I Healed my Husband, the Leader of the Underworld

It rained on the day my husband’s mother died.

It was the same on the day she was laid to rest in the cold ground. It felt as if the world was bidding her farewell with heavy downpours.

I stole a glance at my husband standing next me; his blue eyes watched as the hole slowly swallowed the coffin. He looked like he had a lot on his mind—yes, I am sure he did—he was a man with many plans for the future after all.

I shifted my gaze to the wedding ring wrapped around my finger; it was a fine piece that once proudly adorned the window of the best jewelry shop in the Empire.

Many were envious, but there was really no need to be. Because there was no difference between my marriage and this ring, both looked luxurious and pleasing to the eye but lacked sincerity.

Up until the funeral day, we have been married for exactly two years. Well, I suppose I should subtract a day or two since I was not the one who said the wedding vows, but the original owner of this body to be precise.

Let’s just say that about two years have passed since I woke up in a book I was reading. Two years of shouldering someone else’s marriage.

Roham Matriarch must have passed away around this time in the book, I thought.

So today marks one week until I die by my husband’s hands.

I only had one week left.

‘Not even death can separate us.’

‘Don’t tell me you were stupid enough to believe the goddamn vows?’ Siegfried Roham said, laughing sinisterly.

Hmm, that line existed in the original work, most likely a conversation between this body owner and her dear husband.

She was quite obsessed with him, but he was a terrifying man who could easily kill his obsessive wife.

And I happened to be possessing that obsessive wife’s body.

Of all people, I became Milena Roham.

The woman who died because she clung to the male protagonist without understanding the novel’s theme. A supporting character used to enhance the fatal charm of the beasty male lead.

“You must be heartbroken,” said a lady standing next to me with a pitiful look.

“The old madam was always kind to Mrs. Roham,” she added.

Here, Mrs. Roham referred to me.

The real Milena was the typical villainous character you often see in dramas. She was the daughter of a prestigious family, and her mother-in-law persecuted the female lead while welcoming her with open arms.

“Thank you, lady Cobalt,” I smiled, ignoring the disdain buried in her eyes.

I was very much aware that ‘High Society’ looked down on me and pitied me for losing my greatest ally.

“She was a very respectable person,” I added.

I was the unwanted wife who only kept her position thanks to her mother-in-law and that mother-in-law became a cold and lifeless corpse laying in a casket.

Now people were finally starting to show their true colors.

Considering all the choices placed before me, I knew that living as if I was dead in the ducal mansion was the best option for me. However, if what my husband wanted was a divorce, I was willing to comply without resistance.

Anything beats dying.

Anyway, I did my best and had no regrets. I never asked any invasive questions to my secretive husband, I treated his sweet younger sister like my own, and always acted politely towards the boy he brought home someday out of nowhere.

I must also say, playing the role of a villainess required a lot more work than I thought.

No matter how much I think about it, having to practice the piano to perfection just to save my husband’s face is just……. ugh….

I needed to always maintain perfect composure.

Present a flawless image.

Lead the Empire’s trends.

Every single one of them.

If I were to ever return home, I’d never be able to hate the dramas’ villains as much as I did before. I now realized how devoted they were to their art.

I could not even play ‘Dae Jang Geum’ on the recorder properly in my first life. But now I have mastered the refined piano forte of High Society here.

Truly, human potential was infinite.

I even learned magic on top of all that.

 

When I first arrived here, I believed I needed at least one ability if I wanted to survive a book transmigration, so I frantically learned any magic I could.

I was right.

When my husband came into my room covered in blood on that faithful night, I couldn’t do anything. But I was ready the next time it happened; I quietly healed him with the magic I diligently learned.

I remember I was so immersed in the joy and pain of learning, I didn’t even notice how fast the days passed. And just like that, two years slipped by.

Two years.

 

I once again glanced at my husband, still wondering about the content of his thoughts. Raindrops rolled down his chin and landed on his well-polished shoes. People stared at the statue like man as if entranced while he just stood there with a stoic expression.

I always felt like there was something otherworldly about this man.

Ah forget about his appearance, the most important thing right now was that my only support succumbed to her lingering illness, and the moral shackles that bounded the male lead had disappeared.

Siegfried no longer needed to pretend to be a good son. In other words, there was no reason for him to stay married to me anymore.

************************************************************

The perfect word to describe Siegfried Roham was ‘Proper Gentlemen.’

At least that is how he wanted the world to see him.

He was the perfect showroom husband and always carried himself with elegance. He was also an exceptionally good son to his mother.

I paused my thoughts as I recalled his rigid face at the funeral earlier.

My gaze swept over the portrait hanging in the chilly corridor I was standing in. And although it contained four individuals, my eyes were immediately captured by the overwhelmingly graceful woman seated in the center.

Margaret Roham.

She was the protagonist’s mother and my late mother-in-law. With her upright posture and piercing eyes, the woman exuded such elegance that seemed ready to step out the painting at any moment.

A sturdy cane was connected to the floor and locked in her palms, firmly supported her weight.

I wish I could have done something.

The servants often spoke of her as this strong figure who fiercely protected the family after the former duke passed away. It made sense that my husband always wanted to be a good son to her. She was truly someone worthy of admiration.

She really cared for me too.

She once warmly took my hands and comforted me, confessing that she too, had a marriage of connivence. Ahh, I could still hear her voice in my head.

“I’m sorry Madam, I don’t think I can keep my promise,” I lamented as I lowered my head, ashamed.

Her silhouette, still visible beyond the opaque canopy curtain, was ethereal. She whispered to me, asking me to become a good duchess. Asking me to stay and be Roham’s shield if she were to die.

She used to say that even after her death, Roham would still stand tall.

I wanted to remain here; the real Milena did not want to leave either. She loved extravagances and luxuries, and as a noble daughter of the Rochester Family, Roham’s reputation was precious to her heart.

I scanned the handsome man, standing on the right side of the old lady, who embodied the essence of Roham’s heritage.

I heard the Rochesters had to sacrifice a lot of things in order for Milena to marry Siegfried.

Just like manufacturers lower their prices and engage in fierce competition with each other, in the marriage market, the brides’ families showed off their worth with the dowries they could offer. The more bountiful the better.

It was common matters, but due to Milena intense desire for Siegfried Roham, her relationship with her own family deteriorated. And the fact that they kept refusing the marriage contract did not help.

‘I led armies and fought wars just to acquire the territory you desired. I even offered the coveted Red Diamond Dress stolen by a princess from another country, yet how could they….’

Be so indifferent? That is probably what Milena’s second brother wanted to say.

‘The Rohams are not to be trusted.’

The second son of the Rochester’s family straightforwardly expressed to their father what he thought of the Roam family. And Milena didn’t seem to have liked their opinions, judging from the emotions that brewed within me the moment the memory resurfaced.

Rochester’s golden hellfire.

So, this was what it felt like to be born with a silver spoon. Well, props to her I guess, the man was gorgeous.

Except, that man will kill me approximately one week from now.

Crack!

A blinding flash illuminated the corridor, followed by a thunderous roar–making my husband’s eye, from the portrait, shine ominously.

Yes, really. It was the perfect ambiance to be staring at portraits in a dark hallway.

“Hmm, A scorch mark?”

My eyes moved to the faceless man standing on the duchess’ left side, and gently pressing a hand on her shoulder.

Must be my husband’s father.

I did not know the one who painted the portrait, but I knew they must have intensely resented the former duke.

They really did him dirty, I thought as I turned to look outside the window of the grim and rain-soaked estate.

“My husband still didn’t come back home,” I murmured.

But just when I was thinking that I should go lay my tired body down, distant footsteps resonated in my ears. My kin senses immediately told me something was approaching,

“Butler?”

And my speculation was correct. From the seemingly endless corridor, a shadow-like figure gradually walked closer to me and as it approached the person’s features became more distinct.

The pale man stood in front of me, scanning me up and down. His expression was as grim as the weather, and the droplets on his collar revealed that he had been outside.

“Madam,” he greeted and his voice saying so felt oddly unfamiliar.

“His highness has returned,” he added.

There was only one person the butler would ever address as ‘his highness.’

My husband.

I quickly followed him to the first floor and with each step, somber faced handmaids tailed me.

Their footsteps, keeping a distance, muffled on the carpeted stairs, leaving only the sound of my own heels echoing throughout the house.

I always felt alone like this here.

Even though I tried bonding with others and finding people I could make mine, anyone who showed the slightest interest in me consistently disappeared right after.

I wanted to protest to my husband, but he was never home, and the maids all repeated the same words like mindless puppets.

‘The person I was looking for left and would no longer be found at this mansion.’

Every time this happened, I could feel Milena’s ferocious nature lurking inside, drawing my eyes towards the maids’ cheeks, and my palms itched to slap the hell out of them.

But even that anger lasted only for a moment.

I knew I shouldn’t create any unnecessary mess. There was no need to give my husband any more reason to kill me.

“Open the door,” I ordered.

With all his strength, the servant pushed the massive entrance door wide open. All shadows were instantly dispelled as a cool light streamed in from outside.

Rain poured down heavily, striking the ground with force as its sharp scent spread out.

Soon, a figure emerged from within the rain curtain. And due to the strong wind, my husband’s arms leading the massive horse were clearly visible. The hand gripping the reins looked huge even from a distance. His muscular arms glistening with rainwater seemed as sculpted as those of a skilled rider.

Thud!

His black boots struck the ground with weight, causing the blood mixed with the water to gush out the pooled puddles.

Fear surged through my chest, just like when I saw him at the funeral, emanating a mystical aura.

Unfazed by the rain, he pulled back the hood obscuring his vision, allowing droplets to shower down his raven hair.

His blue eyes looked as enchanting as in the portrait earlier. The water streaming down his face mingled with blood and dripped off as he moved in my direction.

The chilling weather alone already made me feverish, but the blood, whether animal or human, heightened my feelings of terror.

And dotted with blood stains like this, he looked like he just walked out of a painting.

I wanted to run away but I knew showing my back to a predator would mean certain death. So, I tried to settle my racing heart as I pretended to casually scan him. And as he grew closer, gazing down at me with his cryptic eyes, I struggled to open my mouth.

My legs quivered and chills ran down my spine.

That man was dangerous. My entire being was screaming it.

“Oh, you’ve returned,” I managed to squeeze out.

My mind knew that staying here was the best choice. But sometimes, I had the impulse to just leave, especially when he acted like he was acting right now.

Our gazes kept meeting, and the hand stretching out the edge of my clothes trembled.

As the man approached and lowered his head, I instinctively took a defensive stance. The skin on my neck cringed as if it were about to be torn apart.

Then, something fell on my shoulder with a thud.

“Milena,” he said.

The voice sank into my ear like scraping iron. It sounded like a wounded beast gasping for breath, pleading for me to save it from pain.

“I’m hurt.”

It was a completely different attitude from his usual condescending tone. Drops of blood splattered onto my white shall that I had been clutching……….

The man was in a precarious state……