After I Died, My Husband Went Mad - Chapter 263

“Sir Ludmil.”

“Welcome, Miss Bella, Duke Inverness. And Mr. Carl Appenz. His Highness is busy with other affairs today, so I’ll be your escort.”

Ludmil was waiting for them in front of the palace that had served as the exhibition hall.

“I assume you’re already familiar with the situation from the letter?”

“Yes, there’s no need for further explanation. Shall we go in?”

Looking at Sebelia, who was eager, Ludmil smiled.

“Perhaps this will be resolved faster than I expected.”

With a small laugh, Ludmil produced a key and unlocked the main entrance. Sebelia cast a quick glance at the guard officers stationed at either side of the door.

As they stepped into the hallway, Ludmil spoke quietly.

“Those are new recruits for today. There’s no need to be wary. The previous guards are currently being questioned by Prince Shateian.”

“…Was I that obvious?”

“Let’s just say I have a keen eye. This way, please. Do you remember the way?”

Sebelia shook her head slowly.

“To be honest, I don’t even remember how I left the palace that day.”

“I understand.”

They walked past the central hall until they reached a familiar corridor. One of the doors looked very familiar—the very parlor where Sebelia had encountered the fake mother on the night of the exhibition.

“They say the illusions tend to appear throughout the hallways surrounding that room. Apparently, you can even see them from outside, through the windows.”

“And the forms? Just as described—vague, ghostly shapes of people and nothing else?”

Sebelia slowly scanned the corridor.

Claude, staying a few paces back so as not to draw Ludmil’s attention, started inspecting the area quietly, while Dehart stood alert, flexing his fists as if preparing for anything.

Ludmil nodded and flipped through the documents he had brought.

“Yes, they appear at all hours. I even happened to witness one myself the other day. Honestly, I thought it was just the lingering remnants of an illusion you had conjured, Miss Bella…”

He trailed off, his gaze fixed on a spot down the corridor. The others instinctively followed his eyes.

There, at the far end, a vague figure appeared. It was a tall young man with short hair—clearly not one of the victims conjured as an illusion that night.

“…Who is that?”

Sebelia wondered aloud, only for Dehart to give the answer.

“That’s Grand Duke Lizette, His Majesty’s half-brother. How odd. He’s supposed to be in the provinces right now—and he certainly isn’t that young anymore.”

Grand Duke Lizette was well into middle age by now. The realization brought Sebelia some clarity about the illusion, but only deepened the confusion.

At that moment, Claude, who had been investigating near the parlor, exclaimed.

“Just as I thought.”

“Uncle?”

“Your power’s caught here, Bella.”

Claude pointed to the floor, where the pattern of a sorcerer’s double trap was faintly visible. Taking a powder from his pocket, he scattered it over the spot.

A deep, resonant hum filled the air as the leftover traces of the sorcery became visible. The residue had trapped Sebelia’s illusion magic, keeping it from dissipating.

“Once we erase the whole thing, the anomalies should fade naturally.”

Ludmil’s eyes lit up.

“So I can report to His Highness that these illusions will no longer appear?”

“Yes. Once you have people move the furniture and carpets and scrub every last trace, the strange occurrences should stop within a couple of days.”

“Excellent.”

Pleased, Ludmil began preparing to leave with the others. Meanwhile, Dehart’s expression remained troubled, mulling over Claude’s explanation.

A place where strong magic lingers… memories rooted to a location…

He wondered if the apparition he’d seen at Hillend Hall was connected to this event.

Just then, as the group returned to the main hall, they heard odd noises—muted laughter and soft whispers drifting from afar.

“Are you sure you saw something? Maybe it was just a curtain blowing in the breeze?”

“I swear I saw it! Just don’t cry if you get scared.”

As the voices drew nearer, the four of them stopped in their tracks. Soon, a group of five or six young noblewomen entered the hall, carrying picnic baskets and light blankets—clearly sneaking in for a secret outing in what they thought was an empty palace.

“Oh my!”

“Eek!”

Clearly, the girls hadn’t expected to find anyone there—startled, they let out shrill screams.

Ludmil raised his eyebrows.

“Well, this is something.”

It wasn’t hard to guess what had happened. One of the girls had probably slipped in through a back door or a gap in the wall and stumbled across the phantom apparition.

And then, excited by what she’d seen, she brought her friends along to witness it for themselves.

Had they been a more timid group, they’d have run away in fright, but these were girls at the peak of their curiosity and bravado. Ludmil couldn’t help but sigh when he noticed that one of them had even brought a bottle of wine.

While Ludmil pondered how on earth he was going to explain this ridiculous incident to Shateian, Sebelia let out a small, troubled sigh.

Among the group, she recognized a familiar face.

“Lady Rosalyn.”

In the midst of all those pale faces, a pair of golden eyes shone especially bright.