After I Died, My Husband Went Mad - Chapter 215

Leaning back with a sharp breath, Sebelia left Dehart uncertain. He glanced at Claude, silently asking for advice.

“…What am I supposed to do?”

“You’re the teacher!”

In a lowered voice, Dehart scolded his immature uncle, then looked anxiously at Sebelia. Claude rested his chin on his hand, watching the foolish nephew.

After a moment, Sebelia seemed composed, and Claude spoke in a theatrical tone:

“Bella, your talent is almost a problem.”

“What?”

Dehart glared at him as if he was talking nonsense. Sebelia lifted her eyes to Claude in exhaustion. Seeing her expression, Claude sighed.

“If you were an ordinary illusionist, a few training sessions in sensory sharing wouldn’t have resulted in such deep assimilation.”

“…”

“Bella, you haven’t just connected sight and hearing, right? With your skill, you must have truly felt as if you were there.”

“…Yes.”

“Exactly. That’s why cutting the connection puts excessive strain on your body. Not that it’s bad—only someone with your talent could pull off such an advanced ‘inversion’ technique after a couple of practices.”

Claude shook his head in admiration at Sebelia’s prowess. Dehart, however, felt uneasy about the unfamiliar word ‘inversion.’

I’m sure I’ve heard that term somewhere…

But that thought was short-lived. Sebelia suddenly spoke, hitting him like a blow to the back of the head.

“The art exhibition seems to be a trap, just as we suspected.”

Claude lamented, and Dehart’s eyes widened.

“What I just saw was Nelia and Prince Delion… and from what I hear, they’re planning something with Nathan.”

“I should have roasted him with lightning back then.”

“If we had, Father would have found a fault to hold onto. Setting that aside, we need to prepare. For now, find out what Nathan and Father are up to.”

To sketch out the trap’s outline, they had to dig into Wheddon, rather than Prince Delion or the First Queen, who rarely appeared at the palace. Calmly, Sebelia outlined the plan for the next four days, and both men nodded seriously.

* * *

By the time they roughly divided their tasks, evening had already fallen. Hungry, Claude quickly stood up, now in the guise of Karl Appenz.

“Ah, the smell of good food. Hard to resist.”

Following behind, Dehart suddenly stopped, recalling the identity of ‘inversion’ that had unsettled him moments ago.

‘Inversion’ was Claude’s term for his illusion technique—an advanced skill of flipping a detailed illusion over one’s body, synchronizing it with breath and movement.

At the same time, a woman with red hair and black eyes flashed through his mind. It was Sebelia, who had gone to see Nelia and returned as a completely different person.

As that thought struck, Dehart quickly turned to look at Sebelia following behind.

I had completely forgotten.

It was inevitable. He had scolded her too harshly and she had fainted. But Dehart blamed himself more than the situation.

This time, he resolved to ask her gently and carefully.

“Bella.”

“Yes?”

Startled, Sebelia looked up to meet his gaze. Her blue eyes were filled with herself, and Dehart flinched. His stern expression looked fierce even to himself.

Forcing a smile, he glanced around, then softly guided her into the open room.

“Dehart?”

“Could you spare a moment?”

“What is it?”

Sebelia tilted her head in question. Dehart hesitated, checked his reflection in the window, and finally broached the subject.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something, but the timing was never right. May I ask about that appearance you had in the carriage the other day? If I’m right, you used something like ‘inversion,’ just like Claude.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not prying. I just want to be able to recognize you when you need to take on a different form.”

If such a moment came again, it would surely be when Sebelia’s safety was in danger—like when she narrowly escaped Nelia’s scheme that requires quick thinking.

And such a moment could come at any time. The upcoming art exhibition was proof enough.

“If it happens again, and I fail to recognize you like last time…”

Dehart gritted his teeth at the terrible thought.