Wicked Husband-Chapter 139 - 138

His voice was calm as he said he killed her with nothing but his hands. After lightly rubbing her neck, his hand fell, and he pulled her into an embrace, her tousled hair catching in his fingers.

"The affection I feel for you, Eileen, is like this," Cesare said softly, his voice carrying a quiet certainty.

"It’s not something as trivial as usefulness."

For a moment, Eileen was speechless, but in the end, her answer was inevitable. She nodded and murmured, "Yes." Cesare, as though praising her small response, gently stroked her hair.

"If you don’t want to become my nightmare, you mustn’t die for me. Do you understand?"

He had said this to her more than once, his voice always gentle but firm. Still, Eileen struggled to find an answer.

All her life, she had been taught that she existed only to die for him. The kindness Cesare had shown her felt like something she could never repay, not even with her own life.

Letting go of that deeply ingrained belief wasn’t easy. Her mother’s words—"We live for the prince’s sake"—echoed in her mind.

But I don’t want to be Cesare’s nightmare...

As she wrestled with her conflicting thoughts, Cesare waited, his gaze steady and unblinking. His watchful eyes grew harder to bear, and finally, Eileen shut her eyes tightly and nodded, almost imperceptibly. Cesare chuckled softly at her faint assent.

When she opened her eyes, her heart skipped a beat at the knowing look in his red gaze. He was aware of her deception, yet he said nothing. Instead, he smiled, as if he had already decided to overlook it for now, content with even the slightest nod.

After a brief pause, he unexpectedly nipped her cheek, leaving faint marks on her flushed skin. Surprised, Eileen’s eyes widened, her gaze locked on him in stunned silence.

"This isn’t a kiss, so it’s fine, isn’t it?"

The dark gleam that had clouded his crimson eyes was gone, replaced by a playful, carefree expression that betrayed no trace of the turmoil that had been there moments before.

But Eileen couldn’t bring herself to smile. Her mind was filled with questions—questions she longed to ask him.

What kind of offerings had he made?

Why had he done something so irrational to create a nightmare?

For what purpose had he created it?

And, most importantly, had he achieved what he wanted?

Yet Cesare silenced her unspoken queries before they could leave her lips.

"All your questions will be answered soon."

He gently placed his hand over her eyes, plunging her into darkness.

"I know you’d believe anything I say, but you understand things better when you see them for yourself..."

It was as though he wanted her to remain in the dark, at least for now—even though she would eventually learn the truth.

"For now," he murmured, "let’s get some sleep."

Though sleep eluded her, Eileen slowly closed her eyes in the darkness. Her mother’s voice—"Live for the prince’s sake"—echoed in her mind, mingling with Cesare’s words, "Don’t die for me."

The weight of the lie she had told him pressed heavily on her heart. While it had seemed the best option at the time, she couldn’t shake the doubt that it might not have been the right choice.

One thing was certain, though: she didn’t want to become Cesare’s source of suffering. Amid all the confusion and turmoil inside her, that truth was the only thing she could hold on to.

***

The hunting festival of the Traon Empire held profound ritual significance, far beyond that of a mere competition. The event’s proceedings were far more meticulous and solemn than typical hunts, adhering strictly to tradition.

Since the hunt was offered as a tribute to the gods, all tools used had to be immaculate. Ornate decorations were forbidden, and any tools that were old or worn were deemed unacceptable.

The most significant rule, however, was the prohibition against hunting winged creatures. The gods had granted Traon the winged lion as their sacred symbol, and so the taking of any life belonging to a creature with wings—those that bridged the mortal world and the divine—was strictly forbidden.

Although lions were prohibited from being hunted, the designated forest for the festival held no lions, making this rule largely symbolic.

The most closely observed regulation, however, was the prohibition against offering any of the hunted animals to humans. Unlike in typical hunting competitions, where participants might offer their catch to their lady, lord, or companion, this hunt was a sacred ritual. Until the final sacrificial ceremony at the end of the week-long festival, participants were forbidden from offering their kills to anyone.

On the final day, after the week’s hunt, the best game was to be burned as an offering to the gods. Only after this sacrificial rite could the participants freely interact and exchange their trophies.

For this reason, even though many hunters had people they wished to gift their game to, they were careful not to speak of it or make any suggestions before the sacred ritual was completed.

The competition to join this year’s hunt was fiercer than ever, largely due to the announcement that the House of Erzet would be attending. Even nobles who typically had no interest in hunting eagerly expressed their intent to participate, making preparations for the royal court all the more demanding.

The Empire’s seamstress guild had been hard at work for months, preparing Eileen’s hunting attire. This year, three different workshops had collaborated to create a set of clothes that were both practical and elegant.

In accordance with the festival’s strict guidelines, the outfit was designed without any flashy gems or elaborate embroidery. Instead, the focus was on a refined and comfortable design, suited to the demands of the event.

It felt strange to wear trousers after such a long time. Eileen stood before the mirror, feeling an odd sense of discomfort in the hunting attire.

Though she wouldn’t be hunting herself, Cesare had insisted she wear hunting clothes, arguing that a dress would be too unwieldy for the forest.

The other ladies will all be wearing dresses, though...

She hesitated, unsure if it was appropriate to wear something so different from the others. Yet, she couldn’t deny the outfit’s practicality and comfort. She avoided looking directly at her reflection, instead focusing on the cut and fit of her attire before quickly diverting her gaze.

Sonio, who was assisting her with the final adjustments, offered a kind smile and a compliment.

"You look wonderful. Perhaps you could try falconry next time."

"Thank you, Sonio." 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

As she realized how much time had passed, Eileen hesitated before asking softly, "And... where is Cesare?"

"He’s just finished preparing. Shall we go down?"

Adjusting her hunting attire, Eileen made her way downstairs, her steps slowing as she reached the top of the staircase.

Below, Cesare stood speaking with several knights. They were all dressed in their uniforms, but Cesare himself was wearing his hunting clothes.

His outfit, crafted alongside hers by the seamstress guild, was similar yet distinct from hers. The matching designs clearly marked them as a couple, yet the subtle differences in color and cut distinguished the masculine from the feminine.

The tailored hunting clothes were made to fit Cesare’s well-built frame, accentuating his features with a sharp elegance. Eileen couldn’t help but marvel at how the outfit seemed to complement her own, in a way that felt almost surreal.

"..."

Sensing her gaze, Cesare looked up. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, and Eileen pressed her lips together, a wave of uncertainty passing through her.

Since that night, she hadn’t seen him. This time, it hadn’t been Eileen avoiding him; rather, Cesare had been busier than usual. Even the other knights, who were occupied with festival preparations, hadn’t had time to visit her.

In her time apart from Cesare, Eileen had felt both a sense of loneliness and an unexpected relief. She hadn’t fully understood where the relief had come from, nor could she yet articulate what it meant.

Cesare had assured her that his affection for her would not easily waver, and that he would never abandon her, no matter her flaws.

Yet their conversation had made her realize just how different their desires were. She longed for something more concrete than his love—something tangible, something she could achieve on her own.

Perhaps she could prove herself as an accomplished apothecary, making her medicines—Aspiria and Morpheus—successful, showing him that she could be of true help. Or maybe she could ease his suffering in a way no one else could.

He had asked her not to die for him, but how likely was that she would ever need to? Cesare seemed perfect in every way, untouchable, beyond reproach.

He had promised that she would soon understand everything she was curious about, but the fragments of insight he’d shared only left her more confused. If he intended to reveal it all eventually, why not tell her now? What was she still lacking?

As she wrestled with her questions and doubts, the day of the hunt had finally arrived.

"Eileen."

Cesare’s voice called her name, pulling her from her thoughts. She looked up to see him standing at the top of the stairs, waiting. Taking a deep breath, Eileen carefully descended, the feel of trousers unfamiliar and awkward against her legs.

As she reached the ground floor, a group of knights gathered around her, offering enthusiastic compliments. Rotan, Diego, Michele, and Senon all praised her hunting attire, but it was Senon who seemed especially sincere.

"To see such a rare sight...the other participants should be paying House Erzet tribute today."

The knights chuckled at Senon’s comment, and Eileen smiled along with them, though she couldn’t quite laugh as freely as the others. There was a tightness in her chest that held her back.

Cesare stepped closer, his gaze settling on her with an intensity that made her heart flutter. Without thinking, Eileen looked up at him, her expression betraying a hint of nervousness.

"..."

The silence between them hung heavy, and the knights, sensing the change in atmosphere, exchanged knowing glances.

***