Even If It’s Depraved - Chapter 26

A few days later, Carlos chose his bride.

She was the daughter of one of the retainers.

The young girl, who had fallen in love with him at first sight years ago, was beside herself with joy at becoming the mistress of House Brandt.

“Surely he could have chosen a daughter from a far more distinguished family. Wasn’t that choice… rather too humble?”

“Well, aside from the other great noble houses or the royal family, there aren’t many that truly match Brandt’s standing. Perhaps he simply decided it didn’t matter, since there were no suitable maidens of the right age.”

The retainers and household murmured among themselves.

The wedding proceeded without delay.

As the young lord of Brandt had no desire for a grand ceremony, the marriage was held modestly. Fortunately, the new duchess did not mind in the least—she was simply happy to stand at Carlos’s side.

Under Brunhilde’s blessing, the newlyweds entered their bridal chamber.

Stepping into the room adorned in red, Carlos did not even bother to remove his formal attire. Instead, he first covered the bride’s eyes. Then, placing a black veil over her head like a wig, he lifted her skirts and began their union.

Having heard that some men possessed peculiar tastes, the bride submitted quietly to her husband.

The next morning, when Brunhilde received the cloth stained with the bride’s blood, she smiled brightly, a quiet satisfaction rising within her.

She sent flowers and gifts to her son and daughter-in-law, wishing for a child and celebrating the successful consummation of their marriage.

A month passed.

Carlos visited his wife’s chambers every night, and aside from the occasional morning greeting, he did not come to see Brunhilde at all.

Though she missed seeing her beloved son as often as before, it was enough to know that he had finally settled down. Brunhilde soothed the faint emptiness in her heart as she sat before the fireplace, knitting needles in hand.

There was no news of a pregnancy yet, but if they continued as they were, it would only be a matter of time. She intended to knit the baby clothes for her future grandchild herself.

“Madam, I’ve prepared the new tea you received.”

“Leave it there.”

She gestured to the small table beside her rocking chair and continued knitting diligently. The simple peace of the moment filled her heart.

At last, perhaps the cruel fate that had tormented her life for so long had released her. Yes… her life had been so wretched that even fate itself might have taken pity.

Thinking back on the years she had endured made her throat dry. She set down her knitting for a moment and lifted the teacup.

And just as she brought the lukewarm tea to her lips—

“Ugh!”

A violent wave of nausea rose, and she nearly dropped the cup.

The tea Carlos had sent, claiming it came from a distant region, had a nauseating, fishy scent. After retching several times, she pushed the cup far away.

The foul taste lingered in her mouth, refusing to fade even after rinsing with cold water.

As sour saliva pooled beneath her tongue, she suddenly found herself craving something fresh and tangy. After a moment’s thought, she called for a maid.

“My mouth feels off. Bring me some raisins.”

“Yes, Madam.”

“And take this tea away. The leaves must have been dried improperly, it’s far too foul to swallow.”

“…Yes, of course.”

The maid tilted her head slightly at the remark but nodded and removed the tray. Soon after, she returned with a plate of raisins.

As Brunhilde placed the shriveled fruit in her mouth, the queasiness eased somewhat.

* * *

It was about a week later when Brunhilde realized something was wrong.

The scent of cloves in the eisbein she had once enjoyed suddenly turned her stomach.

Unable to eat, she vomited what little she had taken in. Only then did she realize that, though she had often skipped meals before, she had been constantly snacking for days.

And that it had been over a month since her monthly bleeding had stopped.

A flash of intuition ran down her spine.

Instinctively, she dug through her memories—and remembered that when she had carried Carlos, she had experienced something similar.

“Ah…”

Her mind went blank. She had taken the medicine for so long. There had been only that one night without it.

And yet… how…

Why…

Her breath swelled in her throat, choking her. She couldn’t breathe.

Brunhilde collapsed to the floor, clawing at the carpet.

The red fibers snagging beneath her nails looked like blood scraped from a womb or like the blood that had stained her hands the day she stabbed Franz.

No. This couldn’t be happening.

Not this.

No sound escaped her parted lips, not even a scream. She writhed on the floor, thin tears streaming down her hollowed face.

Fate… how can you be so cruel to me?

The scent of cloves returned with her ragged breathing, and another wave of nausea surged. Struggling, she forced herself upright, only to bend over and vomit before she could fully stand.