After I Died, My Husband Went Mad [EN]: Chapter 132

The report that had begun around lunchtime finally concluded in the evening. Dihart organized the documents Ryan had sent through Ilay and let out a long sigh.

Ilay, who was reviewing the new instructions, watched him carefully and said,

“So, I understand that the underground organization will continue to be entrusted to Lord Ryan. I instructed him to deliver any sensitive issues directly through his knights instead of by mail, to prevent leaks,” Ilay said.

“Okay. Good work.”

As Dihart waved his hand, Ilay quietly left the office. No sooner had silence fallen than a terrible headache struck.

“Ugh.”

Dihart hurriedly opened the drawer. The sound of his hands bumping around echoed, and things fell to the floor. But he couldn’t find what he wanted.

The persistent pain reminded him of his situation: a pathetic state where all similar types of drugs, including tranquilizers, were forbidden.

‘This is driving me crazy.’

He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. But the pain was still there. Some things can’t be overcome with willpower alone. Dihart clicked his tongue and stood up, supporting himself on the side table with his hand.

It was then that the pain, which had started in his head, spread like wildfire. The next moment, he felt his vision tilting.

‘Ah.’

I mustn’t get hurt. I’ll get scolded again. Even as he was having such absurd thoughts that made him want to laugh, his body was helplessly plummeting.
He tried his best to stand, but it was useless.

His body, which had been suffering for days, wouldn’t relinquish control so easily.

“Dihart!”

When he came to his senses, he saw Sebelia with a pale face. Only then did Dihart realize that the vine he had seen at lunch was wrapped around him.

What is going on? Dihart tried to understand the situation with his sluggish thoughts.

“Ah.”

She caught me when I collapsed in pain, just like she caught Claude earlier.

“Haha.”

The moment Dihart let out a weak laugh, Sebelia felt a pang in her heart. She stared at Dihart with eyes that showed she truly didn’t know what to do.

“I’m sorry.”

Knowing his faults, he offered an apology first. Seeing him looking gloomy again, even though it wasn’t his fault, Sebelia shook her head, feeling a pang of sympathy.

“It’s okay. More than that, you should eat something now.”

“Well, I think I need medicine more than that.”

As soon as he realized what had just happened, the pain rushed back. Is it neurological after all? Dihart clenched his teeth to suppress a groan.

“Eating on an empty stomach will only upset your stomach. I’ll call a servant to bring up a meal, so can you bear with it for a moment?”

“Haa, I’ll try.”

Dihart tilted his head back with a gloomy face. Sebelia frowned and flicked her fingers. Then, the vine that had been holding Dihart tightly slowly moved, placed him on the long sofa, and disappeared without a trace.

“What would have happened if I hadn’t come?”

“Hmm.”

Having regained his freedom, he tried to get up but met Sebelia’s gaze, who had arrived in front of him in an instant. Seeing her eyes, which seemed to have a lot to say, Dihart moved his lips and then closed them tightly.

“Dihart.”

His cloudy golden eyes looked up at her.

“I’m sorry. Call the servant later; can you just stay with me for a moment?”

Tiredness was evident in his low, subdued voice. Sebelia approached him with saddened eyes.

She didn’t know he was pushing himself this hard. No, in fact, she probably knew it implicitly but couldn’t easily approach him.

‘I should have been braver.’

She should have applied that shamelessness when dealing with him too, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Because she was afraid of touching the wound called family. Because she was afraid that meddling with unnecessary worries would ruin their precarious relationship. Because she was worried about just that….

‘Am I still insecure?’

She acted as she pleased with Claude, who had a firm belief in their master-disciple relationship, but she couldn’t do anything with Dihart. Like a bubble that disappears if touched wrong, she didn’t know what to do and was just satisfied with him being in her sight.

‘Or is it that I can’t trust him?’

Sebelia smiled bitterly and stroked Dihart’s cheek. He slowly closed his eyes at the warm touch. Dihart, who obediently entrusted himself to her, looked very pale at a glance.

Stroking his sunken cheeks and sharp jawline, which had appeared in just a few days, Sebelia let out a silent sigh. He found solace in just this small, insignificant touch, but she didn’t even know that and just circled around him.

“…….”

As she sat on the sofa and laid his head on her lap, Dihart quietly closed his eyes and exhaled.

“Haa.”

It was peace after a long time. Sebelia looked down at him quietly and said.

“Wouldn’t it be better to talk honestly? About the succession rights, if you say it was an unavoidable choice at the time…….”

“What will change if I do that?”

Dihart, who opened his eyes wide, spat out coldly.

“That’s…….”

“Hold onto that child and say, ‘Of course, we didn’t look for you because we thought you were dead. We didn’t know at all, so it’s natural that I became the Duke.’ Should I say something like that?”

The answer that came out reflexively was so cold that it seemed like it would cut if touched. Dihart bit his lip as if surprised by what he had said.

Sebelia was quite surprised, but not very hurt.

‘Because it’s not directed at me.’

Dihart’s sharp words probably stemmed from the guilt he had towards Rosalyn. Unlike Claude, he really believed that Rosalyn was dead.

In fact, when you think about it, it was a bitter thing. At that time, Dihart was just a young child who had lost his parents, just like Rosalyn. But he became the target of resentment for not knowing she was alive and not looking for her.

“I’m sorry, I can’t control myself right now…….”

He stuttered with a pale face. Sebelia stopped him from trying to apologize with a stiff face.

“No. Don’t do that. I was rude. I shouldn’t have carelessly added words to other people’s family problems. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“No, it’s not. Bella, don’t say that.”

Dihart got up and blurted out incoherently. Rude interference? Such a word could not be used to describe Sebelia.

Everything she did was welcome to him. Even if she forced him to stay by her side, even if she imprisoned him—which was impossible—he would probably gratefully follow her wishes. So.

“Don’t apologize to me. Even if you pointed a knife at me, even if that day really comes, I hope you don’t.”

“…….”

“Compared to what I’ve done, those are nothing.”

Sebelia’s eyes widened at the heavy atmosphere of the words. Dihart was looking at her with a deeply frowning face.

“I was too serious, I guess. I just wanted to say that you didn’t hurt me. Ugh, ah…. I didn’t mean to say it like this.”

He let out a weak laugh and grabbed Sebelia’s hand.

“Still, you’ll stay by my side, right? I’m in pain right now, Bella. I might collapse again without you.”

A different light flickered in Sebelia’s eyes. Dihart brought her hand down to his cheek and whispered.

“You said you’d listen to anything if it was a word to hold onto you.”

Her heart pounded at those words. It was an embarrassing atmosphere, so much so that it was hard to believe they had just had an argument—or something close to it.

Sebelia bit the soft flesh inside her mouth without realizing it, and Dihart groaned lowly.

“Ugh.”

The pain seemed to have started again. Sebelia’s eyes shook at the sight of cold sweat beading on his forehead, indicating that the pain was quite severe. She bit her lip tightly and called out Etira, whispering.

“Bring Watts.”

“There’s no need for that. I think I’ll be fine if I just lie down next to you.”

Sebelia’s eyes hardened coldly when she heard Dihart muttering. She firmly ignored Dihart’s words and lightly sent Etira flying into the air.

Pirit!

Etira circled once above Dihart and then flew straight into the hallway. Dihart tried to say something more but groaned, grabbed his head, and leaned back against the backrest. The pain seemed to be getting worse.

“It would be better to cancel tomorrow’s schedule.”

“That’s absolutely not possible.”

Even though he couldn’t open his eyes properly, Dihart refused Sebelia’s suggestion. Tomorrow, the two were scheduled to visit the imprisoned Nathan Wedden and conduct an interrogation using illusion magic [a type of magic that creates realistic sensory experiences in the minds of others].

It was to find the bodies of the missing victims and to identify circumstances that would prove that Nathan had received orders from Silas.

“We barely got permission. I can’t let it go to waste because of me. I’m sorry; I made you worry unnecessarily.”

Illusion magic was an ability that had just begun to be known. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Shatayan and his aide, the illusionist Ludmill, they might not have gotten this opportunity.

Investigators, including the Imperial Security Bureau, expressed skepticism about the accuracy and stability of questioning and investigation using illusion magic.

When her thoughts reached that point, Sebelia realized that she was in a position to accept his apology.

‘Come to think of it, if I postpone the interrogation now, it’s the same as lowering the credibility with my own hands.’

To summarize what has happened so far:

Claude and Dihart had been acting as her teacher and protector, repeatedly interfering with worries disguised as concern. But now, with such a serious matter at hand, they suddenly showed an attitude that was the opposite of their previous behavior.

He even failed to take care of his health, making her think about canceling the interrogation schedule.

‘I think I can get angry about this.’

In addition, she thought she could take back her words of apologizing for carelessly adding words to family matters. While Sebelia was contemplating, Watts opened the door to the office and came in.

“Bella, what’s wrong? I’ve been out of my mind because Etira keeps pecking at my head.”

“Ah, you’re here. Dihart seems to be suffering from a severe headache. I think he needs to take a tranquilizer, so could you take a look at him?”

“I’m glad I brought my treatment tools. Should I lie down for now?”

Half an hour later, Watts promised to bring medicine, saying that the pain would subside with the tranquilizer he had concocted. In the meantime, Sebelia had a servant bring out a meal.

“Eat.”

The sight of him hesitating and finally picking up the spoon was like that of a patient with a clear illness. How did she manage to make that man healthy, only to have him return to this state?

Sebelia frowned, pouring lukewarm water into a glass. It seemed like it would be good to enter the palace as soon as possible.