Thank you, Astarria, for editing this chapter 😘.
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Chapter 28
Sebelia, too, was helpless when faced with the curt letter, devoid of any context.
“He suddenly came looking for Denisa…?”
How on earth did this happen? Sebelia tried to make sense of the situation but soon realized it was impossible.
“What on earth could Dehart possibly want with Denisa?”
In the east, which shunned tales of the north, especially of the Inverness family, gossip about Hylend Hall wasn’t as intense as it was in the central region. As a result, Sebelia only knew that the atmosphere at Hylend Hall had soured after her funeral, but was clueless about the specifics. Hence, Denisa’s note felt as absurd to Sebelia as if she had been told the sun rose in the west.
“There’s no connection between them.”
But no matter how much she tried to deny reality, the words written in the letter didn’t change a single bit.
“Ugh…” Sebelia groaned, clutching her head.
She didn’t know the details, but somehow Denisa was being harassed by Dehart. And she was asking her to leave, thinking this harassment might extend to her as well.
I don’t know the situation, but I’ll follow Denisa’s words for now; Sebelia continued her thoughts as she flung open the wardrobe door.
It felt like her mind was working faster than usual in this crisis.
“The fact that Denisa was able to send me a letter means that Dehart isn’t holding her captive or torturing her, at least.”
It was a morbid assumption to make about her ex-husband, but she was truly relieved nonetheless.
“But changing the destination…,”
A small furrow appeared between Sebelia’s brows. Originally, she and Denisa were going to settle down in a small town on the eastern edge. They had even arranged a house there in advance, but now this request to change the destination could mean only one thing.
“She may not be detained, but she’s either in a difficult situation to escape from… or it’s become impossible for her to come to me at all.”
What on earth could have happened?
Sebelia felt as if her head were splitting.
She’s telling me to go somewhere else because it’s possible that even the house we arranged in the East could be exposed.
Was the situation really that dire?
“…Ha.”
Perhaps it was because of this sudden development but her heart was racing, and the stress made her feel dizzy.
“I feel faint.”
It was like the feeling she had just before she left Hylend Hall, when she saw the shaman—the terrible feeling that, while she was anxious, her opponent had already prepared for everything and was cornering her.
“…But I did succeed in the end,” Sebelia said as if to reassure herself.
Yes, she had left that cold, unfeeling place and gained her freedom.
Her gaze shifted to the envelope in her bag. containing the medical report.
Perhaps it held the faint hope of a future she had never imagined.
A complex array of emotions flickered across Sebelia’s face, only to vanish as quickly as they had appeared.
Then, a light-hearted voice escaped her.
“Maybe this was meant to be.”
It was something she said unconsciously. Even she was surprised by her words and quickly looked up.
She saw her reflection in the mirror opposite her.
What greeted her wasn’t the tired gaze she had seen before leaving the hospital.
No. Her blue eyes, once clouded, were now clear and seemingly satisfied.
They held the kind of comfortable glimmer that one might have when a long-standing problem was resolved in a desirable way.
“Ahah.”
A realization struck her like lightning, and at the same time, her cheeks flushed with shame.
“…Once again, it’s only when I’m pushed to the edge that I realize it.”
It’s only when crisis looms that I become honest about my shallow desires.
“Incredible.”
With a bitter smile, Sebelia closed her suitcase.
The desire to live, the wish for an uncertain future rather than a safe death—these were certainly not shallow. But Sebelia had never been honest with herself about her desires throughout her life.
Before she could even want something, the possibility of choice was taken from her, and whenever she showed interest in anything, her tastes were immediately scorned. So even as she left for her own sake, she had to wrestle with feelings of self-loathing for a while.
“How lacking am I, really…?”
And in his own way, though differently, Dehart was also groaning in pain.
Although it was pain on a different level.
***
“Ugh…”
Dehart sat, leaning back in his chair, with his shirt tossed aside.
Cold sweat covered his body, and a large, blue bruise was forming on his waist, swelling up in a disturbing way.
“Are you all right, sir?”
A knight carefully asked as he applied medicine to Dehart’s waist and wrapped a fresh bandage around it. At that, Dehart unleashed a torrent of venomous words, as though he had been waiting for this.
“Does this look all right to you? I can’t believe you walk around with eyes that useless. You’d be better off begging on the streets.”
Despite the suffocating sarcasm, the knight maintained a calm expression. Confirming that Dehart was still in his right mind, he quietly withdrew.
Left alone, Dehart leaned his head back against the chair in silence. His face was impassive, but his eyes gleamed.
“Yes, I suppose that’s the least they can do for someone who had dared to harm their master.”
Whatever had happened, in his mind, Denisa had already become the despicable maid who betrayed Sebelia.
Of course, Denisa’s stabbing him in the back and running away played a big part in that judgment.
“But even so, the tail has already been caught.”
Dehart said calmly as he looked down at the crumpled letter in his hand. It was a letter he had taken from Denisa’s house.
“…This time, I won’t let her slip away.”
His voice, seemingly indifferent yet filled with relentless obsession, filled the room. At that moment, the knight waiting outside felt a chill run down his spine.
“Ugh…”
He shook his head at the thought of the terrible future that awaited the fleeing woman.
Why did she do that, she won’t be able to escape for long anyway.
With a sigh, the knight recalled the day when he became the cause of this mess.
***
In the beginning… everything went smoothly.
“I will follow the Duke’s orders.”
After Dehart pointed out the people spying on her, one by one, delivering persuasion that was more like intimidation, Denisa obediently raised the white flag.
“I also don’t want to end up losing my life over an unfortunate incident.”
Seeing Denisa speak calmly, Dehart gave her a satisfied smile.
“Good. You’re not as stupid as I thought.”
With that, Dehart brought Denisa to his residence under the pretext of ensuring her safety, and over the next few days, he began a series of interrogations.
“What I’m most curious about is what happened to her after I left.”
His fingernails, bitten and ragged, tapped on the desk.
“From the day I left, right before our wedding anniversary, and afterward… until the day she died. I need to know everything that happened during that time, without a single detail missing.”
As he spoke, his throat seemed to tighten, and he occasionally cleared it.
Denisa stared at him with unreadable eyes, then spoke slowly.
“As you know, sir, Madam … no, I’ll call her ‘young lady.’”
“As you wish.”
“So, the young lady was neither as disappointed nor as hurt as you might think.”
“…What?”
Dehart’s face froze. The hand that had been tapping on the desk halted in mid-air.
As he stood there, frozen like a statue, Denisa continued her narration, unwavering.
“The young lady had long been worn out by unreciprocated affection. So, not being able to spend her anniversary with you only served to harden her already cold heart further; it didn’t inflict any new wounds beyond that.”
This was a more horrifying revelation than Dehart had anticipated.
“You mean… that’s…”
Dehart’s cracked, dry lips opened and closed repeatedly.
“It sounds like you’re saying she had already given up on me.”
“Yes.”
Without hesitation, Denisa nodded, and Dehart’s golden eyes froze over like ice.
“The young lady had already bid you farewell in her heart.”
“That can’t be.”
There’s no way. She felt so much guilt toward me. The wound she inflicted on me was so terrible.
She would never have left me first…
“…!”
Dehary shuddered involuntarily at the thought that crossed his mind. He’d already lost her, and now he was stuck with these ugly thoughts.
His face went pale, his words caught in his throat, and after a moment, he waved his hand dismissively.
“Come back in an hour.”
His stomach churned. With his head lowered, Dihart reached out and opened a medicine bottle.
And so, similar days continued to repeat themselves. Rather than uncovering the truth behind Sebelia’s death, Dehart only became painfully aware of how exhausted she had been in life—and just how much she had suffered because of him.
“I am… I…”
Then, occasionally, Denisa would testify about the torment Gwen and Flora had inflicted on Sebelia.
“I heard that Lady Flora once helped herself to the young lady’s dowry as she pleased.”
And of course he recorded such information meticulously to use as evidence later.
After a series of cooperative days like this, one day, Denisa took the initiative to speak up;
“Actually, there is a diary that Lady Sebelia used to write in secretly.”
“And why are you only telling me this now?” Dehart asked sharply, but Denisa calmly brushed off his reproach.
“It’s more like a short note-like diary, a record of her impressions from that day. But I thought it might be helpful to you, Your Grace.”
“Tell me where it is. I’ll have the knights fetch it.”
“No. She left it to me personally as a keepsake. I can’t entrust it to just anyone.”
Dehart glared at Denisa with annoyance, but ultimately granted her request. After all, he, too, hated having his belongings handled by others.
And so, he took Denisa, along with a few knights, and headed to Ellad Street.
“Make sure no one suspicious passes through here,” Dehart instructed them.
Then, he entered the house with Denisa, and to his damnation, she struck him from behind.
“Forgive me, Your Grace.”
He groaned as he felt a sharp pain pierce his bruised side with precision.
“I will make it clear to you, once and for all, that your suspicions are wrong.”
“You!!!….”
Drip. Drip.
From the tip of the sharp pen, a dark blue poison dripped steadily.
“Please, just let her go,” Denisa begged.
Sadly, her whispered plea never reached Dehart’s ears.
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