I Accidentally Resurrected My Dead Husband - Chapter 9

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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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Episode 9
Digging your own grave with your own hands.
It was something Erne used to say to fellows who occasionally gave him lip. Yet they never did manage to dig their own graves—they were too busy getting beaten senseless by Erne to hold a shovel.
“Hell.”
So karma does come around. Erne, who’d been digging his own grave, irritably hurled the shovel aside.
“Why’d they bury it so damn deep?”
Erne Rainhardt wielding a shovel. Henry shook his head slowly—something he’d never done, even back when he was working as a servant. There stood Erne, fuming at having dug the whole thing out.
“Come on, let’s just open the coffin.”
Henry brushed away the remaining soil from the coffin lid with his hand, then wedged the shovel’s edge into the gap. There came a creak as the nails gave way, and the lid sprang open—Erne grabbed it and wrenched it back with both hands.
“Nothing there, as expected.”
The coffin was hollow. It made sense enough, since Erne was standing right here very much alive, but confirmation was necessary.
“So they buried an empty coffin from the start.”
Was the funeral just a farce, then? A way to spirit the body away? Erne closed the lid again, his brow furrowing. Restoring the grave would mean more shoveling, but he doubted this whole dirty business would turn up any real leads.
“This feels like digging without purpose.”
“Well, that’s what happens when you’re actually the one doing the digging.”
What was that supposed to mean? Was Henry mocking him? Erne shot him a glare brimming with irritation, but Henry simply went on shoveling dirt back over the coffin as if he’d heard nothing at all.
“So what’s the plan now?”
“We’ll have to tear through everything I can remember. Every place I’ve hidden things.”
* * *
“Thank you so much, ma’am. Thank you, truly.”
Meanwhile, Judit was in the midst of a series of deep bows, cradling a fine bottle of wine in her arms.
“It’s too gracious a thanks for merely passing along some spare wine, Miss Herington.”
The Marquise Ferni gestured for her to go. Judit bowed once more and hurried out of the parlor.
“Miss Herington, just a moment.”
The Marquise’s handmaid caught hold of Judit as she made for the door. The woman led her to the kitchen and gave her several potatoes, a chunk of white bread, and some pork wrapped in paper.
“The Marquise was worried you might not be eating well.”
“Oh my, the Marquise truly does have such a kind heart.”
Judit felt genuine gratitude. Kindness springs from a full pantry, they say. The Marquise was one of her largest candle customers—not only did she order in bulk, but she always added a generous tip. And today she’d freely given away leftover wine and food besides.
‘She really is a good woman.’
Without the Marquise, she’d have had to buy that wine with her own money. This morning, Erne had the gall to ask her for pocket money—for a sword and new clothes, he said. Fine, clothes were necessary. It hurt her purse, but it wasn’t impossible. But then.
“I checked the pantry and there’s not a single bottle of wine left. Get some more.”
“Wine? You want me to buy wine?”
“Yes, you, Judit Herington. Or what, should we divorce? Want to divorce?”
Threatening her like that. It was infuriating. A husband who’d blackmail her into buying him wine—truly the worst.
Judit had never wanted to marry, but if she ever did, she’d imagined it would be to a steady working man with a regular salary. Instead she’d found herself supporting an unemployed drunk. There was nowhere to complain, nothing but frustration bottled up inside.
“Please don’t tell me he’s drinking a bottle a day.”
The thought was ominous. Judit shuddered as if to shake off the dread, and as she headed home, a familiar voice called out to her.
“Miss Herington—or rather, Countess, now.”
“Mr. Cliff?”
“How have you been?”
The lawyer Cliff dismounted from his horse, waving toward Judit. True to his reputation as an educated man, he came bearing gifts—a box of spices: salt, pepper, and herb powders. Judit accepted it gladly.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Cliff. That emergency fund you gave me last time has been invaluable.”
“It’s only what I should do.”
She’d noticed before that Cliff’s manner of speaking and his actions were quite considerate. If their initial meeting had been under normal circumstances, Judit might have misunderstood his attentiveness as something more.
“I heard a loan shark came by.”
After exchanging pleasantries, Cliff broached the subject with visible reluctance as they neared the mansion. An excuse followed—that he’d been unaware of a contract between Smith and Count Rainhardt until he’d recently discovered the documents.
“I had no idea the Count had resorted to borrowing from such people. How shocked you must have been. I felt terribly sorry when I heard.”
Judit found Cliff’s tone subtly grating. It was as if he kept one foot back from all of this. From the wedding day until now, he’d maintained a consistent stance: that everything was orchestrated by the cadet branches acting in concert, and that he was merely their agent handling the arrangements.
If Cliff were an external hire, his demeanor wouldn’t seem odd. But Erne’s explanation suggested otherwise.
“Cliff blamed it all on the cadet branches? He’s spitting in his own face. The Ackerman Family is the closest cadet branch to the Rainhardt Family there is.”
So Cliff himself was implicated in her marriage, wasn’t he?
“Though it’s rather late, I’d like to offer whatever small assistance I can.”
“Assistance?”
“Yes, I believe I can manage to provide some three million Gold. If you repay even that much first, couldn’t you negotiate an extension on the payment deadline?”
That was true enough, but why would the family’s lawyer offer to lend her money?
“I’ll lend it to you without interest.”
And without interest, no less?
“Yes, I should have disclosed the debt beforehand, but I failed in that duty.”
That was true—it was his mistake. But three million Gold simply handed over for a single oversight? After maintaining that careful distance, now he was suddenly stepping in with a sense of moral obligation. It seemed very suspicious.
“What could possibly make you trust me with such a large sum?”
Judit could have taken the three million Gold and fled. Even if she paid back the debt and postponed the repayment date, there was no profit in it for Cliff. Judit didn’t believe in such goodwill.
“You have a sharp mind, madam.”
Cliff began speaking as if apologetic.
“The truth is, I need some reasonable collateral. You needn’t feel burdened. It only needs to look convincing on paper.”
There it was. Judit’s eyes narrowed. As it happened, she had collateral that would look convincing.
“What about the Rainhardt Mansion?”
If Cliff’s proposal had been one of genuine goodwill, he would take the mansion as collateral. It wasn’t a sellable property, but nominally it would be perfect as security.
“A mansion as collateral wouldn’t quite work, ha ha. It looks far too like actual collateral. I’m not running a loan shark operation against you, madam—I don’t need a mansion.”
Ah, so he didn’t want the mansion. Behind her troubled expression, Judit’s eyes grew sharp. Cliff extended his hand like a man offering kindness—but what was it he truly wanted to take?
“You do have a title, don’t you?”
“Isn’t that illegal?”
“Which is precisely why it serves as collateral on paper. Even if you failed to repay me, I’d have no legal means to claim it.”
No. He had some means. He had some method to hand over three million Gold and slip away with the title in his pocket. As a lawyer, he’d know a hundred ways to slip through the cracks of the law.
‘It seems Cliff wants to use me to become a count.’
Does he think I’m a fool? Judit watched his face while pretending to deliberate.
“Don’t be troubled, madam. Think it over.”
He made a suspicious proposal that anyone with a moment’s thought would see through, yet he seemed to harbor no expectation of refusal. Then again, if he was thinking of the old Judit, it would have made sense. She had been simple-minded and weak-willed. How fragile must she have been to follow Erne into the afterlife when she witnessed his death?
‘That Judit’ might have trembled at the loan shark’s demands, then eagerly accepted the proposal from a friendly-faced Cliff. But that was not now. The current Judit wore the same shell, but the inside was an entirely different person.
“I’m grateful for the offer, Cliff. But no matter how I think about it, I’d be imposing a terribly great burden on you.”
Judit deliberately waved her hand in refusal, speaking earnestly. Since Cliff believed her to be the simple-minded Judit, she had to match that image.
“No, madam. It’s not an imposition.”
“Oh, but that’s exactly what it would be. I’m the kind of person who can’t bear to trouble others.”
Dead or alive, she would never burden Cliff—and with that resolve, Judit opened the gate of the Rainhardt estate like she was fleeing.
“Please don’t concern yourself anymore, Cliff. Your help until now has been more than enough.”
“No, madam, please listen to what I—”
Judit pushed Cliff’s shoulder like a tragic heroine and closed the gate. Gripping the iron frame of the gate, she performed a proper bow to Cliff, who stood uncertainly outside, lifting her skirt hem slightly.
“If I imposed a three-million-Gold burden on a good man like you, I couldn’t bear it. My, what a fine person you are. You’ll be blessed for this.”
She collected the spices Cliff had given her piece by piece and slipped into the mansion like a fugitive.
“Wait…”
Cliff’s hand, stretched into empty air, fell uselessly. As he spoke with Judit, he’d been holding his hat in his hand, and now he crumpled it, letting out a rueful laugh despite himself. “What the—”
“Is she still someone worth saving, or does she simply lack common sense?”

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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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