I Think My Husband Might Be a Murderer - Chapter 3

***

I followed the man toward the naval headquarters. The gruesome sound still echoed in my ears.

After walking along the opposite road for a while, a large, modern building came into view. The neatly laid tiles beneath it gleamed under the sunlight.

Upon entering the building, a soldier, built like a bear, spotted the man and hurried over, saluting sharply.

“Colonel, you’ve arrived.”

The man gave a brief salute, prompting the soldier to lower his hand. Then, turning to me, the soldier asked,

“And who might this lady be…”

The man introduced me as a bereaved family member. At that, the subordinate moved to guide me.

“Ah…! Then this way—”

The man raised his hand, stopping him.

“I’ll escort her myself.”

“Pardon?”

The soldier widened his small eyes in surprise. Scratching the back of his head awkwardly, he hesitated before stepping aside.

“Yes, sir…”

As I followed the man down the corridor leading to the basement, I noticed navy personnel busily moving about.

They would pause their tasks to salute him the moment they saw him, and upon spotting me following behind, some couldn’t hide their curiosity and cast fleeting glances.

But that wasn’t what mattered to me.

“Have other bereaved families already been here? Ah, I just noticed there aren’t any other civilians around.”

“Most have already come.”

The man responded as he pushed open a door at the bottom of the stairs.

Inside, the navy personnel greeted him with the same respect. After walking a little further, someone approached.

“Commander, we have retrieved all belongings from the Baltic fleet. They should be ready for delivery to the bereaved families within the deadline.”

Commander…?

From earlier, the way the navy personnel addressed the man had been bothering me.

Colonel, Baltic fleet, Commander…

It didn’t take long for me to understand why I felt uneasy.

‘Johannes Schultz?’

I looked up at him in shock. My lips, firmly pressed together, parted slightly. A faint sigh escaped me.

“You… You’re the Young Duke of Schultz?”

At my barely spoken words, the man raised an eyebrow. His gaze, impassive, swept over me.

“If you’re referring to my birthright, then yes.”

He confirmed it curtly.

“My god.”

I stood frozen, unable to say another word.

I had thought I was the only one burdened with misfortune. But the real sufferer was someone else.

This man had not only witnessed his father’s execution with his own eyes but also had to endure the relentless scorn of the crowd gathered at the harbor.

And yet, how could he remain so composed? How could he face such a painful moment without flinching?

“How…”

“Are you asking how I can be indifferent?”

I slowly nodded.

Johannes Schultz did not answer immediately but instead resumed walking.

He strode silently through the long, white hallway. Then, stopping in front of a door, he grasped the handle and spoke.

“If a crime is committed, it is only right to receive due punishment. That is what my father taught me.”

I instinctively sucked in a breath.

His voice held no trace of hesitation. He spoke as if it were an absolute truth, as if discussing someone else’s fate rather than his own.

“But how can you not even question it? He could be innocent—”

“Would that change anything?”

“What…?”

He slowly turned his head, his blue eyes locking onto mine.

“A soldier must obey the supreme commander’s orders, regardless of reason. At this moment, that commander is the royal family.”

I couldn’t find the words to respond. Perhaps it was my imagination, but for a fleeting moment, I thought I saw sorrow flash in his eyes.

“This is the morgue. Are you ready to confirm the body?”

His voice returned to its usual stoicism, asking if I was prepared to face my father’s corpse.

Instead of answering, I nodded slowly. With that, he pulled the door open.

The morgue was cooler than the rest of the building. A sharp mix of chemical preservatives and the stench of decaying bodies filled the air.

Scanning the room, I spotted a bed with a nameplate attached—my father’s name inscribed on it.

“The body is in worse condition than others. It may be disturbing.”

“…It’s fine. I need to confirm with my own eyes that it’s my father.”

The confidence in my voice lasted only a moment.

“Urgh.”

The moment I saw the corpse, a wave of nausea overwhelmed me. Clamping a hand over my mouth, I rushed out of the morgue.

I stood outside, taking deep breaths, trying to compose myself. Only then did a surge of self-disgust crash over me.

How devastated would my father be?

Regaining my composure, I stepped back into the morgue.

My father’s body was so disfigured that it was impossible to recognize him. On top of that, a foul stench filled the air. His body was covered in dark purple bruises, a gruesome sight.

The shock hit me once again.

Could a body this decomposed really belong to my father?

“Is this really my father…?”

I wasn’t expecting an answer. I had only spoken the words to force myself to accept reality.

Johannes did not respond either.

As I studied my father’s unmoving form, I reached out to hold his hand. It was my first time touching a corpse, and his hand was damp and slippery.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the naval officers standing guard turn away, unable to watch. But I had no energy to concern myself with them.

I clenched my eyes shut.

The coldness of his lifeless body carried no warmth. Only now did it feel real.

My father was truly gone.

Then, I realized something was different from the hand I had often held before.

I quickly lifted the hand I was holding and examined it.

“…This is not my father’s hand.”

I immediately looked up at Johannes Schultz. His eyebrows lifted slightly. I hastily continued, my words stumbling over each other.

“My father’s right index finger is bent. I’m certain of it! That means… he could still be alive—”

I couldn’t even finish my sentence.

One of the naval officers, the only one who hadn’t turned away, hesitantly spoke.

“That… I don’t know if I should say this, but during the process of body swelling, some limbs may appear temporarily straightened.”

“But—”

“All personal effects retrieved from the body belong to Petty Officer Isaac Prim.”

Johannes Schultz interjected as he handed me a box containing my father’s belongings.

“Ah…”

The last shred of hope vanished in an instant. A sense of emptiness wrapped around me.

It was real.

A navy badge engraved with the name Isaac Prim, his uniform, the handkerchief I had embroidered and given him as a gift.

The moment I saw my father’s belongings, the emotions I had barely kept in check surged violently.

Tears threatened to spill, and I clenched my lips tightly, widening my eyes in a futile attempt to hold them back. I gripped the burial cloth that covered his body, trying desperately to steady myself.

At some point, the naval officers had left the room, leaving only Johannes Schultz by my side.

A low voice reached my ears.

“You can cry.”

A simple statement from someone who carried the same pain as I did, yet it was more comforting than anything else.

Even if he hadn’t meant it that way.

In the end, I couldn’t hold back any longer. I sank to my knees in front of my father’s body, burying my face as sobs broke free.

A large hand hesitated in the air before gently patting my back.

I stayed like that for a long time, releasing my grief beside him.

***

After barely regaining my composure, with the help of Johannes Schultz, I completed the paperwork for my father’s death benefit.

The monetary worth placed on Isaac Prim’s life was absurdly low.

“Only six million berks…?”

It was both laughable and miserable that I had to deal with something so calculating right after losing my father, but I had to keep going. I was still alive.

“Petty Officer Isaac Prim’s benefit was never much to begin with. He frequently took advance payments on his salary, and as a mere soldier, it was limited.”

“But if he hadn’t been sent to war, he wouldn’t have gotten sick in the first place!”

“I’m just a low-ranking soldier. Complaining to me won’t change anything. If you’re desperate, find an officer who might help.”

The soldier waved his hand dismissively, clearly uninterested.

“How…”

Those who fought and died alone for their country were worth less than a month of luxury for the high-ranking nobles.

“If you keep this up, we’ll have a problem. We have to explain this to every family member individually.”

The soldier looked around to ensure no one else was listening, then lowered his voice.

“Because the Duke of Schultz embezzled a massive sum, there’s hardly any money left for death benefits.”

It was a rehearsed answer, as if he was waiting for me to direct my anger at the Duke.

That only made it harder to believe.

In the end, he made it clear that other fallen soldiers’ families had also received only meager payments and practically pushed me out.

When I arrived home, my mailbox was stuffed with letters.

Most were overdue tax notices and utility bills.

“Ha…”

Even poverty wouldn’t grant me the time to grieve my father’s death.

I had no time to mourn his final moments. I had to face reality and earn money just to survive.