My Husband Never Dies - Chapter 21
This was the third time Evelyn found herself in the underground prison of Lovent.
The first time, she had ended up here after stabbing a man who had harassed her. The second time, she had been dragged in after assassinating a high-ranking official on an assignment, only to be betrayed by her employer, who refused to pay the balance. Luckily, she had managed to slip away both times, but this time, it seemed there was no way out.
Locked in a narrow solitary cell where even lying down was a struggle, Evelyn let out an anguished sigh. As expected of a dungeon, there were no windows, and the heavy iron door made escape impossible. The cold stone floor was stained with dark patches, likely spilled blood.
People were tortured here.
“Hah…”
Sitting down, hands tangled in her unevenly cut blonde hair, Evelyn kept her mind racing, trying to come up with a plan.
‘What can I do?’
Her vision blurred with hopelessness. Damn it, maybe staying in Zelakent would have been better. At least there, she would have had a chance of staying alive…
Evelyn huddled with her knees drawn up, her head bowed low in despair. Was she going to die here from torture? She hadn’t even killed the prince, yet now she might end up confessing to something she didn’t do and be hanged for it.
She’d only fled to avoid having her eyes gouged out, but now her life was at risk. Then again, what was the difference? Whether her eyes were gouged out or she was executed by hanging — it all seemed the same.
“Damn…”
The sense of helplessness, something she hadn’t felt in a long time, pressed down on her entire body. The belief that she could accomplish anything felt like it had collapsed in a pile around her.
At that moment, she heard a dragging sound. It was the sound of a guard moving outside her cell. The footsteps grew closer, and soon the sound of a key turning in the thick iron door followed.
Clunk!
The door creaked open with an unpleasant noise, but Evelyn didn’t raise her head. She might try to charge at the guard and attempt an escape, but for some reason, she felt exhausted.
When she thought about it, the whole situation seemed strange.
The one who killed Prince Adrian was Duke Brumfield. And yet, she hadn’t stepped a single foot away from Duke Brumfield’s estate, but somehow, as though it was completely natural, she — the infamous “Evelia Locke” — was the one accused.
Perhaps this was all a conspiracy to frame her, Evelia Locke, from the very beginning.
She could hear the guard’s hurried footsteps growing fainter, though the door hadn’t closed behind him.
As her mind began to clear, a faint spark of resolve returned. Evelyn raised her head from her knees, determined to get a better grasp of the situation — only to flinch in surprise at the sight of the person standing before her.
“…You!”
The man, arms crossed, looked down at her with a faintly regretful smile. Then, bending his knees, he lowered himself to sit in front of her.
“Eve, you’ve come such a long way, haven’t you?”
His gentle voice echoed eerily. Evelyn stared at this picture-perfect man in a daze. Whatever flicker of resolve she’d felt was instantly extinguished.
As she said nothing, only staring, his eyes curved into a crescent moon shape.
“Did you like the gift?”
Duke Brumfield asked calmly. There was no mistaking what he meant by gift.
“The gift… You mean the prince’s eye?”
“Adrian’s left eye,” he confirmed, as if they were talking about fine wine or silk.
Evelyn didn’t bother to ask why. The things this man did were rarely understandable.
What she did want was to confirm the truth. That it wasn’t Evelia Locke, but Calix Brumfield who killed Prince Adrian.
“Your Grace, it was you who killed…”
“Cal.”
Her sentence was sharply cut off. The man’s voice carried a light, amused lilt.
“Your Grace? Eve, after all we’ve shared… you’re still calling me that?”
No sooner had he spoken than the Duke reached out and ran his fingers through her uneven hair, roughly chopped near her ears. The strands stuck out at awkward angles, clearly hacked off in haste.
“I thought you’d be happy when you got the gift. Was it not to your liking?”
Evelyn, overtaken again by the weight of helplessness, lowered her gaze. Happy? Over what? Someone else’s eyeball? Thankfully, she hadn’t lost her mind to that extent.
“I wouldn’t say that it was.”
“Hmm…”
With a dissatisfied hum, Calix straightened his legs and stood up. Evelyn didn’t flinch, not even a blink.
“Why did you run away when I was coming?”
She stayed silent. But the Duke, as if reading her mind, struck the heart of it.
“You were afraid, weren’t you? That I’d kill you too, like Adrian?”
“Your Grace’s gift…”
“Cal.”
Calix calmly corrected her once more, then extended a hand toward Evelyn.
