Please Kill My Husband (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 2
The Emperor’s bastard.
In the imperial family, where status was everything, the future awaiting a bastard born into the palace was harsher and crueller than the biting winds of midwinter.
Neither a true member of the imperial house nor an ordinary citizen of the empire—Ludmila occupied that ambiguous, in-between status.
Though always ostracized and scorned for belonging nowhere, she was not entirely without use.
She grew up diligently as the imperial family’s pawn.
Newly risen nobles, growing in step with an emerging age,
expanded their power through overwhelming wealth and influence, stirring revolutionary winds across the tranquil empire—yet to the conservative imperial court and old nobility, they were seeds of discord.
Still, they could not be ignored. Thus, the great nobles among them sought to draw the imperial family to their side, and the surest method for this remained marriage.
There was no need to spread rumors that the once-young bastard had matured into a dazzlingly beautiful woman.
Her blazing platinum hair, as if proof of her royal blood, was breathtakingly lovely, and her crimson eyes—red as blood—became the talk of everyone.
Naturally, these rumors reached the ears of Kedilen Erdi, Minister of Commerce and the focal point of the new nobility.
The day he showed interest in Ludmila, she could no longer be called Hilard.
She would henceforth bear the surname Erdi.
In the end, the marriage proved successful—a well-matched pair, a beautiful couple like mandarin ducks.
One was a young great noble; the other, though only half by blood, carried noble lineage.
Moreover, Ludmila’s etiquette and grace were so exquisite they struck a sharp rebuke against those who dismissed such manners as crude relics of a bygone era.
She became the very model of a noble lady.
Yet, that was only how things appeared on the surface.
The future that unfolded for Ludmila through marriage was nothing but the hollow existence of an emotionless doll—and relentless suffering.
For Kedilen, only her bloodline mattered.
Though appointed Minister of Commerce, the Marquis Erdi family originated from humble provincial nobility.
To the new nobility—mostly provincial nobles or wealthy commoners—bloodline was essential.
However, tensions with the old nobility and the prevailing disdain toward the new rich made it difficult for them to seize true power.
It was in this context that Ludmila, the most desirable match, appeared.
How could he refuse? Yet, the greedy man remained unsatisfied with her status.
When drunk, he would curse her, calling half the blood in her veins vulgar, and rage that her being only “half” prevented him from attaining an even higher rank.
When sober, he demanded endless study from her, insisting she become an ever more perfect noblewoman.
All the while, he held private meetings with women of seemingly better standing—a husband who had spurned his wife since their wedding night.
Three years. Abuse, oppression, pain, and torment. The doll named Ludmila, barely clinging to life amidst despair, ended her short existence.
Gossips who love to chatter from their stalls even at midday often say: Ludmila was an unfortunate woman.
They claim she wore long sleeves even in high summer solely to hide her bruises.
As usual, such talk—its origin unknown—is dismissed as idle rumor.
Indeed, one might even get soundly beaten for drunkenly slandering that beautiful couple, with warnings to guard one’s tongue.
But who could have known?
“……per…… ……son…”
That all their idle rumors were true.
“It’s morning, Marchioness!”
[This is the timeline separator]Her eyelids snapped open at the sharp voice shattering the stillness.
Her crimson eyes and pupils, wide with terror, were stiff as if seized by fear.
Ludmila’s gaze fixed on the plain, chandelier-less ceiling—an unfamiliar scene no longer. Her eyes, which had been flickering wildly, slowly rolled.
Familiar objects and scenery came into view. Her contracted pupils gradually relaxed, and the tension drained from her rigid body.
Like a collapsed mannequin, Ludmila slowly lifted her hand and brought it before her face.
“You’re awake, Marchioness?”
At that moment, a familiar voice rang out along with the rustle of heavy curtains being thrown open.
Warm, gentle sunlight flooded the previously dim room.
Her eyes, accustomed to darkness, furrowed slightly at the sudden brightness—but it was enough to rouse her.
Ludmila, seated slantwise on the bed, leaned her still-drowsy, heavy body against the headboard and turned her head.
Her gaze settled on the elderly woman standing by the sunlit window.
“…Emma?”
“Yes, it’s Emma—the nursemaid who pleaded with you all day yesterday to please rise early and prepare yourself today.”
Emma’s wrinkled lips moved quickly in complaint as she rolled her eyes.
The book resting on the nightstand beside the bed made her white eyebrows twitch.
“You told me not to worry, saying you’d wake up on your own and that I should trust you. And this foolish nurse actually believed you wholeheartedly!”
“Em….”
“But you seemed to have forgotten my plea entirely—you stayed up reading again until late into the night and overslept! As if you’ve forgotten today is General Cedric’s retirement ceremony!”
Her urging continued, scolding Ludmila—who was still lost in drowsiness—as if chiding a tardy daughter.
Ludmila, leaning against the headboard with eyes lowered, reacted at the word “retirement ceremony.”
Like a trigger pulled, her head shot up as quickly as her dry lips parted.
“Retirement ceremony…?”
“Yes, the retirement ceremony. Didn’t your husband instruct you to prepare more meticulously than ever because you must attend General Cedric’s ceremony? Have you forgotten?”
“It’s not that I forgot….”
“Oh, thank goodness! Now come along—hurry up. How long will you stay lounging in bed? Shall I strip you like I would a five-year-old child?”
The nursemaid approached, hands firmly on her hips, though her smile was tender despite her sharp tone.
“Get up quickly now. We’re in a hurry, Marchioness.”
“Wait just a moment, Nurse.”
Words alone weren’t enough—Emma firmly pulled Ludmila, seated on the bed, to her feet. Only Emma, who had raised her for twenty years, could do such a thing.
Startled into standing, her eyes wide like a frightened rabbit, Ludmila watched as Emma turned away and gave the summoning cord a light tug.
As if awaiting the signal, the door opened and maids entered. Emma clapped her hands sharply.
“Alright, let’s move quickly—we’re busy. Marchioness, it’ll be very hectic today, so please follow closely. You’ll suffer for oversleeping—be prepared!”
“Wait, Emma! I still…!”
“Off to the bath!”
“Emma!”
Emma watched with satisfaction as Ludmila was whisked away toward the bath like an actress swept offstage.
Her upturned lips slowly settled, and her eyes fell upon Ludmila’s bed—the same one she’d slept in last night.
Emma tidied the tousled sheets and blankets with care.
Despite her gruff tone, her wrinkled hands moved with remarkable delicacy and attentiveness.
Smiling gently as a mother tidying her child’s resting place, Emma gave one final check before turning away. Just another ordinary day had begun.
[This is the timeline separator]“How strange.”
Seated and murmuring briefly, Ludmila sensed the stylist behind her flick her eyes toward her.
The stylist, alternating her gaze between Ludmila’s reflection and the surrounding room, moistened her increasingly dry lips.
This was already the third—or more—time Ludmila had muttered those words, prompting the stylist to speak cautiously.
“Um… Marchioness, shall I call another stylist for you?”
“What?”
“Well… you’ve seemed dissatisfied with everything I’ve done since earlier. I worry I might not be meeting your expectations.”
Ludmila’s unfocused gaze, lost in thought, sharpened again.
She chewed over the stylist’s words, frowned slightly, then let out a soft gasp as if suddenly realizing something.
“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s not that I dislike the hairstyle—you misunderstood me. I was just preoccupied with something else. Please go on.”
“Yes… understood.”
The stylist nodded, but her dragged-out reply betrayed a lingering trace of doubt.
When Ludmila offered another reassuring smile, the stylist quickly resumed her work, saying, “We’re running late—I’ll hurry.”
Watching her, Ludmila’s polite smile faded once more as she sank back into her thoughts.
Her expression grew doll-like and blank as her eyelids lowered. Within the shadow cast by her long, neat lashes, her eyes shifted.
‘Why am I still alive?’
Ludmila’s last memory was of her husband proudly reciting unfathomably ancient history—the very chandelier he cherished above all else.
That dazzlingly beautiful, radiant chandelier had crushed her beneath its unimaginable weight.
Her consciousness had faded amid distant screams, shouts, and hurried footsteps—and when she opened her eyes again, she was in bed.
‘Not a single wound on me.’
In her fading consciousness, she’d assumed she was surely dead.
Even if she’d survived, she should have been badly injured—yet when she checked her body in the bath, not a single scratch could be found. And above all else—the retirement ceremony.
Unless General Cedric had gone senile, there was no reason to hold his retirement ceremony again—it had already occurred just a month ago. Then this must be…
Combining hazy memories of that day with tangled possibilities, Ludmila reached a single conclusion and slowly lifted her head.
The reflection before her in the mirror was astonishingly identical to how she’d looked on that day.
Her dress, hairstyle—even the gemstone dangling from her earrings.
Staring silently at this impossible coincidence, Ludmila saw the door beyond the mirror swing open.
“Isn’t it finished yet?”
The man who entered wore garments boldly emblazoned with his house’s crest stitched in golden thread across his chest.
“You’re late, Ludmila.”
The cold, dry voice belonged to her husband, Kedilen—the very man who had threatened her until her dying breath.
At the sight of him, Ludmila’s eyes flickered wildly as memories from before her death surged back.
Male lead is reincarnated to save his wife
I’ve also read this one twice already. The female lead is kinda soft and gets embarrassed easily—not really my type, but the plot is definitely worth reading. Hurry up and read it, y’all!
Intro
When Shen Yuan encountered Su Jin again in his previous life, she had already become the Prime Minister of the current dynasty. As for him, the former top young master of the capital, he had long since fallen into the abyss, becoming a singer on a pleasure boat.
After a song ended, he was redeemed and sent to the Su Residence.
Su Jin respected and cherished him, gave him a roof over his head, and bestowed him with warmth. Shen Yuan fell deeper and deeper, but before he could express his feelings, Su Jin passed away.
Shen Yuan died to follow her in death, but instead, he returned to when he was fifteen years old.
At that time, he was not yet engaged, and Su Jin was just a poor scholar.
Shen Yuan gritted his teeth, casting aside all his pride, and thought of ways to coax and entice her every day.
The colder and more indifferent Su Jin was towards him, the more proactive Shen Yuan became.
He was not afraid of being mocked by the world, only wanting to marry his Wife-master early, to hold her hand and never let go for a lifetime.
[Note: This story will not specifically point out the male lead’s reincarnation time point; it’s all in the details. Whenever you feel that the male lead is acting strangely, he has most likely been reincarnated.]
[Touch the gear icon in the bottom right corner of the screen to move to the next chapter if you want.]
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