After I Died, My Husband Went Mad - Chapter 13

After deciding to return to the mansion, it took half a day for Dehart to leave the port city and head back north with only Ryan in his entourage.

“Sir, Maria seems exhausted,” Ryan said in a gruff voice, holding the reins. “Why don’t we stay in the neighborhood for a day or two?”

“…I don’t have time.”

“If we continue like this, both Maria and Sestine will die,” Ryan said, pointing at Dehart’s horse whose tongue was starting to loll.

“Damn it,” Dehart cursed, running his hand through his disheveled hair. But he couldn’t refute Ryan’s observation. The horse they were riding was already on the brink of exhaustion. Just getting them this far was effort enough.

“It can’t be helped, then. Turn right,” Dehart said with a sigh as he slowly guided the horse. Ryan followed close behind. After about thirty minutes, they reached a bustling small trading city.

“Wish us luck,” he said. Disguised with a fake identity pass, he passed through the gate with an uneasy expression and headed straight to an inn.

There, after downing cheap liquor for the first time in a while, he heard an astonishing piece of news.

“People are lining up just to catch a glimpse of the Northern Duchess’s arse, they say.”

“Arthur, I don’t think you’re worthy of looking at the noble lady. Besides, she probably has knights assigned – excuse me, I mean posted around her room,” said the men spreading filthy gossip, with discarded newspapers lying around.

The Lynn Post.

Dehart’s lips curled in distaste at the sight of the repugnant tabloid.

“My Lord,” Ryan called out in a meaningful tone.

“Wait,” Dehart gestured to Ryan. The heavily intoxicated men stumbled out the door at the break of dawn.

A dark shadow followed just behind them.

* * *

Back in her room, Flora was opening her jewelry box and amusing herself as usual.

“If it weren’t for me, you would still be trapped down there.”

She gazed at the sparkling jewels and accessories as if looking at a beloved child. It always broke her heart to think of these sweet little ones locked underground, never seeing the light of day because of that bastard.

I’m the one who saved them.

Flora’s heart was filled with emotion as she lifted a pair of necklaces that matched the bracelet she had been wearing.

And just then, a chill swept through the room.

“What’s this? Who turned off the heating…?” Flora frowned, about to rise from her seat, when a heavy, eerie sound echoed around her.

Woooooo—

“What’s that noise?” Flora glanced around the room in bewilderment.

Through the tightly shut gap in the door, a pale hand slowly crept inside. The hand gradually took form from the fingertips and eventually materialized into a bleeding woman who appeared before Flora.

“Aaaah!”

The chair shook, and jewels of various colors scattered in the air. The ghost extended its hand towards Flora, moving slowly.

[Your Grace, Duchess… Your Grace. Why me… Ahh, me, why…?]

“…!”

Flora stumbled backward, her mouth agape. “The Cursed Duchess!”

She reflexively searched for a way out, but to no avail.

This can’t be real. How can she appear so suddenly like this?

Pale and shaken, stories from her childhood raced through her mind. It was one of the reasons why Inverness was called the Cursed Duchy: whenever a new duchess appeared, the first Duchess would appear and curse her, proclaiming that the Duchy of Inverness was hers, and that everything in this manor belonged to her.

But why me? I’m not even a real Duchess…!

Flora found herself engulfed in terror and confusion.

[It’s you. The new… Duchess. You’ve usurped my… place.]

The spectral figure of the bleeding Duchess suddenly moved closer to Flora and grabbed her wrist.

Precisely where the bracelet was.

[My possession. How dare you… trespass… on… mine…!]