The Duchess who Tames her Husband - Chapter 3

“What do you think? Do you want to die?”

What could he possibly mean by saying that? Ferdia locked eyes with his black gaze, her own expression filled with conflicting emotions. Erev didn’t react, simply waiting silently for her to respond.

Ferdia began assessing her physical condition. In her mind, she calculated countless possibilities.
If he intended to kill her, should she just comply and accept her fate?

Her body was fully healed. She didn’t have a weapon, but she felt she could escape if she managed to get out of this room. Even if this was the Imperial Palace, with enough determination, escape seemed plausible.

But the risks were immense. She had already resigned herself to death. However, she dreaded the idea of dying a gruesome death—impaled on a stake, burned at the stake, or skinned alive. Such methods filled her with visceral revulsion.

If this man intended to kill her and his method wasn’t cruel, would it be better to simply let him do it? Ferdia bit her lip as she continued to meet his unwavering gaze.

What gnawed at her was the fact that he had healed her. Why? Did he plan to let her live? But she was a criminal—likely a treasonous one in the eyes of the Empire. Execution was inevitable; the only question was how it would happen. If she asked to live, would he grant that wish?

The thought felt absurd, striking her with forceful certainty. Still, why had he healed her? Did he want her to escape? That seemed just as implausible. They had only crossed swords once. Why would he risk creating an opportunity for her to flee? No matter how powerful he was as one of the Empire’s few dukes, he couldn’t simply betray his nation.

The question lingered: Why had he healed her? Why? Could it be for some twisted reason—to torment her or do something unspeakable before killing her? The thought was horrifying. In such a case, she would rather bite her tongue and end her life here and now.

Ferdia’s thoughts raced as she tried to make sense of the situation. After what felt like an eternity, she seemed to reach a conclusion. She lifted her head, nodding decisively.

Erev, who had been observing her closely, let a faint smile cross his lips.

“Kill me,” she said firmly.

“Kill you?”

“Yes. Kill me. I won’t resist. Being skewered or burned at the stake is far worse. Dying by your hand would be preferable. I promise I won’t resist. Just… kill me.”

This was the conclusion she had reached. Even if she managed to escape, it was nearly impossible to leave the Empire behind. Returning to her homeland wasn’t an option either—it no longer existed.

If she fled, she’d spend the rest of her life as a wanted criminal, hunted relentlessly. Moreover, she knew from experience just how overwhelming the man before her was in combat.

No matter how fully recovered her body was, there was no escaping his watchful eyes. If being captured meant facing a death worse than the stake, this was the better option.

Ferdia rose from her seat and knelt on the floor. Erev, who had been watching her with dispassionate eyes, raised an eyebrow at her actions.

“Is this because you regret not cutting me down back then? Or do you pity me? Not that it matters. Just kill me. I won’t resist. Dying by your hand is better than being skewered or burned alive.”

Kill me. She closed her eyes. Erev, gazing down at her silent figure, let out a small chuckle and nodded.

“Why aren’t you struggling to survive?”
“What?”
“I’m asking you about the value of your life, yet your response is simply to ask me to kill you?”

Ferdia opened her eyes, meeting his calm gaze. Erev bit his lip slightly as if in thought.

“I already told you—I want to hear your thoughts. Is this your answer to my question about whether you want to die?”
“…That’s…”
“Do you have no will to live? Not even the slightest desire to deceive me and escape this situation?”

“What exactly are you trying to say?”

Her sharp gaze narrowed as she glared at him.

“I’m already as good as dead,” she snapped. “There’s no one in this Empire who’s on my side. I’m grateful you restored my body—I never thought I’d walk on my own two legs again. But what changes because of that?”

Her furrowed brows betrayed the anguish she felt.

“What difference does it make if I say I want to live? I’m still a criminal here, an outsider. I’m not some petty thief who stole a loaf of bread from an oven. If I walked out there with my name on a placard around my neck, people would stone me—or worse. To them, I’m the demon who took away their brothers, families, friends, and lovers.

“So what changes if I tell you I want to live? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

Her head hung low as she finished. She had already enjoyed a fleeting taste of hope—that was enough. Dying a simple death here was better than enduring something horrific.

“So kill me,” she said with finality. “No need for long explanations. I appreciate what you’ve done for me, but if I return to the Empire, I’ll just end up with my tendons severed again, skewered on a stake. So end it here. Kill me like you defeated me that day—with that blade of desire.”

“…….”

Despite her resolute voice, Erev simply stood there, gazing down at her without a word. Ferdia, waiting with her eyes shut for his next move, felt her stomach churn with anxiety.

If she’d known that her reckless actions would lead to such a twisted conclusion, she would have gone back in time and screamed at herself to stop. You fool. Did you not see this coming?

Of course, she hadn’t. Who would have guessed that she wasn’t even the protagonist of this damned novel? A bitter smile crossed her lips as she waited for him to act.

Finally, the silence broke with the sound of a blade sliding free from its scabbard. She felt the cold steel press lightly against her neck, its familiar, chilling sensation making her swallow hard. Erev’s voice came from above.

“Any last words?”

“Like I told you before, I have none. No keepsakes, no farewells. Just do it.”

“I’ll give you a chance to make your final argument.”

“I don’t need one. Just kill me. Whether you cut off my head or pierce my heart, just end it.”

“It would be more merciful than any other death.”

At Ferdia’s final murmur, Erev nodded. A moment later, the blade that had been resting against her neck was lifted. She could hear the faint rustle of his clothing as he moved. The sword was likely raised high now, sharp enough to pierce through even the ceiling that separated them from the blue sky above.

She knew she was fated to die, and that this would be a death far kinder than any punishment awaiting her otherwise. But despite that, she was afraid.

I always thought I lived with death by my side, she reflected. But no—it was always someone else’s death.

One’s own death, she realized, was always in the hands of another. And so Ferdia waited silently for her end.

How much time passed? Five minutes? Ten? An hour? Or was it such a brief moment that even the numbness in her legs hadn’t registered?

Her confusion mounted. Slowly, she lifted her head, her movements strained, only to meet Erev’s steady black gaze.

She blinked in shock, her lips parting slightly, as his hand reached out to touch her face, brushing lightly against her cheeks. Only then did she notice the wetness streaking down her skin. It snapped her out of her daze.

“Why are you crying?” he asked.

“…What?”

She knew she had been crying, but the question made her feel exposed. Perhaps she repeated it to hide her embarrassment. Her teeth worried her lower lip as she stared at him, her expression a mixture of confusion and vulnerability.

“You told me to kill you. You said it was better to die by my hand than to suffer a crueler fate. That was the choice you made, wasn’t it?”

“That’s… true.”

“Didn’t you want my sword to strike your neck?”

“I did. That’s what I wanted.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“I…” Ferdia hesitated, lowering her gaze. Do I not want to die? The question whirled through her mind, tangled in a storm of emotions. Did she want to die, or did she not? She didn’t know.

The chaos within her churned relentlessly.

“I want to know your true feelings,” Erev said, his voice unexpectedly gentle. “I want to give you a choice.”

Was she imagining the warmth in his tone?

“Tell me what you really feel,” he continued.

My true feelings? Ferdia’s eyes lifted once more to study his face. Why was this man looking at her so tenderly? Why was he wiping away her tears, his touch warm and deliberate? Why was he offering her a choice?

Why had he healed her in the first place?

“…I want to live.”

I don’t want to die. Who does? Who truly wants to die? She didn’t want to die in a foreign land, in a meaningless way. Even if there was no place for her in this world, she didn’t want it to end like this. I want to live.

Her trembling voice echoed her innermost thoughts, and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. Why am I crying? Was it out of despair? Or sorrow? She wasn’t sure.

“Ferdy.”

His voice, soft and kind, called her name, pulling her attention back to him. His large hands moved to gently wipe away her tears, then stroked her hair with a tenderness that seemed out of place.

The gentle touch, the warmth of his hands—it all felt too kind.

Ferdia’s lips parted slightly, as though she wanted to say more, but she stopped. Erev, noticing her hesitation, smiled softly.

“I was waiting for those words,” he said.