After I Died, My Husband Went Mad - Chapter 103
The breakfast that had surprised Sebelia earlier was actually a carefully prepared meal that took her tastes into account. Claude had particularly struggled to find the spicy seasonings that Sebelia loved.
Although I failed.
Maybe it was because it was morning that she didn’t crave anything spicy. The salad with the spicy seasoning was completely ignored. The refreshing salad he had prepared, remembering that she often enjoyed tangy fruits, met the same fate.
“Looks like I’ll have to hope for better next time.”
It was easy to assume she was fake and try to extract information and track her movements. It was a straightforward path that didn’t require any emotional turmoil.
Back then, she was just an outlet for his anger. But now that he was considering her to be real… his path ahead felt like a thorny road.
“It’s overwhelming.”
He slumped into a chair and splashed water on his face again. Sighing, Claude transferred a fried egg onto a plate and sat down across from him.
“I understand that feeling well. I felt the same way yesterday.”
“What?”
“To be honest, I thought you were crazy, Dehart. I seriously considered whether there was a side effect of that damn medicine that caused mental illness. The idea that I’d actually met a nephew who was genuinely losing his mind was darkening my vision.”
Dehart confessed to Claude why he had been pursuing Bella. He revealed that her real name was Sebelia Inverness and that she was his deceased wife.
Claude sighed at the memory.
* * *
“Your wife? Are you talking about the one buried in the Hillend Hall cemetery?”
At that moment, Claude calmly looked around, wondering if there was any weapon nearby that could knock Dehart out. Dehart was too busy drowning in despair to realize this.
“Yes. Until just a moment ago, I thought Bella was a fake. I believed she had stolen the appearance of my wife to ensnare me. But… why would a fake suffer from such a painful illness? It doesn’t add up.”
Dehart took out the pendant hanging around his neck, opened it, and handed it to Claude. Inside was the Bella he knew. Although her hair color and length were different now, the same person was within.
“……”
“I was the one who found her first and pursued her. If she is innocent, then she must have come here to seek treatment for her illness. It wasn’t with the intention of donning Sebelia’s guise.”
Though Claude felt uneasy about this, he decided to listen to Dehart further. As he continued to recount his story, Claude caught something suspicious.
“Wait a minute. When you caught Sebelia falling at the inn, did you feel her weight?”
“Weight…? I think I felt it. For a moment, I really believed I was holding the real her.”
As Dehart described how vividly he felt the texture and weight, Claude suppressed a chuckle. Unless some transcendent sorcerer had appeared, this was not within the realm of magic.
This was a level that only an illusionist could reach. Claude was certain of that. The Nightmare Forest was proof of it; it was a creation that he, an illusionist, had collaborated with a shaman to create.
* * *
Afterward, Claude shared information about illusionists with Dehart. He seemed completely taken aback, falling silent for a while. Then, he suddenly became frantic, pacing the room like a madman.
“So you’re saying that this illusion magic can create a being that is exactly like a real person…?!”
“It’s not permanent, but it’s possible. If she prepared a body identical to hers with the help of an illusionist, it would explain how she could have had a proper funeral.”
“Hah, hah…!”
Dehart knelt as if he had received a revelation from a deity, trembling with excitement. The last piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. He could finally see the end of the labyrinth he had been wandering through in pain. He had found the answer at last. The final proof that Sebelia was alive had finally come to him.
“So she ran away from me.”
All the evidence that had shaken his instinct that the brown-haired Sebelia might actually be real scattered like dust.
The funeral on that day when he had rushed in with muddy shoes, Sebelia lying in the coffin with her pale face. The last kiss he had left on her forehead. Her coffin, buried deep underground, where she slept forever.
The ‘facts’ that had pierced his heart on the side of reason now turned to lies. He hadn’t gone mad. The evidence that people had thrust at him claiming she was dead had lost its power. She was alive.
Sebelia hadn’t died that day.
“Ah.”
Dehart slumped to the ground, exhausted. He knew that this was just one possibility among many for the time being. Yet, for him, this slender thread of hope felt like ambrosia.
Until just moments ago, he had been given no hope whatsoever, solely because he had seen her dead with his own eyes at the funeral.
“Hah…”
As he exhaled a sigh of relief, something he had forgotten flashed through his mind.
[Please take care of me. From now on, call me Bella, Mr. Dehart.]
Even though he had said he lost his memory, she referred to herself as Bella.
