Wicked Husband-Chapter 107 - 106

His finger was quite long, so he could touch quite deeply. Eileen couldn’t stand it and squirted all the time while he was feeling inside. He finally took his finger out after touching every nook and cranny until Eileen trembled and dripped water.

Fortunately, it wasn’t severe enough to require medication. It seemed that a few days of rest would be sufficient. After assessing the situation, Cesare gently embraced Eileen, who was already half-asleep.

"..."

A faint, almost imperceptible noise, like a baby mouse gnawing on wood, was heard. Cesare glanced back at the door with a vacant expression.

"Cesare..."

Hearing his name called, he turned his head quickly, a soft smile on his lips.

"Yes, Eileen."

Cesare tenderly covered her eyes with his hand and whispered softly, with affection.

"Just sleep."

It didn’t take long for the exhausted Eileen, pushed to her limits, to fall into a deep sleep.

Once Cesare was sure Eileen was deeply asleep, he removed his uniform and spread it out on the floor. The medals symbolizing the Empire’s glory now rested on the worn wooden boards of the old house.

To any patriot, this sight would be shocking. However, Cesare was indifferent; he felt no attachment to the medals.

Feeling that this alone wasn’t enough, he also removed his shirt and laid it out beside the uniform. Only then did he place Eileen on top of them. After gently wiping her damp face with a handkerchief, Cesare stood up.

The sun had passed its zenith and was beginning to set, casting long shadows of the leaves outside onto the solid walls of the house.

Cesare’s body, marked by the shadows, was covered in scars. Although these marks decorated his otherwise beautiful form, they were reminders of the boundary he had crossed between life and death—evidence of his past as a child soldier on the battlefield.

He briefly frowned at the red-tinted marks, remnants of their passionate encounter. After a short, audible crack of his neck, he dropped his bothersome belt to the floor and roughly adjusted his trousers. With a dry expression, he walked out.

When he opened the back door, the old hinges creaked unpleasantly. Cesare glanced back at Eileen.

The noise was not enough to rouse her from her deep slumber. Confirming that she remained asleep, Cesare fully opened the door.

The partially open door got stuck on something and stopped. Cesare peered through the gap and saw a writhing form beyond it.

A strong stench of decay emanated from the large pile of filth. Cesare gazed at the hand that had emerged from the pile, smeared with dirt and blood, and writhing desperately.

The noise he had heard earlier must have been the sound of broken nails scratching at the door. If all the nails had been pulled out, it might have been less disturbing. As he considered this, a guttural groan emerged from the filth.

"Ugh... uuuh... ahh..."

The sound resembled more of an animal’s cry than human speech. Cesare nudged the hand aside with his foot and shut the door. He then looked down at the writhing figure, which gazed up at him with tear-filled eyes. Its constantly agape mouth resembled a black hole—empty and hollow.

He had never lied to Eileen. Lucio was definitely alive.

Despite having his tongue cut out, and his arms and legs shot full of holes, and being left n@ked in the forest.

Cesare had used Lucio as a target for practice before tossing him into the forest, but somehow, Lucio had managed to crawl all the way here to survive. Cesare regarded him with indifferent eyes as Lucio shed large tears.

To Cesare, Lucio was not worth dealing with. In fact, he was nothing more than insignificant trash, barely registering as a concern except for Eileen’s sake.

Cesare did not want to disturb Eileen’s sleep with unnecessary noise. He placed his foot on the creature’s neck and pressed down.

With a crack, the sound of bones breaking, the writhing body grew still. After confirming that the life had left the creature, Cesare removed his foot.

"I don’t know anything. I almost misunderstood you again, Cesare."

Eileen had said it was a misunderstanding, but she was seeing the truth clearly. Even if Lucio had been innocent, Cesare would have framed him for a crime.

Lucio was in a position that was both bothersome to look at and convenient to exploit. Eileen would have overlooked it without further explanation. There was no need to expose her to such unpleasant realities.

Cesare wanted Eileen to see only what he allowed her to see. Even if she faced terrifying situations, he wished for her to believe that the fear was also something he had sanctioned.

However, Eileen no longer wanted to be merely protected. Having lived within the confines he had set, she had begun to strive for a glimpse of what lay beyond.

Without knowing how to kill or even wound, or how to subdue anyone—having only picked flowers or grass as her most cruel act—she was peering outside the boundaries to protect Cesare.

Even after relinquishing her position as Grand Duchess, she remained anxious.

Cesare realized he had made a similar mistake to those of the past. Instead of entering the house, he leaned against the back door.

He fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette, placed it between his lips, but didn’t light it. He simply held it there, waiting for the unwelcome memories of the past to fade from his mind.

***

After the war ended and he returned to the regime, Cesare was involved in a massacre of civilians at a tavern.

For killing all those who had desecrated Eileen’s corpse, Cesare received a suspension. Considering the dozens of Imperial citizens he had killed without cause, it was a relatively light punishment.

Cesare was more than willing to accept the suspension imposed by the Emperor. In fact, Leon had also decided that Cesare needed time to cool off, which was the primary reason for the suspension.

Despite opposition from the nobles, the fact that Cesare had been a hero who ended the war provided a plausible shield against criticism.

During his suspension, Cesare searched tirelessly for any traces of Eileen. Her already torn-apart body could not be recovered in any form. After much effort, he managed to salvage some of Eileen’s personal belongings, though they were incomplete. Eileen’s father, stripped of his title and reduced to a commoner, had sold off everything of value and then fled.

The once-cozy brick house had become a ruin. The orange trees had been uprooted and vanished from the garden, and all of Cesare’s gifts that Eileen had cherished were gone.

Cesare gazed at the now desolate brick house and examined what he held in his hand.

It was a platinum pocket watch with a broken glass.

This watch, which Eileen had kept until her last moments, had been retrieved from a pawnshop. Damaged through multiple owners, it had a loose lock, often opening by itself, and it had stopped working, rendering it impossible to check the time. Nonetheless, Cesare always carried it with him.

After holding the watch for a moment, he put it back in his pocket and slowly entered the brick house. The broken door creaked open with a slight push.

Inside, the house was in disarray, as if it had been ransacked by creditors. There wasn’t a single piece of proper furniture, and dust danced in the sunlight streaming through the windows. Cesare ascended the stairs to the second floor.

The second floor was in a similar state of disarray. However, a few items remained in Eileen’s bedroom. While the books were gone, there were scraps of paper left behind, including Eileen’s diary.

Eileen had always enjoyed observing and recording her thoughts from childhood. The diary, which she had kept since she learned to write, was extensive.

Cesare knelt and sat down, carefully pulling the diary from the bottom shelf. Settling by the window, he began to read it, going through each entry one by one.

Some pages were too old and faded to decipher, but Cesare meticulously read every legible letter, tracing every part of Eileen’s life from childhood to adulthood.

The diary detailed a ten-year-old child meeting a prince and falling in love, suffering alone through childhood fevers, awakening to desires for the beloved, enduring the pain of love, and ultimately resigning to it.

The diary, obsessively detailing everything about Cesare, reflected Eileen’s raw emotions. When her heart was particularly troubled, she had written only briefly.

As the diary moved closer to the present, the tone grew more somber. The deep melancholy reached its peak during Cesare’s campaign in Kalpen.

Eileen struggled not to resent the person who had left her so abruptly and without explanation. She could only suffer, feeling abandoned due to her own perceived inadequacies.

Cesare stared at the diary, the pages marked with clear traces of tears. He repeatedly read a single line written in the diary:

[Could it be that I was like a pet?]