, but I’m already giving off a different vibe.”

 

If she had been like this from the beginning, would people have liked her a little more? 

 

Sebelia briefly entertained such thought before quickly dismissing it.

 

That’s unlikely.

 

The people of Weddon would have found other reasons to hate her even if she looked beautiful.

 

I’m the daughter of the woman who ran away.

 

A bastard child who was not recognized by the family.

 

“It’s over now. It’s all in the past now.”

 

With a determined look on her face, Sebelia put on her overcoat. Now that all the preparations were done, it was time to head to the next town.

 

“Denissa, have you packed all your luggage?” Sebelia turned lightly, calling out to Denisa.

 

Through the open window, where the chirping of a bluebird could occasionally be heard, the sun gently bathed the hallway below.

 

“Come here,” she sweetly ordered.

 

And a small bird fluttered over to perch itself on her shoulder. 

 

It was a pleasant start.

 

* * *

 

After a funeral, the house would usually be shrouded in a somber atmosphere.

 

The people there would spend their time reminiscing about the departed, trying to sort through memories they couldn’t bear to let go of.

 

Each one of them lost in their own thoughts.

 

However, this wasn’t the case in Inverness.

 

Roman, who has been the family’s physician for three generations now, was straining his voice to the fullest.

 

“Your Grace, please calm down and be rational …”

 

“Calm down? Be rational? You want me to be calm and rational?”

 

Dehart grabbed Roman’s collar and glared at him with an unnervingly stable gaze. His eyes, like polished gold coins, glimmered with a chilling intensity.

 

“That’s a virtue you, as a physician, should possess. It’s not something you should dare to impose on me.”

 

“Kerr, Kerhh”

 

“Now tell me why, as a physician, were you so excessively rational that you didn’t even properly observe my wife’s last moments, and left it to some insignificant local doctor?”

 

As Dehart’s sharp voice echoed through the room, Roman anxiously gulped down with a pale face.

 

Shit, shit, shit!

 

He shut his eyes tightly, trying to recall how he ended up in this situation.

 

It all started after he was hastily summoned here because of a supposed fire breaking inside this mansion.