Please Kill My Husband - Chapter 1

Prologue

At the onset of winter, when the first frost kissed the earth, the silence of dawn was broken. It was not the cawing of crows, nor the howling of dogs.

“Please kill my husband.”

The voice belonged to a woman with platinum blonde hair, shimmering like threads spun from sunlight.

“That is my request.”

It was a solicitation for murder. Ludmilla Perez, the young mistress of the Erdi Marquis family and wife to the Minister of Commerce, had spoken.

Aden, seated across from her, let out a quiet chuckle. Had he heard her correctly? With his chin resting on one hand and his fingertips brushing his lips, he glanced at her. Ludmilla’s crimson lips, which had just spoken of assassinating her husband, the empire’s esteemed Minister, were now sealed in silence.

That such a word, murder, could slip from those delicate lips. Lips that looked as if they had only tasted the finest things in life.

“I know it’s impolite,” Aden said, breaking the stillness. “But may I ask one question?”

Ludmilla nodded, her small head dipping once.

Aden paused, weighing his words. Then he spoke slowly.

“Is this, by any chance, a joke?”

“Why do you think that?”

“Aren’t you and the Erdi Marquis known as lovebirds? It’s hard to believe that a Marchioness like you would ask for her husband to be killed.”

Whether at social gatherings or national events, the Erdi couple was always seen together. Their hand-in-hand entrances, exchanged smiles, and quiet elegance were captured dozens of times each month, gracing the pages of newspapers. The virtuous and noble Marchioness Erdi was admired throughout the empire, regarded as the embodiment of an ideal noblewoman. For such a woman to speak of murder?

“I’m suspicious enough to think you might be mocking me.”

“Lovebirds…”

At this reasonable doubt, Ludmilla murmured softly, her gaze dropping. Her lips, tightly sealed in contemplation, parted slowly after a moment of silence.

“Do you think anyone would make such a request as a joke?”

“No. It doesn’t make sense, not even by common sense.”

“That’s a relief. At least your experience and common sense remain intact.”

“Ha.”

A sigh finally escaped Aden’s lips at her calm response. Ludmilla, who had been silently watching him with her crimson eyes, slightly lifted the corners of her mouth. That brief smile brought a flicker of life to her face, which had been as expressionless as a porcelain doll.

“Don’t worry. My request is neither a belated joke nor a mischievous prank. It’s sincere.”

“That’s even more troubling. You’re asking me to kill the Minister of Commerce.”

“Is it difficult? I heard you were something of an expert in this field.”

“Hearing that makes me sound like an assassin skilled in killing people.”

“You may not be an assassin, but aren’t you skilled in killing people?”

There was no excuse for that. Aden swallowed the retort rising in his throat and sighed again, softer this time. His amber eyes, sharp and watchful like a predator at dawn, studied her closely. He examined every nuance of her expression and every subtle gesture, as if determined not to miss a single clue.

And in doing so, he understood why Ludmilla was hailed as the epitome of nobility. From her posture straight and elegant like a birch tree to the delicate way she tilted her teacup, she exuded refinement. But appearances could deceive. Who would expect such a vulgar request from someone so composed?

It wasn’t unheard of: marrying for wealth, then murdering the spouse to claim the inheritance. Yet the laws had changed years ago to prevent such schemes. This was no longer an era where petty, sordid plots could succeed.

Was this beautiful Marchioness simply unaware of that?

Aden took his time, sipping wine as red as her lips, lips that had just spoken of murder.

“Is it difficult?”

Perhaps because the silence had stretched too long, Ludmilla’s question finally broke through. Aden set down his glass and, after a brief pause, answered a beat late.

“Of course not.”

“Then I’ll ask you. Didn’t you say you’d grant any request?”

“I did. But…”

Aden, who had lightly bitten his inner lip, let out a hollow laugh.

“Don’t you think the request is a bit much, considering all I did was see the Marchioness’s bare back once? That was an accident.”

“Even if it was accidental, the fact remains that you saw my back while I was changing clothes. And the fact that you said you’d grant any request of mine is also true.”

You have a talent for leaving me speechless. Aden raised the eyebrow partially hidden beneath his bangs and released a long sigh.

“May I ask the reason?”

“It’s cliché. Adultery.”

“No one asks to kill their husband for that reason.”

“We live in an era where people kill their children for eating one extra cookie. Compared to that, isn’t adultery a noble motive?”

You’re leaving me speechless again. As Aden pressed his lips together, unable to respond, Ludmilla’s gaze drifted to the window. Though dawn was still thick and distant, she kept glancing outside like someone running out of time.

“I’ll say it again. I need someone to kill my husband. Definitely, and as quickly as possible.”

Ludmilla’s request or rather, her proposal remained unchanged. To kill her husband. That was all. What could drive such a calm and composed noblewoman to choose murder? And to approach the Habertz Duke’s family directly, a name long branded as the cancer of the Hilard Empire.

Aden, still watching Ludmilla with his chin resting on his hand, rolled his eyes and sank deeper into thought before finally speaking.

“I think it’s a difficult matter.”

“Does that mean you’re refusing my request?”

“It means it’s not a problem to be considered lightly.”

The ambiguity in Aden’s response neither acceptance nor outright refusal was enough to stir anxiety in Ludmilla’s eyes. Her face, marked by impatience, tightened as she bit her lip and clutched the hem of her dress.

“You said you’d grant any request.”

“I did say that. But that doesn’t include killing someone, especially when it’s tied to a marital dispute.”

“…”

“Unless you have a valid reason that helps me understand, I’ll need time to think about it.”

“Does that mean…”

Aden gave his answer, brief and clear.

“It means refusal for now.”

Though the words left room for change, to the impatient Ludmilla, they felt final. A firm rejection. Nothing more, nothing less.

She watched him silently, her red eyes steady. The faint liveliness that had flickered across her face vanished, replaced once again by a doll-like stillness. Rising calmly from her seat, Ludmilla picked up her bag small enough to fit in the palm of her hand.

“Excuse me.”

Aden rose to see her off as she turned to leave the room. As his body, which had been slouched in the chair, straightened fully, Ludmilla, who had been walking away, came to a halt. She turned back to face him with a quiet sigh.

“By the way, did you know? Mandarin ducks are actually polygamous.”

“What do you mean?”

“People only judge by what they see on the surface. They don’t care what’s inside.”

Her calm voice echoed clearly through the still room. The blood-red eyes, once dark and intense, now shimmered pale beneath the soft lamplight, flickering like a candle on the verge of being snuffed out by a gentle breeze. Aden, who had momentarily forgotten he was meant to escort her, stood frozen, simply watching.

“Please forget about today. I hope you have a good night.”

With a final, fleeting smile, Ludmilla turned and exited the room. Aden, who had watched until the door clicked shut, slowly collapsed back into his chair like a crumbling tower. He stared at the silent door, then reached for his drink, taking a long sip to soothe the burn in his throat. Yet the thirst remained. Perhaps it was the lingering unease of having turned down Ludmilla’s request.

“What a strange woman.”

He emptied his glass and quietly concluded his thoughts on their encounter.

And three days later, on a bright afternoon.

Extra editions spread across the empire, bearing grim headlines: the noble and virtuous lady, Ludmilla Perez, had committed suicide.

The funeral, which began two days prior, continued until early this morning. The empire mourned the tragic end of the beloved Erdi Marquis couple. At Serendino Temple, mourners gathered in droves to pay their respects, watching over Ludmilla’s final moments. She lay in her coffin as if merely asleep, while her husband, Marquis Kedilen, kept vigil beside her, the image of a grieving widower.

People wept. They offered him comfort, and he received them with solemn grace. At dawn, Ludmilla was quietly laid to rest in the Erdi family tomb. By noon, the mourners had dispersed. Dark clouds rolled in, and the only sound that remained was the desolate cawing of crows.

“…”

A tall man approached the tombstone etched with the name Ludmilla Perez Erdi. He stood alone, long after the others had gone.

“Was this what you meant by asking me to forget?”

Aden’s voice was low, almost a whisper. He recalled her final words, her final smile. Despite her request to forget, her face, her voice, and every word they had exchanged remained etched in his memory.

“Damn it!”

He had lived a life where death had long since lost its weight. But Ludmilla’s death this one, felt different. It lingered.

It mattered.

“There’s an internal rumor that it wasn’t suicide, but murder.”

“There were whispers that the Marchioness was abused. But with so many envying the couple, most dismissed it as an unconfirmed falsehood.”

“On the day she died, doctors reportedly rushed to the mansion.”

The aide’s calm reports echoed in Aden’s mind. None of the information was certain, yet it was enough to cloud his thoughts.

Please kill my husband.

The clear midday light vanished as the sky darkened. One by one, raindrops began to fall, quickly swelling into a relentless downpour.

As the rain poured and dusk settled, the man who had held himself together finally crumbled. The newly engraved tombstone bearing her name seemed to weep beneath the rain.

His face, as he gently traced the letters with trembling fingertips, was twisted with sorrow. He remembered the red eyes that had looked at him eyes that had pleaded, eyes that had lingered.

Aden bowed before the tombstone, overcome by pain, guilt, and anguish unlike anything he had ever known.

The chrysanthemums that had adorned her grave scattered in the storm, petals torn and strewn across the wet earth.

It was a pitiful sight, mirroring the tragic fate of the woman buried beneath.