Please Kill My Husband - Chapter 3

The door slammed shut with a resounding thud.

Kedilen, having practically dragged Ludmilla into the room, swung his arm.

Slap!

His hand struck her cheek with brutal force. Ludmilla crumpled to the floor without a sound. Her disheveled hair fell across her reddened cheek, as if shielding it from further harm.

The once-admired pair, the Marquis and Marchioness of Erdi, often likened to elegant mandarin ducks, were nowhere to be found. In their place stood a man who treated his wife like a disposable object, and a woman reduced to a victim.

“I’ve told you countless times,” Kedilen growled, tearing off his heavy coat and ripping the cuff buttons in the process. “Never mention children to Count Edbuck. He’s sensitive about it. But you forgot?”

He flung the buttons to the floor, then loosened his tie and planted his hands on his hips.

“I told you not to make mistakes!”

Ludmilla flinched at the sharpness of his voice. Slowly, her eyes rose to meet his.

“Why can’t you listen? Is it really that hard to be careful about one thing? I asked you to memorize people’s faces, names, personalities, and the topics to avoid. Greet them warmly. That’s all. But even that’s too much for you?”

Two hundred guests had attended the charity event. Memorizing every detail was already a monumental task, let alone accounting for unexpected arrivals. It was impossible to remember every face and name.

But Ludmilla said nothing. She knew excuses would only fuel his rage. Those hazel eyes, wild with fury, would never forgive her.

She just needed to apologize. Say she was sorry. That usually ended it.

But today was different.

Instead of bowing her head, Ludmilla stared back at Kedilen. Her gaze was unfamiliar, unyielding.

He let out a dry, humorless laugh.

“Well, well. I like that look in your eyes. So, you think you did nothing wrong? Is that it?” His grin twisted. “Ah, right. That noble blood of yours, half royal, isn’t it?”

Still grinning, he picked up his discarded coat and walked to the closet.

Ludmilla’s face drained of color as she watched him retrieve something from within.

A golf club.

A prop for socializing, now a weapon in his hands.

“In the eyes of a noble lady like you, I suppose my anger means nothing. It’s all my fault, isn’t it? For not educating you properly. Right, Ludmilla?”

His voice grew heated, his eyes gleaming with a disturbing light, like an actor savoring the climax of a long-awaited performance.

I’m going to die.

The thought chilled her. His violence had grown worse each time. This felt like the end.

Terrified, Ludmilla staggered to her feet.

“Come here, Ludmilla,” he said, voice low and menacing. “It’s time for your education. I’ll draw out that blood of yours and make you understand.”

As his reason slipped further away, Ludmilla backed toward the door and flung it open.

“Stop right there, Ludmilla!”

The sharp whistle of something slicing through the air behind her sent a chill down Ludmilla’s spine.

She burst out of the room, fleeing in a panic. Behind her, a shrill voice called her name.

I want to live.

Driven by the primal instinct shared by all living beings, Ludmilla collided with a servant coming from the opposite direction in the corridor.

“Oh! M-Marchioness! Are you alright?!”

The servant, now sprawled on the floor, looked up at Ludmilla with a pale, stricken face. She too had collapsed, breathless and trembling.

Slumped on the cold marble floor, Ludmilla turned her gaze away from the servant’s worried eyes and scanned her surroundings.

Servants stood frozen, casting startled glances her way.

Ludmilla, always the embodiment of grace and restraint, now looked disheveled and frantic. Her sudden dash through the corridor shattered the image they knew.

Whispers stirred. Eyes widened. Confusion spread.

And among them stood Kedilen.

His gaze, once brimming with twisted ecstasy, was now vacant. Lifeless. Like a doll with its soul drained.

In the midst of the hushed chaos, just as a flicker of confusion crossed Kedilen’s face—

“Kyaaak!”

A piercing scream rang out.

The sound of shattering glass followed.

Ludmilla lifted her head just in time to see the chandelier plummeting toward her.

“What are you thinking so deeply about? Can’t you hear me?”

A voice, sharp and laced with irritation, snapped her back to reality.

Ludmilla blinked, her lips pressing together as she met Kedilen’s frown.

“I’m asking if you’re not done yet.”

“Ah… it’s almost finished.”

“You’re still so slow. Wrap it up.”

His words, though aimed at her, were intercepted by the designer beside her.

The designer, misunderstanding the tension, quickly responded. Kedilen’s brow twitched. He tilted his chin slightly, then turned and exited the room.

The door closed with a dry click, echoing his cold demeanor.

The designer, still adjusting Ludmilla’s hair, exhaled stiffly.

“He always feels so… ice-cold. Eep!”

The moment of relief loosened their tongue, but they quickly clamped a hand over their mouth, eyes wide like a startled rabbit.

“I… I, Marchioness. This is…”

“It’s alright.”

The designer darted a glance at Ludmilla, gauging her reaction with a flustered expression. All they received in return was a faint smile barely a lift at the corners of her mouth.

“It’s not wrong, is it? Everyone in the marquis’s household knows the marquis is different inside and out.”

“Well…”

“More importantly, let’s finish quickly. I think you’ll be scolded badly if we’re any later.”

“Yes, yes, I understand.”

At Ludmilla’s calm tone, the designer exhaled deeply and resumed their work with hurried hands.

Ludmilla’s expression returned to that of an emotionless doll. Her lips flattened into a line as she closed her eyes, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

It was clearer than ever, he truly wore different faces depending on the setting.

As she neared the entrance to the grand hall, where the retirement celebration was in full swing, Kedilen turned from his group and smiled warmly at her.

“You’ve arrived, my dear.”

Gone was the cold man from earlier. In his place stood the Marquis of Erdi, waiting for his elegant wife. He stepped forward and kissed Ludmilla’s cheek.

“I was about to come find you. I missed you.”

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting.”

“Not at all.”

Kedilen gently shook his head and guided her toward the elderly man he had been speaking with.

The gentleman, wearing a fedora ill-suited for the occasion, removed it politely and smiled.

“This is my first time meeting you, Marchioness Erdi. It’s an honor to see the idol of noble ladies.”

“The honor is mine, General. To meet the legendary warrior who defended the Northern Front.”

“Haha. That’s all in the past now.”

“Not at all. Your achievements in the Cabalt Civil War and the Battle of Santria rival those of General Kuras.”

“Is that so? Hearing that from someone young makes it feel real again. Haha!”

Laughter rippled through the hall, echoing from every corner.

Ludmilla lifted the corners of her mouth in sync, her smile practiced and hollow.

“Well then, please enjoy yourselves, Marquis Erdi. You too, Marchioness.”

“Thank you for your consideration.”

Kedilen bowed slightly, maintaining his gentlemanly façade as they entered.

As always, their arrival drew every eye.

They were the Empire’s most talked-about couple. Their fashion set trends. Their gestures defined romance.

Those unaware of the truth behind the curtain admired the pair. Some revered them. Others rushed forward just to exchange a word.

In moments, they became the center of the party, greeting social elites with flawless smiles.

Not once did those smiles falter. As if they were masks.

The gathering paused for General Cedric’s retirement speech.

It was around this time.

Ludmilla remembered Kedilen pulling her aside to the terrace during this exact moment.

She looked up.

“Shall we get some fresh air, dear?”

Kedilen’s gentle voice rang beside her. The timing, the tone—unchanged.

She followed him to the empty terrace. The door closed behind them.

Kedilen turned, his expression grim.

“Can’t you do it a bit better?”

Ludmilla exhaled softly. His face had shifted again, like swapping masks.

“I told you to smile more warmly. To show intimacy. I paid good money for that information. Don’t tell me you forgot.”

A man who demanded his wife act as his aide. How consistent.

Ludmilla wasn’t surprised. Though more than a month had passed since her death, to her, it felt like half a day.

She remembered his lifeless eyes.

She remembered the ecstasy in them as he approached with a golf club.

“Yes, I forgot.”

Her lips, which should have remained sealed, parted.

Ludmilla, once hidden in the shadow of her bowed head, met Kedilen’s gaze.

“But what are you going to do?”

For the first time, life flickered in her dry eyes.

“Are you going to hit me here?”

She wanted to rip away that smug, smiling mask.