After I Died, My Husband Went Mad - Chapter 1

TN: Chapters 1-3 are re-translations of a project that was dropped in 2021. You can find the older fan translations here.

It was a day of a grand and majestic funeral. Although the weather was terrible, the elegant dirge resonated in harmony with the rain.

It was a fitting day to mock the death of the Duchess who had betrayed her husband.

BANG!

The door to the funeral home shattered with a loud crash.

“Oh my God!”
“Who are you?”

It was Dehart Inverness, the deceased’s husband and head of the leading ducal family in the North. With a ferocious stride, he pushed his way through the crowd to the coffin on the dais. A sudden silence fell upon the room, and everyone felt awkward, as if they were not meant to witness the unfolding scene.

‘Didn’t he say he couldn’t attend?’
‘What on earth…’

The whispers quickly died down. Dehart peered into the coffin, his face pallid with disbelief.

“…It can’t be.”

His stifled voice mingled with the cold air. His eyes fluttered open.

“This can’t be real. You… really.”

Dehart covered his face with his hands, forced to acknowledge the reality he’d fought so hard to deny all the way here.

The woman he had loved and hated all his life was really dead.

“Sebelia.”

Lying peacefully in the coffin, his wife’s face remained serene. Dehart found himself kneeling in front of it.

“No, I can’t let you leave me like this.”

Only now did he realize that she had cared for him. But Sebelia had already left his side. She died in the manor without him, alone, writhing in agony.

“No, Sebelia. No, please…”

Now, he was not even granted the opportunity to ask for forgiveness.

Remorse washed over him.

* * *

Some time ago, in Inverness Mansion, Hillend Hall, where only the sound of birds chirping replaced the ominous chant. There, Sebelia stood quietly in front of the greenhouse.

This mansion is like a dense spider’s web.

For some time now, Sebelia had felt that way about the house. Just like a web, it held onto her tightly, slowly eating away at her from end to end.

“You must have taken a wrong turn.” The butler’s frank voice broke her reverie at just the right moment. “It’s better to turn back now. If you were to meet the Duke in this state, it would undoubtedly be trouble.”

The bespectacled butler glanced at his watch as he spoke. It was a gesture to hurry back.

What an insolent way to address a Duchess. Even if she were to raise her voice, there was nothing she could say towards that sort of behavior. But Sebelia knew. She knew she couldn’t do that. And the one who had made him act like this was none other than her husband, who spent his time lazing about in the greenhouse.

He had endured it as a matter of course—this arranged marriage with a bastard child he had never seen before. A marriage that his deceased father arbitrarily arranged because he wanted to make peace with one of his political rivals.

She knew it was foolish to expect them to feel anything good for each other, and that she should be grateful that she didn’t outright despise him.

But…

Still, I wanted to love you.

She wanted to love and be loved. So, she had made that effort. To him, it probably all seemed like a trap for betrayal.

With a bitter smile, Sebelia sighed and straightened her clothes.

But that ends today.

“Have you not left yet?” The butler reprimanded her with a troubled frown. But Sebelia ignored him and placed her hand on the doorknob.

“Miss, it’s against etiquette—” It was the moment when the steward, as always, attempted to “advise” her.

“So?” This time, she snapped back. “Are you going to teach me manners?”

“Miss!”

The butler glared at her in exasperation, then anger, then surprise. The eyes that met hers were chillingly white and blue. Like those of the dead.

W-what?

Unconsciously, the butler recoiled. Sebelia shot him a dry look and walked through the door.

“I’d like to try my hand at one of my husband’s noble hobbies today.” Sebelia declared firmly, glaring at the bewildered butler. “No need to wait for me until I return. That will be all.”

With those words, Sebelia entered the greenhouse and slammed the door shut.

* * *

“Ah….”

The sweet and heavy air enveloped her in an instant, rendering her silent. Sebelia walked slowly into the greenhouse towards her husband who was surrounded by the thicket of roses. He was a handsome man with dark hair and striking yet cold golden eyes.

“I don’t remember inviting you.”

Snip. The scissors in his hand closed with a sharp sound. His dark, penetrating golden eyes fixed on her, as if she were an unwelcome presence.

“Sebelia.” Delicately sculpted lips moved, calling her name. But the expression on his face wasn’t a smile; it was indifference.

He was Dehart, the accursed lord of Inverness.

And the husband who pushed me away and hated me.

Sebelia stared at him as if she would never see him again.

“If you needed a place to rest, there were plenty of other places besides here…” A chill ran down her spine as his cold voice brushed past her like a well-honed blade. “I don’t understand why you’re here.”

Once she gathered her wits, she found Dehart staring at her with his usual impassive, cold face.

“Sounds like you owe me an explanation.” His tone was devoid of emotion, but there was an underlying menace that demanded her response. Sebelia took a deep breath and proceeded.

“I’ve come here to talk to you.” The words mingled with her calm breathing, and Dehart sighed. After a moment’s hesitation, he tossed the scissors onto the table. An unpleasant clang echoed through the room.

“I hope it’s something worthy of my time.”

As he removed his gloves, throwing them aside with a critical gaze locked on her, Sebelia remained unfazed.

“Go ahead, tell me,” Dehart said with an arrogant air, brushing back his hair. His sharp eyes scanned Sebelia, and soon a twisted voice emerged. “Don’t push it like last time,” he warned.

Sebelia responded with a misty smile. However, this smile was not the usual one filled with resignation and acceptance but one of pure amusement at the situation.

Seeing it, Dehart’s eyes widened and then narrowed, an unrecognizable light in his eyes.

What’s going on with her?

An uneasy feeling crawled up the nape of his neck. Normally, Sebelia would cling persistently, even if pushed away. However, today was different. With a subtle smile on her lips, she regarded him with a distant attitude.

Dehart wiped the expression off his face and turned away, an inexplicable feeling of discomfort racing through his body. No, maybe it was something other than that.

But that feeling soon passed.

As always, Dehart’s prickly demeanor wounded her.

“Are you here again to extract information from me for your family?” he inquired. “If not, why else have you come to seek me out.”

His expression remained aloof, but the words that came out of his mouth were harsh and cold.

In the past, I would have pleaded with all my might saying that wasn’t true.

And he wouldn’t have believed her anyway.

This happened again and again.

Sebelia swallowed a weary sigh. Thankfully, her heart had grown too rigid to shed a single drop of blood. Maybe that’s why she was slowly dying.

With renewed focus, Sebelia addressed the matter at hand. “I actually came to ask if you can delay your departure by just one day.”

“Oh my, what a surprise. Is that what you call a request?” Dehart immediately laughed in disbelief.

“Is there some benefit for your father if I arrive late this time?” Dehart inquired while casually fiddling with the pile of roses on the table. The thorny stems nipped sharply at his fingertips.

“It’s not about that,” Sebelia responded calmly, which was quite unlike her past self. Instead of giving up and leaving at this point, she took a deliberate step closer to him. “Tomorrow is our wedding anniversary.”

“……”

“I understand if you don’t remember. I’m not blaming you. I just really want you to be with me this time. There’s something I want to tell you…”

But Dehart ruthlessly interrupted her. “That implies that our marriage was a day worth celebrating.” His expression was grim.

“…….”

“Ah, I suppose it was for you, yes….”

Lightning flashed behind Dehart’s eyes as blood trickled down from his tightly clenched bouquet of roses.

“One might say you’ve grown up nicely, although a mere baron’s daughter doesn’t often have the chance to marry a duke.”

Dehart’s cold gaze remained unwavering as he stared at her.

In the face of his unyielding presence, Sebelia fell silent.

…You haven’t changed at all.

From the very beginning, the marriage had not been a matter of consent for either of them. Dehart was bound by the treaty arranged by the previous duke, and Sebelia was coerced into marriage by her elder sister, Nelia. There was no love or understanding between them, and it was an uneasy union. Naturally, Dehart saw her as a thorn in his side.

[I’m generous with people who know their place.]

Those were the first words Sebelia heard from the man she fell in love with.

[……]

[I hope you will not disappoint me, my lady.]

Sebelia, who had secretly been looking forward to marrying him, was devastated. Yet, she didn’t show her true feelings. Even though it was a political marriage, she believed that someday, his heart would open, and with effort, their relationship could improve.

But there was no such fairytale ending.

It was a beginning with a predetermined end.

He was a man who had no intention of ever loving her, while she foolishly yearned for his love. A bitter smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

With sudden clarity in her voice, she spoke. “I’ve had something I’ve wanted to ask for a while.”

“It’s astonishing that you still had more to say. Truly surprising.”

“If I were Nelia, would you have been the same?”

Dehart frowned at the sudden mention of Nelia.

Nelia Wheddon.

She was Sebelia’s half-sister and the daughter his father, the Duke of Inverness, had originally wanted to marry into his family.

“Would you have spent our wedding anniversary with me if I was my sister?” Sebelia brushed her pale golden hair away and asked calmly, as if she already knew the answer. Her prediction turned out to be correct.

“No.”

Dehart’s voice was as cold as a northern wind, stating an indisputable fact.

“I don’t want to come face to face with Wheddon blood, if I can help it.”

Sebelia felt her own face contort in a strange way, neither laughing nor crying, just a peculiar expression.

Dehart’s face paled at the sight of it. But Sebelia was too overwhelmed by her rampaging emotions to notice. She took a deep breath, blinking her dizzy eyes.

Thank goodness.

That it wasn’t just her that he hated.

When the words came out of his mouth that he hated everyone in the Wheddon family… It was strangely liberating.

Was it because she knew she might be dying soon? This odd feeling was a first for her.

“Is there anything else to say?”

Sebelia smiled at her husband, who looked at her with a frown. “I apologize for taking up your time with something so unimportant.”

Without waiting for his response, she left the greenhouse and headed back to her room. She didn’t spare a glance for the butler, who was looking at her strangely.

The room was cold and dim, with limited sunlight. Sebelia quickly locked the door, as if she was sealing herself inside.