CHAPTER 178: THE DARK SECRET OF THE MARQUESS

Edmund didn’t want to explain what happened until they were safely inside the inn. Primrose, without saying a word, followed him while still holding his hand tightly, showing no intention of letting go.

Ever since she heard that Edmund had stood in front of her grave for hours, completely heartbroken, all she wanted now was to stay by his side, like a baby duck following its mother.

[Why is my wife suddenly acting this clingy?] Edmund wondered, puzzled. [Not that I mind, but ... she’s usually not like this. Did something really happen while I was away?]

Honestly, he had every reason to be suspicious.

Primrose didn’t even want to let go of his hand when he was changing his clothes, or when he went to check on the soldiers to make sure everyone had made it into the inn since the temperature was dropping and the night was getting colder.

What he didn’t expect, though, was when his wife tried to follow him into the bathroom.

"Primrose," Edmund sighed, looking confused as she clung to him like someone with abandonment issues. "I’m just going to the toilet for a moment."

"I know," she replied, staring at him with those soft eyes. "That’s why I opened the door for you."

"But I can’t exactly go if you’re still holding my hand." Edmund looked down at their intertwined fingers and whispered gently, "Can you let go for a few minutes?"

The corners of Primrose’s mouth dropped. "So ... you don’t like holding hands with me?"

"No—no! That’s not what I meant!" Edmund had no idea what had gotten into his wife, but seeing her look so sad made his chest ache. "I love holding your hand. I just need you to let go for like ... ten—no, five minutes. Just five."

Primrose started to realize how ridiculous she was being, so she finally let go of his hand slowly. "Alright. Five minutes."

But even in that short five-minute span, she couldn’t stop tapping her foot anxiously, waiting for him like a worried kitten. When Edmund finally stepped out, her face lit up with the brightest smile. "Husband, you’re back!"

Edmund didn’t respond right away, his mind overloaded with thoughts, [My wife is adorable! She’s so adorable! If she keeps acting like this, I’m seriously going to die of a heart attack one day!]

The thought of the mighty Lycan King dying of a heart attack because of his wife’s cuteness was ridiculous, but to Edmund, it didn’t feel impossible.

"Should we talk now?" Primrose asked once they were back inside their room.

She wasn’t even sure why Edmund seemed to be avoiding the conversation.

Primrose couldn’t even hear anything in his thoughts about what he did today, almost as if he was deliberately trying to erase it from his mind.

"It’s already late ... aren’t you sleepy?" Edmund asked, brushing his hand gently across her cheek. "We can talk tomorrow morning."

Primrose shook her head. "I’m not sleepy yet." She tilted her head and looked into his eyes. "What’s wrong? Don’t you want to tell me what you found today?"

Edmund let out a heavy sigh and looked away. "It’s not that I don’t want to, but ... I’m afraid it’ll make you uncomfortable."

"Husband," Primrose called softly, "I’ve planned to kill someone before, remember? Why would I be uncomfortable now?"

"This is different," Edmund insisted. "What I found today ... it’s worse than just killing someone."

Primrose’s expression slowly turned serious. The smile disappeared from her face when she said, "Lady Raven told me her husband is going to kill himself tonight."

Edmund froze, his entire body going stiff. He hadn’t expected his wife to say something like that.

Moreover, he also did not expect that Raven had predicted the death of the Marquees that fast.

"I know you had something to do with his death," she added calmly. "But remember, we made a promise to always share anything that affects this kingdom. And since the Marquess’s death will affect it ... I have the right to know what really happened."

[She’s right,] Edmund thought. [There’s no guarantee she won’t hear the truth from someone else eventually.]

"Let’s sit down first," he said, leading her to the couch. He took a deep breath, preparing himself to finally share everything he discovered today.

Why did he look that tense? Just how rotten and horrifying was the thing he found out about the Marquess?

"I went to meet one of the local journalists today," he began. "I know him because he used to work at the royal publisher before he moved to Moonshadow about two years ago."

So, he didn’t actually kidnap a journalist like he had originally planned.

"His real reason for moving here was to live a peaceful life, but unexpectedly, he ended up discovering a lot of dark and dirty facts about the Marquess who rules over Moonshadow."

[Well, maybe I threatened him a little,] Edmund admitted silently. [But my wife doesn’t need to know that part.]

Unfortunately for him, Primrose now knew.

"What kind of secrets?" she asked. "Did he have proof that the Marquess was embezzling money?"

"As a journalist who’s always thirsty for facts, yes, he did collect evidence of public fund embezzlement committed by the Marquess," Edmund said. "He was even planning to send those documents to the palace in a few weeks."

But unexpectedly, the Lycan King had knocked on his door and taken the documents himself.

"However, embezzlement wasn’t the only thing the Marquess had done," Edmund continued. "And abusing his wife wasn’t the worst of it either."

Primrose stayed calm, but her voice turned serious. "What else?"

In her first life, she had heard rumors that the Marquess once tried to marry off his underage daughter to the old king of a faraway kingdom.

Primrose was also sure that this was the real reason why Raven killed her husband by stabbing him numerous times.

However, it seemed like he was capable of even darker things, worse than abusing his wife or selling his daughter to an old man.

"Primrose, I ... I don’t think you should hear this," Edmund said hesitantly. "The truth is too disturbing for you."

"Why?" Primrose frowned. "I’m not a child. I can handle hearing disturbing things. Did he kill a bunch of people or something like that?"

Edmund didn’t answer right away. Instead, he grabbed a brown leather bag that he had placed on the table earlier.

Primrose guessed it must have belonged to the journalist, and that Edmund had taken it from him.

"Mr. Ramond had been collecting a lot of the Marquess’s dark secrets. And this book ... this is a diary he stole directly from the Marquess," Edmund said, gripping the bag tightly as if he was reluctant to open it and let his wife see what was inside the Pandora’s box. "When I say dark secrets, I truly mean the darkest of secrets."

"Edmund," Primrose said firmly, placing her hand gently over his. "Open the bag."

Edmund let out a heavy sigh, then finally nodded. "Alright," he said, "But remember, if it becomes too much, you can tell me to stop at any time. I’ll put it away."

"I’ll remember that," Primrose replied.

As soon as Edmund opened the bag, he pulled out a thick book, so thick, something seemed to be pressed inside it, making the cover bulge slightly, unable to close all the way.

"Many people saw the Marquess as a kind and generous man," Edmund began, his tone calm but cold. "Even I wouldn’t have suspected anything. Every time we met at the palace, he acted polite, respectful. He never showed any signs of cruelty."

He looked down at the book, his fingers tightening slightly around it.

"But, my wife," he continued, "sometimes, the devil hides among us, dressed as an angel."

He flipped open the cover, and Primrose’s breath caught in her throat.

There, on the very first page, was a drawing, a little girl’s drawing. A small, innocent face, sketched in shaky lines. Right next to it, a smear of dried blood. And underneath it, a single sentence, scrawled in trembling, messy ink:

"She cried the loudest. But the more she cried ... the more I wanted her to be mine."

The girl in the drawing looked so young. From her small face and wide eyes, Primrose guessed she couldn’t have been more than ten, maybe twelve at most.

"Edmund ... what is this?" Primrose asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. "What did he do to this little girl?"

Edmund’s shoulders tensed. "From what I found out ... he used to invite children from poor villages to his city. He told their parents he wanted to give them a better life. Most believed he was sponsoring their education, helping them escape poverty."

Primrose swallowed hard, her heart beginning to race.

"He even built a large dormitory to house those children," Edmund continued. "He told their parents that their lives would be better if they stayed there, but the truth is ... their lives became even worse once they arrived."

Primrose’s hands curled into fists on her lap, her knuckles turning white. "What ... what did he do to them?" Her voice shook, part of her not wanting to hear the answer.

Edmund looked away for a second, struggling to find the words. He didn’t want to scare her with the truth, but he also didn’t want to keep it from her.

Edmund took a deep breath before continuing. "The dormitory wasn’t a place of safety. It was his playground. He hurt those children, Primrose. In ways that are hard to say out loud. He abused them. Mentally. Physically. Again and again."