After I Died, My Husband Went Mad [EN]: Chapter 59

The heavy, sweet scent of flowers blooming from every direction mingled with the sharp clanging of scissors. Red roses fell one by one, like severed heads being displayed, only to be gathered up by white-gloved hands.

For a moment, Sebelia thought Dihart was playing a cruel joke on her.

“Haa…”

She retreated to her room and collapsed onto the bed. Maya didn’t follow; he preferred the cushions to the soft mattress.

“It was a similar sight.”

Though there were differences, the scene she’d just witnessed echoed the last moment she’d faced him at Hillend Hall. That was why she’d frozen, momentarily paralyzed without realizing it.

‘What on earth was he thinking?’

Sebelia unconsciously tried to decipher his intentions, then remembered his amnesia. But a prickling unease remained, a thorn lodged in her throat. She pondered the source of it and then it struck her.

“How can someone with no memory prune roses so skillfully?”

Sebelia shot up from the bed. The sudden movement made the blue bird flutter in surprise. Her blue eyes shone with a cold light.

“Following habits ingrained in the body is completely different from recalling learned knowledge.”

Gardening wasn’t a field one could simply dabble in without prior knowledge. Thinning out unnecessary branches and fruits to promote healthy plant growth required experience and understanding. Most people couldn’t even distinguish between wildflowers and cultivated blooms.

In other words, it wasn’t a simple task that could be performed without memory.

“His memories are returning after all.”

Sebelia, visibly anxious, got out of bed and began to pace the room. She hadn’t even created a convincing illusion yet, and he was already regaining his memories.

“This won’t do, this won’t do…”

‘I’m going to ruin it again.’ Sebelia sank into a chair, her face pale. Perhaps it was the rising sense of crisis, but her fingertips were bloodless.

* * *

Dihart, no longer the master of Hillend Hall and the head of Inverness, felt utterly incompetent.

‘In the end, I couldn’t say anything.’

Sebelia had kept her distance until the very end and then left. Her retreating figure had seemed so desperate that Dihart couldn’t bring himself to stop her.

“Ha.”

Amnesia, huh? To think he’d considered such a ridiculous farce a good plan. Dihart cursed his past self and let out a hollow laugh. The broken fragments of laughter were laced with self-loathing.

‘Should I tell her now that my memories have returned?’

The mere thought sent a jolt of pain through him. He couldn’t predict her reaction. Would she be angry, cry, or scream?

Dihart was confident he could endure any of those. But what would come after? After she knew everything, what would happen when they faced each other again?

‘Will there be a future for us after this?’

“Ah, I, I… I don’t know anything.”

No, Dihart simply didn’t want to know. He had been avoiding the truth all along. It was in his nature: running from pain and turning away from reality.

Young Dihart hadn’t wanted to recall painful memories, so he’d completely erased the last moments of his family from his mind. That was how a seven-year-old child had chosen to survive.

The problem was that, having learned the convenience of running away, he couldn’t shake the habit, even as an adult. So Dihart hadn’t believed there was a reason behind Sebelia’s betrayal that he didn’t know about. After she died, he hadn’t accepted reality and had searched for a non-existent conspiracy.

The reason he continued to feign amnesia, even after knowing that the brown-haired Sebelia was real, was the same.

“I, I’m not confident I can endure it.”

Because to face all of that directly, he would have to endure so much pain. He could only accept reality after enduring the sensation of tearing lungs and clawing at his heart.

So Dihart refused to face it head-on. He refused even to look at himself. He ran away endlessly, deceiving himself that running away was a wise choice.

But that, too, had reached its limit.

‘Sebelia.’

“If I continue this false act, does that mean I can never call that name again? Never again.”

Dihart buried his face in his hands and muttered, his voice cracking. This was the result of choosing the convenient, easy, painless path.

Even though Sebelia was alive and moving before his eyes, he would never be able to call her name again. Because the only name the memory-less Dihart, who she hadn’t taught, could call was ‘Bella.’

Dihart’s wife, the woman he once loved, was buried in the past like that. From now on, he would have to call his beloved by another name, even when she was right in front of him.

‘Until when?’

Forever?

At that moment, an overwhelming sense of powerlessness gripped his entire body, as if he’d been thrown into a distant darkness. He felt like he was struggling meaninglessly in a bottomless swamp. Unaware that he had already unconsciously called her real name, Dihart writhed in self-loathing and regret.

A pair of eyes was peeking through the crack in the door, observing his despair.

* * *

Claude was sweating bullets, feeling the weight of the grayish-brown eyes staring at him.

“Is there a problem?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

Claude avoided Ilay’s intense, openly suspicious gaze and turned his head.

‘He’s a strange guy, even more so than the explanation he gave.’

It had been half a day since Claude arrived in Supredi.

Before stopping by Supredi, he’d first arrived at a village behind the mountain range. There, he’d bought the necessary supplies and stopped by a small post office before returning to the mountain. He could have gone straight down the mountain and entered Supredi along the footpath, but that would have been a waste of time for Claude. He was, after all, an illusionist.

“So, Mr. Cal Appenz, an assistant at the Wartz Research Institute on the sixth road.”

“Yes. I’m sure I showed you my ID card, though.”

Claude said with a disarming smile. Nevertheless, Ilay didn’t easily lower his guard.

‘He seems too nice.’

Claude was currently disguising his appearance using illusion abilities. It was an ability that required tremendous concentration and precision, covering himself with a very thinly drawn illusion.

Thanks to that, Claude now had the appearance of a well-built man in his 50s. He had ordinary brown hair and brown eyes that always seemed to be smiling, and a pleasant voice.

Anyone who looked at him would be impressed by his good nature. But sadly, such external charm didn’t work on the clueless Ilay.

‘Is this working out too easily? Hmm.’

He only looked at the facts: his superior disappearing on the sixth road, the time that had passed without any news, and then suddenly a man appeared with his letter and pendant.

The fact that the situation was unfolding so smoothly made Ilay uncomfortable. In fact, his suspicion was natural. Dihart had followed a brown-haired woman who might be a trap and stepped onto the sixth road, and then vanished.

‘What if that woman is holding the Duke and sending her ally to deceive me?’

But Claude was being unfairly judged. And he didn’t have any more time to waste being detained by Ilay. He hardened his face, which had been smiling all along, and said with a newfound forcefulness.

“I understand that I am the most suspicious person in this situation. But how long are you going to hold me? I believe you have confirmed that the handwriting in the letter I brought is the Duke’s.”

“…….”

“The Duke himself asked me to bring the pendant. Does Sir Ilay not want to accept his will?”

When Claude went this far, Ilay had nothing to say. It wasn’t as if he was making things up. The letter was indeed in Dihart’s handwriting, and the pendant was definitely the one he had seen.

“Ugh…”

Ilay frowned and eventually sighed.

“I can’t help it. But I can’t send you on your way right away.”

“That’s troublesome. The time I’ve already lost…”

“I’ll take you to the front of the road in a carriage. And I also have a duty to inform the Duke about the current situation.”

Ilay said in a cold tone and picked up a pen. He seemed to intend to write a letter in front of Claude.

“When is the next one?”

“…If you’re talking about the day I come down to Supredi, it won’t be until next week.”

“That’s too late. Let’s make it once every three days.”

Ilay arbitrarily made an appointment and scribbled a letter. His writing speed was so fast that half of the paper was filled in an instant.

Meanwhile, Claude frowned and expressed his displeasure.

“I can’t come down that often. There are circumstances at the research institute…”

“Everyone has circumstances, Mr. Cal. And even a child knows that the circumstances of the North are more important than the circumstances of a mere research institute.”

Ilay stopped writing the letter and raised his eyes to meet Claude’s gaze. His grayish-brown eyes held a cold light. Unlike before, Claude didn’t easily open his mouth at his subdued demeanor.

“Come to think of it, it doesn’t have to take three days.”

“…….”

“Don’t stop me from running down as soon as I receive the letter.”

At Ilay’s sharp warning, Claude silently lowered his gaze. Since he wasn’t expecting an answer, Ilay filled all five letters as they were, put them in an envelope, and sealed them with wax.

“Then let’s not meet next time, Mr. Cal Appenz.”

“…I’ll come here in a week.”

Ilay and Claude both turned their backs after spouting only their own words without listening to the other. A moment later, when Claude left the inn door, Ilay appeared at the window.

“Shall we chase him?”

Henckett, a fellow knight who was in the room with him, asked. Ilay hesitated for a moment and shook his head.

“Either way, we need to give the impression that we’ve been fooled once. Let’s leave him alone today.”

“Tsk. You’re too cautious, Ilay.”

Henckett clicked his tongue and turned away, seemingly unhappy with Ilay’s decision. But since it wasn’t a one-day affair, Ilay ignored it. He crossed his arms and stared intently at Claude’s receding figure.

It was two weeks after the master of Hillend Hall disappeared that he finally received word that he was safe.