To The Traitor in My Bed - Chapter 37 - Defeated Tradition

Chapter 19. Defeated Tradition

The moment Deirdre realized the identity of the white object laid out on the bed, she pushed her husband up the stairs with all her strength.

He had always said he despised the sight of frozen corpses, and now, in front of their eyes, was exactly that—a corpse. It would be problematic if he fainted right here.

“I told you not to look, Frederick!”

No matter how much she pushed, he didn’t budge.

‘What do I do… Is he in too much shock?’

In truth, Deirdre was also afraid to look at the body. But right now, he was the priority.

She reached out and touched the face of the expressionless man.

“Frederick, are you okay…? Please, stay with me.”

He gently took her hand and lowered it.

“…I’m fine.”

Still, he didn’t try to move forward.

“Lord Rochepolie, Lady Rochepolie. You mustn’t raise your voices in front of the deceased.”

Anya said this, then quickly placed her hands on her forehead, chest, and shoulders. It was a prayer to the god believed by the Luskans.

Gathering her courage, Deirdre took a step forward.

The basement air was very cold, but under the white cloth covering the body, it felt as if an even colder chill was emanating.

In Rochepolie, a place colder than Luska, there were stories of people being unable to bury the dead in the winter due to the frozen ground, so they would keep the bodies in basements or outdoor spaces until spring for proper funerals.

“Who is…this person?”

She couldn’t bring herself to ask to remove the cloth to reveal the face. In response to her question, Anya answered.

“This is an unidentified young woman. She was from Antwerp, and I believe she was noble. Last week, Maxim… Oh, Maxim is the boy who brought you here, he’s my nephew. Anyway, he found her while hunting in the snow. Poor thing.”

Deirdre was shocked when she realized the meaning of those words.

“Could it be… hypothermia?”

Anya nodded solemnly.

“Sometimes, when you see the lights of Wigmore from the dark, they appear closer than they actually are. Perhaps she hurried down from a distance that was too far to walk.”

Logically, it made sense, but it contradicted Deirdre’s reasoning. If the deceased had arrived by carriage or sleigh, the driver should have dropped her off in front of the walls. To leave an ordinary person without survival skills out in the wilderness like this was practically a murder.

“Then why didn’t they report it to the border guards?”

When an unidentified body is found, it’s usually reported to the authorities. From there, the body’s belongings or appearance are used to identify the person, and any signs of foul play are investigated. In Wigmore, that was the job of the border guards.

Anya gazed at Deirdre with eyes as deep as a well.

“It seems there is some backstory… I thought it would be better to report it to Lord Rochepolie than to the border guards. The mayor also agreed with me.”

Although the judicial powers once held by nobles within their territories were greatly reduced with the strengthening of the monarchy under King Roderick, lords were still regarded as landowners and local representatives.

Particularly, the name of the Fairchild family, who had governed this region even before the kingdom’s history began, carried more weight with the people of Rochepolie than even the name of Leonhart. Such beliefs were not easily changed.

So, Anya’s judgment was not wrong.

“Frederick, has there been a report of a young woman going missing in Rochepolie or Landyke?”

Frederick shook his head. His face was very pale in the dim light of the basement.

“As far as I know, no.”

One of a lord’s responsibilities was to monitor crimes in their domain and cooperate with the military police to resolve them. If Frederick had not heard of any missing person cases, it meant that the unfortunate soul was likely an outsider.

Deirdre turned back to Anya and asked again.

“Anya, what is the backstory?”

Anya gestured for her to follow. Deirdre slowly walked toward the bed where the body was laid. A primal fear rose within her, but there was no disgust. The woman lying there had tragically died alone in this cold place.

As Anya emerged from behind the bed, she whispered softly into Deirdre’s ear.

“This young lady… was pregnant. She must have been about 20 weeks along… Oh, may the Lord watch over these two poor souls.”

* * *

Even in the middle of the night, the mayor of Wigmore did not neglect his duties. In the meantime, having received a message from Max, the mayor hurried to the physician’s office.

He confirmed that Anya Petrova was trustworthy and vouched for the details she had given, including how the body was discovered and her decision to consult Lord Rochepolie on the matter.

Deirdre hardly heard the mayor’s words in shock.

Eventually, she asked Anya to show her the deceased woman’s face. The woman had light brown hair and a youthful face. After thinking it might be someone she knew, Deirdre initially felt a sense of relief, but soon, guilt overwhelmed her.

Anya gave Deirdre a cup of tea and sent her to the examination room.

Sitting in the examination room, Deirdre stared blankly at the teacup.

A pregnant woman had died alone in the snow.

And it happened right here in Rochepolie.

Although crimes such as violent acts or mysterious deaths didn’t happen every day in Rochepolie, they still occurred. People sometimes lost their precious lives to unfortunate circumstances that could have been prevented.