Please Kill My Husband (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 17

The distance from the capital to the Send Plateau was quite far. Even by carriage, it would take at least four days. Despite changing horses along the way and pressing forward relentlessly, they only managed to pass through the Muhalhar Mountains—the entrance to the plateau—by late night. The carriage, which had intended to gallop through the night without rest, became trapped in the thick mountain fog and could advance no further. Judging it too dangerous, Aden decided to halt just half a day’s journey from the Send Plateau and set up camp for the night. Consequently, the dozens of people traveling toward Havertz territory began bustling about on the mountainside. Though warmer than the capital even in midwinter, it was still a winter night. The wind descending from the peak was bitterly cold. Despite tightly fastening their clothes, everyone huddled around the campfire, tongues clicking in discomfort, sipping warm tea. Ludmila, too, sat alone near the blazing campfire. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the flames until her pale cheeks flushed red as though scorched by the heat. Aden, who had been briefing his aide on the night watch and guard rotation while discussing tomorrow’s schedule, caught sight of her. He recalled how she had once stared at an utterly ordinary tree as if it were a masterpiece. Biting his lip, Aden rolled his eyes, dismissed his aide, and turned away. Picking up a teacup from the fire where tea was being brewed, Aden approached Ludmila and calmly held it out to her. Only then did Ludmila seem to notice his presence, a brief look of embarrassment flickering across her face. “I’m sorry. When did you arrive?” “Just now.” Smiling lightly, Aden handed her the cup and sat down beside her. “You must be cold. Drink this.” Ludmila carefully examined Aden once, then cradled the rough earthenware cup with both hands, feeling the warmth seeping through its surface before cautiously taking a sip. “This is…” “Cocoa. What, don’t you like it?” Aden tilted his head at her wide-eyed, surprised reaction. Ludmila quickly shook her head, as if to deny it. “No, I just never imagined it’d be cocoa.” “We barbarians don’t only drink liquor in cold winters, you know.” Glancing sideways at Aden’s quiet chuckle, Ludmila also let a small smile grace her lips. Suddenly, Aden found himself wondering how many times he’d seen Ludmila smile since they left the capital. How long had it even been? Though barely a few days had passed, smiles had appeared on Ludmila’s face far more often than he’d expected. It was an astonishingly natural and gentle expression from the woman who had once offered only stiff, formulaic smiles. Aden shifted his gaze forward, having stared intently at Ludmila’s profile while she sipped her tea. Like her, he now faced the crackling campfire. Without either of them speaking first, silence deepened between them. The quiet that settled densely between the two was only occasionally filled by distant, lively chatter from the camp, yet its intensity only grew thicker. Aden exhaled slowly, silently sipping his cocoa and watching the fire. “Why is your back like that?” “…” At the sudden question, Ludmila’s eyes turned toward him. “There’s a long scar running down your back. Surely you didn’t get it from your husband hitting you?” Aden turned his head, meeting her reddened eyes with a faint puff of white breath, and gave a short nod as if urging her to answer. It was a question that would have felt shameful if asked by anyone else. The memory of baring her back was something she’d rather forget—let alone being asked about the scars etched there. Anyone else might have taken it as an insult. Yet strangely, hearing it from Aden stirred no particular emotion in her. Ludmila stared blankly at her half-finished cocoa before shaking her head sideways. “Then what happened?” His voice followed instantly, pressing for an answer. Ludmila exhaled a long breath. A wisp of white vapor escaped her lips, drifting into the night mountains. Gazing at the stunning starlit sky, she slowly smiled. “When I was in the Imperial Palace, I was a scar.” These were memories she never wished to revisit: a bastard child abandoned in a remote wing of the palace, receiving no protection, with only a nursemaid as her sole companion, constantly tormented by her half-brothers. Ludmila placed a hand on her own shoulder and slowly lifted the corners of her mouth. “When my older brothers played with me, I was the dog who had to run, and they were the hunters. Every time they caught me, they’d beat my back with switches. Those are the wounds that remain.” “They certainly enjoyed childish cruelty.” Aden muttered dryly, his expression blank as he sipped from his teacup. “As I grew older, that kind of torment faded—but the scars remained. My nurse applied ointment to them every day, yet new wounds kept appearing over the old ones, again and again. That’s how they became so deeply etched. In that sense, Kedilen really is a rational man.” “Are you suddenly defending your husband?” “It’s less defense and more a judgment based on facts. At least he never did anything to diminish the value of the ‘goods’ he’d bought. He was vastly different from my brothers, who treated me like useless trash they could abuse freely. Maybe… that’s why I stayed by his side.” Ludmila bit her dry lips lightly in the wind and emptied her teacup. “Because I thought that as long as I had Kedilen’s recognition, there was no safer place than by his side.” “Would it be impolite if I called that a tragic judgment?” “Not at all. It was a very rational and reasonable assessment.” Ludmila smiled faintly and rose from her seat. Straightening her spine as if to stretch her stiff limbs, she tilted her head back and looked up at the sky. Though she’d seen this sky hundreds, thousands of times in the capital, tonight’s sky—bathed in deep darkness—was unlike any landscape she’d ever witnessed. The trees, the flowers, the wind, the scents, the insects… and even the people. “I always thought my life would be the same wherever I went. But now, having left the capital, the world I see looks so different.” “You’re more sentimental than I expected.” “I’m realizing it for the first time myself. It even feels strange to say such things.” Ludmila brushed her clothes lightly to straighten them, then met Aden’s gaze and bowed with gentle grace. “I’ll go to bed first. Good night.” Though their brief conversation had felt like it drew them closer, her polite farewell instantly drew a line between them once more. Her demeanor—never showing a disheveled appearance even while camping in such harsh mountains—was unexpectedly admirable. Turning away, Ludmila entered the carriage. As the door shut and silence fell anew, a sigh rose in Aden’s throat before fading away. He shook his head, flicked his eyes briefly, and wordlessly watched the fire weaken from lack of firewood. Even inside the carriage, they were deep in the mountains. The chill would seep through. Staring fixedly at the dying flames, he sat back down and pushed more logs into the fire. The sudden surge of heat washed over him and reached the carriage. Quietly poking at the embers, Aden let out a soft chuckle and shook his head. It seemed it would be a night unfit for sleep. [This is the timeline separator] The carriage, having passed through dawn, galloped on from early morning. Just as Aden had said it would take only half a day, the carriage that departed at daybreak swiftly crossed the Muhalhar Mountains and arrived at Sendere, the final checkpoint. From the moment they passed the Muhalhar range, the banner of House Havertz fluttered from the front of the carriage. Unlike other checkpoints, where they’d wasted time with bribes and identity checks to deal with bothersome guards, Sendere’s gate opened immediately upon seeing the banner. Thanks to that, they reached Havertz territory before noon ended. “So this is…” Ludmila’s eyes widened at the scenery, so unlike what she’d read in books. The Kan tribe was said to dwell in a barren, desolate plateau. With not even a blade of grass growing and water scarce, they’d constantly raided across the empire’s borders. Yet the Havertz territory before her eyes was hardly different from any ordinary imperial land. True to its position on the plateau, it boasted vast territory and a mighty river cutting through its center. Laid out along the river were farmlands, commercial districts, and residential zones—utterly incompatible with the image of “freemen living in crude huts.” Instead, it exuded the feel of a well-developed domain. Aden caught Ludmila’s look of pure astonishment from the corner of his eye and let out a quiet laugh. Everyone who came here for the first time reacted exactly the same. They arrived expecting a savage land on a barren plateau. So seeing rivers and mountains naturally came as a shock. It felt odd to see Ludmila, usually so different from others, now displaying such an ordinary reaction. Aden smiled faintly. Meanwhile, the carriage raced forward without pause and arrived before the fortress of the barbarians’ master—the “Black Rampart.” As the carriage halted, Aden stood first and stepped down. Ludmila accepted his proffered hand with polite grace, though she had cast off the title of marchioness. She still wished to retain a minimum of dignity—it was the last shred of her pride. “Aden—!” It was just as Ludmila’s foot touched the ground after stepping down the carriage stairs. A high-pitched voice rang out from afar, accompanied by a ripple of rose-colored light. The moment Ludmila’s gaze lifted from the ground, Aden’s body—standing before her—was yanked backward. “I missed you!” A woman had flung herself onto Aden. A tall woman with hair as red as sunset, her face radiant with a beaming smile, glanced at the hands held between Aden and Ludmila—and her expression hardened. In that instant, Ludmila curled her lips into a faint smile. It seemed she’d gone and stirred a hornet’s nest after all.

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