After I died, Everything Changed - Chapter 3

After Irene left, Abel unconsciously relaxed the fist he had been clenching so tightly.

With rough, calloused hands, he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“Damn it.”

Abel Mergen.

He had gone on four military campaigns since the age of fifteen, earning distinguished accomplishments along the way.

Eventually, he became celebrated as a hero of the Empire.

His uniform was so weighed down with medals that there wasn’t enough fabric left to pin them all.

But even such a glorified war hero was still nothing more than a mere man in the Mergen household.

He stood still, gripping the curtain that hung near the sunlit bed.

A familiar scent rose from the thin fabric.

“…”

With his hand, then with his eyes, he brushed over the sheer curtain again and again.

“…If she was going to leave like this…”

His lips parted slightly, only to close tightly again.

Abel had always been careful with his words around Deborah.

Sometimes, so careful that he couldn’t speak at all.

Even now—after she was gone—he still hadn’t shaken that habit.

The Mergen mansion had always suffocated him.

It was a place where even expressions, emotions, and moods had to be hidden or buried.

To Abel, it felt like a vast tomb built over his heart.

He never imagined he would return to that tomb… with news like this.

Back when Deborah still looked down on him from above, there was a moment—on a day when her gaze had grown especially cold—when he imagined it.

That maybe, someday, she would be the one to hand him a coffin.

And that, perhaps, he would willingly crawl into it.

But he never thought the coffin would turn out to be the Mergen household itself.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

“…”

The calm scent clung to his fingertips.

At the same time, a dark and directionless fury quietly bled into his heart.

“You must appoint a new successor, Master.”

Zufello, one of the Mergen retainers, spoke firmly to the head of the household.

“Her body hasn’t even gone cold yet.”

The patriarch answered quietly, his eyes fixed on Deborah’s grave, far off beyond the window. Inside the meeting room, the gathered retainers exchanged glances.

“Let’s not rush the matter. We’ll discuss it in time.”

“But isn’t the answer already obvious?”

“Yes, of course. Irene is far too sickly to inherit the title. The only remaining candidates are Abel and Nehrzhu.”

“Abel has already built a solid reputation across the Empire. He lacks nothing to be named heir.”

“Exactly! We should be grateful that a war hero like Abel is even part of our household!”

Sensing the opportunity, the retainers all began raising their voices, each one eager to speak.

The patriarch took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

The room was full of the same relentless cawing—like a flock of crows. And it was wearing him down.

It had only been three days. Only three days since Deborah had died.

And they couldn’t even wait that long—already shouting over who would take her place.

“Deborah devoted herself to this family for ten years, starting from a young age.”

“Well, yes, but… things have changed now…”

“That’s right. It’s not like we aren’t grieving her loss.”

They sounded like they’d all agreed in advance to put on the same shameless act. Every single one of them was obsessed with pushing the succession forward.

Chloe watched the scene unfold from her seat, calm and collected.

The tide had turned. She could feel it.

She no longer needed to lift a single finger to make the thing she’d wanted most happen—her son becoming heir to House Mergen.

Her gaze settled on the family head, who stood by the window.

It had been eleven years since she married into Mergen.

No one knew just how daunting that front gate had looked to a young woman holding the hand of a small child.

Her husband died young, and she had fought tooth and nail just to survive here.

And now, finally, all her efforts were bearing fruit.

A long shadow stretched from the patriarch’s drooped shoulders down to his feet.

He had always planned to take his bloodline to the grave with him.

But now, that hope had been trampled—and Chloe could hardly contain her satisfaction.

She didn’t even need a meal. She already felt full.

Her lips curled slightly before she quickly composed her expression.

“We said we’d let her rest first, didn’t we?”

There was no real alternative. But the family head continued to delay the decision—clinging to some sense of loyalty to the dead.

“Yes, of course. Both you and all of Mergen deserve time to properly mourn her passing.”

Chloe spoke in a voice laced with feigned sorrow. At that, the once-loud retainers gradually lowered their voices.

“Shouldn’t finding the culprit be our top priority right now?”

At the word culprit, the family head turned to look at her. Their eyes clashed sharply in the air between them.

“I know exactly who the most likely suspect is in this situation. And that’s why I’d like to uncover the full truth—so that not even a trace of doubt remains.”

Her bold tone made the patriarch narrow his eyes.

“I’m innocent,” she said calmly. “Abel was away at war, and Nehrzhu is at the academy. They couldn’t possibly be considered suspects.”

“Then who are you accusing?”

The patriarch questioned her, watching as Chloe continued speaking smoothly, as if she had rehearsed every word.

“There’s one more person with a claim to succession, isn’t there?”

“You’re not seriously suggesting Irene?”

Chloe tilted her head ever so slightly in confirmation. The patriarch let out a dry, hollow laugh.

“She has no interest in inheriting anything. And her health wouldn’t even allow it. Surely none of you actually suspect her too?”

As the patriarch looked around the room, the retainers glanced at each other with uneasy expressions.

Those who knew Irene’s condition understood how absurd the accusation was. But if sacrificing someone helped resolve the matter in their favor, they had no problem turning her into a scapegoat.

“Well… I wouldn’t say the chances are zero.”

“You!”

“Didn’t Irene give Deborah that recovery potion just before she died?”

“No traces of poison were found in it.”

“Still… you never know. Maybe it became toxic when combined with something else. A coincidence, perhaps…”

The retainers continued speaking while carefully watching the patriarch—pretending not to, but clearly gauging his mood.

“You people really—”

The patriarch was about to shout when the door to the meeting room swung open.

“Pardon the interruption.”

As I stepped into the room, the expressions on the retainers’ faces changed instantly.

Some were confused.
Some were surprised.
And some showed open hostility.

“I couldn’t help overhearing from outside, and I thought I’d speak up—even if it’s out of turn.”

“How dare you intrude on this meeting!”

One of the retainers scolded me.

“Aren’t you all in the middle of discussing Deborah’s death?”

“This is no place for you.”

“If I’m being accused, shouldn’t I at least be given the chance to defend myself?”

My crisp and clear reply caught the retainer off guard.

The Irene they knew would have never walked through that door—let alone spoken so confidently.

As their eyes fell on me, I calmly looked around the room.

These same men who had once acted like obedient lambs before Deborah were now glaring at me like wolves.

“Let’s begin with this—if we’re talking about motive, most of the people in this room qualify.”

“What nonsense!”

“How dare you say such a thing?!”

Outrage erupted across the room. A few even jumped to their feet.

I turned first to Roosevelt, Chloe’s younger brother, who had stood up ahead of the others.

“Deborah kept your mining embezzlement a secret, didn’t she? But it must’ve grown tiresome, always having to live under that threat.”

“W-what?! What ridiculous accusation is this?! Lies! It’s all lies!”

Roosevelt’s face turned pale as he flailed in panic.

I calmly shifted my gaze to Vermont.

“You lost a shipment of raw wool to pirates, didn’t you? But rather than tell the family head, you’ve been covering it up with other trade profits. Deborah knew.”

“H-how could you possibly— Ahem! I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

Their denials came quickly, but none of them could hide their unease.

Smiling softly, I folded my hands and added:

“Sir Gabian’s love affair, Sir Milles’ embezzlement… And I believe Lord Yuskan had issues involving his children? Should I continue?”

“Ahem!”

“Bringing up things like this today of all days…”

“Phew… this room feels unusually warm.”

The retainers were fanning themselves and coughing awkwardly, avoiding my gaze.

And then my eyes met Chloe’s.

“There’s no need to go over yours, Lady Chloe. I think everyone here already knows.”

Even amid the chaos, her crimson eyes remained steady.

Her elegant lashes blinked slowly, calmly.

“If suspects are going to be discussed moving forward, I’d appreciate it if I were included in those conversations.”

With that, I turned to face my grandfather.

The man who had always stood like a towering tree—stern and imposing—let his eyes flicker ever so slightly.

He must be shocked.

To hear Irene speak this clearly and firmly—it must’ve been unexpected.

Cough, cough.

But just then, my throat began to itch, and I couldn’t stop myself from coughing.

I quickly reached into my pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and covered my mouth.

Cough.

My grandfather’s expression, once shaken, slowly returned to its usual solemn calm.

“…You’re right. There’s not a single person here who didn’t have something Deborah held over them.”

His quiet agreement sent a ripple through the room.

“I will uncover the culprit myself. Until then, I expect none of you to speculate any further.”

“But, Lord Patriarch—”

“Do you intend to argue with me now?”

With that one line, the room fell utterly silent.

As my cough eased and I raised my head again, my eyes met Chloe’s once more.

So, I’ve finally shaken you too.

I gave her a faint, knowing smile.

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