WFMW 10

Chapter 10

I said no, woman!

2024.03.10

‘I never thought there would be someone besides the professor who finds me this frustrating.’

I spoke in a calm voice.

“If I sound indifferent, please understand, husband. At the Academy we only say what’s absolutely necessary.”

“Isn’t it normal to say sorry in situations like this?”

“Sorry for being indifferent.”

There. An apology.

Even though I obediently apologized as told, Cider’s frown didn’t go away.

“It feels weird. Even when I get an apology, it leaves a bad taste.”

“Then just don’t accept it.”

“Is that really something you should be saying yourself?”

“You’re awfully sensitive.”

“That’s the first time in my life anyone’s said that.”

I wanted to have an academic debate with him about what sensitivity and relativity really were, but I couldn’t.

Growl—

My stomach let out a thunderous rumble.

He stared down at me silently for a moment, then suddenly turned and began walking away with heavy steps.

Startled, I sat up on the sofa. He muttered in a low voice, almost like an excuse.

“…I heard Haile didn’t even prepare you a meal. So I came to take care of it.”

The tone was sharp, but the meaning was clear: he was worried about me.

I quickly stood up and followed behind him.

“Oh, right. No one even showed me where the pantry is.”

At my complaint, he snorted a laugh.

“And if I did show you? You’d actually be able to cook?”

“Yes. As long as there are potatoes.”

“Potatoes?”

“You can just boil them and eat.”

His misty silver-gray eyes suddenly turned back to me. I tilted my head.

“What?”

“What other dishes can you make?”

“Besides boiled potatoes?”

Let’s see. I bent my fingers, counting one by one.

“I can boil eggs.”

“And?”

“I can boil eggplants too. Though I don’t really like vegetables, so I only eat them if I’m really starving.”

I was about to list what else I could boil when Cider changed the question.

“Not boiled. What else can you eat?”

“Huh? Then how am I supposed to eat them? Raw? They say eating raw potatoes is dangerous.”

“……”

For some reason, the more I spoke, the darker Cider’s face became.

What on earth did I say wrong? As I frowned and thought hard, his large hand suddenly gripped my shoulder.

“From now on, you’re eating all three meals with me. Got it?”

“Huh? Why all of a sudden?”

“It’s not sudden. This is…”

His gaze wavered toward the floor, then he suddenly flashed a bright smile and shouted—

“Family tradition! It’s the Granite family’s tradition. Meals must always be shared together.”

“Oh, as expected of a noble house.”

At my agreement, Cider’s face eased a little. I tilted my head and asked back.

“But since this is just a contract marriage anyway, do we really need to keep such traditions?”

Cider’s expression darkened again.

He groaned angrily, like he was truly upset, and answered in a gruff voice.

“Yes!”

“But in the morning you left me to eat alone, didn’t you?”

“T-that was… anyway, that’s different!”

After snapping loudly, Cider walked even faster.

Watching his back grow smaller, I tilted my head.

What’s with him?

‘Isn’t this an inner conflict between the self that doesn’t want to follow rules and the self that must?’

And the side that wanted to follow won.

‘It must be exhausting to live as the heir of a noble family.’

He looked like a delinquent with that scowling face and swaggering gait, but inside, he was someone who strictly kept rules.

‘Even if I’m just a contractual wife, I should at least try to respect that too.’

Resolving firmly as his housemate, I chased after Cider.

Over 20 years of life.

To Cider, his life had been one where he couldn’t survive unless he grew stronger.

‘Every day was a war.’

Cider’s mother was a maid in the Duke of Granite’s household.

The duchess was a princess from a neighboring country, often sick and unable to adapt to sudden life in a foreign land. She often left the capital to stay at a villa.

It was during one of those absences that Lady Briar, Cider’s mother, sneaked into the duke’s bedchamber.

Lonely, the duke took comfort with her, and from that night, Cider was conceived.

Even as the duke’s eldest son, he was just a bastard while the duchess still lived.

But the frail duchess remained childless for years. When it seemed unlikely she would ever bear a child, Cider was officially registered as a legitimate son.

And then eventually—

[The madam has passed away.]

The duchess died young, leaving behind a much younger son.

After that, Cider’s life became chaos.

One faction supported Cider as heir, the other insisted on the duchess’s son, who had royal blood.

They clashed daily, even resorting to assassination attempts on both brothers.

‘Power was the only thing I needed.’

Cider never spoke righteous words to anyone—because that would be seen as weakness.

By trusting no one, he had no need to feel betrayed. By seeing everyone as an enemy, he had no need to share his heart.

When he finally felt strong enough to leave the duke’s house, he started living alone.

It had been four full years since he’d left the Granite family.

And then, he began to wonder—

‘Am I weak to the wrong kind of person?’

Because of his wife, Nelly Periway.

She had dismissed Haile, saying she could handle things herself. Yet her stomach kept rumbling all day, as if she hadn’t eaten.

If that were all, he would’ve just thought, “So much for a grand mage—she can’t even feed herself.”

But Nelly carried herself as if she wasn’t even hungry.

Like hunger was normal.

‘They say she spent all her time at the Academy until she became a grand mage. Do all mages live this miserably there?’

It was hard to pity her when her expression was so calm.

‘And that nonsense about only eating boiled things… maybe that was really her everyday life?’

His eyes fell on her loose corset and stick-thin arms.

‘She looks like she’d snap if I grabbed her.’

Even if they parted ways, he had to feed her something first. That was why he said—

“From now on, you’re eating all three meals with me. Got it?”

Even making up a lie about family tradition just to justify it.

‘What the hell am I doing…?’

Why did this woman keep weighing on his mind? Even he had no answer.

Sighing heavily, Cider headed toward the kitchen.

The clueless woman trailed behind like a cheerful puppy.

“They say sighing too much drives away your luck. But I guess someone like a Swordmaster could just grab fleeing luck back, right?”

“……”

Cider looked down at Nelly with a withering stare.

Doesn’t she realize she’s the reason I’m sighing?

It was training time with the knight order—what was he doing here?

Frustrated, self-loathing, Cider tried to rationalize it.

‘No, this can’t be helped. It’s about keeping the secret that my wife has woken up. She said she doesn’t want Haile looking after her, so I have no choice but to do it myself.’

It’s not like he planned to take care of her forever.

Just until she could manage on her own.

‘Mages have good memories. Once she learns, she’ll be fine.’

That thought lightened his heart. He showed her the pantry door.

Then he showed her the bread crate, the place where ham was stored, and even chose ingredients for a meal.

‘Bread, grilled ham, and cheese—it’ll make a sandwich.’

Cooking a stew would take too long; a sandwich was faster.

Nelly, clueless about food, was brimming with curiosity.

“What are you doing now?”

Just grilling ham. Embarrassed, he replied curtly.

“Cooking.”

“I know it’s cooking! I’m asking what you’re making.”

“I’m not that good. I can only make simple things anyone can.”

“Why do you keep saying weird things? Are you dodging the question on purpose? Or do you not know the name of the dish?”

“…Sandwich.”

“See? Isn’t it nicer to just answer like that?”

If a subordinate had nitpicked him like this, he would’ve beaten them black and blue.

I’m holding back only because she’s too scrawny. One hit might kill her.

Again, he excused his uncharacteristic patience with her.

The sandwich was done quickly.

Normally he wouldn’t bother with seasoning, but since she was eating, he added plenty of sauces.

Surprisingly, mealtime was fun.

The sandwich looked comically big in her small hands.

She nibbled like a hamster, chewing forever.

“Taking one bite and chewing it a hundred times like a cow—does that mean you don’t like the taste?”

He rested his chin on his hand, teasing her. After a long chew and swallow, she retorted, face blazing red.

“I chew about thirty times, okay? Is it so weird to chew properly?”

“Why thirty?”

“I read in a book as a child that you should chew thirty times… Don’t other people do that?”

Such a ridiculous answer. Cider pressed his lips together.