Wishing My Husband Dead - Chapter 58

“Huh? Vasquez? Ah.”

The innkeeper, belatedly realizing who Leonard was talking about, took the lead.

“He’s staying in the room at the end of the second floor. We gave him our best room.”

“You’ve done something unnecessary.”

“Pardon?”

The innkeeper blinked, not understanding the meaning. The Baron gestured quietly for him to step back. The innkeeper understood the gesture and quickly disappeared.

Leonard stood in front of the room door. And without any warning, he flung it open.

“Ugh, who is it?”

Even though it was daytime, the smell of alcohol was intense. The Baron reflexively covered his nose with his sleeve. Countless empty bottles were scattered around the room, evidence of how much drinking had occurred.

“Atilei?”

“Yes. I came because I heard you were finally ready to meet and talk, but you’re in quite a state.”

“Urgh. If you have something to say, say it.”

“Let’s talk when you’re sober. I don’t want you claiming you can’t remember because of the alcohol.”

“I’m perfectly fine. Speak. You said you had something to say to me.”

Leonard ignored Vasquez’s drunken state and nodded towards the intoxicated Vasquez Seigneur.

The Baron, understanding his master’s intention, stepped forward. Then he summoned water above the alcohol-soaked man’s head and poured it down.

“Pffft, what are you doing!”

“Don’t come near. I’m afraid your smell might rub off on me.”

“What do you think you’re doing! Dousing me with water out of nowhere!”

“Are you sober now?”

“What?”

“If you’re awake, sit there.”

The Baron brought two of the cleanest chairs in the room, offering one to his master and placing one in front of Vasquez.

Vasquez shook his head roughly. Water dripped from his wet body, soaking the floor. His eyes seemed clearer now, apparently sobered up from the alcohol.

He glared fiercely at the chair and Leonard.

“Are you deaf? I said sit down.”

“You begged to meet me, and this is how you treat me? Do you think I’ll obey your words so easily?”

“Shall I summon fire instead of water this time?”

Though his tone was calm, Vasquez seemed to sense the sincerity behind it. After grumbling for a moment, he quietly sat down in the chair.

“So. The money I sent you.”

Leonard looked around once and sneered.

“Seems like you’ve spent it all on alcohol.”

“If you have something to say, say it quickly and leave. I’m not particularly pleased to see your face either.”

“That’s a good idea, Vasquez. I want to get out of this filthy den quickly too.”

He took out a checkbook and pen from his breast pocket. Then he looked at Vasquez.

“Do you have a favorite number?”

“What?”

“Tell me. Any number.”

“F-Four? No, nine!”

Greed flashed in Vasquez’s eyes as he saw the checkbook. Leonard wrote something based on the number he mentioned, then tore off a page.

“How about this? Does it suit your fancy?”

Vasquez snatched the check like a hawk. His face lit up as he confirmed the number.

He had expected at most 3,000 or 9,000 linkits, but 39,000 linkits were written. This was enough to buy a decent four-horse carriage.

“Well, ahem, ahem.”

“I don’t care why you came to the capital. Just comply with my demands, Seigneur Vasquez.”

“What is it? Tell me. I’ll help as much as I can.”

Having received the money, Vasquez spoke in a generous tone, forgetting about the water dousing incident.

“Stay away from Cordelia. Never approach her again.”

“She’s my daughter. Who are you to tell me what to—ack! My money!”

Before he could finish speaking, the check in Vasquez’s hand burst into flames. Startled, Vasquez threw the check onto the wet floor, trying to extinguish the fire, but it disappeared leaving only ashes.

Leonard crossed his legs and said,

“You seem to be mistaken about something. I didn’t come here to negotiate or make a deal with you. That money was merely a reward for complying with my demand.”

“Demand? Is it a reasonable demand to tell me not to meet my daughter?”

“My daughter, you say. That’s rich coming from a father who sold his daughter to the Abrams for a mere five hundred thousand linkits, without even a dowry.”

“Marrying off a daughter is a father’s right!”

He shouted, pointing his finger at Leonard.

From his shabby appearance to the strong smell of alcohol despite it being midday, it was hard to believe this man was Cordelia’s biological father.

Yes. Cordelia’s father.

That was the reason he had been enduring and enduring until now.

“How much would it take for you to give up?”

“Give up what?”

“That damned father’s right you speak of.”

Vasquez’s eyes wavered. He had just witnessed how easily the other man wrote thirty-nine thousand as if they were one-linkit coins.

Leonard couldn’t help but sneer as he noticed that Vasquez wasn’t hesitating about whether to give up his ‘father’s rights’, but was calculating the amount.

After intense mental calculations, Vasquez finally stated a number.

“I received five hundred thousand linkits when she went to the Abrams, so I should receive at least a million linkits from the Atilei.”

“A million linkits, you say.”

Leonard stared silently into Vasquez’s eyes. When an answer didn’t come quickly, Vasquez inwardly regretted if he had asked for too large an amount.

But surprisingly, an even more generous offer came from Leonard’s mouth.

“How about this? I’ll send you fifty thousand linkits every month.”

“E-Every month?”

Fifty thousand a month meant six hundred thousand a year. It was enough money to live not just comfortably, but quite affluently. Vasquez’s lips twitched uncontrollably as he quickly made the calculation.

“Yes. In exchange, never appear in front of Cordelia again pretending to be her father. Don’t send letters or people to contact her either.”

“Of course!”

Vasquez gave up his father’s rights far too easily. His eyes were fixed solely on the checkbook on the table. His gaze was so blatant that even the Baron was dumbfounded.

“If I had known you would cherish our daughter this much, I would have married her off to the Atilei instead of the Abrams.”

“Don’t say such filthy things. She’s my disciple.”

“Well, whether you make her your disciple or your lover, do as you please.”

Leonard glared at Vasquez with a serious expression. Regardless, Vasquez couldn’t take his eyes off the check, licking his lips.

“So, do I start from today? I’d like to receive the money today as well…”

“Of course I’ll give it to you.”

Leonard wrote fifty thousand linkits on the check, signed it, then tore it off and handed it to Vasquez.

Vasquez received it and grinned, examining it for a long time. Then, as if suddenly struck by anxiety, he looked up at Leonard’s face.

“Shouldn’t we put this in writing? For something this important.”

“What for? If I don’t send you fifty thousand linkits every month, you can see your daughter as much as you want, and if you break your promise and approach Cordelia, I’ll simply kill you.”

“…”

The consequences of breaking the contract were more horrific than expected. The color drained from Vasquez’s face.

He recalled recent news he had heard about the Atilei. That he had taken all the magic from his younger brother who betrayed him, then kept him in a box…

“T-That wasn’t part of the deal!”

Vasquez shouted, stammering. Leonard stood up and adjusted his clothes. If he stayed in this filthy den any longer, the smell of alcohol might seep into his clothes.

“Why? Are you scared now? As long as you keep your promise well, you won’t die of natural causes or accidents.”

“T-That’s…”

“Ah. I almost forgot.”

As he was about to leave the room, Leonard turned back to Vasquez as if remembering something.

“Stretch out your foot.”

“Foot?”

“No, the other one. Your right foot.”

Bewildered but compliant, Vasquez stretched out his right foot. Leonard strode towards him and suddenly tripped him.

“What are you doing—Aaargh!”

Along with a cracking sound, the right ankle breaking was clearly audible. He had stomped so hard that the ankle lost its original shape and became grotesquely deformed. The wooden floor quickly became soaked with blood.

The Baron slightly turned his head, pretending not to see the gruesome sight.

Leonard took out a check again from his breast pocket, wrote thirty-nine thousand linkits, and threw it over Vasquez.

“This is for your ankle.”

“T-This, ugh!”

“I hope you’re a man who keeps his promises well, Vasquez. If not, next time it won’t be your ankle, but your neck.”

Vasquez writhed in pain, thrashing about. Leonard left the room without any hesitation, turning his back on him.

The Baron silently followed his master, and only after boarding the carriage did he open his mouth.

“Isn’t fifty thousand every month a bit excessive?”

“If we can get rid of trash with that pocket change, it’s a bargain. It’s a hundred times better to manage him by giving money every month than to give a large sum at once and have him lurking around again when the money runs out.”

“But if Lady Cordelia finds out…”

“How would she know? Vasquez won’t come near Cordelia anymore, and unless you or I speak up first, she’ll never know.”

As if to say he wouldn’t accept any more replies, he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

The Baron realized that Leonard’s excessive interest, affection, or obsession towards Cordelia was far greater than he thought.

The worrying point, however, was that Leonard seemed completely unaware of what emotions he held for Cordelia.

“How are things going with Embly?”

“We’ve been questioning Embly’s employees, but they’re all tight-lipped and not easily opening up. However, there’s something a bit strange.”

“What is it?”

“It’s about Rosalyn Embly.”

“The daughter of Seigneur Embly? Why?”

“I’ve been watching the Embly townhouse for nearly ten days, but I’ve never seen her leave the mansion. Even though she’s unmarried and it’s the social season.”

“Maybe she’s unwell? I think I heard she had a weak heart since birth.”

“That could be, but… The employees’ reactions are strange when we just ask about Rosalyn Embly. They react very sensitively. As if we’re prying into something shameful.”

“Hmm.”

Leonard stroked his chin. There was something bothersome, but it was too vague to grasp, like fog.

“Anything else?”

“Nothing special. It seems we’ll have to investigate their main estate.”

“Do that. By the way, what time is it now?”

“Ah.”

The Baron realized that this wasn’t asking for the current time, but how much of the three hours promised to Cordelia remained.