I Woke Up from Hibernation and Found a Husband - Chapter 101

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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 101
The Death of Marquis Temper
A man presumed to be a caretaker who had lent his hand to Umbra’s misdeeds was dead. Ludwig’s eyes grew cold and distant.
“What was the cause?”
“According to the official statement from Temper, it was the aggravation of a chronic illness.”
“A lie.”
“Yes, that seems highly probable.”
Kenneth nodded without emotion. If it truly had been a worsening of chronic illness, the watchers the Guild had stationed there would have noticed something amiss. And the timing was far too convenient to simply accept at face value.
“Are they trying to cut off loose ends?”
“Eliminating him isn’t so much cutting off a tail as it is severing the head itself, so I doubt that’s the intention.”
Marquis Cairo Temper was Empress Bianca’s most powerful backing. Even if he was corrupt and cunning, he doted on his own daughter, so the circumstances were peculiar enough to doubt that the Empress would have directly orchestrated this.
‘Could there have been friction between Umbra and Temper?’
The exact reason remained unclear, but it was certain that something was unfolding at the Convent.
“We should return to the Convent first.”
At those words, Ludwig nodded and turned to look at Claire and Theodore.
“You two should come as well.”
The deadline Umbra had announced was drawing near, and the political situation was shifting by the day. They desperately needed eyes and ears in the capital. Right now, the two children before him were Ludwig’s most trusted allies.
“I’ll remain here to watch over Choseok and guard the Border. You go and do what you can.”
At his words, both their expressions brightened. The worry that Ludwig might stop them had instantly dissolved into relief.
Ludwig barely managed to suppress a bitter smile at the sight.
‘I can’t hold you back now.’
He, who held the position of Marquis of the Border, had been helpless against Umbra—shamefully so. He had charged forward blindly, unaware that Gregory was destroying his son and upending his grandson’s life.
‘And yet you two are brilliantly overcoming it all through your own strength and moving toward an ending.’
The children had grown tall and surpassed him before he knew it. There was no way to stop them, and no reason to. Ludwig recalled the figures of the two as they faced the High Orc—fearless and brimming with confidence. A new era was approaching.
“I will surely find a way to end this crisis.”
“We’ll be back.”
They moved at once. Claire and Theodore, having packed light, exchanged farewells with Isabella.
“I’ll be waiting.”
Isabella’s eyes were reddened with emotion, but she shed no tears. She simply held them close, trusting they would return safely, sharing her warmth with them.
“You’re so brave, Bella.”
Claire gently stroked her hair with evident pride. At the affectionate way her name was spoken, Isabella smiled brightly.
“Then we’ll be on our way.”
It was just as the three were about to turn and leave.
“Claire.”
Ludwig called out to her one last time. As Claire turned with a puzzled expression, she saw Ludwig’s solemn face.
“Yes?”
A subtle tension hung in the air. Everyone watched Ludwig’s lips, waiting for what he would say.
“You may call me casually as well.”
“Pardon?”
“Just as you do with Theodore and Isabella, you may call me informally. For instance… yes, something like ‘Grandfather.'”
“…What?”
* * *
“At last! At last, the final piece has come together. And it’s the direct descendant of that despicable Temper, no less. Could fortune smile any brighter!”
Tenel laughed wildly, clutching the crimson vessel in his hand. What manner of house was Temper? A loyal servant who had led the charge in destroying the Holy Site alongside Berus, yet harbored not a shred of guilt in massacring Imber under the guise of maintaining order—a truly wicked house.
“My brethren! Rejoice! We shall open the gates of the Underworld with the enemy’s power and erase that shameful history!”
Gregory observed him quietly, trembling with joy. What Tenel held in his hands was Marquis Temper’s heart—a crystallized manifestation of formidable ability that would serve as the focal point of the sorcery Tenel was weaving.
Gazing upon that vivid crimson, Gregory found himself thinking of Bianca. A woman possessed of such ruthlessness that she would place even blood relatives upon the scales without hesitation.
‘To make her son emperor, she would sacrifice anything without reservation.’
Without a shred of doubt, the final moments of a man who had once been cherished as a beloved daughter’s own flesh and blood were rendered so utterly pathetic.
“What shall we do with Prince Elliott? We have taken him captive as leverage for our agreement with the Empress, but…”
Even as the lunar eclipse approached and the contract’s efficacy waned, so long as the covenant between Berus and Sio remained steadfast, countless restrictions bound any direct attempt to sever Berus’s lifeline.
“Moreover, Elliott genuinely possesses Berus’s ability, so it would be difficult for us to harm him at present.”
“Tsk, quite so. To have the enemy’s descendant before my eyes and yet be forced to merely watch. How vexing.”
Tenel clicked his tongue. How he wished to tear apart both the accursed Temper and Berus’s descendant, yet the time was not yet ripe.
“For now, keep him confined. Do not forget to prevent him from using his ability. In any case, when that day arrives, all existence within this land shall return to nothingness, so there is no need to hurry.”
“As you command.”
“Ah, what the Empress demanded was Gregory. You shall handle it yourself. Since he is no longer needed, you may dispose of him.”
“Yes, I shall conclude matters cleanly.”
As Gregory bowed deeply, Tenel’s laughter echoed above his bowed head. All the materials had been gathered, and the installation of Choseok was in its final stages.
The ancient grudges of the past were about to transform into the nightmares of the present and spill forth upon the world.
* * *
The sudden news of Marquis Temper’s death sent the Convent into upheaval.
Poisoning by aggrieved subordinate houses, revenge by wronged servants—countless baseless rumors spread with alarming speed.
In particular, whenever three or more nobles gathered, speculation about the next Marquis inevitably arose.
“The Marquis has only one child—Empress Bianca. Surely they will seek a successor from the collateral branches.”
“But there is no one in the collateral branches who possesses the Crimson Flame ability, is there?”
“Still, if the blood line continues, perhaps in the next generation…”
Several collateral members of Temper were bandied about as candidates for the next Marquis, yet the prevailing opinion was that it mattered little who it would be. The next Marquis would be nothing but a puppet. It was only natural that Bianca would seize actual power.
“Damn it! What is this madness, happening overnight!”
Hector poured whiskey into his glass with trembling hands until it overflowed, then drained it in one gulp. His dreams of growing intimate with Bianca and living lavishly on Temper’s wealth had evaporated into thin air.
What was worse, Bianca had told him the day before Marquis Temper’s death that purification work would no longer be necessary, leaving him without even a pretext to visit the Palace.
“Rozina, that incompetent wretch!”
He had given her several opportunities to be alone with Aaron, yet nothing of substance had transpired between them before the chances ended. Alcohol and rage consumed him from within.
‘The pittance earned from purification has its limits.’
Healing ability possessed narrower utility than he had hoped. The clients who had once sought out Rozina in fear of drug disasters were gradually ceasing their visits as time passed.
‘How can I simply let slip away the financial pipeline and connections I have cultivated?’
Once a man has gazed upon the sea, a lake appears only meager. Hector, remembering the vast funds he had once amassed through Ian, had come to mistake those past glories for achievements of his own making.
‘Ian and House Lloyd can take me far further.’
He drew toward himself the portrait of Ian that lay in the corner of the Study table. The golden goose that House Lloyd had produced, the one that laid eggs of wealth. The only thing he could truly rely upon was his brother’s ability.
“Ian, I shall make excellent use of the gift you left behind in this world.”
Recalling Claire’s indifferent expression, Hector laughed with a bitter edge before draining his glass repeatedly and retrieving a small vial from the safe.
Within the thumb-sized glass bottle churned a formless black substance that writhed with malevolent intent. As he gazed upon that ominous object with satisfaction, he turned toward Ian’s portrait and spoke as though offering reassurance.
“Heh heh, don’t worry. This isn’t the sort of thing that kills. It merely makes one docile and obedient.”
The man laughed, boasting of how difficult it had been to obtain, yet his eyes remained cold—a stark contrast to the feverish heat kindled by intoxication.

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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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