After I Died, My Husband Went Mad - Chapter 139
For a week, Dehart had also been tortured by anxiety, just as Sebelia had. The situation wasn’t progressing as quickly as he’d hoped, and frustration and confusion were building within him.
“This cursed valley is wasting my time.”
The deep valley, hidden between the sheer cliffs, didn’t allow for any magic or sorcery due to the terrain. One wrong move, and the cliffs could collapse entirely, making it take forever just to search the bottom of the valley.
“At this rate, it would be better if I just go down there myself.”
A cold flash of white crossed his golden eyes before disappearing. Surprised, Eli stopped organizing his log and rushed over to stop him.
“Why would you throw your precious self into such a dangerous place? It would be better to just hire more workers.”
“Now you want me to gather more people? Might as well advertise in the newspaper that I’m up to something suspicious around here.”
“Oh, a newspaper ad, of course. Truly, Your Grace. I’ll head straight to the local paper in Suffredi and arrange it!”
Eli slapped his palm with his fist. Dehart felt his rising anger settle down, though not because Eli’s words were so impressive.
“Leave.”
“The ad for skilled herb gatherers….”
“I said, leave.”
His cold voice echoed throughout the tent. Eli bit his lip and rolled his eyes. When the deadly look passed over his neck, Eli immediately bolted out of the tent as if he’d never hesitated.
Beep-
As soon as Eli was gone, the bluebird appeared from under his collar, as if waiting for him. The little bird, which had been dozing on his chest, was still sleepy, blinking its eyes and flapping its wings lazily.
“Go ahead and sleep if you’re tired.”
Dehart gently petted the small head with his finger and carefully placed the bluebird on his palm. The bird, still groggy, stumbled and bumped its head against his hand before it finally woke up.
“Peep?!”
Was it startled? The small wings began to flutter rapidly, and the bluebird flew several circles on his palm. After realizing it was awake, it looked up at Dehart with button-like eyes.
“…Ugh!”
And once again, it started pecking him. Dehart grimaced and carefully removed the bird, which was relentlessly pecking his lips.
“Everyone’s got a knack for making my life miserable.”
Dehart muttered, but the bluebird looked still raring to go, flapping its wings as if there were still more places to peck.
“I thought I was being kind enough… What exactly don’t you like?”
He stared into the bird’s black eyes, speaking to it as if it could understand. And just as he expected, the bird lunged at him again.
“Enough.”
The bluebird, pushed away from his palm, circled around his head, as if waiting for an opportunity to strike. Its movements seemed full of resentment, making Dehart furrowed his brow.
The words of Claude’s familiar illusion flitted across his mind.
[In the first place, we are born from the hearts of our summoners.]
Illusions are born from the deep emotions of the illusionist, sharing their feelings. This meant that the actions and thoughts of these beings would likely be based on the heart of the illusionist themselves.
“So Sebelia’s heart?”
If that was the case, then the bluebird’s hostility and attitude toward him were rooted in her true feelings.
“…I see.”
Dehart’s golden eyes darkened, sinking like a sun swallowed by shadows. A flash of painful light crossed them, but it was fleeting.
“What was I expecting from something so obvious?”
A cold smile touched Dehart’s lips. A familiar sense of resignation dug into his chest.
“Well, I am the acknowledged madman, so I guess it’s only natural to have such foolish hopes.”
Dehart sneered at himself.
He had made her this way. He hadn’t trusted her, hadn’t listened to a word she said, and had used the excuse of not wanting to get hurt to inflict wounds on her that could never be healed. He had pushed her to the point where she faked her own death and ran away.
So it was only natural for Sebelia to hate and despise him. Dehart didn’t try to deny it. There was no need to.
“Guess you didn’t send me this because you were worried after all.”
She was a big-hearted person, so if it had been anyone else, she would have done the same.
A wave of regret passed over his golden eyes, and the hand that had been drumming on the desk came to a stop.
Dehart lifted his head and reached out toward the bluebird that was still circling above him. The bird’s tiny eyes widened in surprise. Its wings flapped quickly, but his outstretched hand never made contact with its small body. It stopped in mid-air.
Screech.
With a sharp sound, the bird’s claws grazed his finger. As if punishing him for the surprise, the bird’s response was even more hostile than before.
With a stinging sensation, a drop of blood formed on his fingertip. The wound was deep. But strangely, Dehart felt a sense of relief.
It felt like she had noticed his foolish thoughts and was punishing him, telling him never to think such nonsense again.
“Well done.”
With a calm voice, Dehart stood up. The bluebird, unable to hide its confusion, flew around in circles before landing sulkily on a small cushion the size of his palm.
