My five ghostly husbands-Chapter 296 Karl sadness

Adrian raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. "With what? Your fingers?"

Karl pouted. "You’re just jealous ’cause I have fluffier hair."

Milo giggled behind Adrian’s back, trying to hold it in. But Adrian didn’t smile.

"We have longer hair than you, Karl," Adrian took the tea from the tray without expression, sipping it as casually as if he’d just commented on the weather.

Karl froze. His eyes widened. He touched his fluffy little tufts of hair.

"You... you evil—" he gasped, voice cracking like an old radio.

Big, fat, dramatic tears welled up in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks like raindrops on a tragic soap opera window.

"Hey hey don’t cry, Brother Karl," Milo said worriedly as he tried to hug him, but Karl lightly pushed him away and sniffled, his face full of heartbreak.

"Why are you making fun of me, Brother Adi! Don’t you remember that bas*ard face cut my hair, and it hasn’t grown since then..." Karl muttered, his voice trembling with emotion.

Actually, it had happened two years ago. Back then, Karl used to have long, thick black hair that swayed every time he walked, and he was extremely proud of it. But he had provoked a witch who used to hate ghosts—rumor was, her husband had run away with a beautiful Witch, and since then, she held a deep grudge. Karl had snuck into her house and stolen food...just a few buns and a jar of honey. He hadn’t thought much of it, until one night, when everyone in their slum house was sleeping, that same witch quietly sneaked in and chopped off Karl’s long hair while he was snoring.

When Karl woke up and looked into a mirror, his scream echoed through the Small slum house. Milo had screamed with him, Julian was so shocked he fell on ground, and Adrian had expressionsless face.

Karl had been furious. He found out who did it and declared war on her. Every time they saw each other, they argued and threw things, she once threw a slipper at him, and he threw a half-broken stick at her. Their fights became a known event in the vilage.

However, that witch died a few months later, not because of Karl, but because she drank too much alcohol and barely ate anything. People said she died clutching a bottle, mumbling about her husband.

But Karl... Karl never forgot that betrayal. And since then, no matter what he tried, his hair never grew the same.

And now, Adrian comparing his hair with Karl’s was like stabbing a fresh wound.

Karl sat silently, his hand resting sadly on his short hair, and tears rolling down his cheeks like a tragic hero in a ghost drama. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

"It’s okay, Brother Karl... short hair suits you anyway," Milo said gently, rubbing his soft cheek against Karl’s head like a loyal kitten trying to comfort a sulking lion.

Honestly, it wasn’t bad at all. Karl’s hair was still thick, neatly cut, and the short black strands that fell over his forehead made him look younger—almost boyish. But in Karl’s mind, they were nothing but pitiful tufts. Tiny, helpless grass on a field that once bloomed with glory. He huffed dramatically, leaning back with a sigh as if the weight of his past still clung to his shoulders.

Milo, completely unaware of Karl’s emotional spiral, kept patting his head softly like he was praising a good dog, whispering, "See? Still handsome."

Karl let out another sigh, his eyes staring into the distance like he had lived through the greatest tragedy of their generation.

Adrian rolled his eyes and walked off to get fresh, muttering something under his breath about "drama king." He didn’t have the patience to deal with Karl’s broken-heart monologue about hair loss right now.

Meanwhile, Milo tiptoed away with Karl’s phone in hand like he was on a secret mission. He quietly entered their wife’s room, plugged the phone into the charger, and placed it neatly on the table like a precious offering. After making sure it was charging—he even double-checked the lightning bolt symbol, he gave a proud nod to himself.

Then off he went to the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, determination burning in his eyes like a chef on a mission and started prepping dinner. The clanking of plates and spoons echoed gently as Milo hummed to himself.

Wife and Julian was away, so someone had to be the adult in the house. And clearly, that someone wasn’t Karl.

***

Next morning, the sky was pale and quiet, with clouds floating lazily like cotton ghosts. Ruby sat behind the wheel, focused, her hands steady on the steering. Julian sat beside her, watching the scenery blur past...the floating road boards, the glassy signs hovering midair, and the few other ghostly cars quietly moving along like whispers in motion.

The drive had been long. Ruby had asked directions from several locals on the way, and it took nearly half a day before the glimmering outline of Dreadmire Village finally appeared on the distant horizon, nestled near the edge of the misty hills.

Before heading further, Ruby and Julian stopped at a small countryside inn and shared a quiet lunch together. The air was thick with earthy smells, and Julian enjoyed the warm soup while Ruby sat deep in thought.

She’d heard enough whispers from the townspeople earlier that made her cautious—apparently, Dreadmire villagers didn’t welcome outsiders easily. No one had struck a deal with them in over a year, ever since last incident that left their trade relations frozen.

Ruby had also written them a proposal for fair business—though now, she wasn’t so sure about it.

Some of the locals had also warned her—"Don’t go in uninvited... they carry weapons now. They say they’re just protecting their land."

Julian’s voice broke through her thoughts, calm and comforting. "It’s okay, wife... everything will happen good," he said, his hand brushing lightly over hers. "And you’ve even prepared an offer proposal for them, so I don’t think they’ll reject you..."

His tone was gentle but steady, like someone trying to anchor her heart before the storm of uncertainty could shake it loose.

Ruby let out a slow breath.

"I hope so," she murmured. "They don’t know me... and from what I’ve heard, their last deal didn’t end well. I don’t want them to think I’m just another outsider trying to take advantage."

—To be continued...🪄

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