Wicked Husband-Chapter 96 - 95

The Duke of Farbellini’s family owned one of the most prestigious estates in the capital—a grand mansion that had been passed down through generations. With its exterior showing the marks of time, the mansion exuded a classic charm, while its interior embraced the latest trends in modern luxury.

The estate, a blend of cutting-edge design and traditional elegance, was a source of immense pride for the Farbellini family, much like their distinctive platinum-blond hair. After all, Farbellini was the very heart of the Traon Empire.

Duke Assef of Farbellini gazed out of the carriage window at the mansion as they approached, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. Perhaps he had indulged a bit too much at the evening’s party, but he felt a swell of pride at being a Farbellini.

"Yes, no matter how much that one thrashes about..."

Farbellini would endure forever. Even if the imperial family changed, Farbellini would continue its legacy like an ancient tree, standing resilient against the test of time.

Assef reached into his coat to retrieve a cigar case. Just as he opened the window and prepared to light a cigar, the carriage jolted violently and came to an abrupt halt. The cigar case fell to the floor, and the premium cigars scattered across the carriage.

Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Assef raised his voice slightly to the driver. "What’s the meaning of this?"

The driver, usually reliable, would only stop suddenly for something significant. Normally, Assef would have dismissed it, but the driver’s silence unsettled him. The man sat frozen, his eyes wide with unease, staring straight ahead.

Assef followed his driver’s gaze but had to shut his eyes tightly as the headlights from an oncoming vehicle flashed, blinding him.

When the lights dimmed and he slowly reopened his eyes, the scene before him was almost surreal. The carriage was encircled by armed soldiers. In front of them, facing the carriage, stood a tall man in a suit.

Assef locked eyes with the man, whose blood-red gaze sent a shiver down his spine. He muttered a curse under his breath—words he hadn’t used in a long time. A soft knock at the window was followed by a booming voice from a massive soldier outside.

"Step out."

It was one of the Grand Duke Erzet’s knights. If Assef remembered correctly, the knight’s name was Lotan. Recognizing the name, Assef opened the door and stepped out of the carriage.

As his feet touched the ground, the cool night air wrapped around him. It wasn’t the chill of the evening that he felt, but the sweat running down his back. Swallowing hard, he approached the Grand Duke.

Despite not wearing his imperial uniform and instead clad in a simple evening suit, the Grand Duke was far more imposing than the soldiers with their guns. The air was thick with the sharp, metallic scent of blood, carried by the night breeze, making Assef’s chest constrict.

"Good evening, Duke Farbellini. The moon is bright tonight."

The Grand Duke greeted him with a casual tone, hands tucked into his pockets, as though they had simply run into each other on a quiet night. Assef licked his dry lips.

Since becoming a duke, fear or panic had been rare for him, but this was different. A primal terror gripped his heart, unfamiliar and unsettling.

The Grand Duke couldn’t simply kill the Duke of Farbellini without proper legal proceedings. Executing him on the spot wasn’t an option. After all, Farbellini was a noble house of the empire.

Despite clinging to the logic that the Grand Duke couldn’t kill him without legal proceedings, Assef couldn’t shake the fear that the Duke might disregard the rules. If the Grand Duke had lost his mind and decided to act without concern for consequences, he might turn Assef into a bullet-riddled corpse on the spot—especially given the Duke’s recent history of quiet massacres.

"...What brings Your Grace out at such a late hour?" Assef asked, careful not to raise his voice, wary that any hint of defiance might provoke a deadly response. He chose his words with great caution, and the Grand Duke’s gaze, cold and unyielding, seemed to pierce through him, as if the man knew exactly what Assef feared.

"A rat has been sneaking around my wife’s laboratory."

"...!"

Assef barely managed to keep his shock from showing. He had heard rumors of an intruder at the Grand Duchess’s estate and had simply chosen a young scholar he deemed easily manipulable for the task. He had instructed the scholar to observe the Grand Duchess and exploit any weaknesses he found. In return, Assef had promised him wealth, prestige, and a coveted professorship.

But it appeared the scholar had been caught almost immediately. Or rather, it seemed he hadn’t just been caught—

’Could it be that the Grand Duke had been waiting for this? Had he set a trap?’

Assef’s mind raced with the realization that he had made a critical mistake—one the Grand Duke had anticipated. The Duke’s next question sliced through the tension like a knife.

"How is Lady Farbellini faring?"

Instead of confronting Assef directly about his crime, the Grand Duke’s single question was a subtle but refined threat. Overwhelmed by the implications, Assef exhaled deeply. As political calculations swirled in his mind, he no longer spoke as Duke of Farbellini but as a father.

"Your Grace... I have been foolish. Please, I beg for your mercy."

A man who arrives in the dead of night with soldiers pointing guns at him could easily turn his attention to terrorizing Assef’s daughter next. Raised amidst luxury as the Lily of Traon, she would be unprepared for the sight of gunpowder and blood. As Assef bowed his head and pleaded for forgiveness, the Grand Duke accepted his apology graciously.

However, in exchange for letting the incident slide, the Grand Duke made an unexpected request.

"Give me the Feather of the Lion."

He was asking for the relic held by the Farbellini family—the golden feather reputed to have fallen from the winged lion of the founding myth. Whenever Assef looked at that feather, he had always secretly mocked it, questioning whether it was truly from a lion or just a gilded piece of some ordinary bird.

The fact that the Grand Duke Erzet, known for his disdain for superstition and disbelief in the gods, was now demanding it left Assef flabbergasted. Of course, Assef would hand over the feather if it meant saving his life, but...

Unable to suppress a sudden surge of curiosity, Assef dared to ask the Grand Duke a question.

"What is it that Your Grace truly desires?"

Ever since the news of the Grand Duke’s execution of King Kalpen had reached him, Assef had been deeply intrigued by Cesare’s motives. Beheading the king was a drastic choice—far worse than negotiating an agreement and keeping the king alive. What could have driven Cesare to act so recklessly?

But it wasn’t recklessness; it was confidence. Immediately after the execution, the Grand Duke had swiftly dismantled the resistance army that had formed around the crown prince of Kalpen. Typically, such a rebellion would have persisted for months, but Cesare had seemed to know exactly which nobles were supporting the resistance, how they were supplying it, and where they were stationed. The resistance had been crushed completely in less than a month—an astonishingly swift victory that seemed almost supernatural, as if the Grand Duke had divine insight or had become a god himself.

Assef had feared the Grand Duke before, but now it was different. It was as though Cesare had gained an almost prophetic understanding of the world, able to foresee and manipulate events with eerie precision. The situation had become so surreal that Assef nearly laughed.

The Grand Duke’s seemingly prophetic actions continued even after his return to the empire. The nobles of Traon found themselves powerless against his foresight. Not only did he dismantle the power of noble families, but he also began eliminating them one by one. Many lost their titles dishonorably or were quietly assassinated. Most did not even receive proper funerals.

But why? The Grand Duke’s massacres seemed excessive, and Assef could not grasp the motive behind them. It did not appear that Cesare was aiming to seize the imperial throne; even those who could have been valuable allies met bloody ends. Who was the Grand Duke’s silent slaughter intended for? Assef genuinely wanted to understand Cesare’s intentions.

"...What I desire, you ask."

The Grand Duke pondered the question for a moment before answering almost as if to himself.

"If I had to say... peace."

Assef’s face twisted in disbelief, interpreting the Grand Duke’s words as mockery. A man who left a trail of blood and carnage could not truly desire peace.

Noticing Assef’s reaction, the Grand Duke continued, speaking slowly, his gaze unwavering.

"If I didn’t desire it, after all..."

His blood-red eyes locked onto Assef with a chilling intensity, and a crooked smile curved his lips.

"You wouldn’t be standing here alive before me right now, would you?"

***