Sick Husband's Contract Wife - Chapter 25

Selene’s introduction in ‘Lady Crown’ had quite an impression on me, and I recall that description to this day.

How could someone named after the moon goddess, Selene, be capable of such evil? In all the cases and controversies I’ve covered, she was the most vicious lady I’d ever seen.

After that point, the protagonist’s recordings went on indefinitely.

That poisoner was the most vile and nasty female human being ever. Even after she poisoned her ailing husband, Duke Ifrit, she felt no guilt.

In the next section, eyewitnesses described in detail what Duke Ifrit looked like just before he died from poison.

The autopsy findings pointed to a very toxic toxin as the cause of death.

If it was poison, what was it? I attempted to remember the original work’s substance, but the book didn’t give any specifics to help me out.

You’d think it wouldn’t matter much what kind of poison killed off a character who wasn’t even the male lead, right?

Both he and I played minor roles in the source material.

The difference between his and Selene’s roles was minimal.

A poisoner of this type mercilessly killed Duke Ifrit. Blood was gushing from his nose, lips, and ears as he died, drenching the linens.

The realism continues with the description of a poisoned Duke Ifrit.

The too graphic description gave me the willies.

However, that’s chump change.

Especially in light of Selene’s subsequent execution.

“It’s alright.”

Stiffly wiping the silver rod’s tip, Emma said.

Her comments snapped me back to earth.

Cold perspiration trickled down my back as I remembered how he had died in the source material.

“Great, Emma.”

Even though I knew there wasn’t any poison in it, I nevertheless let out a breath of relief.

“I was just doing my job, guarding my master from any potentially poisonous foods.”

It was as if she had looked up ways to spoil my mood with the same words and decided on, “I understand.”

Should I tell her that there’s no need in trying?

Because of Amoide, I could handle the long, cold, and melancholy days.

I held out the dish and gave the guy who had taught me so hard a smile.

“Will you eat this impure fish now, Amoide?”

Amoide took the platter I presented to him without a word.

Only the occasional clatter of silverware on plates could be heard during lunch.

I attempted to engage him in casual chat, but he hardly looked up from his food.

Is it really that tasty?

Of course, I should have known better than anybody else that that wasn’t the case.

He clearly didn’t feel like engaging with me. Knowing the cause made me feel a bit melancholy.

Anyway… He had a really creative approach to eating. Everything from how he held his fork and knife to the graceful motion of his jaw as he put food in his mouth and chewed to the way his neck moved as he swallowed.

There wasn’t a single hiccup.

In my mind’s eye, I saw a monarch peeling boiled eggs so gracefully and brilliantly that the people who come to see him end up making him eat a bellyful of boiled eggs.

I found the tale amusing when I first heard it, but now I find myself feeling the same way.

“Have you finished your meal?”

The last thing I remember doing before he came in was resting my chin on my hand and looking at him blankly.

“You’re free to go if you’re finished.”

“What… I have to keep busy.”

My hand was on my chin, but I immediately took it down and said.

“Keep busy?”

When Amoide glanced at me, he seemed to be wondering what it might be, so I grinned and answered.

“After eating, it’s important to get some fresh air.”

I reached out my injured hand to him.

“Of course, you’d do that with your wife.”

“…” 

After a brief moment of hesitation, he stood and came over to join me.

In reply, “No, Your Grace.”

When I tried to talk to Amoide, Emma swiftly stood in our way and asked, “What’s the matter, Emma?”

“Your Grace, you haven’t fully recovered yet.”

Emma said to me as she faced me. Her eyes appeared to cast judgment on me.

Because of the way she was looking at me, I made the conscious decision to assert myself.

Apparently, Amoide’s daily strolls have done wonders for his health. ‘Totally’, Raymond said. He recommended moderate sun exposure on a regular basis.

Since his breakdown, he had been taking his life very slowly.

After having a seizure, he would frequently not come out of his room for days.

It seemed to be less of a medical problem and more of an internalized feeling of worthlessness on his part.

It was obvious that his frustration would grow as he gradually lost control of his body.

“Let’s go for a stroll then. Let’s bask in the vitamin D-rich rays of the sun.”

I gave it another go at convincing him. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out.

He was ready to complain that you’re being too intrusive, but he caught himself.

Emma, who was watching, smiled like she’d just won the game.

“Do you dislike it?”

I inquired, addressing him directly.

“Then there’s absolutely nothing I can do.”

I tucked my hair behind my ear and lifted my bandaged hand.

“Let’s go on.”

I grinned and covered my lips as I heard his reply.

As I finished saying, “But before that,” I glanced at Emma to see if she had anything to add.

“You should take your prescribed medication.”

Was it just my ears, or did she come across as a little grating?

Emma abruptly swiveled around to face me before hurriedly striding to the medicine cabinet.

She returned to Amoide with the glass container, removed several tablets, and presented them to him with a glass of water.

In other words, “Take it.”

Emma’s emotion toward Amoide was diametrically opposed to that one she had shown toward me.

When Emma handed Amoide some medication, he accepted it and washed it down with water. In the meantime, I kept a close eye on everything.

To be specific, the medication he was taking. The medication in the dark glass vial.

“What are you staring at?”

Emma looked at me a little funny, as if I were gazing too intensely, and questioned.

“No, it’s nothing.”

I immediately looked away, but I kept sneaking glances.

Amoide’s medicine.

Raymond wrote the prescription for the drug.

<His Grace’s medication regimen is detailed below.>

In the short days since Raymond first gave me the prescription, I haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary.

Working in a pharmacy exposed me to a wide variety of drugs, so I was able to read prescriptions with ease.

The prescription merely called for common herbal remedies like tranquilizers and pain relievers.

The only real difference was that the duke’s version was created using higher-end materials and costlier labor.

<Is anything wrong?>

When Raymond noticed me looking closely at the prescription, he inquired, and I quickly averted my sight.

It would be inconvenient to cause Raymond undue suspicion.

<Raymond, do you have anything in the medicine that might help bring down his energy level?>

I made a sudden declaration.

<Well, none at all.>

When Raymond answered, his face became slightly flushed, and I felt the same way.

In the end, it wasn’t his vitality that mattered but rather his ‘life.’

The prescribed dosage was spot on. The medication might not be manufactured in accordance with the doctor’s instructions.

However, I am unable to make such a direct request.

It was quite suspicious of you to ask for the medication after looking over the prescription.

This would be the best time to step up security if someone in the mansion was planning to poison him.

While I was preoccupied with these ideas, Emma hurriedly grabbed the prescription bottle and departed.

I looked at the pills while licking my chapped lips.

‘What are the organic means of obtaining it?’

It’s like I’m attempting to put a cat’s collar on a dog.

My brain hurts from just imagining Emma’s reaction if I asked her for the meds by name.

Especially considering how wary she already seemed to be around me.

“What are you doing?”

I was startled by a voice, and as I looked up, I was met with piercing blue eyes.

“…What?”

I felt foolish and stammered for a second. For a little while, I was oblivious to both his words and my own thoughts.

The strength of his gaze was like that.

‘Oh, his eyes are so captivating.’

They were beautiful at whatever time I happened to glance at them. However, I hoped he would control his anger better.

“Are we not going out?”

“We are!”

When he asked again, I raised my voice to a louder pitch.

I grinned and put my arm through his.

There was still some unease in his expression, but he made no move to dismiss me.

“Come on, let’s go, Amoide.”

I pushed him and started walking toward the exit.

The back of my skull started to heat, and as I looked around, I saw Emma staring at me with her lips pursed.

—

“The weather today is nice as well.”

The servants we encountered seemed to have seen us previously, as their gazes were considerably less wary this time around.

Weird at first, they soon appeared to adjust to our unorthodox treks over the course of several days.

Amoide, who participated in the strolls, had the most trouble adjusting.

He seldom took leisurely strolls about the estate throughout the day.

He avoided introducing himself to anyone, including the house staff.

Emma, who served him frequently, saw the most of his face as a result.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said.

The intensity of Emma’s stare was unsettling.