My Husband Yearns For Me After My Death - Chapter 12
While she was grateful for being saved, the cost of her freedom and will was more terrible than she thought. Denisia suppressed the urge to beat her chest and swallowed her groan.
This could ruin all her plans.
‘How can I make him trust me? What should I do…’
“You seem to have no intention of speaking.”
“Just, wait a moment!”
In desperation, Denisia reached out to grab him.
“Wandering around in the middle of the night… you might find it disagreeable. But there’s a reason for everything.”
“You have a reason for snooping around my house?”
He crossed his arms, wearing an indifferent expression.
“A reason for snooping around, neither as a rat nor a thief… Let’s hear it then.”
“That’s…”
The rising fever and the curse mingled together, blurring her consciousness. Denisia struggled to keep her vision clear as she continued.
“I can’t… speak of it, but…”
“Then the negotiation is off.”
“Please believe me!”
Her voice echoed through the corridor like a scream.
“This… I can’t speak of it due to circumstances, but I swear to you that it will not inconvenience you, Margrave.”
“What could I possibly gain by taking your word? Unless I’m farming carrots to feed to the cavalry.”
“If it’s hard for you to trust me, I will make a vow to the spirits. Please, just believe me.”
Denisia pleaded earnestly.
“If it’s the spirits, you would believe, right? Just as Grace believed in the spirits, so would you, Margrave.”
Dietrich found himself unable to respond to Denisia’s words.
It had been five years since Denisia’s death. It was the first time in five years he had heard someone mention ‘spirits’.
Nowadays, even the existence of the divine was declining. Most people neither command spirits nor even know of their existence.
The situation was similar within the Haberfeld territory. People wandered in search of animals to feed rather than seeking spirits on the barren land.
No one mentioned spirits.
Except for one person.
‘There is one rule amongst the Ackellard. One must always keep promises made to the spirits.’
It was something Grace, his wife, had said to Dietrich.
She had spoken to him, feeling the wind slip through her fingers.
‘Like air, spirits are always around us.’
“Spirits are always around us,” said the unfamiliar woman’s voice, breaking into his thoughts.
Could it be a coincidence? The woman’s words were eerily similar to Grace’s.
‘It can’t just be a coincidence.’
She was a purposeful individual. From her attire to her behavior. How many people had approached him with a purpose in the year following his wife’s disappearance?
This woman was among the worst. She acted uncomfortably similar to Grace, using their supposed connection as an excuse.
Perhaps she was wiser than the others. Merely changing the color of her hair or eyes wouldn’t satisfy him.
Yet, it felt as though she was violating their precious memories, making Dietrich’s insides churn with revulsion.
It was as if Denisia was trying to overlay herself on his memories with his wife.
“…Miss, you really have a way with words.”
A sharp tone slipped through his twisted lips.
“It seems lying down and not being able to move has taught you to chatter.”
He firmly grasped Denisia’s wrist.
“Whatever Grace told you, do you really think that justifies your actions now?”
One cannot protect Haberfeld by easily trusting others. Objective information and judgment. That was the ability that had kept Dietrich alive until now.
The ultimate reason he had accepted Denisia was simple.
That damn madness. Just surviving the day when the red moon rose was enough. But traces of his wife were different. He wanted to find any remnants left by the person who had come bearing Grace’s letter.
But that reason should not have sullied the memories with Grace.
“Get out of my sight right now.”
“……”
“Didn’t you hear me? Pack your things right now…”
The moment her small head touched his chest, he stopped speaking.
The soft body through the thin cloth. It was obvious what she was seeking and doing, even without asking.
‘She’s gone too far.’
There was no need to see more. Dietrich reached out to push Denisia away.
“……?”
Something was off.
“Miss?”
“……”
“Miss Blanchette.”
“……”
“Hey.”
It was when he realized the situation was turning strange and forcibly tried to lift Denisia.
Thud. Denisia’s neck tilted like a doll whose string had been cut.
