MDIJTOMOH CH 08

It was, in fact, a Notice of Compensation Claim.

Naturally, in order to demand compensation from someone for damages they had caused, paperwork was required.

Specifically, documentation proving that the other party had caused harm.

Fortunately, I had the magical device I had used to record everything outside my house yesterday.

‘Here. This is evidence of how you’ve exploited me all this time. I recorded it.’

‘It’s still a little insufficient, but at least one of the requirements for issuing a Notice of Compensation Claim has been fulfilled. However, there’s a major problem.’

‘What is it?’

‘To deliver this notice, you need the other party’s consent.’

‘Does that even make sense? What idiot would agree to being told to pay compensation?’

‘Unfortunately, that’s the law. It’s a bad law. That’s why notices of compensation almost never actually take effect.’

How could this possibly make sense?

I was kicking the air in frustration when I suddenly came up with an idea.

There were currently two languages commonly used throughout the Empire.

The vast majority of people used the Imperial common language, while some nobles still used the ancient language.

So what if I had a Notice of Compensation Claim disguised as a document written in ancient language, which Mother couldn’t understand?

Documents written in ancient language were legally recognized throughout the Empire as well.

And Mother had fallen for my idea perfectly.

“All right! I’ve signed everything!”

I took the document she held out to me.

“Thank you, Mother.”

For signing the noose that would bind her with her own hands.

“Hmm, then when will the dress arrive?”

Looking at her greed-filled, sparkling eyes, I smiled sweetly.

“Probably tomorrow, or the day after at the latest?”

I left the coffee house and headed to Knight Administration Team 1.

My fellow recruits, Henry and Marilyn, surrounded me as if they were about to tie me up.

“What did you talk about with Sir Dylan yesterday evening?”

“The rumors are everywhere!”

“If everyone didn’t hallucinate at the same time, then what on earth was that?”

“Yeah, I guess everyone must have hallucinated together.”

I casually ignored them, humming to myself as I took my seat.

For the time being, it would probably be better to keep our marriage a secret.

At this rate, though, it might end up becoming known.

That was when Marilyn, the administrator who had been leading the interrogation, stepped closer to me.

She normally treated me as nothing more than “Hey, Four-Eyes” and ignored me.

“Whatever you did to Sir Dylan, though… isn’t this basically a pairing between the ugly duckling and the prince?”

To be honest, I really was the ugly duckling.

But hearing someone else say it made my blood boil.

“You have something stuck on your front tooth.”

“W-what?”

“What on earth did you eat for lunch?”

“I didn’t eat anything special. Olives?”

“No wonder your front tooth looked black. Looks like you got an olive stuck in it.”

“Ah, damn it! What? Really?”

Marilyn looked horrified and hurriedly searched for a hand mirror.

Got her.

Marilyn couldn’t multitask.

Still, being called Four-Eyes all the time isn’t exactly pleasant.

For Sir Dylan’s sake, I couldn’t keep going around looking so gloomy.

I should get this mop of hair cut over the weekend.

I scratched my head and sat down at my desk, beginning to organize the knights’ requests.

<Sir Tove, Protective Gear Request: Approved.>

Why is Sir Tove suddenly requesting protective gear? Is his life in danger or something?

Either way, I should approve his request for protective equipment.

Just then, Marilyn, who had fallen for my little distraction, finally came to her senses.

She started firing words directly into my ear.

“Anyway, Sir Dylan has a lady he loves.”

“Yeah.”

“Unlike you, she’s elegant and beautiful. You two can’t even be compared. So why don’t you just—”

She came right up beside me and whispered at machine-gun speed.

Right.

There was one effective method for situations like this.

I took a pair of earplugs from my desk and casually stuffed them into my ears.

Yep. Can’t hear a thing.

Immediately after dropping the bombshell that he had gotten married to the Emperor, his only family—

Dylan entered the townhouse in the capital that had been prepared as a home for newlyweds.

His hands were full of groceries.

Today, for the first time in his life, he had taken a day off.

The administrator’s expression when he had said he wanted to use his annual leave was still vivid in his mind.

‘S-Sir Dylan is taking annual leave?’

‘Yes.’

‘You mean Sir Dylan, who has given up every single holiday until now and practically lives in the Knights Order, is going to miss training?’

‘Correct.’

‘Are you perhaps d-dying of some terrible illness? Or… are you getting married?’

Dylan had been hit so directly that his expression had hardened even further, and he had fallen silent.

‘I-I’m sorry for asking about your private life so rudely!’

The administrator, mistaking Dylan’s expressionless silence for anger, nodded with an expression that practically screamed how desperately curious he was.

‘I-I’ll approve it. Sir Dylan’s first annual leave!’

The administrator’s question, Are you getting married?, kept echoing in Dylan’s mind.

Throughout his childhood, he had been confined to a small house under a dark magic spell.

More than anything else in the world, he had been curious about the existence of a family.

The moment he thought about family, his father’s voice became an auditory hallucination ringing in his ears.

‘You are the shame of my life. The only reason I haven’t killed you is because I don’t want to stain my hands with filthy blood. Live the rest of your life shamefully, locked away in the North like a dog.’

He silently washed his hands.

Even while living alone, he had always dreamed of the day he would one day have a precious wife to care for.

He remembered spending a long time practicing housework.

The marriage will only last a year, but I should treat her as well as I possibly can.

Dylan was shabby on the outside, and lacking even more on the inside.

Ishael, on the other hand, seemed to shine simply by being there.

There was no way someone like her could truly fall in love with him.

But…

Pushing those negative thoughts aside, he shook his head again.

He needed to prepare a fine dinner for Ishael as a celebration of their marriage.

After setting the groceries down in the kitchen, Dylan stared solemnly at the clock.

Ishael’s work ended at six in the evening.

The current time was 12:33 p.m.

There were five hours and twenty-seven minutes left.

What should I cook?

He had bought all the ingredients.

The dish he was most confident making was probably aged meat.

He was quite skilled with a knife and was also good at preparing fish.

However, he had learned from cookbooks that mullet dishes could be rather polarizing.

What would Ishael like?

Should I start with a salad?

With the expression of a man facing the most important decision of his life, Dylan seriously gripped the knife.

I can do this.

The hand holding the knife trembled so faintly that no one would have noticed.

Of course, he was actually quite good at cooking.

He had been forced to cook for himself simply to survive.

But cooking for his wife was something he had never done before.

His heart pounded wildly, and the hand holding the knife trembled.

He repeated to himself, I can do this.

Then he solemnly put on an apron decorated with carrots and rabbits.

His expression became even more resolute.

Standing in the kitchen, he grilled, boiled, blanched, and simmered.

He carefully plated the food on clean dishes.

Exactly four hours and thirty-three minutes had passed.

He was making his final inspection of the food when—

He heard the sound of the door opening.

“Something smells delicious… Huh? Sir Dylan?”

Ishael had arrived, looking as adorable as a fairy because of her petite height.

She hurried over to the dining table.

Her eyes behind her glasses were undoubtedly wide with surprise.

Dylan spoke in a stiff voice.

“As I mentioned earlier, I have prepared dinner. Please sit down.”

This was his first time preparing a fifty-dish banquet.

He had even planned everything down to the second and followed the schedule precisely.

He had placed magical heating devices beneath the dishes so the food wouldn’t get cold.

This should be enough. It doesn’t look too shabby…

But Ishael said nothing.

“D-Did you… make all of this?”

“Yes.”

“Yourself?”

I could see the shock spreading across her face.

Her fluffy wheat-colored hair trembled.

“…Yes.”

Was my effort still insufficient?

Well, fifty dishes probably weren’t enough.

Besides, today was the day of their marriage.

Wasn’t it a truly momentous occasion?

And yet, he had made only fifty dishes for such an important day.

Dylan’s shoulders drooped ever so slightly—so slightly that no one could possibly notice.

I was completely dumbfounded as I stared at Sir Dylan’s expression, which practically said, This is nothing.

How did he make all of this by himself?

Surely he didn’t hire some catering service and lie about it, right?

But this was Sir Dylan.

He was famous throughout the Knights Order for his honesty and was the very definition of a stubborn, straight-laced person.

I sat down and solemnly picked up my spoon.

“Let’s eat.”

“Yes.”

He was still as blunt as ever, without even the slightest change in expression.

Although his posture seemed subtly off somehow, that was probably just my imagination.

I turned my attention to the table.

There were all kinds of dishes spread across it—mullet, crayfish, even fresh salmon!

Damn, my mouth is watering.

I picked up a piece of grilled salmon cut into cubes and took a bite.

At that moment, I heard a heavenly Sanctus ringing in my ears.

The salmon is dancing in my mouth!

I quickly swallowed the salmon.

For a while, the only sound in the room was the clinking of spoons against plates.

By the time I had sampled every single one of the fifty side dishes, I finally came to my senses.

“I-I really was just eating because it was so delicious.”

“I’m glad.”

Now it was time to have a proper conversation.

For example, about our contract marriage!

“There’s something I’m curious about. Um… Sir Dylan, why did you want to get married?”

“Ah.”

His lips moved slightly.

Seeing the extremely thoughtful expression on his face, I jokingly said,

“Don’t tell me it’s because you like me—Ahahahahaha! I’m sorry.”

That was an absolutely insane thing to say, like some delusional person suffering from main-character syndrome.

I berated myself for being such an idiot and quickly tried to recover the situation.

“I was joking. Just joking!”

Sir Dylan’s expression shifted slightly.

“I see.”

“Yes. I know you don’t like me, Sir Dylan.”

“……”

“We never even met before this!”

“…Yes.”

“Actually, marrying someone who likes me would feel a little burdensome, so I’m glad! It’s not like there’s anyone who would like me in the first place.”

Damn you, Pedro.

There I went again, blurting out these self-deprecating comments!

That bastard had completely destroyed my self-esteem.

I quickly changed the subject.

“Ah, but Sir Dylan, seriously, why did you marry me?”