I Accidentally Resurrected My Dead Husband - Chapter 10

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 10
“Those loan sharks—did they think she was so pitiful living alone that they’d go easy on her?”
I’d expected to find her trembling with fear at the mention of the loan sharking collectors, but there she stood, perfectly composed.
Men are all the same. Cliff cast one more glance at the Mansion before turning his horse toward the exit. His plan was simple: gently coax the frightened Udith into signing the documents that would appoint his father as the Count’s Proxy.
Even if he loaned Udith three million gold, the probability of her repaying the two hundred million gold debt was virtually nonexistent. Then she’d be dragged off by Smith, and Cliff’s Father, in his capacity as Count’s Proxy, would have the authority to choose the next heir to the title. And whom would he choose? His son, of course—Cliff himself. The scheme would cost him three million gold, true, but if it meant becoming a Count, that was a pittance.
‘You mustn’t prosper too much, Miss Herrington.’
Cliff swung himself into the saddle and took the reins from his attendant, issuing his command.
“Go to the Gambling Den now and bring me Leon Herrington.”
* * *
“The person who orchestrated this marriage—it has to be Cliff. Ern, didn’t you say you’d stayed in contact with him?”
“I know Cliff well enough.”
Ern studied the bottle of liquor that Udith had obtained from Marquise Ferni, his gaze intent.
“A good man, he was.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He always paid for my drinks.”
What a good person. What a good person indeed. Udith had to restrain the urge to strike Ern across the back.
“Cliff might have been the one who killed you.”
“By marrying you off to snatch the title for himself?”
“Or maybe he wanted to kill you all along, but then saw an opportunity to get the title in the bargain.”
Looking at him now, she found him infuriating. Perhaps Cliff had wanted to kill him too, for all she knew. There was plenty she wanted to say, but Udith kept it to herself.
“There’s something else I’m curious about though.”
“What is it?”
“This bottle—it looks like someone started drinking from it and left it half-finished.”
Well, that’s because someone did drink from it and leave it half-finished.
“See, there’s a good bit missing from the mouth of the bottle.”
Here we were, discussing how this supposedly generous Cliff might have murdered him, and he was fixating on an almost-empty bottle?
“You didn’t find this lying around, did you?”
“Where would I find an expensive bottle like this?”
“So you had a sip from it?”
“…Yes.”
Udith heard herself lying without thinking. Somehow it felt as though admitting she’d taken a sip would make Ern let the matter drop—
“That’s a lie. Where did you get this?”
but apparently not.
“I was given it.”
“Given it by whom?”
“By Marquise Ferni.”
I’d asked if she had any spare liquor, and she’d offered this at once. It was a gift to the Marquis, she said, but it didn’t suit her taste, so it had been gathering dust in the cellar.
“The source is reliable, so there’s nothing wrong with drinking it.”
Ern ignored her words entirely, his attention fixed instead on the ingredients she’d laid out to prepare. Potatoes with sprouts already pushing through their skin, bread with a hardened crust, pork that smelled distinctly off.
“Did Marquise Ferni give you those too?”
“Yes.”
“The Marquise treats you like a beggar she’s handing out scraps to.”
The condition of the ingredients was hardly consistent with pure goodwill.
“Are you saying this is charity you’ve begged for?”
Ern’s voice had turned sharp and cold. Surely he wasn’t angry on my behalf for being treated like a pauper? His temperament was awful, but perhaps his heart was—
“I’m asking if you went around begging and came home with a bottle to offer me.”
As if. Udith wanted to snatch the bottle from his hands, but she held back. Unfortunately, in their relationship, Ern held all the power.
“It’s not as if I put my mouth directly on it—what does it matter? Just drink it. Do you think a bottle of liquor costs a fortune?”
Udith carved away the sprouted sections of the potatoes and peeled the skin, dropping them into cold water.
“Look, see? Once you do this, they’re as good as new potatoes. For the pork, I’ll bleed it thoroughly and drown it in spices—the smell will vanish.”
“Is that really what matters now? The Marquise treated you like a beggar, and you don’t feel any loss of pride?”
At Ern’s question, Udith’s lips curled into a smile.
“Ah, well, I’m rather flexible when it comes to pride.”
“……”
He’d met people with flexible joints, people with flexible convictions, but never in his life had he encountered someone with flexible pride. And she took considerable pride in that fact, no less.
“I’ve lived a long time and seen much, but this is the first time I’ve met someone with flexible pride. It was worth dying and coming back to life for.”
“Don’t be sarcastic. Can you buy a loaf of bread with pride?”
Before money, pride meant nothing. That was Udith’s philosophy. You couldn’t earn your living with pride. Hunger made pride worthless.
“Even a single gold coin saved is a coin toward wealth.”
“Your ambitions are grand. You’re two hundred million gold in debt and still dreaming of becoming rich.”
“Everyone wants to be rich, don’t they? Surely you’re no exception, Ern?”
Well. Except for early childhood, he’d never truly desired wealth. After moving to Count Rainhardt’s Estate, he’d never gone hungry—perhaps that was why. But it wasn’t just wealth; he’d never yearned for anything at all. When they told him to become a knight, he became one. When they ordered him to the battlefield, he went. There was nothing else for him to do besides that.
“So what would you do with all that money? Wear gold rings on all ten fingers?”
Ern answered with a question of his own.
“I’d simply live comfortably without worrying about anything.”
“Without worrying?”
An unusual turn of phrase, Ern mused, and Udith felt a twinge of regret. That particular expression probably didn’t exist in this language.
“I’d like to live without envying anyone.”
Her vision of life was modest. A house of her own, a horse, and a carriage.
She’d need a coachman since she couldn’t drive the carriage herself, and it would be nice to have a maidservant to help with housework and keep her company. With that, perhaps a small commercial building in a decent location to lease out as retirement income—and she could live without wanting for much more.
“That’s hardly modest. Not one bit, actually.”
Ern clicked his tongue at Udith’s plans and opened a bottle of liquor. She was the one who ought to click her tongue. It hadn’t been five minutes since she’d sworn she wouldn’t drink alcohol obtained through begging.
“I’m only drinking this because I’m desperate, but I won’t touch the food.”
Bah, then go hungry. As Udith simmered the pork stew, she puffed out her lip. She wouldn’t give him any until he came crawling and asked for it.
But as she’d said before, their relationship was clearly hierarchical—Ern held the upper hand and Udith the lower. After finishing the stew, Udith tugged at his pant leg and pleaded, and eventually Ern graciously consented to eat it.
He grumbled about it being charity food, but after the first spoonful, he ate heartily. The first time is hard, but the second is easy. Udith was already planning to keep accepting the provisions the gracious Marquise Ferni would provide going forward.
“The taste isn’t much either.”
After emptying an entire bowl, what nonsense, sir. Udith swallowed the words she’d wanted to say as she cleared away the empty dish.
Scratch-scratch.
“Hmm?”
What was that sound? Scratch. Where was it coming from? Udith tilted her head in bewilderment.
“What’s wrong?”
“Don’t you hear something like insects crawling somewhere?”
“Not at all.”
Had she imagined it? She was certain she’d heard it. Udith rubbed her ear as if it itched. Watching her, Ern’s eyes narrowed.
“……Surely not.”
It couldn’t be. It wouldn’t be. It had no business being here.
* * *
“Have you checked everywhere you were supposed to?”
Ern had asked Henry to investigate his final movements. He couldn’t conduct inquiries himself while feigning death.
“Yes, I’ve been running around asking questions everywhere—I’m exhausted.”
Henry first revisited the Inn where Ern had been staying.
Years ago, after the Imperial Concubine’s rebellion was suppressed, Ern had lost his Knight Title and been forced out of the Imperial Court. As he’d been a Concubine Palace Knight, he should have been executed, but thanks to his service in saving the current Empress, his life was spared. Until then, Ern had lived in the Imperial Knight Barracks, but finding new lodgings seemed troublesome, so he’d taken up long-term residence at the Inn. And that Inn bed was his last memory.
“Remember the Innkeeper’s Son? The boy who looked about fifteen and often ran errands for you?”
“Ah, yes, I remember.”
“He said you mentioned having an appointment when you left.”
An appointment? Ern searched his memory but couldn’t fathom what appointment that might be.
“So I also visited that Tavern you frequented.”
Ern had taken most of his meals at the Inn, but he often drank at the Tavern. The liquor sold at the Inn was abysmal.
“What did the Tavern Owner say?”
“I couldn’t meet him.”
“Why not?”
“The Tavern Owner died in a carriage accident some time ago. But I heard something peculiar from one of the staff there.”
The employee said that starting from some point, the Tavern Owner’s spending had increased dramatically. Yet the shop’s sales had actually dropped.
“Here’s my theory: either the Tavern Owner was hired to poison your drink, or someone witnessed poison being added to your drink and was paid for their silence.”
And then the perpetrator had him killed to erase the evidence.
“Give me that medicine.”
Ern held out his hand to Henry. Henry hesitated, then pulled the Truth Potion from his jacket pocket.
“You’re really going to use it?”
“Isn’t that why you bought it?”
“But your wife seems to be the victim here.”
After hearing about the Truth Potion from Henry, Ern had asked him to bring it. It was meant for Udith.
“I see it that way too, but I need to confirm it once and for all.”
A small vial of medicine gleamed in Ern’s hand.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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