Wicked Husband-Chapter 148 - 147

Cesare ordered the entire forest surrounding the hunting grounds to be sealed off until the mastermind was revealed. Then, he announced he would return to the duchy for treatment.

The imperial physician, who had been on standby for emergencies, rushed forward to offer first aid. But Cesare refused even that. Despite Leon’s urgent pleas, Cesare insisted on leaving immediately with his knights, heading straight for the ducal estate without delay.

It wasn’t until they arrived at the duchy that Eileen finally regained her composure. Once she realized they were now in a safe place, her body seemed to surrender to the tension, and her strength drained away.

Treatment should have begun immediately, but Cesare showed no sign of urgency. Instead, he gave orders to seal the estate.

Servants locked the gates, and soldiers set up a tight perimeter around the residence. Through it all, Cesare kept one hand on Eileen.

Once the orders were completed, he led her up to his bedroom, refusing any assistance from the staff. He told everyone to stay away from the upper floors.

Alone in the bedroom, Cesare quietly removed his blood-soaked jacket.

Eileen froze as her eyes traced the wound on his shoulder. It was a through-and-through gunshot wound, yet the bleeding had already stopped.

The heavy, blood-drenched jacket fell to the floor with a soft thud. Cesare’s voice, calm and steady, broke the silence.

"Come here."

Trembling, Eileen approached him. Despite the blood staining his clothes, she could see the wound—miraculously healing at an unnatural pace.

She remembered the time when even a knife wound had left no scar on his palm. Now, she was witnessing that same phenomenon with her own eyes.

"A week, maybe," Cesare mused lightly. "It should heal completely in about a week."

He smiled as though it were the most casual thing in the world. Eileen stared at him, stunned. His body was beyond human. And yet, in that moment, she felt no curiosity, no intrigue—just an overwhelming sense of disbelief.

With trembling lips, she finally spoke:

"Cesare..."

Hesitating, she asked, the words heavy with the weight of her fear and confusion:

"Did you... get shot on purpose?"

* * *

Cesare smiled faintly at her question, the corners of his lips lifting slightly.

"You already know what I’m going to say."

Eileen closed her eyes for a moment, a wave of helplessness washing over her. As he had said, she already knew the answer.

When the gun was fired, Cesare had been smiling—a smile that conveyed satisfaction, as everything unfolded exactly as he had planned.

’If only he had lied to me.’

Wouldn’t that have been better? Eileen suddenly found herself consumed by dark thoughts about why Cesare never lied to her.

It wasn’t because she was special to him, but perhaps because he didn’t need to.

No matter what he said, she would have no choice but to accept it.

Eileen bit her lip, aware of how presumptuous and disrespectful her thoughts were, yet unable to shake them.

"Why...?"

Strangely, she didn’t cry. Perhaps she had already shed so many tears that her body had run out of them.

"Why did you do this...?"

The moment Cesare was shot replayed vividly in her mind. Her once-prized sharp memory captured everything like a photograph—every detail etched into her mind, including the helplessness and despair she had felt.

Every tiny fragment of that moment remained, painfully and indelibly preserved.

She could feel Cesare’s gaze on her, brushing her cheek like a touch. Yet, she stood still, giving no reaction.

She had resolved not to back down until she got an answer—not this time.

Cesare, of course, understood Eileen’s determination. He studied her for a long moment before finally speaking.

"Because it was efficient."

He didn’t avoid her question.

"If a body exists that won’t die even when burned, slashed, or riddled with bullets, it ought to be used." 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

The raw truth, unadorned by lies, was like shards of glass—impossible to swallow. Cesare listed these horrifying possibilities with unnerving calmness as he reached out to her.

Eileen turned her head away, evading his touch, but Cesare cupped her chin, forcing her to face him once more.

"I wanted to show you as well," he murmured, his red eyes locking onto hers. "You wouldn’t have believed in my immortality just from seeing my hand heal from a small cut."

His whisper was heavy with intent.

"It means you don’t have to die for me, Eileen."

He had said this to her before, many times. Yet, because she hadn’t listened, he had forced her to witness his immortality with her own eyes, engraving it into her mind.

Eileen understood why he was trying to teach her. But even now, she didn’t heed his words.

At the sound of the gunshot, she had instinctively moved to shield Cesare with her body. Compared to his, her frame was insignificant, yet she hadn’t hesitated to throw herself forward, willing to act as a shield against the bullet.

This had happened mere moments after she had promised not to die for him—a promise as fleeting as ink drying on paper.

’So that’s why he showed me.’

Cesare’s method was rough, but undeniably effective. Eileen knew she would remember this day for the rest of her life. She would never forget that Cesare’s body was impervious to death.

"..."

Her mind went blank. As her gaze dimmed, Cesare brushed her forehead with his hand, adding almost playfully:

"While I’m recovering at the duchy, we could run an article about how the medicine you made helped me recover. I could use the injury as an excuse to spend more time with you—several days instead of just one."

For a moment, Eileen felt a surge of self-loathing. She wanted to take a gun to the version of herself that had once begged him for even a single day of his time.

Her previously empty mind was now flooded with countless thoughts: the bullet that had pierced his shoulder, her helpless tears, and the way he had chosen to reveal his immortality.

Everything collided at once, and she couldn’t contain it. Her emotions threatened to explode.

At the same time, a searing anger burned within her, and a suffocating helplessness dragged her down, as if she were drowning in an endless ocean.

Shattered, Eileen opened her mouth to speak. Her voice, cracked and fragile, emerged faintly:

"But... you still feel pain, don’t you?"