WFMW 16

Chapter 16

Is there no longevity potion?

2024.03.16.

“Diana is coming?”

What would she come to tell me?

“She’ll try to get me to go to her house one way or another. If she plans to kill me, she’d want a place where it’s easy for her to destroy the evidence.”

Or she might come already carrying poison the moment she shows up.

If I died at Cedar’s house, she’d have an alibi — she’d calculate that.

“Either way, she’ll try to kill me.”

I would never forget Diana’s face that had sneered at me as I was dying.

And as long as I remember that, I’ll never understand what’s going on inside that girl’s heart.

“I don’t want to meet her — I don’t want to get soft. Even if she comes, I’ll send her away and I won’t open the door.”

Cedar’s eyes narrowed. He asked again, as if probing my thoughts.

“Don’t you want to hear her side of the story?”

“No matter what her excuse is, she’s crossed a line. I don’t want to hear it. I’m not curious either.”

And there probably isn’t any excuse.

“She bluntly said she wanted my inheritance.”

My firm answer seemed to pique Cedar’s interest instead.

The man who normally only nodded politely went on, annoyingly persistent today, to talk about Diana.

“Still, she’s family. Can you really cut ties that easily?”

“I can try to cut them. If I don’t, I might lose my life.”

“You’re more determined than I thought.”

What on earth does he take me for?

I wanted to retort that I’m not foolish enough to be fooled by my sibling, but since I almost died once, I kept my mouth shut.

We walked in silence for a while and reached the garden beside the front gate.

“So this is the garden. I expected it, but it’s bleak!” I said.

Because the gardener comes only once a week, the yard was tidy. No weeds sticking out, trees neatly trimmed.

But that was it. Not a single flower was planted; there was no sign of any arrangement or attempt to landscape.

‘Of course — with that man’s personality, he wouldn’t bother with a garden. He just leaves it as it is because it exists.’

The Empire has some odd laws; one concerns garden maintenance.

If you don’t mow the lawn, neighbors can report you, and the fine is pretty steep.

Even if it’s your own garden, the owner is legally obliged to keep it tidy.

So Cedar had simply hired a gardener to cut the grass once a week to follow the law.

‘There’s not an ounce of affection here. Fine by me.’

It’s much better for me that the owner didn’t plant a bunch of prized plants I’d have to negotiate for.

I grinned at the barren garden, and a wrinkle appeared between Cedar’s brows.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“The less your garden matters to you, the more I can use it however I like.”

“You’re quietly sharp.”

He keeps using “quietly” — at this point I wanted to ask if he had no eye for people.

I smiled brightly and asked him politely.

“May I arrange this garden as I please, husband?”

I called him “husband” to mean, “You’re the owner here, and I don’t need your permission,” but Cedar’s face contorted into a far worse scowl than before.

He twisted his lips and muttered.

“I told you to drop that ridiculous title. Just call me Cedar.”

“I’m embarrassed, so I won’t.”

“Why is your standard for embarrassment like that?”

“Feelings are subjective — don’t force them.”

There are people who feel shy saying someone’s name, aren’t there? And anyway, what matters is not what we call each other.

I tugged at his sleeve and urged him.

“Answer me quickly. May I tend the garden? I can’t promise it’ll be pretty. Some of the herbs mages grow scream on their own or eat insects.”

Saying it out loud, I wondered.

If you grow a mandrake in a private home, wouldn’t you get reported? Maybe not.

‘There might be poisonous plants mixed in that you shouldn’t grow at home.’

There’s a saying in this world: if you aren’t caught, you’re golden.

Whether they’re poisonous or not, if you don’t get caught, it’s no big deal.

I’m not growing them to kill someone — I just want to make useful magical remedies for everyday use.

‘But it becomes a problem if it’s seen as a problem.’

And the first gatekeeper for that was the man before me. Cedar crossed his arms and thought hard.

He looked like he was trying to decide whether my cultivation would be legitimate, and my heart thumped for no reason.

‘No, it’s fine. Don’t be suspicious.’

I put on as harmless an expression as I could.

It was the kind of look mages wear right before they get into trouble; among other mages, it would make them wary, but Cedar had no way of knowing that.

After thinking for a long while, Cedar tilted his head.

I expected him to ask what herbs I’d plant, but the question that came out of his mouth was unexpected.

“Can you make something like a longevity potion?”

“Huh?”

A longevity potion?

‘Swordmasters live to about two hundred years on average.’

Then why would the man in front of me want a longevity potion? Does he plan on living forever? Is he after immortality?

‘Swordmasters don’t seem to age much, do they?’

I couldn’t understand why he wanted such a potion, so I tilted my head in puzzlement.

Cedar’s face reddened when he met my eyes. He turned away and answered bluntly.

“You’re right. I don’t care about the garden — do as you like. The gardening tools should be in the shed. Tell Hail what seedlings or seeds you need and he’ll get them. Tell him the gardener mustn’t come anymore.”

The process was odd, but it was the answer I wanted. I smiled broadly.

“Wow, thank you!”

Cedar waved and walked back toward the mansion instead of replying.

A woman with curly golden hair clenched her small fist and looked up at him.

[Answer me quickly. May I tend the garden?]

She tried to look determined, pursing her plump lips, but she wasn’t in the least intimidating.

Her pale green eyes were like fresh buds that appear on trees in spring.

From her thin neck, which looked like it could be cupped in one hand, down to her narrow shoulders, her lines were delicate and graceful.

Cedar frowned.

‘Honestly, she’s annoying.’

He’d never imagined having a wife. But it’s clear he’d never even vaguely pictured having a wife like the woman before him.

Not as a wife — even if he extended the idea to friend or acquaintance, no one like Nelly had been around Cedar before.

Small, fragile, yet somehow convinced of her own strength.

[Originally, mages have short lifespans.]

She sounded timid, but she said it matter-of-factly.

Cedar bit his lower lip. He couldn’t explain why, but whenever she talked about lifespans, a feeling of irritation suddenly filled him.

It was the same when she talked about family.

‘She’s a woman who irritates me in every single way.’

Her tendency to fuss over other people’s meals, which was unlike her usual self, irked him. Except during meal times, she truly didn’t come down from the second floor at all.

He could have at least come down sometimes to talk when Cedar was at the mansion in the evenings, yet she acted as if she had no interest in him whatsoever.

He was beginning to be confused about what he wanted.

He’d thought it best to stay out of things, but now the indifference from the other side made him feel slighted.

Listening for footsteps going from the first floor to the second after returning home had become part of his daily routine.

Taking care of a woman who might not even eat if left alone had become natural.

But now a garden?

‘I don’t like her range of activity widening.’

Could those slender arms even do garden work? She looked too weak to lift pruning shears or a spade.

Nelly’s green eyes sparkled with confident assurance as if of course she could manage. Cedar swallowed a bitter smile.

‘All talk, she doesn’t even know what she dreams at night.’

Cedar still sometimes went to Nelly’s bedroom at night, like when she seemed to slip into a domestic stupor.

At first it felt awkward to enter a sleeping woman’s room secretly, but now he perked his ears for her sake.

Nelly sometimes screamed or cried at night. Most of the nightmares were about her sibling.

[Diana.]

[How could you? Why do you want to kill me? I truly cared for you.]

When Cedar held her hand tight, her breathing would ease as if the nightmare had vanished.

At first, sneaking into her room at night was uncomfortable for him, but now he did it for her.

‘It might be easier to eliminate the cause of her nightmares.’

Rather than soothing her at night, killing Diana Periway or driving her out of the country might calm Nelly more.

Earlier, he’d spoken about Diana in a teasingly spiteful way for that reason.

He wanted to check what feelings Nelly actually harbored toward Diana.