MWMT 06

Chapter : 6

*Where am I…?*

When Vivian opened her eyes, she was lying in a bedroom she had never seen before.

It was dazzlingly luxurious. The room she used at the duke’s mansion had been large and comfortable, but this was on a completely different level.

*Did I finally die for real this time? Is this the afterlife? Did I get rewarded for living a good life?!*

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t confused.

But looking at the furniture and decorations that practically screamed *“I’m expensive!”*, she became too excited to stay still. All of this… was hers?!

Just as Vivian hurriedly swung her legs off the bed, the bedroom door burst open. Startled, she inhaled wrong and began coughing.

> “Ugh—cough, cough!”

> “My lady, are you all right? You only woke up after a week—if you overdo it—!”

> “Cough, cough!”

Her head spun. She didn’t even know who the maid was calling “my lady.” She just wanted water. She had only choked, that was all—yet inwardly she wanted to cry.

Hearing the commotion, Aslan rushed in and shouted at the servants to bring a doctor immediately.

The room grew even more chaotic, only calming down once the doctor arrived in a hurry.

> “Her lung disease has already progressed significantly. My lady’s body is extremely weak.”

> “It can be cured, right.”

> “I’m sorry. Even at best, she likely has less than a year to live.”

After carefully examining Vivian several times and gauging Aslan’s reaction, the doctor reached the same conclusion as House Eleonora’s personal physician.

> “This isn’t a difficult disease to diagnose. If it had been caught early, things would be better. I don’t understand how House Eleonora failed to notice.”

> “……”

> “To ease her suffering, I’ll prescribe medicine to slightly relieve the symptoms. But there is no fundamental cure, so all I can do is help her live the rest of her life as comfortably as possi—”

The doctor’s calm voice grew quieter.

**Crack!**

The mahogany table Aslan was gripping split cleanly in half.

Aslan let out a deep sigh, as if *he* had just been sentenced to death. His broad shoulders slumped, and he rubbed his face repeatedly, at a loss.

Suppressing his rising anger, he ran a hand through his hair and spoke again.

> “So you’re saying there’s no cure.”

> “Y-Yes.”

> “I must have disappointed you greatly. I heard you possess the finest medical skill in the south—yet this is all you can say.”

Aslan naturally sat down beside Vivian’s head, as if that were his rightful place.

His heavily trained, muscular body caused the mattress to sink deeply on one side.

From Vivian’s position, all she could see was his broad, tense back—but she could clearly feel the doctor and servants sweating bullets.

> “……”

Even breathing felt dangerous. With no one daring to speak, the large bedroom fell into deathlike silence.

*Is it really okay for someone with Astaroth’s power to act like this? This is basically civilian massacre.*

Vivian felt uneasy, like she had become the cause of trouble. Just as she anxiously darted her eyes around—

> “Then tell me who *can* cure her.”

> “M-My lady’s illness has no known treatment—”

> “That’s not the answer I want.”

Black energy slowly began to rise from Aslan’s body.

Vivian rubbed her eyes, wondering if she was hallucinating—but it didn’t disappear.

Considering that he was cursed by Astaroth, this felt like a very bad sign.

And there were too many witnesses.

*If he turns into the Black Lion here… he’ll silence everyone. Including me. I might even be the first example.*

Unable to wait any longer, Vivian nervously grabbed his arm.

> “Your Grace…”

Her voice was fragile and barely audible, yet Aslan’s murderous gaze immediately shifted from the doctor to her.

Eyes that had felt like Siberian winter winds softened instantly into a warm spring breeze.

The doctor and servants were stunned by the sudden change—but Vivian, unaware, lowered her head deeply.

*I called him, but I don’t know what to say!*

The black energy faded into the air.

It was good that Aslan had come to his senses—but now it was *her* turn to panic.

In the original story, Aslan truly hated Vivian.

He despised her more than insects—so much that while she was dying of lung disease, he broke off their engagement and immediately got engaged to her half-sister, the original female lead.

Vivian’s reputation in high society was terrible, yet even then, people pitied her. This incident left her with a humiliation so severe it nearly killed her.

*She even tried to kill her half-sister, the female lead, knowing she’d be expelled from the family.*

She couldn’t understand why *that* Aslan had laid her in such a luxurious bedroom.

If he had just let her die in the forest, the annulment would have been much easier.

*Of course, I’m grateful he saved me. And that he cleaned me up, dressed me, and even called a doctor… but still…*

Fear and gratitude battled inside her.

In the end, gratitude won.

Vivian smiled gently and lowered her eyes, clearly showing she had no intention of challenging his authority.

> “I’m fine. Really. I’m okay.”

> “You’re okay?”

> “I’m used to the pain. I know my body best. Cough, cough!”

Trying to show two emotions at once didn’t suit her. She choked again, her shoulders trembling as she struggled to breathe.

The room fell into heavy silence once more.

Aslan’s face twisted as if he might kill someone.

*Why isn’t he saying anything? Did I mess up my delivery…?*

Nervous, Vivian slowly lifted her gaze—

And froze.

She had grabbed Aslan’s arm earlier to stop him from transforming.

She was still holding it.

Of course he’d be displeased. Touching a woman he hated like a bug wouldn’t feel good.

> “Ah.”

She quickly pulled her hand away—

But this time, Aslan grabbed her thin wrist instead.

Heat radiated from his grip, making her skin burn.

> “Why do you keep avoiding my eyes?”

> “That’s because…”

> “Look at me properly.”

The look in Aslan’s eyes deepened.

Like a predator before the hunt, what filled them was unmistakable possessiveness.

But the tension didn’t last long.

Vivian lowered her gaze to her trapped wrist.

Her fragile, thin wrist held in his large, solid hand.

Though Aslan was handling her carefully, like a glass doll, to any outsider it would look like he was intimidating her.

Clicking his tongue, Aslan slowly released her wrist, brushing the back of her hand as he did. He forced his stiff expression to soften.

> “It seems I pressured you too much. You must have been shocked, not knowing the full situation.”

Relieved, Vivian nodded enthusiastically—at least in her heart.

> “This is a country house I own in the south.”

> “What?”

Vivian blurted it out without thinking.

Aslan’s territory was in the northern empire. His supporters were gathered there.

Which meant he had no real ties to the south.

*Isn’t the south basically the Crown Prince’s territory? Isn’t this dangerous?*

Aslan seemed to notice her doubt but had no intention of explaining.

He awkwardly touched the back of his neck, then quickly changed the subject.

> “This is the first time you’ve entered my household as my wife. I’m sorry to make you stay in such a shabby place. Once you recover, we’ll move to my townhouse in the capital.”

Vivian blinked blankly.

There was something in what he just said that made absolutely no sense.

> “Wife…? What do you mean—”

> “Once we reach the capital, we’ll hold the ceremony immediately. You’ll be the most beautiful bride in the world.”

A ceremony? What ceremony? Who decided that?!

Vivian was too shocked to notice the way Aslan looked at her—

Or how his hand clenched and unclenched in midair, as if he wanted to pull her into his arms right now.

> “I want to announce that you are my wife as soon as possible, so sign this first.”

What Aslan handed her was a marriage certificate.

And written clearly on the document was her name:

**Vivian Eleonora Astaroth**

*This man—?!*