After I Died, My Husband Went Mad - Chapter 328

As Dehart carefully drew the curtains to block out every last sliver of light, Sebelia blinked quietly, watching him. Sensing her gaze, he turned and smiled.

“Go on and get some sleep. I’ll rest too, so you don’t have to worry.”

“You always say that…”

Sebelia knew well that he often wandered the mansion at night, plagued by nightmares. Every time, he’d insist he was just waking up early because of work.

Even though she knew that wasn’t the truth, she never urged him about it. She understood why he wanted to keep those nightmares to himself.

“I mean it this time.”

Dehart said with a gentle smile, handing her a cushion. Sebelia studied him for a moment, then took the pillow and lay down on the spacious seat.

“Don’t push yourself to stay up. Just sleep.”

It was as if that simple phrase had triggered a spell—drowsiness crashed over her like a wave. Her vision faded in and out, and through the blur she saw Dehart.

He keeps changing the subject… there must have been something between him and Balak…

Sebelia thought, mind growing fuzzier by the second.

She wanted to keep following the thread, but her sleepless body had other plans. She yawned, again and again, and soon her world slipped into darkness.

“…She must really be looking forward to this.”

There was a faint, sighing voice by her head.

“I guess I’m the only one feeling anxious.”

* * *

The journey across the empire was far less arduous than Sebelia had imagined. The carriage was roomy and comfortable, and their itinerary was so leisurely, perfectly matched to her stamina, that they could even take detours to see the sights in each town along the way.

Of course, that didn’t mean everything was peaceful. With Dehart and Balak leading the Inverness and Ashrent parties, there was a constant, low-key battle of nerves between the two camps. Thankfully, those tense moments never escalated into outright fights.

If they had, I wouldn’t have stood for it.

Sebelia thought, casting a small sigh toward the city walls looming ever closer. Crossing the empire was a fascinating adventure—but she didn’t particularly want to repeat it with this group.

But the carriage rolled steadily on, and before long they passed through the gates and into the city proper. The moment the scenery spilled open outside the window, a blunt, honest remark rang out.

“Wow, it’s not as impressive as I expected.”

Eli, riding beside the carriage, looked around at the chipped buildings, cracked paving stones, and the tufts of grass poking through the main street. The only people in sight were a few scattered townsfolk. For a border city, it all looked remarkably drab.

He shook his head in disbelief, then caught Sebelia’s eye through the window.

“Don’t you think so, miss? Are you sure this is the border? There’s really nothing special about this place.”

“If the coachman hasn’t taken a wrong turn, then this should be it.”

“How strange…”

Eli muttered to himself, then hurried away under Dehart’s sharp look.

“There aren’t any merchant caravans passing through here, unlike other border cities. If people and money don’t flow, a city can’t thrive.”

Dehart explained quietly, having sent away the would-be distraction.

“But things will change—little by little.”

The moment diplomatic ties reopened, this city would become more prosperous than anywhere else. When he finished, Sebelia turned from the window to look at him, blue eyes sparkling with hope.

“Then, let’s come back again sometime.”

How could he possibly say no to a face that bright with anticipation? For a moment, the thought of a month-long journey from the capital to the border—and the mountain of work that would be waiting for him upon his return—made Dehart’s head spin.

But he pulled himself together and answered lightly,

“Anytime you want.”

Her radiant smile was enough to make his heart skip a beat. If he could see that smile, a few sleepless nights were a small price to pay.

Knock, knock.

Someone tapped at the door. Dehart peered out to find Eli standing there; their final meal in Belkram was ready.

“Right this way, please.”

The city’s only upscale restaurant, by the capital’s standards, was quite ordinary. Dehart had worried about privacy, but there was no need—a private room awaited, modest but perfectly adequate. It was apparently set aside for the occasional noble passing through.

Once the three of them were seated and the waiter had taken their orders, a brief hush fell over the room. Sebelia was struck by a sense of déjà vu.