After I Died, My Husband Went Mad - Chapter 80
Watts wasn’t the only one suffering from an increased workload.
“…If I close my eyes like this, I feel like I might just die.”
A world away from Supredi, at the magnificent and grand Hillend Hall, Ryan was on the verge of collapsing from stomach cramps.
“No, I wish I could just die.”
The last piece of news he heard from his lord was that they were heading to Supredi in search of the missing maid Denisa’s possible accomplice. The information was credible, and the end seemed to be in sight.
Ryan drank 15 cups of black tea a day to stay on top of his mountain of work and endure the Viscount Rems’s viciousness.
And this is what he’s gotten for all his hard work? He truly wanted to leave this world just like this.
A thick letter from Eli fell from his shaky hands.
[To my esteemed brother Sir Ryan, I am writing to you because there is something I feel that you must know.]
After the platitudes, the content of the letter was as simple as it was horrifying.
Dehart was missing.
“And they have no idea when, how, or where he had vanished off to…!”
The news from Eli was beyond absurd, beyond infuriating. Ryan tried to soothe his boiling stomach with cold black tea, but it was no use.
He felt like rushing to that insignificant town immediately, grabbing Eli by the collar, and beating him senseless to air out his frustration.
“Ugh….”
Ryan groaned at the pain in his gut. Lord Rems had been hounding him daily, demanding them to release Glenn and Roger from the tower. The only thing that made it all bearable was him thinking that it won’t be long until Dehart returns.
I’m going to lose my mind.
Ryan groaned again as he held his head. However it happened, Deheart was missing, and the past couldn’t be undone. Now that it had come to this, he had to help Eli find Deheart while thoroughly concealing the fact that he had disappeared.
Otherwise…
Ryan glanced out the window and frowned. He could see Lord Rems poking around and prowling Hillend Hall as if he owned the place.
Lord Rems was preparing to board the carriage, probably heading to the salons as usual. Ryan had heard that Lord Rems had been attending salons near Hillend Hall recently, building a new support base.
It could be dangerous if this leads to a long-term conflict.
Along with the northerners, there were also a number of nobles from the Capital who frequented those places. If left unchecked, Lord Rems’s influence could grow much larger than it already was.
And he would likely leverage that influence to free Roger and Glenn.
“I need to distract him somehow. If not…”
Ryan ran a hand through his pounding head and found the report on Viscount Rems. Striking first by finding weaknesses and exploiting them was a highly aggressive strategy against an elder of a family. But it had to be done.
After all, Ryan wasn’t called a henchman for nothing.
* * *
If Dehart had known of Ryan’s decision, he would have been proud even if he didn’t show it openly. However, Dehart had no foresight, and even if he did, he wouldn’t have been able to use it in his current situation.
“Cough…!”
Dehart gagged, bile rising up his throat. Headaches, seizures, and now vomiting—there were too many symptoms. The prescription he had taken to calm himself down seemed to have backfired and was now giving him adverse side-effects.
“S**t.”
Claude could no longer feign indifference. He couldn’t pretend not to care about his nephew even knowing that same nephew resented him. He couldn’t hide his fear.
He gritted his teeth in frustration. The sight of Dehart writhing in agony was unbearable to someone like Claude who had watched his family die in front of him because of his own poor judgment.
“Go downstairs and rest.”
“Watts.”
It was Watts who grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around.
“No. This is what I have to do.”
It was bad enough that Watts struggled to sleep because of his increased workload in the lab. Claude couldn’t burden him with nursing duties as well. Claude grabbed Watts’ hand, pulling it down, and took the tranquilizer he was holding.
It was their least potent sedative.
For now, this is the only way.
Dehart also sensed that he was clueless about why his condition had deteriorated. Just once, he told Watts that, apart from insomnia and migraines, he had never suffered from any other ailments. If that were true… Watts had to find out what was causing it.
Until then, this weak sedative was their best option.
“Hold him down while I give him his medication.”
“It’ll be faster if I do it, you hold him,” said Watts, snatching the syringe from Claude’s hand.
Claude hesitated for a moment, but he eventually complied.
“Dehart, just bear with it for a second.”
The moment Claude touched his body, he felt his heart sink. Even amid groans of pain, there was an undeniable hostility and resentment directed at him. Claude was once again reminded of the fact that Dehart loathed him and would never trust him.
“Claude, get a hold of yourself!”
Watts’s sharp reprimand made Claude shake his head. Yes, it was natural for Dehart to hate him. After all, he was the person who condemned their family to death. Arrogant and foolish Claude Inverness deserved to be treated like this by his nephew.
This is all my fault.
