SBWCM 04

Chapter 04

“Edah, do I really need to be the one to state that that woman shared a bed with your brother the most?”

Edah felt wronged. I shared a bed with Ivar? It hadn’t been a bed of intimacy, but pure sadism.

She recalled the memory of Ivar engaging with other women right in front of her just to torment her.

Overlaying that memory was the face of Ingrid, riding atop Ivar while looking at Edah with a triumphant sneer, which suddenly brought a wave of nausea to her stomach.

“N-No, it’s not true.”

However, her voice was far too faint. After all, she had hardly ever spoken a word until now.

“I, I… It wasn’t me.”

Her voice sounded terribly hideous. As soon as she had arrived in this place, she had ingested poison handed to her by someone, leaving her voice permanently ruined.

Whenever Ivar heard that voice, he would sneer, saying it sounded like the death rattle of a man having his lungs pierced.

At any rate, her small, raspy voice was entirely ineffective at resolving the situation.

“It wasn’t?”

Looking at Astaldo’s ferocious face, Edah gasped for air.

Unlike Ivar, who had possessed a rotten personality but a gentle countenance, Astaldo looked thoroughly terrifying.

“It’s a lie. They spent every night together. Isn’t that right?”

As Ingrid spoke as if soliciting agreement, all the women facing the threat of death nodded frantically.

Edah bit her lip. That had never been something she wanted—never!

Seeing Edah’s pale, bloodless face, a smile settled onto Ingrid’s features.

“Is that so? You spent your nights with my brother… He must have favored you greatly.”

The corners of his mouth curled upward. At his voice, which sounded distinctly displeased, Edah cowered, convinced that her head was about to be severed.

Astaldo released a low breath and drew the sword resting at his waist.

Edah squeezed her eyes shut tightly, her body trembling violently.

Unlike Ingrid, Edah had even attempted to run away, so there was truly no reason whatsoever to spare her life.

“Aaargh!”

However, startled by the scream from Ingrid that followed immediately after, she opened her eyes. Astaldo’s sword had pierced right into Ingrid’s abdomen.

Blood splattered. Edah let out a small shriek and ducked her head.

Why? Why on earth…?

“Why…?”

It seemed Ingrid felt the same way. She clutched her stabbed stomach, gasping heavily for breath.

Edah covered her mouth with both hands. It felt as though a scream would burst out at any moment.

Knights stepped forward and surrounded Edah.

In that moment, Edah realized something.

When she had been captured while fleeing, the knights had not handled her roughly. That meant this man had intended to make her his Archduchess right from the start.

Knights stood around Edah. Through the gaps between them, she could see Ingrid spitting blood-red froth, pointing a finger at Edah while attempting to say something. It was undoubtedly a curse.

Ingrid was undeniably a person who had tormented her. Yet that very woman had lost her life at Astaldo’s hand. Blood poured like rain, soaking the floor.

Ingrid collapsed, the focus fading from her eyes. The surrounding air filled with shrieks, making Edah feel as though she were losing her mind.

Still… is this right? Is it really right for Ingrid to die like this?

Edah stared at the man. Blood was still dripping steadily from the sword he held.

With Ingrid’s death, the remaining women all understood: they were all going to die right now.

Amidst that living hell, Edah felt her mind growing distant.

Edah brushed off the hands of the knights who were trying to lead her away, and grabbed the arm of Astaldo standing beside her.

“What…?”

Having grabbed him, Edah was even more panicked than he was. She had dared to grab the Archduke’s arm. Edah trembled uncontrollably for a long moment.

If it had been Ivar, he would have slapped her across the cheek immediately. Holding his arm with her shaking hand, Edah shook her head.

“Please don’t kill them…”

“……”

“P-Please…”

It was a ridiculous plea, but it felt unjust that women—even those who had victimized her—should have to die simply by a single man’s choice.

Though she had wished for Ingrid’s death, seeing her actually die was far more gruesome than she had imagined. Hadn’t it been like this when she lost her mother and sister? Edah was terrified of death.

“Edah.”

Astaldo looked at Edah’s face once, then sheathed his sword with a dissatisfied expression.

The knights likewise re-sheathed their swords and dragged the women away.

Edah let out a sigh of relief.

“My sister-in-law—no, my wife’s appearance is a mess. Go wash my wife.”

As he spoke, Astaldo looked straight into Edah’s eyes.

“For today, we shall use the Archduke’s bedchamber together.”

Edah was being attended to by the maidservants with a dazed expression.

It still didn’t feel real.

Ingrid’s death, Astaldo’s choice, and herself, who would soon be heading to his bedchamber.

Why did Astaldo choose me?

Edah looked down at her own body.

It was a withered, small frame—a pathetic body where her ribcage showed whenever she twisted her torso. Furthermore, her skin was covered in numerous scars.

Scars earned while wandering with her mother and sister.

Scars earned after being dragged off into the Mahina Duchy.

Scars earned right here.

On top of that, the wound on her knee, sustained while being captured during her escape, looked even more unsightly as blood seeped out. Everything was a scar.

It was a body far more hideous than those of the maidservants beside her.

Was that all? Ivar had often insulted her silver hair, calling it like an old hag’s, while claiming the only passable thing about her was her teal eyes.

Sometimes he would mock her pale complexion, sneering that it wasn’t a pretty shade of white, but the color of a corpse.

The maidservants applying oil to her body with rough hands were by no means favorable toward her.

Particularly when applying makeup, they caked on so much powder that she had to cough repeatedly.

“It suits you well.”

One maidservant said offhandedly as she threw a garment onto her.

The red slip was an item originally intended for Ingrid, who possessed a voluptuous figure, leaving the chest area utterly loose and baggy on Edah.

Edah raised her head. The malice of dressing her in a dead woman’s slip sent a chill down her spine. These were all maidservants who had previously served Ingrid.

“This…”

“What about it? It suits you quite well.”

“His Grace the Archduke will surely like it too.”

When Edah brought up her appearance, they giggled and spoke amongst themselves.

She was well aware that it was mockery.

In the end, Edah went to say something but closed her mouth. She held no authority whatsoever.

“Well then, have a good night.”

They bowed with spiteful perfection and closed the door.

She gripped the edge of the bed tightly.

She knew why the maidservants were behaving like this: they saw no hope for Edah. Seeing her pathetic body while bathing her must have reinforced that belief.

Astaldo was still unmarried. They undoubtedly assumed he was taking his late brother’s wretched wife for now, only to bring in another woman later.

When a new Archduchess arrived, they would serve that woman instead. Therefore, there was no reason to show deference to a woman like her.

I will be discarded. Edah sank into despair. For some reason, her knee, injured during her flight, throbbed painfully.

Edah looked down at her knee. The bleeding had stopped, but it was still stinging.

The maidservants had seen it too, yet they had pretended not to notice while bathing her and rubbing oil onto her skin.

Edah wore a bitter expression as she stared at the scar of her failure.

She had never resented the world before, but this time, she felt a slight resentment.

She had always lived with her senses heightened like a prey animal, trying to run away from a terrifying fate that threatened to consume her.

Yet, as an unfortunate ending became plainly visible as always, a sense of darkness washed over her.

She felt a helpless despair, unable to escape this quagmire no matter what she did.

Time passed like that.

The room was quiet. She was used to silence, but she was not accustomed to this grand room.

She knew what he intended to do, having seen the act of passion between a man and a woman more than enough times to be sick of it.

Edah looked into the mirror. Grotesquely bright red rouge had been slapped onto her hollow cheeks.

Edah let out a hollow laugh and ultimately had to go to the washroom to scrub her face clean.

Looking in the mirror again, she looked somewhat better. However, her lips remained unwashed, stained a deep red as if smeared with blood.

When she finished washing her face and stepped back out, a man clad in a robe was sitting in the chair.

It was Astaldo.