IWMHWD 65

Chapter 65: The Husband’s Funeral
2024.01.04.

Cordelia’s face turned bright red in an instant. She grabbed a pillow and swung it at Leonard, driving him out of the room. Muttering complaints about how she was the one who begged him not to leave and now he was changing his mind, Leonard eventually left.

A little while later, Layla entered the room carrying a basin of warm water.

“You’re awake? How are you feeling?”

“When did Master come into my room?”

At Cordelia’s question, Layla awkwardly darted her eyes around before answering.

“Umm. Well, when I came in this morning, he was already here.”

“If he wanted to check in on me, he should’ve come during the day. Why in the—… Never mind. I want to take a bath.”

“Is your foot okay?”

“My foot? Oh… Now that you mention it, it doesn’t hurt?”

She lifted the blanket and checked. The swelling had noticeably gone down since yesterday. The fever that had been heating up her head and organs had vanished completely. Layla touched her forehead and looked delighted.

“No fever either. That’s a relief.”

“Yeah. I guess Master must’ve…”

Cordelia trailed off as the events she’d thought were part of a dream came rushing back—crying and clinging to him, begging him not to leave, and even forcing herself into his embrace to sleep.

What embarrassed her the most was the fact that she hadn’t been able to bathe properly in days due to her illness.

“Huh? Your face is red again. Is the fever coming back?”

“No, it’s just… Never mind. Can you draw the bath for me?”

“Yes. I’ll prepare it. Just a moment.”

Daily life returned.

And that alone made Cordelia feel like she’d gained the whole world. As if nothing had happened, they shared meals and occasionally held magic lessons.

Her leg had improved so much that she could move around without support.

Leonard was still busy—leaving early every morning and returning late at night—but he made sure to have at least one meal a day with Cordelia.

“Master, didn’t you say you’d head down to Wilas after finishing up here?”

“I did. Why?”

“Before that, could I visit Abrams for a bit? To see Craig…”

Even though the attendants were far away, Cordelia lowered her voice as a precaution.

“I can’t just leave him frozen forever. I think it’s time to give him a proper funeral.”

“Oh, right. You did have a husband, didn’t you?”

“That’s so harsh. You owe that husband of mine at least three months of favors, remember?”

“Hmph. Favors, my foot. So? What’s your plan?”

Leonard flicked his hand, dismissing the attendants from the dining room. Only then did Cordelia resume speaking in her normal voice.

“That’s the problem. When a husband dies during travel, the wife is always the prime suspect, right?”

“Most likely.”

“So I was thinking—what if he fell from the city wall in broad daylight when lots of people were around? Or maybe got hit by a carriage? The more witnesses, the better.”

“You haven’t lost your touch for saying terrifying things so casually.”

Leonard chuckled dryly and scooped some scrambled eggs into his mouth.

“Oh come on, compared to the sins Craig committed while alive, this is practically adorable.”

“Sins? What did he do to you?”

“Didn’t I tell you? On our wedding night, he brought his mistresses into our bedroom. When I refused, he sneered that I was as stiff as a log and threw me out. I was basically abandoned from day one, and you wouldn’t believe the abuse I endured.”

Though she could laugh about it now, back then, Cordelia cried herself to sleep night after night.

Her husband treated her like a ghost. Helena called her a parasitic leech draining their money. And her father-in-law, the Count of Abrams at the time, pressured her daily to produce a child.

“If he hadn’t died, I might’ve slipped some poisonous mushrooms into his food.”

Cordelia said this with a light laugh.

Leonard muttered darkly in response to her explanation.

“…We should crush his head under a carriage wheel.”

“No, no! If his face is disfigured, we’ll have a hard time identifying him. Hmm, maybe just a strong hit by a carriage instead? Falling from a wall might look like suicide. An accident would be much cleaner, less suspicious.”

“That makes more sense. And if there are plenty of witnesses, no one will doubt it.”

“Right. So about that… could you teach me puppet magic?”

“Puppet magic?”

Leonard lowered his spoon and raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Baron said I’d need to know it to control Craig’s body.”

“When are you going to learn that? To move joints smoothly, you’d need to study puppet magic for at least a year.”

“A year?!”

She had assumed it was as simple as moving objects with magic. But it turned out to be much more complex. The sudden complication made Cordelia panic a little.

“T-then what should I do? Should I hold Craig and jump in front of the carriage myself? I’ll be fine if I cast a shield spell…”

“Don’t be ridiculous. If Baron knows puppet magic, just take him with you.”

“Oh! That’ll work.”

Fortunately, the solution was right there. Cordelia brightened.

“So we’ll settle on the cause of death being a carriage accident… I should also send a letter to Abrams in advance. It’ll look suspicious if the only thing they hear is a sudden obituary.”

The two put their heads together and planned how best to stage Cordelia’s husband’s death.

“While we’re at it, we should fabricate his movements before he arrived at Yebo Delim.”

“His movements?”

“Wouldn’t it look strange if he suddenly shows up in Yebo Delim and immediately dies in a carriage accident? If we make it look like someone matching his build had been staying in a nearby village under the guise of the Count of Abrams, it’ll feel more natural.”

“Wow, Master. You’ve definitely done this before, haven’t you?”

Cordelia gave a genuinely impressed gasp. She hadn’t thought of that, but it would certainly avoid suspicion.

To top it off, they decided to scout for the perfect location where Craig would officially “die.”

“Master, are you free today?”

“Why? You want me to come with you?”

“Yes. I don’t know the geography of the capital well… But if you’re too busy, I can just take Baron or Belluche.”

Leonard was extremely busy. He was tracking Embley’s movements, gathering evidence, persuading other skeptical council members about the trial, and catching up on work as head of House Atillay. Every minute counted.

“Not particularly. I don’t have much scheduled for today.”

“Really? That’s great! I feel safer when I’m with you.”

She smiled brightly. Leonard stared at her for a moment before quickly turning his head and standing up.

“I’ll go on ahead. Tell me when you’re ready.”

“Okay!”

After Leonard left the dining room, Cordelia asked an attendant for paper and pen. She scribbled a note and handed it back.

“Can you take this to the Elfenbaum townhouse immediately?”

“Yes. Who should I say it’s for?”

“Give it to Lydia Elfenbaum. As soon as possible.”

“Give me your hand.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I can walk on my own now.”

“Don’t come whining later when you trip. Just give me your hand.”

He forcibly grabbed her hand and placed it on his arm.

They arrived at a bustling main road, wide enough for two carriages to pass simultaneously. Plenty of people were passing by. Cordelia scanned the street carefully.

“I’ll have Belluche drive the carriage… Where would be the best angle for him to run in from? Jumping out suddenly might look weird, right?”

“Who cares? People are too busy with their own lives to notice.”

“Should we try over here? Or maybe there?”

“Anywhere’s fine. It doesn’t make a difference.”

“No, no, I have to find the most natural and optimal spot. Isn’t there some kind of accident-prone area around here?”

Dragging her grumbling master along, Cordelia pulled him around, eyes scanning the roads.

But in truth, she wasn’t really looking for the best place to fake Craig’s death.

“Oh, is that Lydia?”

“What?”

“It really is Lydia!”

It sounded suspiciously rehearsed, but not enough to arouse actual suspicion. Cordelia beamed twice as brightly as usual and walked toward Lydia.

Lydia spotted her first and called out.

“Cordelia! What a surprise seeing you here.”

“Right? Such a coincidence.”

Thankfully, Lydia was better at acting than Cordelia. She turned to Leonard naturally.

“You’re here too, Leo? What brings you out?”

“Sightseeing with Master. Wow, what a fateful meeting! Should we go somewhere quiet and have a chat?”

“I’d love that.”

It was as if they’d rehearsed it. The conversation between Cordelia and Lydia flowed seamlessly, leaving no room for Leonard to intervene.

“Wait. What’s going on between you two?”

“W-what do you mean?”

Cordelia widened her eyes, feigning innocence, and looked up at Leonard.

“When did you two get so close? You’ve only met a few times.”

“We exchanged letters while I was stuck at home with my injured foot. We even visited a dessert shop toge— ahem.”

Remembering the disaster that followed that dessert shop trip, Cordelia cut herself off with an awkward cough.

“So Lydia was the one sending you letters nearly every day.”

“Yup. And ahem, Lydia and I are friends. Friends.”

The word “friends” made Cordelia’s eyes sparkle even more.

“You wouldn’t understand, Master. You don’t have any friends. But when friends run into each other on the street, they naturally sit down somewhere and chat over a drink or dessert.”

“Oh, is that so? Then you two ‘friends’ can chat all you want. I’m busy.”

As Leonard pretended to leave, Cordelia clung to his arm with pleading eyes.