Chapter 4: A New Quandary and a Wager’s End

Sheets of rain were falling on the day Byletta was due to head back to the Swangan estate.

The imperial capital of the Gaihandar Empire was nestled in the north of the country amid the towering Mittlehorn mountains, which acted as a natural fortification for both the city and the rest of the country against would-be invaders. Built on the relatively flat land between the soaring peaks, the empire had short summers and even shorter falls, which were quickly eclipsed by harsh winters.

Byletta gazed at the hazy outline of the city from the window of a grand carriage emblazoned with the emblem of House Swangan before quietly lowering her amethyst-colored eyes. The carriage was furnished with cushions and fixtures to match its luxury exterior, and it should have provided a pleasant ride. Yet silence hung heavy over its occupants instead, pierced only by the faint splashing sound of the wheels rolling through muddy puddles below.

Byletta had ridden in this very carriage only the previous week, but compared to that day, the atmosphere was completely unrecognizable.

Perhaps it was the absence of Count Wynald Swangan, her father-in-law, and his incessant whining.

Or maybe it was due to the recent change of heart she’d had toward her husband.

Byletta stared at her handsome spouse, Arnald, seated opposite her. His arms were folded, and his eyes were closed. She let out a faint sigh.

Arnald Swangan.

He was the striking colonel of a cavalry regiment of the Gaihandar Imperial Army. His ash-colored hair, paired with the cunning air lent to him by his almond-shaped eyes of emerald green, had earned him the nickname Silver Fox of the Battlefield. Yet for all his fine looks and first-class military achievements, he made for a worse than second-rate husband.

Byletta had harbored a distaste for the man from the very beginning, and while there had been a moment when she’d considered potentially holding him in higher esteem, her opinion remained largely the same. He was a self-centered, self-serving miscreant who had no time for anyone but himself.

In the eight years that Byletta had been married to Arnald, she had not heard a single peep from the front lines where her stranger of a husband had been stationed.

And once they had finally become acquainted, he’d quickly entangled her in a nonsensical wager that had forced them both to live out a month-long mockery of a married life. The experience had brought Byletta nothing but frustration and humiliation. Luckily, there was only one week left. Then, as long as she had not conceived a child, she’d finally be able to divorce him. Just seven more days, and victory would be hers.

She should have felt happy—there was no obvious reason for her to feel upset—but ever since the incident at the victory party, Byletta had felt a stomach-twisting unease that would not go away.

Throughout that event, Arnald had spoken of and treated her as nothing more than his own private whore. In the end, he was the same as all the other men who had swallowed the lies about her. So why couldn’t she just tell him she thought he was a worthless fool?

Eventually determining it would be more trouble than it was worth to speak up, Byletta had since stuck to offering her husband nothing more than basic pleasantries. Being the man he was, Arnald had made no attempt to initiate conversation, either. Perhaps he found it preferable for his wife to remain silent.

Byletta’s husband had never been a particularly cheerful individual, yet she still found the sight of him leaning back with his eyes closed just as grating as she had during their last journey to the Swangan lands. She may not have been looking for riveting conversation, but the fact that Arnald wasn’t paying her any mind at all only supported her theory that he was simply using her for her body. Although it was likely more fact than theory. Still, as it was her intention to divorce him, she could bring herself to accept it. Instead, she chose to focus on what was frustrating her even more at that moment.

Mere days had passed since she had last returned from the family holdings. And yet already she found herself summoned back there, despite the fact she was neither her father-in-law’s representative nor his aide.

Byletta let out a sigh as she thought back on the contents of the summons she had received from the count.

A number of town elders from the hot spring resort are rebelling against our flood control project. Come here and make the problem go away.

Donovan, the family butler, had handed Byletta the letter—enclosed in an envelope bearing the Swangan family crest—after the victory party. She knew it could spell nothing but trouble as soon as she heard how swiftly it had been delivered on horseback. As she’d taken in its contents, she could practically hear the count’s haughty voice behind each and every word.

Byletta had thought those particular elders might cause issues sooner or later, but not quite so quickly.

The main source of income for the Swangan estates came from a prized hot spring resort. Overflowing with warm waters and famed as the vacation spot of choice for weary members of the royal family and upper social echelons, the resort and its popularity had persisted even through the war. The profits generated there had been more than enough to cover the shortfall in tax income on the estates’ grain.

Therefore, the elders of the village where the resort was located held tremendous sway. Not even a lord could afford to dismiss them out of hand.

That said, there was nothing Byletta wanted to do more than to pointedly ask her father-in-law who exactly he believed the lord of his estate was.

She knew he would simply remind her that she was a Swangan now and order her to get to work, but still.

To add insult to injury, Byletta also happened to be the owner of a clothing boutique and the boss of a large garment factory—and if she didn’t show her face at either location again soon, she could expect a terrifying tongue-lashing from her secretary during her next visit. Yet she hadn’t been able to ignore the unspoken urgency in the count’s letter.

Thus, Byletta had found herself in a horse-drawn carriage, back on the road to the Swangan domain together with Arnald, of all people. The man had so casually climbed aboard that Byletta had felt compelled to ask him not once, but twice, if he understood where the coach was actually bound. He’d simply nodded, remaining seated.

Now the air inside the carriage hung heavy.

Byletta and Arnald had been at odds since the day after the party. Or rather, Byletta had been fuming at her husband.

The morning after Arnald had had his way with her out in the gardens, Byletta had been so incensed that she’d thrown a pillow in his face. Not that that had provoked any reaction—he’d just silently blocked it and coolly stated that there was no clause in their agreement prohibiting fornication outdoors. Byletta’s own desires on the matter were irrelevant.

It was true that Byletta had willingly agreed to the terms of their month-long wager, which stipulated that she must partake in all marital endeavors as well as forfeit her ability to make decisions when it came to the conception of her own potential child. Nowhere had exact times or places been specified.

Still, she had not consented to that and so had seen no need to rein in her fury. She sent him a venomous glare that clearly communicated her desire for him to make himself scarce, and so Arnald had obliged.

As she’d watched him leave, Byletta had felt like she was begging for him to give her an excuse.

If she’d known he cared for her even one jot, perhaps she wouldn’t have felt so wretched and disappointed.

Because she had felt disappointed.

He had violated her in public, where anyone could have seen them. Taken her with gusto, like he wanted to make a show of it. Like she was a common whore. He’d completely undermined her standing as his wife.

Byletta could still vividly recall the conversation on that moonlit terrace, where Arnald had affirmed his friend’s view that wives were akin to prostitutes one didn’t have to pay for.

The disappointment she felt now was an indication of the trust she’d once had in her husband and a certification of his betrayal. That attitude of his, the way he never said more than was necessary, tormented her.

Leaving her thoughts and memories behind, Byletta diverted her eyes from her husband to the carriage window once again. She was brimming with anger at being taken for such a fool, and she clenched her fist.

It didn’t matter. She’d always had to endure such things—it was just more of the same. Or at least that’s what she tried to tell herself.

Byletta had always been looked down on by the people of high society. First because of her eye-catching looks, and then because of certain rumors regarding her supposed carnal relations with her uncle, father-in-law, and half the other men in the imperial city. None of the gossip was rooted in fact, but Byletta hadn’t made any effort to deny the rumors, either.

That was why there should have been no issue with her husband’s misunderstanding of her, or all the fuss he’d kicked up about her being a harridan and a prostitute. What was there to be upset about? She’d always known that her husband was self-centered and self-serving. She’d always known he saw his wife as a mere convenience, hadn’t she?

And their wager would soon come to an end anyway.

Then the life she’d longed for would be within her grasp. No longer bound by her husband or in-laws, she’d be able to make her own living as a businesswoman. The dream she’d held on to for so long would finally come true.

Even though thinking of her certain victory typically made Byletta smile, her reflection in the window looked warped somehow, as if it was crying.

She was suddenly reminded of the words of her Uncle Samus, whom she’d met with the day before her departure.

“Why, then, do you still look like you’re on the verge of tears?”

When he’d said that, Byletta had tried to maintain her self-respect by acting like she was still in high spirits. She’d refused to allow herself the weakness to admit that he might be right.

Just as she’d promised on the night of the party, Byletta headed to the restaurant to meet her uncle, Samus Eteau, for lunch.

Having arrived early, she sat down alone with a cup of tea. Fiddling with her long and lustrous strawberry-blond hair, she continued to stew over her husband’s attitude on the night of the party.

“Someone looks like she’s in a bad mood. What happened?”

“Uncle Samus!”

Byletta looked up from the teacup she was holding at the edge of her lips. The cup made a loud chink as it made contact with the table again, but she paid it no mind.

Clad in a dark gray suit, Samus sat himself down in the empty chair opposite his niece. It appeared he’d been busy with meetings that morning. His calm demeanor had always made him seem like some sort of bureaucrat rather than a master businessman. His brown hair, which was so dark that it looked almost black, was neatly smoothed down. Byletta was always impressed by how seriously and immaculately her uncle presented himself. His jade-green eyes always crinkled with laughter when he spoke about how credibility was paramount, but he seemed to understand that concept all too well.

Byletta frowned as she unconsciously compared Samus to her questionable spouse.

“I’m surprised to find you unaccompanied by your husband.”

“He’s indisposed today. He can’t be on my arm all the time.”

“Oh? And here I was, thinking he was the type to never stray too far without a reason…”

Byletta couldn’t argue with that; her uncle was right on the money. It’d taken a firm refusal to stop her husband from accompanying her today.

Upon discovering that Arnald had investigated her background, Byletta had given up on concealing her work from him. He already knew she’d been entrusted with a clothing boutique by her uncle and was currently its proprietress, not to mention a local employer.

Instead, she’d switched tacks and matter-of-factly told him about the garment factory she managed, which mass-produced off-the-rack products, including shirts and coats for the military. Byletta had expected him to frown, but instead, he’d listened quietly with his usual poker face.

She’d anticipated that he would ridicule his wife for working and attempt to seize some of her earnings, or at least take some sort of offense to the notion. However, he’d made no such fuss.

Feeling slightly deflated, Byletta had informed Arnald that she was departing for a business meeting. Yet even though he hadn’t seemed in the least bit interested, he’d insisted he would go, too.

It had been strange, watching someone protest so dispassionately.

Regardless, it had become clear they were at an impasse. Thus, Byletta had simply declared that Arnald was free to do whatever he wanted and stormed out of the house, eventually finding her way to the restaurant.

Although she’d managed to ride the carriage to lunch alone, she had a strong feeling that Arnald was still hovering nearby.

Byletta had somehow found herself with a needy lapdog. Or perhaps stubborn mutt was a more accurate moniker. Yet on the battlefield, it was the fox he was most compared to. He was cunning and always had some sort of plan going on behind the scenes. But Byletta had grown immensely tired of trying to figure out why he said what he said and did what he did when she knew he was only using her for sex.

If she was nothing more than his own personal call girl, why wouldn’t he just leave her alone? Was he merely shadowing her so that he could literally have her anytime he wanted?

And if not, then why?

Why was he behaving like this? Moreover, what did her husband’s opinions have to do with her? Byletta could feel anger rising in the pit of her stomach.

“I’d like two of the usual, please,” Samus told the waiter before turning back to his niece with a smile. “Now, Byletta, before I can offer you any advice, I need to know exactly what kind of relationship you and that husband of yours share. I’ve got a hunch that it bears no resemblance to an ordinary husband and wife setup, yes?”

While it appeared her uncle couldn’t quite fathom their relationship, he at least seemed satisfied that her husband wasn’t anywhere nearby. Byletta’s mood had been improving, but she couldn’t help but let out a groan as her uncle finally pounced. She had predicted that precisely this would happen the moment she’d agreed at the party to join Samus for lunch. He had seemed quite concerned over what was going on between her and Arnald.

Though her uncle had precious little time to spare, Byletta wasn’t worried that she was being a nuisance. But considering the arrangement was what it was, she was desperate to avoid telling him of it. She wanted to run away—she couldn’t bear to explain it all out loud.

“Well, arranged marriages come with all sorts of issues to navigate, don’t they?” she finally started.

“Certainly. But what sorts in this instance?”

“Would you allow me to say my piece first, Uncle?”

“If you’re thinking of deflecting or otherwise hoodwinking me, I must tell you that I don’t fancy your chances.”

Her uncle’s eyes lit up, and Byletta caught a glimpse of the shrewd businessman hidden beneath the surface. She wouldn’t be able to put anything past him. Given that he was the president of a group as enormous as the Highrain Association, attempting to bamboozle him would be a fool’s game.

“Please don’t be angry.”

“Is the situation so grim?”

“No…at least, I hope not. But I don’t expect you’ll be pleased. You see, I have entered into a wager with Arnald.”

“A wager? Why would I be angry about that, unless the terms were bad?”

“Well, when I told him I wanted a divorce, he refused…and during our subsequent discussion, the idea of a month-long wager somehow came up. Now, please don’t overreact. I don’t want you to spill your drink…”

“No need to be so dramatic. Spit it out.”

“Look… I’m not sure how I should word this, but…we agreed that if we lived as husband and wife for a month and it resulted in no children, then he would grant me the divorce.”

“…So you really can’t be apart until the wager is over?” Samus whispered, seemingly having suppressed his initial reaction.

He was probably thinking back on the triumphant way Arnald had spoken to him in the courtyard on the night of the party.

“You intend to win, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, so let us speak no more of this. Next time we meet, I’ll be able to tell you that I’m a free woman.”

“Why, then, do you still look like you’re on the verge of tears?”

Desperate to laugh it all off, Byletta quickly changed the topic of the conversation to what she actually wished to discuss that day.

“I’d like you to procure some dayfa for me. And a lot of it.”

“You’re changing the subject. Fine. Do you mean that stone that’s pitted all over? What are you planning to build this time?”

Dayfa was a porous rock that could be found in the southern mountains of the empire. Once dried, it became extremely strong and durable, so it had been utilized as a building material for a long time. Even when the rock was broken apart, it was still pocked with countless holes that couldn’t be plugged.

The pattern and characteristics of dayfa drew so much attention that they were cited as one of the keystone materials of the south. While the larger blocks used in construction cost quite a bit, the cost of the shards and powdered dayfa that Byletta required was much cheaper. In any event, she was going to treat it all like scrap. And for someone like her uncle, accumulating a large amount of the stuff would surely be child’s play.

Samus’s eyes lit up with intrigue as she brought her refined negotiation skills to bear on him.

When dealing with her uncle, Byletta found it most effective to drip feed him information. If she told him everything at the start, he would use every detail to his own advantage, and it would be difficult to achieve whatever outcome she was aiming for. Despite being her relative, he was a harsh mentor when it came to business.

“You’ll have to wait and see. There’s something I need to look into on the Swangan estate first, but I can assure you there will be profit in this for you, too, Uncle.”

Byletta grinned boldly. Samus forced a smile and nodded.

“Then I’ll see that you get what you require. But heed this, Byletta. You’re a stubborn girl, so you might not want to hear it, but some things in life are more important than self-respect, dreams, and freedom. Make sure you strive to get the things you truly desire, so you don’t have to live with any regrets.”

The words seemed a reprimand from an uncle to his absurd niece, who couldn’t even bring herself to look him in the eyes.

Although they’d been told to hurry, Byletta and Arnald decided to stay at an establishment overnight on the way to the Swangan lands. In the end, the journey took them two days, and evening had already begun to set in when their carriage pulled up in front of the manor.

Bardu, the head steward of the estate, was standing at the entrance waiting to greet them. He bowed his head.

Though he was around the same age as the count, the man solely responsible for the upkeep of the manor had a back as straight as a board. He presented himself with great dignity, Byletta couldn’t help but smile a little at that hint of meekness that shone through.

Not much should have changed in ten days, but Byletta could see Bardu’s expression had grown brighter. Probably because he was no longer forced to hide anything.

“Welcome back. I trust nothing has changed?”

“Bardu… Am I detecting a hint of sarcasm?”

“I didn’t mean anything by it. My lord left a message, by the way.”

Bardu bowed his head stoically at Byletta, who alighted from the carriage with the help of Arnald. She glanced this way and that.

“I presume it’s not good news?”

“You presume correctly. My lord has left the premises.”

“Excuse me?”

After demanding that Byletta travel all the way out there, he had the audacity to up and leave?

“He awaits your arrival in one of the guesthouses at the resort. He informed me that he wished to assess the situation there firsthand.”

Byletta swallowed her urge to yell and spoke plainly.

“Then who shall inform me of the situation in his stead? I’d like to hear about the progress at the embankment construction sites.”

“I was just about to—”

“At your service, my lady.”

The easygoing voice belonged to a tall man who’d just appeared from behind the manor: Gail Adaltine. He had the same reddish hair, the same brown eyes, and the same rugged, tanned face as before.

A former knight of the neighboring Kingdom of Naris, he had been involved in the theft of the Swangan estate’s grain, but now his eyes were as full of life as Bardu’s.

“Oh, Master Adaltine. Thank goodness. Do you mind if we address the situation at once?”

Gail Adaltine had found himself thrust into a supervisor position for the flood control project the very morning after he and his accomplices had launched an attack on the manor. Now under the direction of Byletta’s father-in-law, he had been recruiting workers while launching construction of flood defenses around the estate. The progress reports and correspondence she’d received from Bardu so far had all lauded the man’s skill at simultaneously managing several sites by himself. They had all apparently made remarkable headway.

“Lady Byletta, I asked you to call me by my name.”

“So you have, Master Gail.”

There had been a little back-and-forth about what to call each other that first morning they’d met, but they had settled on “Master Gail” and “Lady Byletta” in the end. Gail had been adamant that she refer to him more casually, but Byletta had been reluctant to shift to first-name basis. After all, he’d been a knight in his home country—even if he had left that country behind. Though his insistence could have been seen as a little overly familiar given his current position, he’d refused to back down.

“Thank you. I apologize that you had to come all the way back here, but when I asked the lord what I should do, he just told me it was up to you… I’m sorry. I should have taken greater ownership of the issue.”

“No need to worry. I thought something like this might happen. Just not so soon. Besides, I hear you’ve been working very hard indeed.”

“I just wish I had built a little more consensus.”

“That was supposed to be my father-in-law’s job. It’s nothing you should have to worry about.”

Gail’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “You’re as strong-willed as ever when it comes to the lord of the manor. In any case, I’ll do my best to prove useful to you.”

Byletta would have preferred that Gail do his best for the entirety of the Swangan lands rather than for her, but she found herself unable to say the words under the man’s keen stare.

“Why don’t we stop the chitchat and take this inside?”

“Y-yes, of course.”

Byletta found herself relieved somehow at Arnald’s abrupt suggestion that they retire into the manor. Upon hearing her enthusiastic approval, Bardu ushered them inside. Gail struck up a conversation with Arnald as they walked.

“Are you still on leave, my lord?”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’ve been on a break for a while now.”

“I was on the front lines for eight years. Of course I’ve been permitted a long rest.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Thank you.”

Though the men smiled as they spoke, Byletta felt a chill in the air between them. She shot a pleading glance behind her at Bardu, but all he gave her in return was a distressed shake of the head.

What was that supposed to mean? Had Bardu decided to betray her? To let her navigate the tension alone?

Once they reached the manor’s reception room, three of the four sat around the table.

Byletta and Arnald sat beside one another, while Gail was seated opposite. Bardu, meanwhile, walked off to the side of the room and busied himself instructing a maid to pour them some tea.

Byletta waited until the tea had been served before she began to speak once more.

“Now then, I’d like a report on the situation immediately. Before we address the problem at hand concerning the village elders and their protests, I’d first like to inquire about the progress of the embankment project and its current roadblocks. I plan to report back to my father-in-law about it later, but regardless, I believe we ought to identify the issues we face and act quickly. Please tell me all you know.”

Byletta flashed a wide smile at Gail to prompt him to answer. At least if the count was not at his manor, he would not be able to get in her way.

“I’ll begin with a progress update.”

Just as Byletta’s thoughts began to wander, Gail’s voice beckoned her back to reality. The room’s atmosphere suddenly grew more tense.

Gail informed them of how he’d been recruiting men from nearby villages. He’d apparently managed to draft soldiers freshly returned from the war to plug up any labor shortages they’d faced, but public safety had still fallen into decline.

Some of the embankments along the river were very old and in dire need of reinforcement.

But the most vital piece of information Gail had to offer was that as soon as construction had begun, the volume of hot spring water had dropped. It seemed he’d been inundated with complaints from the resort on the matter. Given that bathhouse taxes contributed enormously to the estates’ coffers, friction between House Swangan and those with a stake in its land’s most prosperous industry had the potential to lead to huge problems.

“When you say there has been a reduction in the volume of hot spring water, do you mean to say the building of our embankments has caused this?”

“I do. If you would do me the favor of looking here, I can explain in simpler terms.”

It seemed as if Gail had already talked the matter over with Bardu. At a single glance from the ex-knight, the head steward moved to direct their attention to a map on the wall.

“This is a map of the estate. Here is the hot spring resort, and here are the locations of the embankments that we are planning. Some of the preexisting embankments are very old, so shoring those up is our current priority. As for these over here, their construction has recently commenced. Beyond that area, we plan to install more embankments further down the line.”

Byletta had discovered records of flood defenses being established three generations ago by a lord of the Swangan estate last time she’d visited the manor, so she had urged her father-in-law to first investigate the levees currently in place. This had resulted in a proposal indicating the locations where new embankments were most urgently required. The plan marked on the map Gail was presenting was much the same. Both made the case for focusing on the construction of embankments in areas particularly prone to flood damage to change the flow of the river and to dig channels to split the river up. However, so far, only a small portion of this plan had been set into motion.

The most prominent changes they’d made were to the courses of the small streams that flowed between the peaks of the nearby mountain range. The goal was to ensure that all the water they carried didn’t pool downstream. The red dotted lines on the map seemed to mark dilapidated embankments, while the solid red lines appeared to show where work was currently under way. The green lines most likely indicated where future embankments were planned.

Yet it all seemed quite a distance away from the hot spring resort.

“Judging by the map, I find it hard to see how our activities could have such an immediate effect on the hot springs.”

“I should mention that the river water here contains a significant concentration of hot spring minerals. It appears we somehow managed to change the flow of water from the wellspring.”

As Gail gestured between the flood defenses positioned upstream on the map and the adjacent resort, a possible connection between the two became more apparent.

“Surely you must have evaluated the water quality and flow rate before you began constructing the embankments. Given that this survey was only undertaken in a supplementary capacity to those performed before, how did you discover this information?”

“The river water was mainly comprised of rainwater at the beginning of the project, but at some point, that seems to have changed. We based our current construction off the documentation of previous flood defense projects, so we can’t be certain whether this spring water found a new outlet once construction began or if its spot of exodus was already there. But what we do know is that there is now a greater concentration of spring water flowing down the river than there was before. We’ve also received reports of spring water flowing into sites that are currently under construction.”

“I see. And consequently, there are now claims that there has been a reduction in spring water at the resort.”

“Yes. Also, we’ve been constructing new foundations on which to build flood defenses, but in the most recent reports, we have received accounts of these foundations beginning to disintegrate as soon as they’re submerged in the water.”

The potency of Swangan spring water was so strong that it could reduce a sword to dust in seconds as it flowed down to the hot spring resort, even combined with rainwater and fresh water. Byletta had once been to the hot spring resort to inspect it herself and could easily remember the strange odor that had entered her nostrils as soon as she approached. If that water was flowing into the rivers where the embankments were being constructed, then it made sense that even the newest materials were quickly wearing away.

“I think we’ll have to go and see for ourselves if we can put things right. Can you make that a priority?”

“It has been raining a lot these past few days, so perhaps it would be better to wait and see a while first. I’m more concerned about all the quarreling that has been breaking out between the laborers, to be honest.”

“Quarreling?”

“There has been some contention between the locals and the freshly returned soldiers. My subordinates and those under their command have been patrolling to try and prevent it, but we lack the resources… And the number that can be trusted is even more limited, so it’s difficult to deploy more people…”

Gail opened his mouth to speak again but hesitated.

As the former commanding officer of the Kingdom of Naris’s Artillery Regiment Supply Corps, Gail had trustworthy men as subordinates. Perhaps it was strange to call those who’d been stealing the estate’s grain “trustworthy,” but Gail’s men had spent the past few years repairing the local roads and bridges, had planted strong roots in the area, and, by all accounts, had gotten on well with the locals. The only problem was their small numbers.

“Having just returned from the war, many of them have a number of demons to deal with, and I don’t think the blame can be entirely placed on their shoulders.”

“I see… I’ve heard that even the empire is having issues dealing with soldiers fresh from the front lines. I wonder if anything can be done?”

Soldiers who’d just returned from war were often so deeply affected by the brutality they had witnessed on the battlefield that they couldn’t find jobs despite numerous vacancies. Many succumbed to violent impulses and committed crimes. The situation had become so dire that such incidents had begun to occupy imperial newspaper headlines almost every single day. Even Byletta had had to step in and save a girl cornered by two such soldiers on the streets of the imperial capital.

It seemed like the army, too, had been attempting to deal with the issue but had been unable to make much headway.

“The pain of those who go to war can never be understood by those who haven’t. Even so, it’s also a huge problem to ridicule the people who stayed behind and protected these lands by calling them cowards. We’ve managed to curb the issue somewhat, but we haven’t been able to reach a more definitive solution.”

As Byletta sat deep in thought, her husband raised his hand beside her.

“If I may. I have some thoughts on the matter.”

Arnald’s face was apathetic as always.

Whenever he was thinking about something, he seemed to lack the capacity to dwell on what face he should be making at the same time. For him, intentionally forming an expression was probably more of a bother than anything.

“There are just a few things I need to understand. First, how severe are the incidents? Second, which areas are you most concerned about?”

Gail responded to both of Arnald’s questions.

“They’re mostly petty crimes like physical altercations and theft. There have been some casualties, though. As for the locations, I would say that among the nearby farming villages, I often hear of incidents in the village of Baz, where many of the returned soldiers live. It seems that even in rural areas, there were many people who contributed to the war effort. As for the hot spring resort, it attracts a lot of young male migrant workers, but I haven’t heard of any incident reports from there. There have been quite a few in Kenian, however. We’ve recruited many people from there, as that’s where a lot of the construction work is currently focused.”

“Which means we should pay attention to rural areas in the south and the villages in the vicinity of our current construction sites. Those involved in the incidents are war returnees and the people involved in the construction…?”

Gail nodded at Arnald’s brief summary of the situation.

The southernmost area of the Swangan estate was filled with rural farming communities, while the northeast portion was taken up by the hot spring resort. The flood control project was supposed to encompass the Swangan lands in their entirety, but even when accounting for repairs on old infrastructure, construction had begun on only a third of the proposed projects. Since the project was still in the early stages, it was inevitable that progress was still slow.

While there had been an increase in the number of laborers with the recent war returnees, when they’d attempted to distribute those laborers among the sites, they’d found it a difficult task with no organizers. As such, the number of sites that could be worked on at the same time was limited.

“It’s not as if the ex-soldiers are the only ones causing us trouble. Crime has increased overall, so they may just be functioning as some sort of trigger. We also employ a good number of drifters to help us build the flood defenses. I’d hesitate to call all those who have drifted here bad people, but they’re certainly not all good people, either.”

As Gail elaborated on the situation, Arnald looked at the map pensively.

“The most important thing is to devise a means to prevent crimes before they are ever committed.”

“And therefore?”

“What usually sparks these incidents?”

“Trivial things, like one man bumping another man’s shoulder or someone saying the wrong thing.”

“But why are the workers so disgruntled in the first place?”

“I see what you’re getting at. You believe we should review their working conditions, don’t you?” Gail asked brightly.

In other words, they could prevent petty crime by attempting to alleviate some of the reasons the laborers were unhappy in the first place.

Up until that point, they had only considered how to crack down on crime as it occurred and had paid no mind at all as to how to prevent it from the outset.

“Are the working conditions that unsatisfactory?”

When Byletta abruptly joined the conversation, Gail paused in thought.

“I don’t believe they’re that bad, but it’s better to check. If we can reduce any feelings of frustration, that should prove effective.”

“Regarding the returning soldiers in the farming villages, all we can do is spend time trying to convince them to go back to their way of life from before they went to war. Other than that, we should reinforce patrols to crack down on them when they do get out of line.”

“Just the cunning I would expect from the famed Silver Fox.”

When Gail muttered Arnald’s battlefield nickname, his voice was full of admiration.

As one familiar with the art of utilizing information, Arnald was adept at reading the inner thoughts of his enemies and forming the perfect strategy to combat them. He may have been ignorant to the inner workings of his own emotions, but his ability to accurately assess his foes’ perspective was evidence of his cunning. Byletta knew few details surrounding her husband’s feats on the battlefield, but even her own uncle had heard tales of Arnald’s cold-blooded ruthlessness.

“As a man who has also spent much time on the battlefield, I have heard a lot about you.”

“Have you, now?”

Arnald seemed completely unfazed, as if he was completely emotionally removed from Gail’s flattery. He was probably used to it by now.

“Like how you utterly destroyed your opponents on the southern front by decimating their supply lines.”

“Who told you that?”

“An old subordinate of yours I met in Kenian.”

“…I see.”

Arnald’s tone immediately put Byletta on edge. Sensing Arnald’s anger, Gail also fell silent.

What sort of land mine had Gail just stepped on?

As an unnatural silence settled over the room, Byletta focused all her energy into keeping her head down and staring at the ground.

Although they had arrived at the Swangan country manor at a slightly more relaxed pace than usual, journey in the carriage had still taken a toll on Byletta. That night, she was so tired that she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Once morning came, she started her day by heading to the back of the manor. She found it useful to partake in some moderate exercise to help loosen up her stiff body in the mornings. But by the time she arrived there with training sword in hand, Byletta found she’d been usurped by an earlier bird.

Gail was already there, taking a few practice swings with his sword under the morning sun.

“Good morning. Do you mind if I join you?”

“By all means, Lady Byletta,” Gail replied, turning toward her and staring at the sword in her hand. “May I request a sparring match?”

Gail was skilled enough to rise to the position of a knight in the Narisian army—a commanding officer, at that.

Intrigued by his foreign sword style, Byletta agreed without a second thought.

After a light warm-up, she quickly found herself mesmerized by her opponent’s strength. They only went a few bouts, but even so, the Narisian’s skill with a sword was plain to see.

The swords of the Gaihandar Empire were often imposing, and Byletta had been required to find her own way of handling one. The swordplay of Naris, however, was more flamboyant. Instead of imposing, their swords were exquisite. The techniques Gail employed were sharp, precise, and tremendously quick. Byletta truly admired his impeccable swordsmanship.

She slashed at him with her blade.

But no matter the distance she tried to put between them, the Narisian bore down upon her again soon enough. After a few more bouts, Gail suddenly broke into a smile.

“Just as I thought. My men told me about your skill with a blade, but after seeing it for myself…”

“I’m still no match for you, though, Master Gail.”

“Yes, but it’s my job to be good with a sword, not yours. Under normal circumstances, I would be protecting ladies like you, not fighting them. That said, with your proficiency, I’d love nothing more than to be able to welcome you into my ranks.”

Even as they exchanged blows, Gail spoke calmly.

“That’s quite a compliment coming from a former commanding officer—and one who looks out for his men, according to them. Even Bardu has written to me glowingly about how much easier you’ve made life around here. I’m very impressed.”

“It’s an honor to receive praise from a man like him. As someone who has represented the lord of this manor for such a long time, no one knows the estate better than him. He has a lot of good things to say about you, too, by the way.”

“About me?”

“Like how you’ve gotten a handle on Count Swangan.”

Even though Gail was smiling as if amused, Byletta could tell he was poking fun at her. Although it was often rumored that Byletta had deviously twisted her father-in-law around her little finger, it didn’t seem as though that was what Gail was referring to.

“No one else is willing to put my father-in-law to work. All I’m doing is giving him the push he needs.”

Since the head steward was so adept at his job, the estate had been governed competently, even when its lord was not present. And since nothing was required of the lord to generate money, it was inevitable that he’d lost the drive to do anything. Even though the death of his wife was what triggered his initial absence from his own lands, Byletta had a feeling it was his lack of purpose there that had truly kept him away for so many years. Ironically, the existence of excellent servants and subordinates who were able to succeed without the direction of their lord had actually been to the estate’s detriment in the long run.

The servants at the country manor were also too soft on the count. If only they’d been more capable of giving their lord a kick up the backside to make him work harder, things may have turned out different. Instead, they had trodden too lightly.

“You’re the only person who could say such a thing. But how is married life treating you?” Gail suddenly asked, sheathing his sword. It was a complete change of subject from teasing her about her father-in-law.

Surprised by the question itself, as well as Gail’s sudden serious change of expression, Byletta sheathed her own blade.

“Have I crossed a line?”

“I just didn’t think…you were interested in such things.”

Byletta hadn’t expected Gail to initiate small talk. She had read in multiple reports that he was diligent and single-mindedly focused on his work. It wasn’t as if he came across as particularly difficult to approach—in fact, Byletta would describe him as easygoing—but you could tell how earnest he was just by watching his conduct on the job. She’d never thought a man like him would ask her such a question.

“I owe you a great deal. I only pray for your happiness. The young lord seems to be quite an obstinate man to me, and many of the people on the estate have expressed a similar sentiment. Are you not discomfited by him at all?”

Byletta had no idea how the people on the estate spoke of Arnald, but she’d already had an inkling that the returning soldiers and those who’d served under him in the army didn’t have a very good impression of him. People had claimed he was ruthless and cold-blooded before word of the man had ever reached Byletta’s ears, so such a thing wouldn’t be entirely unexpected.

“Ha-ha, I appreciate your concern, but everything is just fine at the moment.”

“That’s good to hear. Your husband seems as difficult as his lord father, although perhaps in a different way.”

Byletta unwittingly followed the direction of Gail’s gaze as he glanced up toward the house. And there was Arnald, standing at a third-floor window looking down at them.

How long had he been watching like that? His usual lack of expression made it difficult to guess what he was thinking. Perhaps he’d just happened to catch sight of his spouse swinging a sword and stopped to observe.

“That’s true. He either maintains his usual poker face or curls his lips into a slight, unreadable smile, so I can never tell what is going on in that head of his. But I have learned to pay it no mind.”

“He’s still your husband, though, isn’t he? Couldn’t that lead to further issues down the road?”

“Not for much longer, if all goes to plan.”

When Byletta noted that that detail was a secret, Gail’s eyes grew wide in surprise.

“I find it difficult to believe that the lords of this manor would let you walk away so easily.”

“I’ve already been promised a divorce. All I have to do is wait.”

“‘Wait’…? Are you saying there would be no love lost between you?”

“Quite the romantic, aren’t you, Master Gail? The only place you find love within marriage is on the stage.”

Many of the most popular plays in the empire featured couples who were in unhappy marriages seeking to reclaim their lost love for one another or couples who were once in love now bogged down in the quagmire of divorce. It was difficult enough to find examples of happy and contented love in fiction—never mind in real life. Especially if the marriage had been arranged.

Byletta’s parents had married for love, but she knew their situation was an exception. Besides, she was no naive little girl who yearned for something magical. Her husband was Arnald, after all.

He was a military man through and through, and while his lineage had no doubt aided him somewhat in his rise to lieutenant colonel, it was his own raw talent that had driven him the rest of the way. Byletta could hardly imagine a man like that falling head over heels in love. And just by observing her father-in-law, she could guess what Arnald wanted in a wife.

A woman who would protect her family, support her husband, and never interfere. A woman who would satiate his libido on occasion and obediently play her part in helping him escape his troubles. Love wasn’t required for any of that. That’s why he had been able to propose his wager to her. That idiotic wager no man who truly loved his wife would have ever been able to suggest.

“I see. So you don’t believe love to be necessary for a marriage?”

“It’s not that I believe it is not required. Just that it is not always present. Particularly in my case.”

Arnald had always treated her like his own personal prostitute. He hadn’t a shred of love for her.

“My husband is the kind of man who, when asked for a divorce, instead counteroffers with an absurd wager. He told me he would grant me a divorce, but only if he failed to impregnate me after we lived as husband and wife for a month. Does that sound like love to you?”

“I don’t know what to say… Did he truly suggest such a thing?”

“Yes. All he wants is a wife who does what she’s told and doesn’t get in the way.”

Though Arnald made it a point to avoid women, he still clearly desired to lie with one on occasion. But that didn’t mean he knew what it was to love a wife. He could do that with any woman he pleased. It seemed as though he considered her valuable enough to offer a wager to stop her from leaving, but the terms themselves were insignificant to him.

Gail seemed unable to find the words to reply, but Byletta needed no advice. She had always been determined to divorce her husband. Then she would be free.

“But why? You’re an incredible woman.”

There were two paces exactly between Gail and Byletta, but that distance suddenly felt awfully close.

Byletta had never felt this kind of energy from Gail before.

She didn’t even notice herself blinking repeatedly at the discomfort she found herself experiencing in the face of such flattery.

And it had come so suddenly, making her feel like she was trapped in a dizzying daydream.

“I appreciate…the compliment.”

Gail seemed to read Byletta’s bewilderment and broke into a pleasant smile. It was the kind of expression a parent would make to placate a willful child. But as he continued, his words only backed Byletta further into a corner.

“It seems you aren’t very lucky in love. You should have the chance to experience it for real. You have no need for a pretend husband who would propose such a ridiculous wager to you. And if he saddens you so, then I would declare war for you. How could I not, knowing I could set free a woman I adore so much? Do you mind if I become serious now?”

“Master Gail… Um… This jape…”

“Lady Byletta, I’m sure you know by now that I’m not one to jest. That’s why you’re trying to play my comments off as something else. You’re a smart woman.”

“P-please, don’t press me any further.”

Byletta was aware she was unfamiliar with the subtleties between men and women. The only reaction she could ever have to being suddenly confronted with such an impassioned plea was confusion. His approach was quite different from that of all the high-class men who’d swallowed the rumors about her. There was no disdain in his eyes, just adoration.

It was the first time Byletta had even been gazed at like that. It took everything she had to ignore the flush she could feel in her cheeks and remain calm.

“Please bear this in mind in the future: I adore you to the point of worship.”

Gail gave her a calm smile before getting down on one knee and lifting Byletta’s hand. Looking her directly in the eye, he gently kissed it.

It was an action knights of Naris performed to woo noblewomen.

Her uncle had regaled her with tales of this custom after a trip abroad once. Byletta had never thought back then that she would one day witness it with her own two eyes.

“Please don’t allow yourself to forget how I feel about you.”

Arnald paused as the sound of swords clanging from the back of the manor reached his ears.

Looking out of the hallway window, he saw familiar strawberry-blond hair shimmering in the morning sun. He knew Byletta could handle a sword and that she had been training back in the capital. He’d also heard from the servants that she sometimes practiced her swordplay at the country manor as well. However, it was the first time he’d witnessed her sparring against an opponent.

The army was home to a few female soldiers, and women were allowed to fully participate in drills. He had thought Byletta was no different, but there he was, frozen as he admired the sight of his wife’s well-composed blows. He was instantly reminded of how her swordplay had enraptured him the night of the attack on the manor.

Yet he had still been unable to tell her directly how beautiful she looked.

After sparring several times, Gail and Byletta sheathed their swords.

Arnald couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but the conversation certainly seemed lively.

Gail said something to Byletta, and her gaze quickly jerked up, filled with defenseless bewilderment. How can she be so naive around other men? Arnald thought, irritated.

Compared to how prepared she’d been for battle that night they’d gone to the victory celebration, she was now unrecognizable. She must have let her guard down.

As Arnald looked down at the pair in annoyance, Gail suddenly shot a look back at him.

He’d expected nothing less from a knight of the Kingdom of Naris.

Gail had been quick to notice Arnald watching them.

A curious Byletta followed Gail’s gaze with her own.

Husband and wife locked eyes with one another. The beauty of Byletta’s amethyst irises was visible from all the way up on the third floor. Arnald was captivated briefly by how they shone with the light of the sun, but then his wife turned her attention back to Gail.

What was enticing her to stare longer at that man than her own husband?

The pair’s intimate conversation continued despite their knowledge of Arnald’s presence.

As Byletta said something, Gail’s eyes widened in shock. Arnald could feel himself becoming more and more wound up. The two of them looked thick as thieves, almost like they were trying to rub his nose in it.

They were much too close. Wives weren’t supposed to stand that close to men who weren’t their husbands. A few steps back would have been a more appropriate distance, surely?

Yet the pair paid no mind to Arnald’s growing jealousy, seemingly immersed in their own little world.

As Gail spoke, Arnald saw Byletta blush and panic.

Before he knew it, Gail was smiling serenely and getting down on his knee. He lifted Byletta’s hand and gently kissed it as the pair stared into one another’s eyes.

It was something a knight of Naris would do to woo a lady.

The gesture was also featured in one of the capital’s most popular operas. Arnald could remember one of his men complaining about his lover pestering him to go see it. He’d groaned about how pompous the gesture was and proclaimed he wouldn’t be caught dead imitating it any time soon. It was little wonder, as the soldiers of the empire were fashioned to be manly. Their world had little room for grace.

As Gail kissed Byletta’s hand, he truly looked the part of a former knight.

The scene before Arnald had all the hallmarks of a well-composed painting.

If the recipient had been anyone but his wife, he would have thought nothing of the hand kiss. But this was not the case.

It was nothing short of a challenge.

It had been only ten days since Gail and Byletta had first exchanged words. His wife’s powers of seduction were truly a marvel. She could wrap any man around her finger with ease. And it only encouraged potential lovers like Gail.

Arnald absentmindedly left the window and headed back to their room. The space he and Byletta had been given during this stay at the manor was an old storage chamber, which was next door to Arnald’s childhood bedroom, but it had been renovated so thoroughly that he could barely remember what it used to look like before.

In it was a bed wide enough for a couple to share, a writing desk, a couch, and some bookshelves. The decor was modest, but it resulted in a space that was easy to relax in.

Bardu had commented that preparing the room had taken a full week and laughed in relief when they managed to complete it the day before Arnald and Byletta’s arrival. It had been wonderful timing. Bardu had apparently asked Byletta what she wished to do about their sleeping arrangements last time they’d stayed at the estate, and this was the room she had chosen for future visits. It didn’t get the best sun, but it was spacious.

The fact that Byletta had opted to leave both her husband’s childhood bedroom and his mother’s room alone made Arnald feel like she had taken his feelings into consideration when making this particular choice. He wasn’t a sentimental man, but he still felt a foreign warmth spread through his chest at the thought.

Perhaps that was why a feeling of discomfort had begun to race through his body as soon as he saw Gail and his wife in the backyard.

It was a feeling that stuck with him the entire day.

He felt it again when he saw the pair arrive for breakfast at the same time and again when a now freshly bathed Byletta sat down on the couch in their room. His discomfort was indescribable. But before Arnald could open his mouth to say what he wanted to, Byletta piped up first.

“We won’t be able to sleep together for a while.”

At the sudden proclamation, Arnald gave Byletta a look that wouldn’t have appeared out of place on a man watching a condemned subordinate heading to the hangman’s noose.

On their way to the estate from the capital, they had been so tired that they’d slept in separate rooms at their lodgings. And even after they had arrived, Byletta had continued going straight to sleep. Arnald had been expecting they would finally be able to spend some time in bed together that night, but now she had preemptively rejected him.

Frowning slightly, Arnald sent Byletta a cold look.

“And that would be because…?”

Was she acting this way since she had Gail by her side now? Because she didn’t want him to see evidence of any liaisons between the two of them?

In no time at all, the warm feeling in Arnald’s heart turned black and sank down to the pit of his stomach. Remembering how peaceful his wife and Gail had been together in the morning sunlight, he was overtaken by unease once again.

But he swallowed back the words he’d felt compelled to utter just in time for Byletta to chime in with an awkward and faintly pleased tone. “My time of the month is upon me… I know some men are uncomfortable with what that entails, so I wouldn’t mind if you prefer to sleep separately tonight.”

Her time of the month?

Unable to make heads or tails of what she was saying for a moment, Arnald simply repeated her words to himself in his head. Gradually, her meaning became clear to him, and his initial confusion gave way to disappointment that he hadn’t managed to father a child with her.

It bothered him.

If he didn’t win their wager, Byletta would leave. He could easily imagine her firmly turning her back on him. Yet he found the fact that he hadn’t fathered a child with her bothered him even more than losing.

Had he really desired such a thing so deeply?

Arnald questioned his feelings but was unable to come to any conclusions.

He knew he wasn’t a particularly family-oriented man. He had never been able to be quite sure of his own emotions, let alone those of his wife. Yet if he had to label what he felt now, it was certainly disappointment.

Arnald steeled himself so that Byletta wouldn’t detect any of his inner turmoil when he next spoke. But with one line from Byletta, all that effort became for naught.

“So may I assume I am the winner of our wager?”

“What do you mean…?”

“It is evident that I am not with child. That is not likely to change during this time, and with your leave of absence coming to an end soon, you don’t have much longer to spend with me anyway. My victory is all but guaranteed at this point.” She cocked her head questioningly.

Arnald finally understood why his wife seemed so cheerful.

On that night when Arnald had met Byletta for the first time, he had already been in the imperial capital for a week. His leave was, in fact, already over. However, his assertion that he was journeying to the Swangan estate on “military business” meant he’d had little trouble getting permission to extend his leave for a week. If needed, he could even prolong it further.

The problem was, Byletta was convinced that she was going to win the wager. She knew for a fact that she wasn’t with child. It was possible she had been using contraceptives this whole time—doing so hadn’t been ruled out in their agreement, and Arnald had presumed she would from the beginning—but he’d been purposely targeting the medications’ known weak points. Not that now seemed the best time to bring any of that up.

Arnald smiled at his wife, trying to ignore the triumph on her face.

“Unfortunately for you, I’ve just returned from war, so I can prolong my leave.”

“There’s really no need to go to such trouble.”

A bit of discomfort flashed in Byletta’s eyes, but Arnald felt no need to explain himself any further. If he misspoke, he might accidentally reveal the inner turmoil he was feeling.

“Let’s have an early night. Come now, lie down here.”

“What? Are you planning to stay?”

“There are still a few days left of our wager once your monthly tribulations are over. And until then, we are still husband and wife. Since you’re feeling under the weather, I’d like you to rest tonight. Is there anything you’d like me to do for you?”

“No, thank you. I’m used to it, so I’m sure I’ll feel better in a few days.”

“I see. Then let us sleep.”

Arnald took his bemused wife by the arm and pushed her toward the bed. He then pulled the blankets over her and nestled down beside her.

Lying there, he wondered how he would have reacted if she’d told him she was with child.

Eyes slowly opening, Byletta relaxed in the warmth that surrounded her.

Perhaps it was because all the tension she’d been feeling had dissipated upon their arrival at the estate, but her time of the month had finally come, bringing with it a wave of tiredness even after she’d recovered from the trip there.

Arnald had frowned at first when Byletta had proclaimed that they would be unable to make use of their marriage bed for the next few days, but once she’d explained why, he’d appeared much more sympathetic.

Byletta had presumed this meant that the wager was over and she had emerged victorious, but it seemed Arnald had the ability to extend his leave of absence from the military. Not even her own father had been able to remain at home on leave for so long, so she’d been quite taken aback, but now it looked like the wager would last the full month.

Byletta had been able to reluctantly accept that, but she had been surprised Arnald still wished to sleep beside her. It appeared that even if they didn’t lie with one another, he still wanted to stay in the same bed. She’d thought he would find it difficult to hold back his urges, but in reality, he hadn’t seemed to mind. He’d simply led her to bed and slept early.

Even in the dim morning light, he was still handsome.

It was foolish to be jealous of such refined looks. If anything, they made her feel refreshed.

The reason she was gazing so closely at her husband’s face was because he had his arm wrapped tightly around her. It was like he was using her as a pillow to hug, but if that was really how he wanted to sleep, Byletta would have to purchase him a nice soft one as a substitute.

Perhaps it would make for a calming presence to snuggle up next to when his wife was gone.

Or maybe he’d just find a new woman.

As Byletta recalled the events of the victory celebration, she remembered how astounded she’d been to witness Arnald’s popularity firsthand. The number of intense stares he’d received just for standing a short distance away from others had been a sight to behold. It hadn’t seemed to matter one bit if Byletta was on his arm or not. She’d been shockingly ineffective at repelling the attention he’d garnered from the opposite sex.

He would most likely find a replacement for her very quickly.

Yet somehow, the thought made her sad.

Perhaps consenting to sleep with the man had stirred up some affection within her. But no. That must all be in her head. She couldn’t stand her husband.

Still, it was true that the time she’d spent with him had worked to pacify some of the hostility she generally felt toward men in general.

Not that she could forgive Arnald for tricking her into bed with that foul wager. Whenever she thought of him and his opinion that any woman would do, she felt an anger rising in her chest she could not quell. To her dear husband, she was just a convenient whore he could use at his whim.

Byletta had been taking contraceptives from the very beginning. What she took became effective approximately one hour after consumption and lasted for eight. Yet Arnald, an intelligent man, hadn’t bothered to include any provisions about contraceptive use in their contract, which told Byletta he’d never intended to win their bet at all.

There was no way he hadn’t known what she was doing. And though he’d occasionally pressured her into sleeping with him out of the blue during the day or kept her up from dusk until dawn, he’d never attempted to coerce her out of using them. With that in mind, it was more than plausible that he wasn’t especially invested in winning.

Byletta hadn’t wanted Arnald to catch on to how angry she was about that, so she’d tried her hardest to keep her cool. Rather than interrogate him, it had seemed better to wait and see how things developed.

That said, Byletta could acknowledge that the warmth she was feeling as he embraced her—despite her monthly ailment—did make her feel content. And when all was said and done, she had to admit she was, very slightly, disappointed that she wasn’t pregnant. She grimaced, recognizing the irony in that vague, unsure feeling, but that was something even she could accept.

Byletta didn’t have a good grasp on what people termed love or romance, and she still remained wary of men thanks to her past experiences. Even though she was determined to establish herself as an independent woman and would not be swayed, it was true that she still found herself feeling a smidge of sadness at the prospect. That most likely meant that she did harbor romantic feelings for Arnald, but it would sicken her to admit that. So for now, she was only prepared to acknowledge the heartache.

Byletta slowly closed her eyes and sighed.

She thought back to what Gail had confessed to her the previous day but resolved not to dwell on it just yet.

For her, romantic feelings were part of an alien world she didn’t belong to. Perhaps she was fearful of that unknown.

As she pictured Gail’s impassioned gaze, Byletta felt her face grow hot. But he had merely mentioned how he felt, and it didn’t seem as if he intended to do anything further. As he’d said, he just wanted her to bear his feelings in mind. He knew of Byletta’s timid heart and seemed to have kindly accommodated for that.

Gail was a decent, earnest man. Together, they could probably share a tender love. But as of right now, it was impossible. The wager with Arnald was still not over.

Byletta had been slightly taken aback by her own unfamiliarity with matters of the heart at her age, but it had made her realize just how clumsy she was in that area.

If only such things were as easy to understand as money and ledgers.

If only she could identify the correct path forward by reading a sheet of paper.

Perhaps if she ignored her feelings, they’d silently fade away with time.

Byletta could only silently pray for it to be so.

Kenian was situated beside a river in the eastern portion of the Swangan estate. Constructed along the banks of the tributary, it was frequently damaged by flooding and was home to the tired remnants of embankments constructed in years past. This had awarded it the distinction of being the first place where construction was to be commenced for the flood control project. Currently, they were busy allocating personnel for the repairs, but there were also plans to enlarge the embankment. Byletta had been asked to go and immediately inspect the site.

The village had quite a large population and was known as a port of entry into the estate. As such, business inevitably boomed there, and it was often used as part of a trade route. It was an area the Swangans wanted to protect properly.

But the more people gather, the more fights tend to break out. And Kenian was no exception. As public safety deteriorated, the residents had begun to publicly demand something be done.

Arnald was the one to choose Kenian as the location of their first inspection.

He hadn’t been clear about the reasoning behind his decision, but Byletta had no objections. So they, together with Gail, prepared to head out to the village.

Once the sun was high in the sky, they departed the manor to make the two-hour journey there. When their carriage passed through the village gates, it stopped in an area that appeared to be a central plaza.

The village chief was there to welcome them. Byletta had visited this village before with her father-in-law, so they knew one another. Even though she’d only notified them the previous night of their intention to visit, it seemed he’d been preparing for their arrival.

“Welcome to Kenian. I see you’re here to inspect the construction on the riverbank, but…”

The village chief intermittently glanced at the carriage. He seemed to be perplexed as to why there was neither hide nor hair of Byletta’s lordly father-in-law. After Count Swangan’s many years of neglecting his estate, the people there still didn’t seem to trust him. It wasn’t a big leap to assume that the chief’s mind was full of worries over whether his lord would stop visiting again or had taken ill. Still, Byletta was under no obligation to explain her father-in-law’s absence.

Although the reason for the man’s nonattendance was something Byletta would like to have known, too. Why was the count so determined not to leave his guesthouse at the hot spring resort?

The chief was giving her a probing stare, but Byletta only smiled genially.

“Yes, that’s right. Would you mind if we left for the construction site right away?”

“By all means, but please return here once you’re done. I’d like to hold a small dinner reception of sorts for you.”

“Very well. Shall we depart?” Byletta asked. They left for the worksite not long after.

Their destination was a tributary of the Medena River, which flowed straight through the middle of the Swangan estate. To its side lay a large pile of rocks that had been carved out of the mountainside to be used in the creation of a secure foundation for the embankment.

Once the man who was shouting directions on the riverbank noticed Byletta and the others approaching, he ran straight up to them.

He was the supervisor of the site and one of Gail’s men. His tanned, lined face gave him a strict-seeming appearance, but he had kind eyes.

“Hello, Gail. How may I be of service today?”

“We’re here to observe your work. Could you tell us how everything is progressing so far?”

“Ah, we did receive a message that you were coming, now that you mention it. Things are progressing, as you can see. I’m very grateful for the extra men you sent, but we’re not making as much headway as I’d hoped.”

The man gestured to the other men at work around them as he spoke.

Suddenly, they were interrupted by the sound of a huge splash.

Some of the men who were supposed to be working had begun brawling in the shallows. With all the punching and kicking, it was a veritable fracas.

“Here we go again…”

The supervisor shrugged as he listened to the angry yells flying between all sides.

“Does this happen often?” Byletta asked absentmindedly.

The man nodded. “The men who were recruited locally and those who have returned from the war are always quarreling over the most trivial things. The locals accuse the former soldiers of acting high-and-mighty, while the soldiers accuse the locals of being cowards for not going to the front like them. It’s always the same.”

The issue seemed even more deep-rooted than Byletta had first thought.

As she gazed at the group in thoughtful contemplation, a large man suddenly appeared and threw the combatants into the river one after the other. It was quite a feat of strength.

The man had shiny jet-black hair and a masculine face. Muscles rippled under the surface of his tanned skin. He seemed to be roughly the same age as Arnald.

“Now’s not the time for your silly games. Settle down and get back to work.”

The man spoke in a low, booming voice. While he didn’t yell at the men picking themselves up out of the river, his voice carried well and spurred them back to their labor.

Byletta was impressed.

“Amazing. All it took was one word, and work is back on track.”

“That’s Wied. He has a penchant for causing trouble himself, but sometimes, he helps break things up, as you just saw.”

An embarrassed smile crossed the supervisor’s face, suggesting what they’d just seen was a daily occurrence.

Gail piped up amicably. “That’s the man I told you about yesterday. Lord Arnald’s former subordinate.”

Byletta momentarily grew pale. It seems we’ve stepped on this land mine of a subject again.

“Right. Wied mentioned that he returned here after getting injured on the front lines. I had no idea he was one of Lord Arnald’s men.” Taking the hint from Gail, the supervisor called out to Wied in a loud voice. “Wied, come on over here.”

Byletta’s heart was in her mouth. The demeanor of her husband, who stood beside her, had completely changed. The atmosphere around them was so cold, it gave her the shivers.

“What’s the matter, Mr. Supervi— Well, if it isn’t the lord commander himself?!”

Wied had been walking over to them rather listlessly, but when he spotted Arnald, his eyes lit up. His eyes—the same color as his dark hair—sparkled in the sunlight. And as soon as she stared into that clear gaze, Byletta understood what kind of man she was looking at.

An idiot with no self-awareness.

“Lieutenant Colonel Wied Darde, how many times must I ask you to restrain yourself?”

“Former lieutenant colonel. I was discharged, so please just call me by my name. At any rate, you’re still as handsome as ever, Commander.”

“You never change.”

“My joyful energy is my one and only saving grace.”

Arnald certainly hadn’t intended his words to be taken as a compliment, but Wied broke out into a happy smile all the same.

It somehow felt as though the two men were reading their conversation from two completely different scripts, but perhaps that was just how they were. Arnald appeared to be quite hard on Wied.

“Byletta, this is former Lieutenant Colonel Wied Darde. Given he is my ex-subordinate, you don’t need to put in the effort of committing him to memory.”

There’s no need to stress “former” quite so much, Byletta thought, wishing he would relent a little. Her husband had already been quite successful in making it plain that he didn’t want to become involved with Wied.

But the man her husband had just introduced seemed to pay him no mind.

“Wow! You two make a handsome pair, standing side-by-side. You’re very beautiful, my lady.”

“Please refrain from acting overly familiar with my wife.”

“Your wife…? Huh?! You got married?!”

Wied abandoned all pretenses and gaped at Arnald in astonishment.

Even if Arnald was his former superior, Byletta fretted that the man’s behavior was bordering on rude now.

“I was never not married.”

“Oh, now that you mention it, I did hear that somewhere. Although, I have to admit, I didn’t put much stock in the rumor at first. I couldn’t imagine you with a wife by your side, but…here you are! Even a monster like you found somebody. And what a beautiful somebody, too! I’m jealous!”

As Wied continued offering various exclamations in a bewildered tone, Arnald looked on with an insincere smile on his face.

“Please continue your inspection, Byletta. I will deal with this man.”

“Let me help you, if only so I may breathe the same air as her.”

“Please refrain from sullying my wife with your presence.”

“Come on, Lord Commander! Didn’t we use to banter like this all the time back in the good old days?”

“I have no such memories.”

“How can you be so heartless? Just who was it who used to cover your ass? You’d better listen to this, my lady. Our lord commanders used to take money from their own wages to introduce us lowly men to the most amazing high-class whores. It brings me to tears just thinking about it. Only problem is, now I find I can only lie with the prettiest of prostitutes. What’s a man supposed to do?”

What had once been an enjoyable conversation had turned into something vexing.

Unable to think up a witty comment, Byletta gave the man a half-hearted reply.

“Huh? What are you planning to do in a place like this, my lady?”

Though Byletta had left the men behind and continued her inspection, it’d seemed as though her husband was giving Wied a good scolding as she’d departed. But shortly after she’d walked the short distance to the riverbank, Wied approached her again as she was watching the workers make their repairs.

Gail was still standing beside Byletta, but Arnald was no longer present. Perhaps that was why Wied felt emboldened enough to approach again. Or perhaps he’d merely come this direction to escape his former superior, who was currently in conversation with the supervisor about the new embankments that were yet to be built.

As Wied sauntered up without even a glance toward the silent and wary Gail, Byletta deduced that this man must hold quite a bit of influence.

“I’m here to observe the state of the repairs. Can I help you with anything in particular?”

“I’ve heard you’re quite the celebrity. A renowned nymphomaniac, they say. How about it? Will you let me kick off my shoes tonight? I can show you a good time. I’m very well equipped in that regard.”

That line was one the imperial nobility used to proposition a woman for sex. Before you got into bed, you had to remove your shoes, so the phrase had become a euphemism for intercourse.

That meant Wied either had his own title or was somehow otherwise associated with the nobility. It was strange, but there was some level of elegance contained in the well-worn phrase that’d come from the man’s mouth, despite its filthy meaning.

He’d probably heard about Byletta from the men he worked with. They’d likely told him that she had both the lord and his son eating out of the palm of her hand or that she had a dubious relationship with Gail, their supervisor.

“I’m not quite that easy to bed.”

Byletta smiled pleasantly at Wied, which seemed to take him aback. But he grinned at her all the same.

It seemed he’d received her message clearly.

Yet, given it was Byletta’s first time ever encountering such an unpretentious smile, she was even more stunned than Wied was.

“You must be one brave woman to marry the lord commander… I see you’re going to be a tough nut to crack.”

“I’d rather not have to listen to the advances of a man who won’t take no for an answer.”

When Byletta flashed the man a warning look, Wied donned a straight face and began to play innocent.

“What do you mean? When you see a beautiful girl, it’s natural to want to seduce her.”

“Unbelievable.”

Didn’t this man care that she was his former superior’s wife? Wouldn’t some officers have their subordinates court-martialed for something like this? It was an interesting window into some of the hardships Arnald must have faced.

Wied suddenly turned his head to the side, and his expression quickly stiffened. His ability to sniff out approaching danger seemed very animallike.

“Uh-oh, it looks like the lord commander saw us… Perhaps I should leave a beautiful girl like you with a warning.”

“Aren’t you afraid that if you don’t move soon, he’s going to kill you?” Byletta asked.

Arnald was rapidly striding his way toward them with a severe look on his face. He may have seemed as stoic as ever at first glance, but his mask had slipped just enough that Byletta could infer what he was feeling. And he most definitely was not in a good mood.

Despite Byletta’s withering question, the corner of Wied’s mouth turned up in a smile.

Urgh, gross. Is he some kind of deviant? Perhaps he found the thought of Arnald inflicting pain on him exciting.

“You’d be wise to not truly fall for the lord commander. That man is stone through and through.”

It appeared that quite a few people likened Arnald to a statue.

He was hard and cold. There was perhaps no comparison more apt.

But Byletta already knew that all too well, which is why she nodded back at Wied with a wide smile.

“Yes, you don’t have to tell me that.”

The reception they had been promised by the village chief was held in his home that night, but Arnald was nowhere to be seen. He’d told Byletta that he didn’t feel well and would be excusing himself from the gathering, then taken off on horseback.

If he was feeling so poorly, why would he not spend the night relaxing at the chief’s residence, where they were staying?

The long dining table was decorated with a gorgeous tablecloth and displayed many symbols of the chief’s affluence.

It was only natural, given that the man was the chief of the most developed village in the region, but the extravagance on display far exceeded that of even some of the titled but unlanded nobles in the imperial capital. Covered in local specialties, the vibrant and colorful table was a joy to behold. Byletta sighed in awe at the elaborate design.

Being the gateway to trade in the region, Kenian was able to provide lots of dishes packed with different ingredients and spices for guests to enjoy, but with so few in attendance, Byletta had to be satisfied with only thinking how delicious it all was. It was sad that she had no one to declare it to.

Gail was the only one there to support her as they exchanged reports of the day’s inspection over dinner.

Beside Byletta, he and the village chief were having a lighthearted conversation about the embankments.

“It seems as though construction will still take quite a while, then.”

“It does. Will it pose a problem if we require more time?”

“We’re through the rainiest period of the year now, so delayed flood protection won’t be a problem for us yet. I’m just worried about the cold setting in.”

“Oh, that’s right, Lady Byletta,” the chief said, as if he’d just remembered something. “Regarding the matter of the Dembar tapestries you so kindly advised me about, the price did shoot up recently after all.”

“It did?”

Byletta had received reports from Bardu that various villages across the estate were having difficulties with traders from the neighboring country of Talnian. They had apparently purchased tapestries from another country named Dembar and were now aggressively trying to sell off their wares to residents of the Gaihandar Empire since they couldn’t shift them in their own country. The tapestries themselves were woven with soft, fine silk in mysterious patterns and oozed exoticism.

Bardu had previously attempted to discuss the matter with Byletta’s father-in-law, but after receiving no answer, he’d sent a letter requesting Byletta’s assistance instead. She could still vividly remember the response she’d immediately sent to him. She’d advised him to buy the tapestries for cheap and store them away carefully.

Dembar was located farther south than Talnian, so thin fabrics were popular there. They were light and cool, but places like Gaihandar and Talnian had many wintry regions, so the people who lived there tended to prefer fabrics that were thick and warm. Naturally, they also favored thickness in their tapestries.

The timing had been bad. When Byletta had received Bardu’s letter, the empire had been in the middle of a war, and the trend was to avoid buying overly extravagant or brand-new things. But now that the war was over, people were in the mood to celebrate and spend money on novelties and showier indulgences.

The village chief grinned.

It was probably Bardu who’d informed him that Byletta had given the advice.

Still, thanks to the empty seat beside Gail on the opposite side of the table, she could only force a smile. The absence of her husband and father-in-law—especially here before such a delectable feast—made her feel deeply disappointed. She didn’t have it in her to savor the flavor of any of the dishes.

“I thought it was strange when the lord’s representative told me you’d advised him so, but you came through for us once again. No wonder our lord holds you in such high esteem.”

“She’s one of the best at business in the empire, always on the leading edge of the trends.”

“Now, where did you hear that, Master Gail? All this flattery is making me blush.”

“From his lordship, of course. He’s very proud of you.”

So the source of the information had been her father-in-law.

Count Swangan wasn’t one to compliment another without reason. He must have expressed himself thus to discourage Gail from stepping out of line.

Perhaps he’d wanted to assert who was in charge.

But Gail gave no hint as to Byletta’s father-in-law’s ulterior motives as the village chief nodded happily along.

“As indeed he is right to be! Perhaps next time, his lordship and the young lord might join us. I would love to hear what they have to say.”

“Of course. I’ll make sure they accompany me when we next meet.”

It would be pointless to just force them into coming. Instead, Byletta wanted to make them understand how essential it was to attend these kinds of functions. Thinking of the father and son, who were both far too quick to push work on her before making a hasty exit, Byletta grinned. Her smile was even more dazzling than usual as she silently swore to herself she would make the pair regret their absence. She chuckled sinisterly under her breath.

Who on earth is this handsome man drunkenly rambling in front of me? He hasn’t even drunk a drop of alcohol!

It was after sunset. Wied had been sitting in the corner of his usual bar, nursing a mug of beer and picking at a modest meal, when his former superior entered the establishment.

He must have asked the site supervisor about Wied’s usual habits after work once the inspection had ended. He’d probably been directed to the bar in the village. The supervisor sometimes joined Wied for a drink, but Arnald’s former subordinate was almost always there anyway, so he wasn’t difficult to find.

Realizing his former superior had spurned a fancy dinner with his beautiful wife in favor of spending time in the company of a dirty reprobate, Wied had prepared for the worst.

That was when Arnald had blankly told Wied he had something serious to discuss with him.

Holding his breath as he wondered what on earth Arnald wanted to talk to him about, Wied had listened to Arnald’s long lecture. In short, it seemed he was getting a scolding for telling other people about the secret strategy Arnald had employed on the southern front.

“I didn’t go into detail, though.”

“Of course you didn’t. Because it’s not the sort of thing you could tell anyone else.”

Arnald’s strategy had dealt a decisive blow to the enemy supply corps back then. Wied could remember just how impressed he and his fellow soldiers had been as Arnald obliterated half of the opposing forces in one fell swoop. The other half had been allowed to escape. But all was not as it seemed—some of their food supplies had been laced with poison.

A few of the enemy soldiers who’d managed to keep hold of their supplies had died randomly. Some who’d eaten the same food had lived, while others weren’t so lucky. Starving and driven into a corner with no way out, the soldiers had ultimately succumbed to suspicion and paranoia, leading to division among their ranks.

With the implementation of one simple strategy, winning the war had become a much easier task to achieve.

Wied had never spoken to anyone about the tactic in detail. All he had done was compliment Arnald’s sublime use of the manipulation of human emotions to commit psychological warfare.

It seemed that Wied’s mistake had not been what he said, but who he said it to.

“Oh, are your wife and Supervisor Adaltine up to something naughty?” Wied commented mockingly, remembering how Gail had been standing next to Byletta when he’d approached her earlier that day.

Soon after, he sensed danger in the air.

He’d been on the receiving end of a cold look from Gail earlier, too, but Arnald’s stare chilled him to the bone. Panicking, Wied adopted an earnest expression.

“Uh, I was just joking. There’s no way your wife would ever cheat on you. You know that. There’s no need to get angry.”

“How can you be so certain she wouldn’t?”

“Oh, well, any idiot can tell after getting rebuffed like I did. Unless they were the most idiotic of idiots.”

Byletta had retorted that she wasn’t an easy woman when Wied had propositioned her. She’d completely shut him down.

She might appear prodigal and be the subject of many a colorful rumor, but it appeared, in reality, Byletta was a very reliable person.

A wiser man than Wied would have shrunk away at the mere mention of any of those rumors. A simpler man than him, who just wanted some fun, would have been angered by her provocations. And a more arrogant man than him would have most likely resorted to force to assuage his wounded pride, even though Byletta probably had her ways of fighting back.

It was inconceivable that the rumors about a woman like her were true. She was too vigilant.

Gail most likely knew that, too. Which was why he’d said nothing when Wied propositioned her.

“What did you do to my wife?”

I need to be careful with my words here.

Arnald’s stare had grown even more menacing.

Wied was petrified. “W-wait… Stop looking at me like that! You’re scaring me! I was just paying her a compliment. It’s not my fault she’s so perfect. I just wanted to have some fun for once…”

“Argh… You never change.”

Seeming to remember how Wied always acted around women, Arnald backed down. Wied also had a reputation for never making people do things they didn’t want to.

Wied believed the behavior he exhibited toward women was proper enough, even if it wasn’t in line with what was generally accepted.

“But you’ve changed, Lord Commander. No one could ever have imagined you married.”

Wied had believed Arnald to have a heart of stone. Even Arnald’s own boss described him as puppetlike.

It came as a complete surprise that marriage had changed him so much.

Wied couldn’t help but be disappointed at the fact that he would never be able to see in person how shocked his previous comrades must have felt. He’d heard there had been a huge victory celebration for the southern front in the imperial capital. Arnald and his old brothers-in-arms would have of course been invited. His former superior would have been the butt of many a joke. How he wished he could have been there among them. Even if it would have put his life in danger.

“And given the state you’re in, you’re not nearly as dear to your wife as you wish you were.”

“Is that how you see it?”

“Maybe she does care about you, but she definitely doesn’t trust you. When I advised her not to truly fall in love with you, she told me she already knew. Typical for our icy lord commander. I feel for you, because your nickname isn’t exactly for show…but what could you possibly have done to her?”

Byletta’s smile had been like a mask. Like a beautiful lid to conceal all the feelings that raged under the surface.

Arnald must have done something to enrage her so. But given how intelligent Wied’s commanding officer was, perhaps he had some sort of scheme at work. Although Wied had a feeling that this time, something had gone awry.

In truth, Wied cared little for the fraught relations between his former superior and his wife, but he did owe Arnald a debt. Those top-class girls he’d brought his soldiers on the battlefield had truly blessed Wied with memories of some wonderful nights.

He was grateful enough to at least entertain the idea of listening to his ex-superior’s marital woes.

“I see. I think your keen insight may be of use to me, then. I would like you to tell me the most effective way to get a woman pregnant.”

“Wha—?! Are you drunk, Lord Commander?”

“You’re the one drinking.”

“Yes, I know, but…”

Wied’s mind went blank. The conversation had taken a very unexpected turn.

“Um, can I order more alcohol?”

“Only if it leads to some particularly exemplary advice.”

Arnald gave the dumbfounded Wied a dignified nod, the same way he would give the go-ahead to execute a wartime mission. When Wied’s next beer arrived not long after, he drained it in one gulp. He put the glass back down on the table with a thud and desperately attempted to backtrack.

“Now, hold on a minute. I’m probably the last person to ask about that. I’ve never slipped up in my life. No broad has ever come yelling after me to take responsibility for a child. Shouldn’t you be talking to your wife about this? You know I’ve never done it! The golden rule of extramarital relationships is to be careful with your contraception. If I were to get someone with child, I wouldn’t be able to partake anymore.”

“I believed that since you’re so careful to prevent pregnancy, you’d also be knowledgeable about how to cause it.”

“But I’m not unique in that regard. Your boss is probably even more experienced in that department than I am.”

“His Excellency General Dreslan would merely be amused by the question. And I’ve already experimented with his playbook, but the only result I’ve gotten so far is making her trust me even less. I thought I would ask you, given that you seem able to read her so well.”

Now that Arnald had calmly explained his reasoning, Wied could begin to understand where the man was coming from. Still, Wied had his doubts as to why he was his former superior’s chosen confidant.

“I don’t think your wife would be very happy if you took a leaf out of that playboy’s book, considering his dedication to the art.”

“That’s exactly what he said. Why is that?”

“Women like your wife tend to place importance on things you can’t see, like words and feelings. They show their love through caring for their partner or saying they love them.”

Arnald wasn’t sure how he could express something that couldn’t be seen. He knew that was the area in which he fell short the most. He also had a feeling General Dreslan had told him something similar.

“Hmph. Like saying ‘I love you’?”

“Er, why are you asking me that? It’s because you love your wife that you want a child, isn’t it?”

Wied was taken aback when his eyes fell upon Arnald’s stupefied expression.

“Are you serious? Don’t tell me you were unaware.”

“Of what?”

“That you want a child because you love your wife.”

“Ah, I see what you’re getting at now. An astute observation. But there’s no need to worry; I’m fully aware that I love Byletta. It was already pointed out to me. That said, my primary feeling toward her is that I don’t want to let her go.”

Something about Arnald’s words left Wied uneasy. But why? Normally, they would have left him feeling relieved.

What had he meant by saying he was fully aware he loved his wife because someone else had already pointed it out?

And why was his first and foremost concern not letting her go?

For the majority of people, love and affection would come before feelings of possession. But Arnald was a man feared for his ruthlessness and cold-bloodedness. Would he truly be satisfied by just loving his wife?

Beyond that, there had been something strange about his phrasing. It was troubling to think that if someone hadn’t told him what he was feeling, he would have been completely in the dark about his emotions. Was Arnald truly so unfeeling?

Wied was torn between acknowledging that even his former superior was capable of change when love was involved or remaining dumbfounded over how indifferent the man still seemed about the matter.

Paying no mind to Wied’s inner dilemma, Arnald spurred the conversation along. “So what should I do?”

“Argh, I can’t decide if you’ve changed or remained exactly the same… But all right, I’ll humor you. You did treat me to a beer. The trick is to wait a little over a week after her time of the month is over before lying with her. Her body temperature needs to go up again.”

“Her body temperature?”

“The level of heat within a woman’s body fluctuates considerably. I like to proposition them when they’re just barely warm to the touch. A woman I’m quite familiar with taught me that’s the most difficult time for them to become pregnant.”

Wied left him with one final comment.

“Oh, and by the way—make sure to scrub from your mind any notion you might have about me slipping up and fathering a child.”

Four days had passed since Byletta arrived at the Swangan’s country estate. The weather had been fine the whole time, so she’d decided to go and visit the flood control site up in the mountains. It was a bumpy four-hour carriage ride and a three-hour hike away from the manor.

Accompanying her were Gail and Arnald, as well as a researcher and his assistant who had come all the way from the imperial capital at Byletta’s request. The researcher was a good-natured middle-aged man who was a scholar from a university in the imperial capital. He’d been specially invited to the estate to participate in their flood control endeavors, but though he’d been allotted a room in the country manor since the planning stages, he seemed to prefer traveling the empire all year round. Carefree and quick to take action, he journeyed around entirely by foot. His passion for researching geology and civil engineering, coupled with his unkempt appearance, likely caused nobles to look down on him, but Byletta saw him as the talented expert in flood control that he was.

As the party followed the scholar-researcher along a mountain path, Byletta’s husband—who was walking beside her—suddenly piped up to give her some advice.

“Make sure you don’t lose your footing.”

Arnald took Byletta’s hand and held her close. The riverbank offered little purchase and was overgrown with moss, making it easy to slip. Until that point, Gail had been supporting her, but now it seemed it was her husband’s turn. Even if she was only to be his wife for the remaining duration of the wager, it seemed he still intended to treat her kindly.

“Thank you.”

“Hold on tight.”

The pleasant smile on Arnald’s face seemed to turn him into a different person altogether.

Byletta had no idea as to why he was lavishing so much affection on her. There was no one around to which he had to prove his devotion as a husband. But she knew that even if she questioned him about his motives, he’d never give her a straight answer.

In the end, she just laughed dryly.

“Quite the pair of lovebirds, aren’t you?” the researcher commented leisurely.

“It’s only natural after I was away so long on the battlefield.”

Ah, but most men don’t come back from the battlefield and entangle their wives in demeaning bets, either, do they? Byletta thought.

But she quickly swallowed the denial she so desperately wished to spit out.

Scholars typically cared little about anything outside of their chosen fields of study anyway. The researcher’s comment had been nothing more than small talk. To him, it was the same as making a remark about the weather.

“That rain the other day hasn’t done this path any favors. The river levels here are dangerously high now. I think it would be best to make some repairs, starting in this location. Can you pass me the gauge please?”

The researcher’s young, small-framed male assistant pulled a tool out of his backpack and passed it to the researcher. The man then wandered to and fro, completely absorbed in his own little world, his assistant on his heels the entire time. The sight made Byletta smile.

Arnald watched the pair as well, although with his typical apathy. Given that was his default expression, it left Byletta feeling more at ease.

“Oh, and we need to investigate the water quality. Make sure to take a few samples from randomized locations.”

“Understood.”

“Doctor, did you bring the powder I gave you?” Byletta asked as she watched the researcher and his assistant work.

“Of course,” the researcher replied with a smile. “Allow me to conduct some tests with it, and I’ll let you know the results.”

“What did you ask him to do?” Arnald asked, puzzled by the exchange between Byletta and the researcher.

“I gave him a magic powder that is supposed to alter water quality. I wanted to ascertain the effect it has.”

“A magic powder? You truly have ideas for everything. What are you plotting this time?” Arnald smiled at her curiously.

Byletta evaded the question by looking over at Gail. “If we wish to work here, we’ll need to lay some groundwork.”

“We’ll have to fix the path that leads to this place; there’s no getting around that. It’ll also take time to transport materials up the mountain.”

“I seem to recall reading in one document or another that during the previous construction efforts here, workers created a new path. Perhaps it would be quicker to use it to go down the mountain, while this path is only used to go up?”

As Byletta continued to question Gail, who was standing beside her, he examined their surroundings before peering at his own feet.

“Yes, I read that, too. I believe it lies just north of here…”

“Shall we take that path there to return? I think we ought to have the researcher and his assistant investigate it as well.”

Gail nodded. “Because of the previous rainfall, we don’t know how far we can go. It would certainly be better if we check together.”

Byletta looked back up at Arnald. He had a rather piqued expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m just worried about you, given your condition.”

“Oh?”

“Wait, are you with child, my lady?!”

The researcher’s young assistant suddenly yelped from nearby.

“I see no good reason for you to have climbed all the way up here in your condition. You should have known better, my lord! I understand how thrilling it must be to finally spend some time with your lovely wife after being apart for so long, but you must be more considerate of the fairer sex. A mountainous hike in such a state should have been out of the question!”

Truthfully, Byletta was feeling rather lightheaded—it was the third day of her monthlies, and taking a laborious hike in her anemic state had unsurprisingly started to affect her. If she was this dizzy, she likely looked paler than usual as well. Arnald must have been unable to stand by any longer without asking if she was okay.

The researcher’s assistant was single and had yet to find a wife, mostly because he exclusively kept the company of other scholars. He put women on a pedestal and had been ever the gentleman to Byletta since their first meeting. She felt slightly sorry for her husband now that he was being subjected to the assistant’s sincere anger, but he was getting his just deserts after prompting everyone to misunderstand her condition earlier.

Arnald was a man of few words. He often spoke very concisely, which invited confusion when others in the conversation didn’t know the context behind what he was saying.

Byletta, the perpetual victim of such mix-ups, opted to wait and see when she should jump in to save her husband. But then Gail leaned in and whispered in her ear.

“You’re not pregnant, are you?”

“It’s a misunderstanding. I’m just a little bit anemic right now…”

“I see. Then you should return home via the shortest route possible. The doctor and I will inspect the route above ourselves.”

“Thank you, Master Gail.”

Since she truly was feeling dizzy and close to fainting, Byletta decided she would allow Gail to play the gentleman this time. Her face must have been quite pale if the party was going to split.

As for the motive behind Arnald’s sudden concern for her health, Byletta couldn’t be sure. But that seemed to be typical these days, so she simply smiled, took Gail’s suggestion, and didn’t press her poker-faced husband any further.

The blood loss was now making Byletta’s head spin. If she was going to descend the mountain, she wanted to do so posthaste.

By the time they reached the foot of the mountain and their awaiting carriage, Byletta could barely put one foot in front of the other. All she could do was sink into the cushioned seat opposite Arnald and close her eyes.

It was times like these when she was grateful for a reticent husband.

Still, even the clattering of the carriage proved too much to bear.

Byletta decided that as soon as they reached the manor, she would take a long soak in the bath and head to bed early.

As her eyes closed, she suddenly heard a squeak from the seat opposite her. It was too much trouble to open her eyelids again to see what was going on, so she kept them closed. She sensed someone sitting down beside her—Arnald.

But why would he want to position himself so close to her? As Byletta grew more and more suspicious about what he was planning to do, she felt the cushions around her get pulled away. If she’d had the energy, she would’ve asked Arnald what on earth he thought he was doing, taking precious support away from someone so sick, but she was too weak.

Instead of the soft cushions, she suddenly found herself surrounded by something firm and pleasantly hot. Then she understood—the warmth was from Arnald’s body, radiating through his light shirt.

His heart beat rhythmically as his arms wrapped around her waist and held her securely in place.

What? Was he…embracing her?

As the carriage continued to gently shake, Byletta sensed him gently brushing a stray hair away from her cheek. She could feel a steady gaze on her.

It was rude to watch someone sleep like this.

But in that moment, Byletta was unable to snap at Arnald or tell him to look away.

As soon as she’d realized what was happening, Byletta had felt her face grow red. Now she just desperately did her utmost to ignore her husband. She was so lightheaded from the loss of blood that she felt like she was going to die. Even with her eyes firmly shut, the way the carriage swayed back and forth made her head feel like it was spinning.

Byletta pretended she couldn’t hear the sound of Arnald’s heartbeat, feel his gentle touch as he stroked her hair, or sense his strong arms wrapped around her.

If she didn’t, she feared her lips would curl into a smile, and a cloud of embarrassment would settle over her.

Perhaps this was her husband’s way of being silently kind.

Byletta was grateful for his quietude, but she still wanted an explanation. What was he hoping to gain by doing this?

“How pathetic…”

Her eyelids twitched.

What did he mean by “pathetic”?

Was he talking about her? About how she’d forced herself to go out on the inspection, lost too much blood, and then fainted inside the carriage? Or was he referring to something else?

Arnald was a man of few words, and if he’d simply muttered his previous sentence at no one in particular, Byletta didn’t have a problem. But if they’d been aimed at her, she would find it bothersome.

Very bothersome.

Byletta hated losing. Perhaps that was why she harbored such enmity toward her husband.

If he wanted a fight, she’d give him one.

Once I’m recovered, I’ll never let him call me pathetic again, she resolved. Though her eyes remained closed, her body stiffened.

“My, my, what an honor it is to see you again after all this time, Father. I see a prolonged vacation from my presence has returned some of the color to your face.”

Upon coming across a certain man who made others do all his work for him while he lived a life of leisure, Byletta immediately handed out a dose of veiled criticism. But she found that it didn’t reduce any of her frustration.

It had been one week since she had arrived at the estate, and after gradually conducting inspection after inspection, she and Arnald arrived at their final destination: Teranzam, the town that was home to the hot spring resort. The carriage pulled up in the town plaza, which was right in front of the Swangan guesthouse.

The town’s chief and the chair of the hot spring’s management board had come to greet them, but as soon as the name Wynald was uttered, their faces stiffened. It seemed to take all their might to speak in anything higher than a grumble.

It had taken Byletta so long to get to Teranzam that her time of the month had come to an end. But that was also how long her father-in-law had been holed up at the hot spring resort. What was the point in her going all over the Swangan lands to inspect construction sites if the lord himself was absent?

After making some hurried greetings and rejecting an offer of a tour, Byletta stormed into her father-in-law’s room, where—despite the early hour—she found the count relaxing with a glass of wine in his hand.

“I have to say, I’m impressed by your enthusiasm today. It was very kind of you to skip the rest of the inspections so that you could be here bright and early for the most important discussion of our tour.”

“My job is to listen to your reports. There’s no reason to berate me.”

“Is that so? Well, once I’ve completed my report, just know that I intend to take my leave and immediately return to the capital.”

“Hmph. If you think you’re going to sweet-talk me into letting you do that, you’re gravely mistaken. But I bet you’d much prefer to stay, wouldn’t you? I’m sure you’re aware that if you play nice, I’ll see to it that you’re provided every comfort you seek while within my lands.”

The count let out a fearless and somehow villainous cackle. The aura honestly suited him, but Byletta had no intention of ousting the man or making an enemy of him just yet.

She only desired for him to do his job. So where was all this confidence coming from?

“Oh, I don’t know what you could possibly mean.”

“Hmph. This place has been beloved by the favorite concubines of generations of emperors for keeping one’s skin as youthful, soft, and beautiful as possible. Could you really go home happy without sampling the benefits for yourself?”

Oh, right. These baths are the kind that most women would beg for the chance to bathe in.

Any woman fighting for the affections of an emperor would have to devote herself to making her skin as beautiful as could be.

“Fortunately, Father, I’m in no need of such heavy maintenance.”

Byletta didn’t have anyone she wanted to show her skin off to or gain affection from, so she was a minimalist when it came to personal upkeep. She had absolutely no desire whatsoever to take a soak in the baths just to polish up her body.

“Ugh… You’ll live to regret being so complacent about your youthful looks.”

For some unknown reason, Count Swangan ground his teeth in frustration.

The attendant standing beside him, meanwhile, gave an incredulous shrug.

“My lord, it’s more becoming of a man to accept defeat graciously.”

“Not one more peep out of you. And you—why don’t you admonish her already?! She’s your wife, after all. Shameless girl!”

The count snapped at his son midway through scolding his attendant. The outburst could only be described as the howl of a thoroughly defeated man. But Arnald simply stared back at his father quietly.

“My wife’s skin is beautiful already, so why would she need any extra help? Its texture already feels better than anything I’ve ever touched.”

“Wh-what?”

What was he talking about? What exactly was her husband revealing?

When Byletta had heard Arnald say the word “skin,” her mind had instantly turned to sex, and a blush quickly spread across her cheeks.

“What are you running your mouth about now?! Don’t you dare try anything funny in any of my rooms. Get out!”

Together with an apathetic Arnald, Byletta was shooed out of the room. There was no way she’d be able to approach the count again any time soon.

Byletta glared at her husband, who was standing beside her. Her cheeks were still tinged with red.

“Why did you have to say such a thing to your father?”

“I merely stated what I was thinking. In any case, since we’re here, why don’t we take a soak? Your body must be aching after all that time spent in the carriage,” Arnald said with a completely unembarrassed smile.

It was only after the fact that Byletta realized how demonic that look truly was.

“Wh-why are you getting undressed, too?”

After following Arnald to the baths reserved exclusively for the lord and his family, they had arrived at an area at the back of the guesthouse. A stream of warm water poured down continuously from above, falling into a pool formed from natural rock. Tiles were laid right up to the edge. Above, a roof jutted outward from the guesthouse, but their view of the sky was still mostly clear. Trees surrounded the baths on both sides, and there was a shelf mounted on the guesthouse wall.

Byletta couldn’t help but gape for a moment at the size of the bath, which was easily large enough to accommodate up to ten adults. But then Arnald suddenly started stripping, and she turned a cold look his way instead.

His fit body was supple and seemed to glisten in the setting sunlight. As Byletta secretly reminded herself not to be seduced by the sight, her gaze dipped to his toned abdominal muscles. Unperturbed even now that his entire upper body was bare and his belt was loosened, Arnald gestured at the shelf on the wall. “There should be a basket for your clothes there. Once you’re undressed, I’ll pour some warm water over you.”

“Why are you getting in with me?”

Given that the bath was so large, Byletta would have preferred to soak alone and unimpeded.

Besides, dusk had only just fallen. The sun was still in the sky, bright enough to reveal everything.

“We’re husband and wife. It’s only natural. And our wager is still in effect.”

Was it only natural for a husband and wife to share a bath?

While Byletta stood there stunned, Arnald wrapped his arms around her in the beginnings of an embrace.

She couldn’t help but gulp as she became reacquainted with Arnald’s rock-hard chest.

“Bathing is supposed to relieve muscle pain. I’m sure you’re tired after sitting in that carriage for so long in the same position, aren’t you?”

Arnald’s fingers deftly worked on undoing the ribbons at the back of Byletta’s dress. In mere moments, it dropped from her shoulders onto the floor, leaving her standing there in nothing but her undergarments. As she desperately tried to hide her chest, Arnald looked at her quizzically.

“You look warm. Why are you so red?”

“O-of course I am! Kyaaah!”

Arnald ran his tongue down the side of her neck, gently licking her with the tip. A sweet moan escaped her lips.

“We’re not even in the water yet, but you’re already so hot and bothered. Were you looking forward to this?”

Hearing the words as ridicule, Byletta became increasingly embarrassed. Eventually, she lost her temper entirely.

She didn’t want any of this! Even if her body was reacting to the stimulus.

“No, I wasn’t!”

“How many times have we lain together now? Perhaps we’re at the point where I know your body better than you do. Are those tears in your eyes because you desire me so badly? Here, feel this. Do you like that?”

Arnald’s whispering voice was triumphant in her ear. But any objections Byletta may have been about to voice transformed into honeyed moans as soon as her husband’s hand found its mark.

“Sometimes, you like it slow, but sometimes, you also like it hard. Which one would you like today?”

Cradled within Arnald’s arms was a robed Byletta.

She was sound asleep, her face framed by her flushed, steamy cheeks and the shadows cast by her long eyelashes.

Enjoying the feel of her in his arms and against his body, Arnald slowly made his way down the hallway of the guesthouse. He felt content.

But as he walked in the direction of the room that had been allotted to him and his wife, Arnald abruptly found himself face-to-face with Gail, who was approaching from the opposite direction. This guesthouse was a private residence reserved specifically for the lord’s family. Normally, he wouldn’t see a servant—or, in this case, another guest—here.

“Lady Byletta? What happened?” Gail asked, the color draining from his face as he looked over her. Suspicious, Arnald pulled her closer to his chest to hide her face.

“She merely enjoyed the baths for too long.”

“O-oh.”

While it had been Arnald’s fault for losing himself in what they were doing in those baths, he felt little need to inform Gail of the details.

It was something for only him to know. A special privilege afforded only to a husband.

Arnald examined Gail, though his mind was primarily absorbed in recalling how bewitching his wife had looked as he’d enjoyed her body only a short while ago.

He supposed the man had the handsome visage of one belonging to a royal lineage—sharp and masculine. Many such men flocked to Byletta, but Gail was unusual in the way that Byletta actually dropped her guard around him. Perhaps he was just her type.

His good looks were accompanied by skill with the blade and attention to detail, which meant he was able to take command on the battlefield. He was also very considerate and good at delegating work to his subordinates. Arnald had heard many describe him as the perfect commanding officer.

Indeed, if he hadn’t defected from the Kingdom of Naris, Arnald had no doubt that Gail would have continued to be considered a man of high station. Even though it appeared that Gail had no intention of returning to the nation of his birth, Arnald had received reports that his family and those around him were at work to try and get his citizenship reinstated.

And such a man had fallen for Arnald’s wife. He was truly a worthy adversary for her affection.

Gail cared for Byletta above all. Arnald believed his adoration bordered on worship, but that also meant his feelings were pure in that respect.

He was probably far better suited to Byletta than Arnald was.

Perhaps Arnald could even learn a thing or two from him.

The realization that he may have been looking to the wrong person for inspiration hit Arnald in that moment. Immediately, he began adjusting his plan accordingly. He knew he’d made a mistake the moment he proposed the wager to Byletta, but no matter how many times he thought back over that night, he could think of no better plan. He had a feeling she would truly have left him if he hadn’t.

“My lord… Do you not think you should take better care of her?”

“No better than I already am.”

“But she wishes to leave you.”

“I don’t know what my wife has told you, but I have no intention of letting her go.”

“Is it not for Lady Byletta to determine whether she stays or leaves you? If you wish her to remain by your side, then perhaps you should treat her better.”

Arnald was secretly surprised to hear such words. They sounded suspiciously like advice.

Then again, he was speaking to a good-natured man. Most other opponents would not show humanity when facing their enemies.

In Gail’s position, Arnald would have spun a story to sow discontent.

But he knew that wasn’t the way to win over Byletta. No matter how much he pointed out Gail’s faults to her, as soon as she came across the tiniest scrap of information that suggested the contrary, she would dig for the truth. Or she would inquire after it through more credible sources.

And then, even amid huge swaths of information, she would inevitably unearth whatever she was searching for.

Arnald knew at least that much about his wife.

Feeling vaguely intrigued, Arnald tried asking Gail a question.

“It has always been my intention to take better care of her…but I’m unsure how.”

“What? You’re unsure…how? Well, how about you care for her when she feels unwell?”

Gail seemed slightly bewildered, as though he’d never anticipated receiving such a question from Arnald. He truly was a kind man.

“Byletta despises being fussed over. Especially when she isn’t feeling her best,” Arnald replied.

“Then why don’t you care for her in more subtle ways? Without making it obvious.”

“I see. But is there any meaning behind an action that isn’t supposed to be noticed?”

“Byletta is very clever. She will notice either way. But I believe she hates kindness that is forced upon her.”

Arnald listened attentively, feeling deeply impressed. He should have been listening to someone like Gail all along.

The trick seemed to be to act kind in passing. Just enough so that she would realize it in her own time.

But that was also something Gail would do.

Alone, it wouldn’t be enough for Arnald to displace the other man in her heart.

And he wanted to be much more important than Gail to Byletta, even if he wasn’t sure what that exactly meant.

Gail watched as Arnald stood frozen, deep in thought. He let out a wry laugh.

“It seems you’re not quite the man I first expected. I’d been told you were cold-blooded, incapable of love…but now I see that may not be the case.”

Arnald wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not, but he knew he should probably thank Gail for his assistance.

As he searched for a reply, Byletta sneezed slightly.

“Please, let her rest now.”

“I will… Good night.”

Arnald nodded, bringing his encounter with his rival to an end.

Byletta passed the next few days peacefully in Teranzam. After finally meeting with the count again and reporting the results of their inspection to him, she was now assisting with the creation of propaganda materials meant to sway those who were opposed to the flood prevention project. In other words, she’d spent an entire day writing up the information she’d reported to her father-in-law in a format she could present at a meeting. At least she hadn’t had to move anywhere.

Her husband’s attitude, however, had proven intolerable.

“What are you doing?”

Intercepting Arnald’s mouth before he stopped hovering and swooped in to kiss her, Byletta was confronted instead by his disapproving emerald-green eyes. His hand was busy undoing the ribbons at the bosom of her nightdress.

The lamp on the nightstand beside their bed flickered, illuminating her husband’s long fingers.

“I do believe our wager is almost over, is it not?” Byletta asked, sitting up as Arnald tried to push her down into the sheets. Her husband blinked at her curiously.

The two of them had slept together every night since their arrival at the resort. It upset Byletta to think that it made it seem like their intimacy was something she actively desired.

All she was doing was upholding her end of the wager. It wasn’t as if she truly wanted to sleep with Arnald.

And yet, given the way her husband presumptuously initiated the act each night, he certainly did not appear to think Byletta hated it. Even now, he was blinking at her as if the thought she might refuse hadn’t even entered his mind.

But tonight, for once she actually did have a reason to refuse him.

“That’s correct. Exactly one month has elapsed since our first night together.”

“Then I take that to mean our wager is now over,” Byletta flatly proclaimed, slightly disappointed by her husband’s unbothered acknowledgment. She’d fully braced herself in case Arnald attempted to persuade her that there was still time left, but he hadn’t even tried to fool her. It seemed he was even allowing her to count her time of the month as part of the duration of their wager.

While Byletta felt relieved, she was also annoyed by the fact that she felt a little bit lonely. It felt as if, despite all his attempts to prevent her from leaving, he was now telling her he didn’t need her specifically.

What was the man planning?

On one hand, he was playing the devoted husband, taking care of her to keep Gail in his place. But on the other, he’d ridiculed her as pathetic and hadn’t even pretended to feel upset that the wager had ended.

Did she want him to be upset?

Would she be satisfied if her husband clung to her, distraught, when confronted with a divorce?

Was that what she wanted from this cold-blooded fox?

It was ridiculous.

She must have grown attached to him after sleeping with him so many times. He was her first lover. Her first romantic partner, though she’d kept such feelings purposefully at arm’s length.

“The summit is tomorrow, isn’t it?” Arnald asked all of a sudden.

The next day, all the key players would finally gather in Teranzam. It had been difficult to align the schedules of those involved in the flood control project, so it had taken longer than expected.

But how did the end of their wager and the next day’s summit concern one another?

“Yes, but what does that have to do with you?”

Perhaps Arnald intended to participate, given that he’d accompanied Byletta on her inspections. The count would probably be happy his heir was finally showing some interest in family affairs. The thought made Byletta wonder whether they’d considered yet who would take her place when she left. She suddenly felt rather sad.

“…Then now is as good a time as any,” Arnald muttered idly before kissing Byletta.

“Wha—? Mmph!”

There was a soft mwah as he pulled away.

Byletta was enraged. “Wh-what do you…?! Our wager is over, isn’t it?!”

“It began later in the evening, so there’s still some time remaining. Besides, you look so enchanting, it’s as if you’re trying to seduce me.”

“How am I trying to seduce you…?”

Byletta was wearing a thin silk nightgown that hugged the lines of her body and accentuated every curve. Now that the ribbons at her chest lay open, it emphasized her voluptuous bosom.

“You were the one who untied those!”

Byletta unconsciously pressed both hands against her chest to hide her cleavage, but all she managed to do was draw attention to it, exposing her further to her husband’s gaze.

“You’re an expert at seducing me with your whining…”

“I don’t know what you are talking about, but please stop staring at me like that.”

Arnald’s eyes were tracing the lines of Byletta’s body. That alone was somehow enough to make her feel hot and bothered. Despite the number of times they’d slept together, it was the one thing she could never get used to.

“Your cheeks are red.”

Arnald’s large hand stroked her face with surprising tenderness before his long fingers traced along her upper lip, inciting a mixture of ticklishness and impatience within her. Byletta’s head spun as she was assaulted by feelings of irritation, humiliation, and enticement all at once.

Her lips were captured in a kiss so deep that her breath seemed to mingle with her husband’s as she was pushed back down into the bedsheets.

Byletta allowed herself to be swept up in passion, offering no complaints nor resistance.

Three days after their arrival in Teranzam, the principal players in the dispute over the flood prevention project gathered, and the summit officially commenced.

“Now, let us begin,” said the village leader of Teranzam.

Byletta looked around the room again. Although it was quite spacious, it was beginning to feel small.

The lord of the Swangan estate, Byletta’s father-in-law, sat at the front of the room. Before him, two long tables had been sandwiched together so that the opposing parties could face one another.

To the left of her father-in-law, with their backs to the windows, were Teranzam’s village leader, the chairman of the Hot Springs Association, a representative of the merchants who profited from the hot springs, and a representative for the innkeepers. On the opposite side, by the exit, were those heading up the flood prevention project: Byletta, Gail, and the researcher from the inspections.

An attendant was also posted by Count Swangan’s side. As for Arnald, Byletta hadn’t seen him since before the meeting began, so it appeared he would not be in attendance. Even though he wasn’t her problem anymore, Byletta couldn’t help but wonder if Arnald considered himself the heir to House Swangan at all.

Once the pleasantries were over, the participants of the meeting got straight to the point.

“Let’s begin with the complaint in question.”

The village leader of Teranzam had raised the point that the construction being done to prevent flooding was decreasing the volume of hot spring water and thus the amount of revenue to be earned in the town. As a solution, he’d pitched that any current building or repairs in the vicinity of Teranzam be halted and measures to return the water levels to what they’d once been be put in place.

“I see. The decrease in water volume is a problem, but you lot looked into that, didn’t you?”

With a meek expression on his face, the count shifted his gaze to Byletta and the others. Byletta looked to those beside her and nodded.

“If you would, please, Doctor.”

“Thank you. During the investigation that we carried out the other day, mineral water—in other words, hot spring water—was discovered in a tributary to the Medena River. When we looked at the water quality and worked backward, we found that up to three tons of spring water a minute were flowing into it.”

“Isn’t that equivalent to thirty percent of the hot spring water released in total?!” the chairman of the Hot Springs Association shouted in disbelief.

“I believe the flow of this hot spring water is not a new development but simply something that has always occurred. After inspecting along that river, we found that the sites of several springs had changed. That’s why there seems to have been a reduction in water volume here.”

“Then you don’t believe the flood prevention construction is causing this reduction?”

“But didn’t you change its course? If not, then what was the point of spending all that money?”

“Wouldn’t it have been more cost-effective to focus on repairing the inns at the resort?”

The opposing side erupted with criticism.

There seemed to be a lot of pent-up anger.

Even though the flood control project had been designed to improve the lives of the locals—and by extension, save them—the cost-benefit ratio appeared unacceptable.

“Are you ready, Gail?”

“Yes. During the war, I was frequently tasked with building bridges and roads between neighboring countries and the imperial capital. However, flooding often washed away the bridges, and that meant we often had to repair those roads. This is a record of all the flooding and repairs made over the first eight years of the war. According to this, there have been up to thirteen floods each year. You are all familiar with the damage these floods bring. Even Teranzam has suffered. I have even heard of passing merchants getting swept away, wares and all. The cost of the damage is approximately five times that of the annual cost of upkeeping the flood prevention project.”

Gail spoke unfalteringly as he stared at the documents. The existence of fully priced-out evidence should have shut the other side down entirely.

They knew how bad the damage could be. They were all probably thinking back to their own experiences with rising waters.

In any case, the Swangan estate suffered considerably from flooding. The surrounding mountains were steep, so when periods of heavy rain dragged out, the rivers would quickly burst their banks. Flowing down the steep sides of the mountains, the rainwater would pick up momentum and come down as a flood, sweeping away anything in its path.

“Given that the construction for flood control has only just begun, we can’t say anything for certain, but we believe we will be able to suppress the number of floods this year to less than five. We predict all of them will occur in areas where construction remains unfinished, which will give us grounds for continued flood prevention projects.”

“H-how are we supposed to believe something like that…?”

“Because we can look at the flood control project that was implemented on the estate three generations ago for comparison. They managed to reduce the number of floods to eight back then, and we intend to implement preventative measures at an even wider scope this time, so it should prove even more effective.”

“But what about the loss in water volume? Won’t more construction work result in further reductions?”

As soon as the chairman of the Hot Springs Association asked that question, the researcher immediately followed up.

“After surveying the land, we managed to discover new sources, so we believe that issue will be solved as long as we lay suitable piping at the same time the construction for the flood control project is underway.”

The opposite side had most likely investigated the sources of the hot springs themselves, but their findings could never match those of an expert. Byletta could tell from the surprised looks on their faces that they hadn’t known new sources existed.

Her researcher might be an oddball, but he was sharp.

“What about the reports we’ve been hearing of the workers on the construction project? It appears they have quite the propensity for violence.”

“That’s right. We’ve even heard accounts of merchants getting attacked.”

The chairman of the Association nodded along enthusiastically to the merchant representative’s complaints.

Byletta looked to Gail, but he seemed troubled, too.

“Would you be able to tell me more specifically about what has been happening, like when and where the incidents occurred, for instance?”

“Well, we’ve just heard rumors, so we don’t know any details. Haven’t any of the people on your side heard anything?”

“We know there have been some smaller quarrels, but we haven’t heard of any further escalation. Could you tell me anything about the merchants who have been attacked?”

“I heard it from some merchants who came from the imperial capital. They said a group of workers stole their goods and tried to shift the blame onto someone else.”

Byletta began to chew her lip at this news.

“They reported that they were already wary of former soldiers after the recent military coup d’état in the capital. Given that this latest incident happened despite them being on high alert, they said they didn’t intend on coming here again. And with no new supplies or goods, everything here is going to come grinding to a halt.”

“A military coup?”

Those words seemed a world away from the festive atmosphere that had seized the imperial capital during the victory celebration. Neither the count nor Gail would have experienced the buzz of the city, but to Byletta, it seemed odd that the soldiers of a country that had just emerged victorious from war would want to start a coup d’état. Gail slowly muttered something to himself under his breath, while her father-in-law appeared to be finding it all rather hard to swallow. It looked like everyone had been blindsided.

Byletta wasn’t sure how to react. Yet somehow, she felt as if Arnald had mentioned something along those lines the previous night. Whatever it was, it had been during the height of their lovemaking, so she couldn’t be certain of her memory of it. A blend of shame and anger over their nocturnal activities came over her, although the others at the table would assume she was upset about the topic at hand.

“We’ll look into it. Now, time is getting on, so shall we take a break?”

Count Swangan’s expression remained stern as he called an end to the session. In the end, yet another problem that would need to be looked into and counteracted had emerged, so it seemed best that everyone take a breather. Given it was lunchtime, the natural choice of location would be the dining room.

The count left first, followed by Teranzam’s village leader, the Association chairman, and the other representatives. Once they were all gone, Byletta let out an enormous sigh.

Gail peered at her from the chair beside her.

“Good work today, Lady Byletta.”

“I can’t believe that it isn’t only the construction workers, but the merchants who are now causing us headaches.”

“I apologize. As a supervisor, I should have paid more rigorous attention to everything going on.”

“No, Master Gail. You have served as a good pair of eyes. Your reports are thorough, and you understand the situation on the ground well. And now that this coup d’état business is making an impact, this is no longer a purely regional issue.”

“Once we return, I’ll check up on the former soldiers.”

Byletta couldn’t hold back a small smile at Gail, who apparently wanted to get back to the construction sites as quickly as possible.

“The first thing I’d like you to do is to contact your subordinates. We’ll go and interview the people at the sites at a later date. We still have to get through this afternoon, and I don’t think I could stomach it without you.”

“Okay.”

Byletta also called out to the researcher, who was on his way to the dining room for lunch.

“Thank you for everything so far, Doctor. See you this afternoon.”

“These chairs are making my shoulders stiff.”

“Ha-ha, I’m honored you endured that for us, though. Please enjoy your lunch. It shouldn’t be difficult, as we’ve seated you quite far from my father-in-law.”

“Oh, thank goodness! I’m already very hungry.”

“I’ve already sent word to your assistant, so please enjoy a relaxing meal together!”

Byletta called out after the researcher as he exited the room. Whether he heard her or not was anyone’s guess.

All of a sudden, she and Gail were the only people left in the room.

“Shall we head to the dining room as well?” said Byletta. “I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you?”

“Um, Lady Byletta… Are you feeling better now?”

“Sorry? ‘Better’?”

Gail seemed incredibly uncomfortable to broach the subject, but also concerned. Today was the first time since their arrival in Teranzam that they’d been able to spend any time together.

That was largely due to the fact that Byletta had spent most of her time confined to the rooms in the guesthouse reserved for the lord and his family. She’d been collating data for the meeting and counseling her father-in-law on this and that, but that didn’t seem to be what Gail was referring to.

“Did something happen?”

“Well, it’s just that I ran into Lord Arnald carrying you out of the baths unconscious the day we arrived here…”

With those words, all became clear.

Realizing what Gail was talking about, Byletta was taken back to the night they’d first arrived in Teranzam.

Arnald had spent a particularly long time ravaging her body that evening, both before they’d entered the baths and after they’d gotten in. Somewhere along the way, she’d fainted.

As always, Byletta found herself regretting not putting a limit on the number of times Arnald could sleep with her when they’d first made their bet. It wasn’t as if his passions had faded once he’d brought her back to their room, either.

“My apologies that you had to witness me in such a state. I’m fine now, so let’s go and have some lunch. We’re going to need some energy for this afternoon.”

Gail flashed a relieved smile at Byletta, whose cheeks had gone red, then nodded along with her suggestion. It appeared he understood now that she was perfectly healthy.

“I agree. I don’t foresee our opponents agreeing to the construction work we have planned for the future without a fight.”

“That’s why I’ve come prepared.”

“Oh, are you referring to what you spoke of during the inspection? I hope it all goes according to plan.”

“I’m not sure how far I’ll be able to push it, but I’ll do my best.”

Just as Byletta had expected, once the afternoon session had commenced and their side began to explain their future construction plans, the expression of everyone else in attendance gradually became grimmer and grimmer. They adopted the same difficult attitude as they had when the issue of the coup d’état was raised, so it seemed Byletta and her allies would need to brace themselves for a rough battle. Byletta sighed to herself as she unrolled a map of the estate, showing the room the locations where new construction would begin.

“This is our plan for the future construction sites.”

“Some of the places marked here are locations where construction has already been completed. Why?”

The question had come from the village leader of Teranzam. He’d asked as soon as he’d finished listening to Gail’s explanation.

“Those locations require repairs.”

“You say ‘repairs,’ but the embankments are still mostly intact, are they not? How can they already be so weak that they require restoration?”

“Due to the high concentration of spring water coming into the river, we’ve discovered a number of cracks in a few of them.”

“What did you just say?”

“So we’re spending all this money, and they’re just crumbling away?” the chairman of the Hot Spring Association screeched in outrage. Considering the impact this development would have on the project’s budget, Byletta could understand why he felt so critical.

“Didn’t you say at first that these embankments were supposed to last for twenty years? I understand things break down over time, but at this rate, we’ll never be free of construction work!”

“That was before we found out how much mineral water got mixed into the river. An earthquake that occurred several years ago caused changes in the formation of the cracks deep underground where the spring water comes from, relocating some of the sources. As I explained this morning, highly concentrated spring water now flows quite a way downstream.”

The three objectors piped down at the researcher’s explanation.

“What a ridiculous project. At this point, I think it’s time the entire plan should be reviewed. Don’t you agree, my lord?”

The merchant representative concluded his question by sending a dour-looking Count Swangan a look of utter disbelief.

If this project were purely about the numbers, the natural conclusion would be to allocate some of the budget to other things. But none of these people were considering the worth of preserving human life. It was a different matter altogether than pursuing profit. Of course, if they produced no revenue to speak of, that would make it more difficult to protect people, but to value money over human life was wrong.

That said, to get the opposing side to accept their plan, they would need to generate money of some kind. It seemed relying solely on figures that showed reductions in losses would not be sufficient.

Byletta herself was the manager of a business. She knew the pursuit of profit was key to keeping a company running, but the employees who worked for her were all real people with lives of their own. She was well aware that looking after her employees allowed them to work more efficiently—which not only reduced losses, but improved profits as well.

Byletta picked up her documents and took a breath.

“Canceling all the projects we’ve already begun work on will only incur greater losses. Here you can see the total cost for the next ten years of construction work. As for the amount of losses we expect to incur in the event of a disaster, we calculated that based on whether the project was allowed to progress in this upper row and if the project was abandoned in this lower row. Can you see how insignificant the costs are in comparison?”

“Yes, but even if you presume this amount of flooding, it doesn’t necessarily mean that much flooding will happen.”

“You make a good point. That’s why we looked at the average amount of flooding that occurred in any given year. We calculated the average costs incurred due to flood damage on the estate over a twenty-year period to reach these figures.”

The numbers were in no way inflated. Flooding truly did cause a huge amount of damage. The losses were astronomically large.

Looking around the room, Byletta proceeded to end her speech.

“We will open new sources of hot spring water to people on the estate. We also plan to build facilities that will make the springs safe to enter and pave some roads leading up to them. The bathhouse tax will also be set at a lower amount to encourage more visitors.”

The town of Teranzam was a getaway destination for the nobility. As such, everything was priced extremely high. That meant they made a lot of money on each visit, but the number of visits itself was quite low. Teranzam could afford to keep that system in place, but Byletta and the others were planning to build separate facilities that even the general public could enjoy. There, the price of a single visit would be low, but with enough visitors, they could still rack up a tidy profit.

“What?”

“In other words, you wish to build hot spring facilities near Kenian?”

“The target market for the facilities there would be completely different from of the one you have here, so it won’t affect Teranzam’s profits. It’s just a way to offset the construction costs.”

“May we assume that we’ll also benefit from this as well?”

Spoken like a true merchant, Byletta thought. He’d realized nearly right away he could expect some profit himself.

Still, Teranzam’s village leader and the chairman of the Hot Springs Association seemed to remain unsure.

Even if their target market didn’t overlap with the new hot spring facilities, they would have to relinquish their status as the sole hot spring resort on the estate.

“Won’t building new hot spring resorts exert further financial pressure? Will the costs not continue to grow? Especially if the infrastructure comes crashing down so fast due to the water quality. You don’t have a plan for that, do you?”

The Teranzam village leader’s voice sounded pained.

But Byletta understood. She could take on that line of criticism as well. In fact, she’d been counting on it.

They’d reached a critical juncture. Byletta smiled confidently.

“Hot spring resorts are easy to build and don’t require a lot of capital. You can see our estimates on the following page. It’s believed that we would break even within three years. After that, we could expect a moderate amount of profit. Regarding your question about the water quality, we have already made arrangements.”

“The water quality, eh?”

“How do you intend to fix it?”

“With dayfa.”

“Dayfa?”

Everyone in the room was likely picturing the porous rock that had been used in vast quantities in the past to construct buildings, including structures like the art gallery and theater in the imperial capital. It had also been used closer to home—namely, in the construction of the first generation of guesthouses at this very resort, although the parts that had been rebuilt over the years had used different materials entirely. Even the foundations of the building in which they now sat had been made of dayfa, though you might not know it just by looking at it.

“What do you plan to do with dayfa?”

“When you add it to hot spring water, it draws out all the minerals and reverts it to normal water,” the researcher explained. “Therefore, we plan to build a reservoir and add powdered dayfa to the water. We’ll then add the water back to the river and collect it in another reservoir farther downstream, inspect the water quality, and release it again.”

“Which means?”

“After we do that, the ecosystem will return to normal downstream, which will bring back the fish that used to live there. This will, of course, also allow us to reduce the erosion to the embankments.”

The sight of the men all sitting open-mouthed at the researcher’s explanation made quite a picture. It was as if they’d just watched magic at work.

Having hot spring water flowing in the river had had a negative effect on the local ecosystem. Although the water didn’t necessarily stink, the unique spring water smell was hard to tolerate, so most people refused to live close to it. By improving the quality of the water, they would also be able to enlarge the area where people could comfortably reside.

The magic powder Byletta had previously given the researcher was the one she was speaking of now. She’d had the man test it until they knew its effects well. When she was in the capital, she’d also asked her Uncle Samus to buy dayfa in large quantities for her and had received reports that a decent amount had been accumulated.

“I’d like to implement this at Teranzam, too.”

“In our village, you say?!”

The eyes of Teranzam’s village leader lit up.

The merchant representative also began to mutter eagerly. “Aha, I understand now. When I heard the Highrain Association had been busy buying up dayfa in the south, I thought that perhaps they were planning to build something big with it. But I also remember finding it odd that they had no preference when it came to the size of the rocks.”

“You know, it’s not too late to get in on the deal. Depending on the price, I’ll happily buy all yours up, too.”

“Hmph, then I’ll consider your offer. Goodness gracious, there truly is no underestimating the secret master of the Highrain Association.”

“I’m sorry?”

What had he just said?

The head of the Highrain Association was her Uncle Samus. There was no one else.

What a strange title.

“Oh, hadn’t you heard? Among the business community, the secret master of the Highrain Association is quite infamous—that is, you, Lady Byletta.”

“You did a wonderful job.”

As Byletta looked up at the night sky from her balcony, Gail suddenly appeared beside her.

The banquet at the guesthouse was over now, and the men had taken to their games for the night. But it seemed as if Gail had managed to slip out. He held two glasses aloft in his hands, one of which he offered to Byletta.

“You’ve got everyone eating out of the palm of your hand.”

“Oh, stop it. You’re painting me as some kind of villainess.”

Being called the secret master of the Highrain Association made it sound like she was some sort of evil genius pulling all the company’s strings.

Seeing a furrow appear on Byletta’s brow, Gail laughed.

“It was a compliment. I have nothing but admiration for you. How about a toast? To your heart and its deep compassion for your people.”

Byletta took the glass offered to her and raised it together with Gail.

Then she put her lips to it. The refreshing citrus scent tickled her nostrils. As she sampled a taste, Gail’s tone turned more playful.

“So? What does victory taste like?”

“‘Victory’…? We’re still not there yet. It’s going to take a long time to reach our goal.”

“Heh, that’s the Lady Byletta I know. But if you only look into the distance, you’ll never find an end. Do you still plan to watch out for the people here even once you’ve left the young lord?”

“You and the others will still be here. I’ll be leaving the estate in very capable hands.”

“If you leave, maybe I’ll have to make my getaway, too.”

“We can’t have that!”

“Although if you did me the honor of being by my side, I would gladly stay.”

Byletta gazed at Gail’s masculine features and broke into a smile.

“If you ever decided to leave here, I’m sure it would be because something incredibly grave occurred back in your home country. At that point, a request from someone like me would never be able to stop you.”

“I see you’ve uncovered the circumstances of my birth.”

“My looks may suggest otherwise, but I keep myself abreast of all the knowledge I need to.”

“I could tell that from the moment I met you. Yet given the amount of work you were mercilessly foisting upon me, I began to believe that perhaps you hadn’t discovered my secret. My men know my true identity, so they still treat me with a bit more reverence than I’d like.”

“That’s terrible. Should I reserve a little more respect for you going forward?”

“It’d be nice if you’d cut down my workload.”

Even though his mouth was petitioning for a reduction, Byletta could see in his eyes that he didn’t mean it.

Find the right people at the right time—that’s all Gail had to do. And indeed, he’d proven quite capable when it came to assigning the correct workers to complete whatever tasks were at hand.

In reality, Gail was the second son of a marquis, but more importantly, his mother was the younger sister of the current king of Naris. He was also apparently the fifth in line of succession to inherit the throne. His lineage had most likely played a role in his appointment to commander of the Artillery Supply Corps, too. That said, his skill with the sword was genuine, and as such, he was idolized by his subordinates. He was also a competent leader.

If Targitte’s disease hadn’t spread throughout Naris, he would have probably still occupied a high position there. But that one event had inspired enough disgust toward the Narisian royals and the nobility within Gail that he’d abandoned his titles. Yet Byletta knew that even though he was helping with the flood prevention project within the Gaihandar Empire, he was still prepared to return to his homeland should anything happen. It had been Gail’s decision to abscond the kingdom. The Kingdom of Naris hadn’t even rescinded his claim to the throne, which made it apparent to Byletta that they hoped he would return one day.

When the disease hit, the royal family’s plan had failed. It had been the actions Gail took from the shadows that had earned the appreciation of the people instead. Given that, the kingdom couldn’t chase him away even if they’d wanted to. And while taking an entire unit and deserting the front lines was a punishable offense, his achievements since then had more than made up for it.

Byletta had also been moved by the fact that Gail had invested his own money to buy Swangan grain. The seller had been anonymous, so it hadn’t been public knowledge that the grain had in fact been stolen from the estate.

“Given how hard you work, I’m sure you would still find other things to do even if I gave you less to do. Even your subordinates have started complaining that you never seem to take a day off.”

“They give me too much credit. I rest when I can. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be a very good knight. Or a good anything else, for that matter.”

“You certainly have the heart of a genuine knight. I know we’ve spoken about your distaste for nobility before, but don’t you ever wish to go back home?”

Gail was a knight through and through. It suited him to be someone who lived to protect others.

“No, the way of the knight is quite a hard thing to shake. And a noble position still doesn’t interest me. Although, if using my right to the throne to assume a position of suitable standing meant that I could have you, then I think I could consider it.”

“That’s quite an impure motive you have there.”

“On the contrary. It’s one driven purely by love.”

“Master Gail…”

Gail had made his feelings clear back in the courtyard of the manor, but Byletta had been trying not to dwell on what he’d said.

He hadn’t made any moves to escalate a potential romance since that day and had maintained his usual cheery exterior. But perhaps he’d only been getting started back then.

If that was the case, she absolutely could not blush in front of him. Nor could she get upset or raise her voice.

If Gail perceived so much as a hint that she returned his feelings, he would follow her to the ends of the earth. He would protect her from anything and everything.

“When you leave your husband, let me accompany you. I’ll show you what it means to be a knight.”

At his joking words, Byletta put her glass to her lips.

That offer was the very reason she had to swear to herself that she would not allow him to fawn upon her.

She took a swig of alcohol and swallowed it.

Gail observed her, looking slightly awkward, then opened his mouth again to speak.

“You’re a strong person. A wise one, too. I’m sure you dislike the thought of relying on somebody else. But it brings men joy when someone depends on them.”

“Are you saying they don’t find joy in women who prefer to support themselves?”

Her words were meant to provoke. Byletta knew it wasn’t necessarily a playful thing to say, but she also understood that Gail wasn’t a man who would be easily angered by such a question.

And indeed, all he did in response was smile wryly. The expression seemed to communicate that he saw right through her, which made her heart ache for him a little.

Byletta was surrounded by many intelligent men.

There was her uncle. There was Arnald. And there was Gail.

“Independent women like you are beautiful. Enchanting, even. Being in your dignified presence humbles me. In fact, I feel honored.”

“Master Gail… I’m not familiar with flattery. So please…stop.”

Byletta couldn’t stay any longer. She wanted to escape.

This wasn’t the first time a man had tried to woo her. But those other times, her reputation as a bad girl had always preceded her, so she’d always felt as if she was being looked down upon. It had made her want to strike back, as though she was in some kind of competition. Byletta had always hated to lose and always gave back as good as she got. If someone was looking for a fight, then she would give them one.

That was why she was so vulnerable in the face of unreserved praise.

Especially since she knew Gail meant every word he said.

His eyes were brimming with gentle adoration. It made her uncomfortable to be faced with a fondness so pure and devoid of machinations and strategies.

Byletta wanted to scream that she wasn’t worth that much. To reject his compliments and say he was putting her on a pedestal. But even if she did, he’d likely just come back at her with another flirty remark.

“I think it’s very endearing that you can’t handle compliments.”

“You’re awful, Master Gail.”

“Oh, no one’s ever said that to me before. Although it’s preferable to you telling me I’m a good person. That would be the same as dismissing me out of hand.”

“Hmm… Then I’d like to rescind my previous assessment of your character.”

But she couldn’t. Standing there, watching her grapple with her embarrassment, enjoying every moment of it—he was awful.

“This might make you angry, but…I know how weak you can be. That’s why I wish for nothing more than for you to depend on me.”

Byletta gulped and stared at the resolute knight.

In all her life, she had never met anyone who was as sweet to her as Gail was.

She had only ever had demands made of her. Had only ever put in the utmost effort.

That’s how she had ended up where she was. The person who’d made her grow, the person who’d put her through trials and tribulations, the person who’d looked out for her, the person whom she could rely on… Byletta thought of all the men who were close to her.

Gail was the one who would pamper her.

But then she remembered how her husband had acted the previous night.

That expressionless man who did whatever he wanted without a care for anyone else… That man she just couldn’t figure out…

He treated her like his own personal prostitute and took her whenever and however he liked. Yet sometimes, he still showed her kindness. And just when she’d begun to think it was nothing but a performance for the eyes of others, he’d started to play the part of gentle husband even where no one else could see.

“It seems my leave has come to an end, so we won’t be able to see each other for a while. I look forward to seeing the results of our wager next time we meet. I sincerely hope you’ve seen the back of your monthly troubles for a while.”

Having planted a kiss directly atop Byletta’s slim stomach, her handsome husband had smiled alluringly.

After being so utterly devoured by her insatiable spouse, Byletta could have hit him for not telling her something so important until she was on the cusp of fainting. She had been furious.

The heat she’d felt during his ministrations pooled in her belly and began to boil into anger.

The next morning, waking to find herself in bed alone, she’d realized it hadn’t been a dream. That’s when she’d decided something.

She would not lose to that man.

Their month-long wager had come to an end, but they wouldn’t know the victor until her next menses was due. In the meantime, they would remain as husband and wife. However, Arnald could no longer use her body as he pleased. Next time they met, she would no longer have to feel inferior.

Byletta would tell him she was no free-to-use whore, and she was certainly no longer the kind of person who would allow herself to be belittled and forced into agreeing to ridiculous bets. She would thrust divorce papers at him and demand his respect from then on.

“Thank you, Master Gail. Please take care of me should what you desire come to pass.”

Gail was an intelligent man. He should know she was simply being polite.

Special Chapter: The Leader of the Coup d’État

“I see my emergency summons finally arrived, then?”

After returning to the imperial capital, Arnald headed to the Military Affairs Department office General Dreslan had specified. There, he was greeted by a cutting remark from his superior. That was nothing out of the ordinary, though, so Arnald simply kept his eyes cast downward.

“I suppose I did want you to wait and see how the situation played out in the Swangan lands. But you certainly took your time, knowing the war is not going in our favor. Did you enjoy your leave?”

“Thanks to all the latest developments, I spent the latter half of it mostly tied up with work. Although, as the person who ordered me to inspect the Swangan estate, you already knew that.”

“You were at least able to have a good time with that beloved wife of yours, weren’t you?”

Arnald had spent a month with Byletta.

Now that their wager was over, he had returned to the imperial capital.

Remembering the last night he’d spent with his wife, Arnald looked away somberly.

“Incidentally, I heard there has been a coup d’état.”

“Aah, mm… Wha?”

Arnald moved his hips as he listened to the moans of his wife, who was lying on the bed in their room at the Swangan manor.

Byletta was always so warm inside that he forgot himself. The sensation almost made him feel as if he were drowning. That was why he’d only just remembered he had something important to tell her after carelessly sliding inside her.

It wasn’t necessarily a letter Arnald had been looking forward to receiving, but the arrival of the summons from General Dreslan had actually been quite timely. It had reached him at lunchtime, but when night came, Arnald still had not left, despite the fact he had immediately inferred that he should depart at once. If he couldn’t satiate his lust two or three more times, he knew he would never be able to think with a clear head. Such was the spell his wife’s body had cast over him.

“I’m going to return to the imperial capital tomorrow morning.”

It was time.

Even though Arnald had just said he’d be leaving the next day, it was so late that tomorrow had already arrived. And he would be leaving at dawn, rather than later in the morning. Byletta would probably still be asleep.

It was the day of her important summit. The day when she would listen to the petitions of the village leader of Teranzam, along with other key figures, and attempt to work out a solution. The results of the recent inspections were more than likely enough to sway them to her cause. And after seeing just how meticulously Byletta had been preparing for the meeting, Arnald had nothing but admiration for her. She was too competent to be kept as a simple wife.

Arnald doubted that Byletta would grieve his absence, but it was possible she would at least worry a little if she found he’d suddenly disappeared in the middle of the night. Maybe she wouldn’t care, but Arnald had heard from his vanishingly small number of friends that they at least told their wives where they were going before they left. Now that he, too, was a husband, perhaps he had an obligation to do the same.

“Ngh… Aaah… Wh-what did you…say?”

Given they were facing one another, Arnald could see his wife’s expression clearly. In the throes of pleasure, Byletta looked like a completely different person than her usual composed self. She was bewitching. Beautiful. Lovely.

But sensing the faintest hint of anger in her, Arnald drove his hips into her harder.

“Aaaah!”

“My apologies. I didn’t intend to neglect your needs… Ngh. You like it here, don’t you? I bet it feels good, doesn’t it? I’ll see to it that all your expectations are met.”

Judging by the sound of her sweet moans, Arnald thought he could be forgiven for thinking that she was urging him on. If nothing else, she certainly desired him in that moment.

“All that sweet begging of yours makes me completely lose control of my senses. Satisfying a wife as insatiable as you is quite the task.”

“It was you…who…”

“If my stubborn wife has changed at all because of me, that would make me rather happy. Now lie back and give in to your ecstasy.”

That was when Arnald remembered he had something rather important to tell her.

“It seems my leave has come to an end, so we won’t be able to see each other for a while. I look forward to seeing the results of our wager next time we meet. I sincerely hope you’ve seen the back of your monthly troubles for a while.”

Then he kissed Byletta’s slim stomach, pleased with himself for telling her properly.

“What are you smirking about? Oh, I don’t want to know. With all that’s going on, I can’t have a horndog among my ranks. How on earth did you of all people end up this way?”

“I wasn’t having any improper thoughts. I was merely reflecting on how my wife is lovelier than I first thought. In any case, I was on leave, so of course I partook in my fair share of enjoyment. Would you like me to report the results of my investigation now?”

“I knew you would have a good time. Now, back to business. And be brief.”

“I witnessed numerous instances of former soldiers revolting across the Swangan estate. The nonpayment of bonuses and such despite our victory seems to have been the initial trigger, but I did also witness several instances of former soldiers further inflaming tensions. They’ve been picking fights with locals and merchants, too.”

“I see. The imperial capital is much the same these days. The sound of bombs is ever more frequent. Even one of our most critical bridges was taken out, which has left us in a bad place. That bridge was crucial for reaching the central district. What in the blazes were those rebels thinking? You must have had to take a detour when you arrived back here as well.”

“It’s likely a performance. They’re flaunting their power. If the quarreling remains confined to those in the military, it’s hardly conducive to getting their point across to the general public.”

“It’s a real headache. It takes but a second to destroy a bridge, but much longer to build one. I’m sure they know that. Have you discovered which faction Speaker Girelle prefers?”

“Not yet.”

The imperial government was essentially made up of two parts: the executive branch, which handled politics, and the parliamentary branch, which controlled the judiciary and handled affairs of state. Carisein Girelle was the Speaker of Parliament. He was also a marquis—his high noble rank had no doubt helped him ascend to such an esteemed position. He was much higher up the imperial food chain than Arnald.

It was parliament who set the military budget, but there was no direct cooperation between the two bodies. Arnald may have been the heir to a countship himself, but since he was a mere military man, Girelle had no interest in him whatsoever.

General Dreslan suspected the Speaker of instigating the coup d’état, and as Arnald was being targeted for some reason, he had been instructed to ascertain the Speaker’s inclinations.

But the Speaker was said to be surprisingly good-natured. In other words, shrewd. So Arnald couldn’t be too openly wary of him.

“I can hardly believe it. We just got back from crushing one enemy only to be faced with another. God certainly has a strange sense of humor.”

“I’m surprised to hear the name of God from your lips, Your Excellency.”

“I somehow forgot how obtuse you are. Perhaps if your beloved wife stood here in your stead, she would have quipped back with a sharper response.”

“Please don’t involve my wife in this.”

Arnald had never discussed General Dreslan with Byletta, but he imagined she wasn’t very fond of him. Even when he wasn’t ridiculing others, he was ill-natured. Arnald knew how cruel he could be, so he didn’t want him anywhere near Byletta.

When Movris heard Arnald warn him not to involve his wife, his eyes went wide. He scoffed.

“I must admit, I shall miss my soulless puppet sometimes. But you’re truly devoted to her, aren’t you?”

“Am I?”

“Don’t tell me you’re unaware. Or are you simply playing dumb? You know your wife isn’t the most patient woman in the world.”

Arnald knew Byletta was short-tempered. But she never let it show.

She may have seemed like she’d be quick to resort to violence, but she always swallowed her anger and covered it up with a smile. When she grinned, she was secretly seething.

Movris’s words somehow felt like something he needed to hear in that moment.

Arnald was extremely irritated, but after a brief pause, he broached a question.

“What do you think I should do?”

“Bwa-ha! What’s this now? You’re asking me? Well, this is one for the books. Asking me of all people. Well, let’s see here… Byletta… Byletta… Let me, as your magnanimous superior, give you one piece of advice. If you don’t heed your emotions, you will lose those important to you. And you’ll only realize you’ve lost them once they’re gone. I think you should try honestly voicing your feelings.”

“That sounds quite difficult.”

“Hmm? Surely not for a man as accomplished as yourself.”

“It’s too high a hurdle for me. I have no idea what would set Byletta off.”

The way Movris curled his lips into a smile made him look horrifying, like some kind of beautiful demon.

“That’s why I’m saying if you’re stingy with your words, you’ll come to regret it.”

If it all ended with simple regret, Arnald didn’t find that too steep a price to pay.

He knew he was always hurting Byletta.

Back when her time of the month had forced them to return to the manor early in the carriage, all Arnald had been able to do was physically support her. As he’d gazed at her pained, sleeping face, he’d suddenly realized she’d never once groaned that she was in pain or expressed that she was suffering. Come to think of it, she hadn’t even said what he’d done had hurt on their wedding night. That was why he’d mistakenly believed she was used to intercourse.

Byletta was always on guard, ready to fight anything that came her way. All the more so if he was at her side.

Arnald’s father had called Byletta a man-hater, but Wied had told him to focus on the things that were less obvious.

Compared to Arnald, who couldn’t even fathom what subtle care or supportive words might entail, Gail was much more savvy. He was the kind of man to whom such things came easily. Arnald couldn’t help but admire him. He understood now. That kind of care was important to a girl who never whined.

It seemed there was much Arnald could learn from his rival.

He didn’t feel good about it, but curiously, he found he could appreciate Gail’s existence as well.

He had to put his wife’s emotions first.

Perhaps if he did, she would want to remain by his side.

Maybe she would continue to relax and ensconce herself with him as she did now.

But their wager was over. He could already feel the connection between himself and his wife growing more tenuous. When he thought back on his past behavior, he smiled bitterly, unable to foresee a future where she remained by his side.

“It’s pathetic…”

Arnald uttered the same words he’d said to himself in the carriage as they’d descended the mountain.

He felt every syllable.

Byletta’s heart was noble and bright.

Compared to her, Arnald was ridiculous, desperately chasing after her affection.

If Byletta knew how desperate he was for her, she’d be immediately disillusioned. Though he doubted she held much in the way of positive feelings toward him to begin with. He had forced himself on her physically. He didn’t even know where her interests lay. And while she had not outright rejected him, if he were to ask her if she was happy, she would probably tilt her head at him in bewilderment. He wasn’t foolish or conceited enough to believe otherwise.

Arnald only knew the quiet, calm, and dignified side of her that she showed every day and the enchantress she became in the bedroom.

But he also knew that wasn’t how things should be. Still, he didn’t know what do about it.

Nothing had changed. He was still pathetic.

That was also why Movris’s words sounded so hollow.

This was never going to end in a feeling as simple as regret.

“You seem depressed, and I hate to kick a man when he’s down, but Vasia Grusbel has been kidnapped.”

Grusbel was a former general who’d been celebrating his retirement back at the victory party and had once been Movris’s direct superior. An old war hero, he’d worked his way up into the upper echelons of the military, but once he’d retired, he had taken a clear step back. Nowadays, he was just a normal civilian.

A long time ago, when Arnald had been leading a unit in another war, a traitor had been operating among his ranks. An enemy spy who was manipulating information to put the empire on the back foot. In the end, after playing cat and mouse, the empire had emerged victorious. But it had been Grusbel who’d warned him. Arnald had felt indebted to the man ever since.

The summons that had reached Arnald at the Swangan country manor had simply ordered him to come back to report his findings and informed him that their enemy had made their move. It said enough for Arnald to infer that something had happened, but he hadn’t expected that thing to be the kidnapping of an old war hero who simply wanted to retire. Even though he was someone whom Arnald respected deeply and who had once been Movris’s direct superior, he held much less sway in the military than them.

“The kidnapping of Grusbel doesn’t fit with the pattern of behavior we’ve witnessed from them so far.”

The parliament’s goal was to reduce the might of the military faction. Arnald believed they had sown seeds of discord internally within the military to curb their authority. They had started off by refusing to pay the soldiers their bonuses, exacerbating discontent among the former recruits and resulting in conflict between the senior- and lower-ranking officers and below. That was what the latest coup d’état was about.

Even with Grusbel abducted, there was no way the top brass would stop resisting. They had no intention of simply accepting the other side’s demands.

“What are you talking about? This is all your fault.”

“What do you mean?”

Arnald stared at his superior, who had put away his joking act in favor of a mysterious smile.

“The lead instigator of the recent coup d’état was you, Lieutenant Colonel Arnald Swangan. It was you who destroyed the key bridge in the imperial capital—you who attacked the residences of senior military officials. Now, where are you going to strike next?”

Chapter 5: A Husband’s Unseen Heart

A fortnight after Arnald returned to the imperial capital, Byletta and her father-in-law also arrived home, only to find the city barely recognizable.

The streets that had once been alive with triumph had fallen silent. Rubble was strewn across the pavement in places. And while the rest of the debris had been pushed to the side, it was difficult to hide entirely. Still, it was business as usual in the commercial district, though pedestrian traffic was sparse. It seemed as though shoppers were still wary of going out.

The fact that the big bridge that had long towered above the city, crossing one of the tributary rivers running between the gaps in the Mittlehorns, had been destroyed was the biggest testament to the change that had occurred. There were other bridges, so it was still possible to enter the city, but many detours had to be taken along the way.

Arnald’s parting words about a coup d’état flitted through Byletta’s mind.

Once she and the count returned to their residence in the capital, Byletta asked the butler, Donovan, to bring them the imperial newspaper.

After Byletta spent a while waiting on a sofa in the sitting room, Donovan brought in several days’ worth, and she immediately began skimming the pages. Count Swangan also sat down opposite her, reading the papers starting from the oldest edition available.

Details were scant, but it appeared a coup staged by the military had taken place.

The articles stated that lower-ranking officers had attacked senior officials as a means of protest and that there had been disputes about nonpayment of soldier bonuses.

“It looks like several generals’ residences were blown up, along with a couple of important facilities.”

“I knew a coup had taken place, but I had no idea it was major enough to cause this much damage within the city… Have you heard anything else from him?”

Given the count’s bitter tone, it didn’t seem he was worried about his son. Nevertheless, Byletta couldn’t quite pin down the other emotion in his question.

“Arnald doesn’t discuss much of his work with me… All I know is that he asked the aide to the Speaker of Parliament why the soldier bonuses were delayed at the victory celebration.”

“Hmph. That idiot.”

“There’s not much written in the papers, but doesn’t this have the noble faction’s fingerprints all over it?”

“The newspapers are probably being prevented from printing all the information they have on hand. They’d never be allowed to write the truth. But it’s uncertain how many people will realize there has been interference.”

The Gaihandar Empire was an amalgamation of several neighboring countries but was mainly controlled by two factions: the noble faction, which consisted of the nobles who governed the country, and the military faction, which mainly attracted commoners and people in lofty positions from nearby vassal states. The noble faction was home to many officials in charge of domestic affairs in the executive branch and parliament, while the military faction, as the name suggested, was primarily represented by soldiers affiliated with the imperial army. As such, they took charge when it came to diplomacy.

The budget given to the military to wage war and suppress internal conflict, however, was determined by parliament, giving the noble faction an edge. Nevertheless, as a number of emperors in succession had been fond of war, the royals had been very accommodating of soldiers. Thus, the executive branch, which was influenced by the emperor, tended to be very pro-military. This allowed the military faction to wield a degree of influence, which made them more or less an equal match for the noble faction. In any case, the head of the military was the emperor, so there was no way the nobles could openly defy the military faction.

Unsurprisingly, this did not sit well with the noble faction. They were deeply resistant to allocating the military a larger budget despite how quickly the empire’s soldiers moved to neutralize internal conflict and strife. If the military faction was given too much free rein, the nobles worried they would sow discord in the pursuit of even more power.

That was also why, while it was a good thing the empire had won the war on the southern front, parliament had resisted ceding any more power to the military. They’d purposely mishandled the process of handing out the soldiers’ bonuses, meaning lower-ranking officers, rank-and-file soldiers, and ex-servicemen had not been properly paid.

Parliament seemed to be making vague excuses to deny payment. They would pronounce that they didn’t have money for such things or the payment of reparations from the opposing nation had been delayed. The higher-ups had continued to petition for the money, but they were being stonewalled.

The reason for this continued reluctance to pay was because the military had not been as ruined by the eight-year-long conflict as might have been expected. In fact, key players within the war had not been promoted despite their victory, simply because there were no posts open for them to fill. No one in the higher ranks had died. This left the noble faction, which had planned to take advantage of a weakened military, no recourse but to deny the soldiers their pay.

In the meantime, discontent had grown among the lower ranks and ex-servicemen, who’d taken it out on the upper echelons. Their anger would likely make it through to parliament eventually, but their first target had been the higher-ups who were suppressing them. As such, they’d targeted the military’s top brass.

It was hard not to spot the machinations of the noble faction. They’d wanted to incite conflict within the military to weaken their power, and for the moment, their manipulation tactics were proving successful. The puppets were still blind to their strings. Byletta was shocked by the ingenuity of it all.

The puppet master himself, Marquis Carisein Girelle, was of course the highest authority in parliament. He was also the top dog in the noble faction.

And yet the newspapers made no mention of nobles. Everything was focused on the military. The count’s hypothesis was likely correct. There was a significant chance the noble faction was manipulating the information being published in the paper.

Deciding it would be better to ask Arnald directly about the current situation, Byletta turned toward Donovan, who was standing by the entrance to the room.

“Is Arnald home, perhaps?”

“The young lord has not returned here. I was of the belief that he’d remained behind at the country estate with the count.”

“He should have come home a fortnight ago. He only stayed at the manor for a week. Before he left, he told me he’d heard news of a coup and was coming back here.”

“Is that so?”

“He never did used to come home,” the count pointed out. “And it’s likely he would’ve continued that pattern without you around.”

While it was true that Arnald had been more present at the house because of their wager, he’d also been on leave at the time, so it wouldn’t necessarily have mattered if she was in residence or not. Anyway, now that his leave was over, perhaps he had been required to return to the military.

Byletta decided to drop it and folded up her newspaper.

“There’s nothing we can do sitting here. I’m going to go visit my boutique.”

“Welcome to— Oh! Byletta!”

As soon as Byletta stepped into the clothing boutique she owned, the shop manager welcomed her in with a look of relief.

“I’ve come to see how things are going after I’ve been gone for so long. I trust nothing has changed?”

“Everything is in order, at least regarding the boutique itself. Mr. Eteau, however, asked me to hold on to you if you appeared. Do you mind waiting in the back room?”

“My uncle? That’s unusual. I wonder what his business is today? In any case, I’ll be there looking over the accounts.”

“Go ahead.”

Byletta left the shop floor behind and retreated into the back to pore over the shop’s ledger and the list of new goods they were due to receive. She’d been considering dropping by the factory after checking on the boutique, but it didn’t look like she’d be able to go any longer.

A vision of the factory secretary scowling at her popped into Byletta’s head, and she sighed.

“You look serious.”

While she had been lost in her thoughts, her uncle had sauntered into the room, looking as flawless as ever in one of his usual well-tailored suits.

“Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to see me, Uncle Samus.”

“I’ll do so anytime if it means being able to see my dearest niece. How was the estate?”

“Things appear to be calming down. More importantly, what has been happening here?”

“Something not entirely unrelated to the Swangans. Do you know a coup d’état has taken place, Byletta?”

“Yes, I read about it in the newspaper. And I’ve seen enough of the grotesque state of the city for myself.”

“Then did you also hear the house behind that coup is House Swangan?”

“What did you just say?”

“I’ll take that as a no. Listen, Byletta… You need to divorce your husband and leave that family immediately. Arnald is reportedly the ringleader.”

“What…? Arnald? What leads anyone to believe that?”

Samus had regular dealings with the military and was well-connected, so his information was likely to be accurate. But Byletta was unable to hide her confusion. Arnald had indeed informed her that he was leaving the estate because of the coup, but she’d had no idea the damage to the imperial capital was as severe as it was until she’d returned earlier today. Never could she have imagined that the instigator of such destruction would be House Swangan and the leader of the coup was her own husband.

“During the war, poor harvests barely even put a dent in the Swangan coffers. That’s because most of their income is generated by the hot spring resort, which never saw a drop in visitors. Injured soldiers would go there together all the time to heal in the waters. But then, despite the fact they already had plenty of men, they went and employed foreigners from a neighboring kingdom. Now they’re suspected of harnessing the aid of other countries to help their coup succeed. Is it true that they employ a knight from Naris?”

He must have been talking about Gail.

Byletta supposed that, judged on their own merit, House Swangan’s actions could come across as suspicious, but people were misguided to suspect them.

“Is that why House Swangan is under suspicion?”

“It’s important to secure a source of funding, after all. Without them, the coup d’état would merely be made up of a ragtag group of petty officers and plain soldiers, united under no particular banner. But if they were led by the famed Silver Fox of the southern front, their victory would be all but assured. He’s a particularly resourceful man.”

“Isn’t it more likely the coup was a noble-led conspiracy? Could they not be using the tensions resulting from the unpaid soldier bonuses to deceive us all?”

House Swangan was descended from the nobility of the former empire. It was very rare for a house of such noble blood to be involved in the military, but there was one thing Byletta knew after spending enough time with the count and Arnald.

Count Swangan may have been a retired soldier who had a family lineage that heavily favored the military side, but he was also completely and utterly disinterested in politics. He seemed to be a military man through and through.

When Byletta had first married into the family, she’d suspected that Arnald was a noble-faction plant within the military, but once she’d actually met him, the idea hadn’t sat quite right. He was much too strong-willed to play the role of the enemy within.

Who would be able to manipulate someone like her husband? The face of her impulsive father-in-law immediately swam into her mind, but he just wasn’t the type. He seemed like someone who understood that a house with land and a title would gain nothing by opposing the nobles of the former empire. As for Arnald, she wasn’t so sure.

Perhaps her husband had his reasons for leading a coup d’état, but even if he did, they had nothing to do with Byletta. It was a waste of time for her to worry over it. If he was the ringleader, then he could do what he pleased.

The only thing that made Byletta uncomfortable was that the entire family was now under suspicion.

She just knew the noble faction was behind the coup. The military had nothing to gain from it.

“That look on your face tells me you don’t intend to leave.”

“Because my in-laws are being suspected unjustly. It would only sully my reputation as a woman to run out on them as soon as my husband is accused of leading a coup.”

Whether Arnald was the ringleader or not, it was unforgivable to get the estates embroiled in it and disgrace the Swangan family name. Byletta had also been involved with the Swangan estate finances. She had been the one to draw Gail into its affairs. It enraged her to think of her family under suspicion, even though she could prove that everything they had done was innocent and aboveboard. How could she face the people who worked so hard for them on the Swangan estates now?

“You wouldn’t be judged as a woman for abandoning a sinking ship, Byletta… Your husband led a coup d’état. A proper lady would faint at the idea.”

“Oh, so now you wish to treat me like a lady? What a bad uncle you are.”

“Don’t be so quick to resort to mockery. I know you’re quite the shrew, but I ask you to please take my concern for you into account.”

“I apologize, then. But you can’t fault a merchant for cashing in on a fight.”

“I didn’t intend to start an argument.”

“I am currently a member of House Swangan. I’ve advised them on all sorts of things regarding their financial affairs, and it’s always been me who has reached out to others for help. If you’re suspicious they are guilty of any of the actions you previously described, then you are suspicious of—and picking a fight with—me. And I believe in fighting my own battles.”

“Those aren’t the words of a woman who wishes to get a divorce… Ah, if only I’d made you leave him sooner.”

“I appreciate that you care about me so, Uncle Samus. And I didn’t intend to disrespect you in any way.”

“I know. How many years do you think I’ve been your uncle?”

Hearing those words from a family member who truly understood her moved Byletta. It brought a smile to her face, that he could read her so well.

“I’m sure someone like you could name me another house blessed with an abundance of funds, couldn’t you, Uncle?”

“Yes. I thought we might end up here. House Rydewall.”

Rydewall was the house Carla belonged to—as in, the Carla who’d tried to warn Byletta off Arnald at the victory celebration. Byletta’s husband had many female admirers, but Countess Rydewall was the most fervent.

“That house sells arms, doesn’t it? Isn’t it natural that they would profit from conflict on the southern front?”

The Rydewall lands were situated among the mountains. Given that, they could mine good quality iron nearby, and they’d built some arms factories in the region to manufacture swords and guns. Byletta had heard they even made explosives, too.

“You’re right. That’s why they haven’t been suspected of the coup d’état. Currently, it’s only House Swangan and House Rydewall that have managed to make any significant amount of money.”

The next day, Byletta found herself in the manager’s office of her garment factory in the city.

As she made her way through the mountain of reports that had been accumulating since early that morning, her secretary approached with some large bundles of fabric. The tall man had once studied commerce under her uncle and been one of his most senior students before he’d ended up working for Byletta. Despite his quiet and calm nature, he also had a stubborn and fearsome side. He silently pushed the cart full of fabric into the room.

It was extra work, she knew. But one of her ironclad rules was that all her employees keep moving, even if their work was managerial. This, of course, applied to her as well in her role of factory manager.

“Lady Byletta, where should I leave these fabric samples?”

“Oh, um… Could you lay them out on that empty desk over there?”

“Of course.”

Byletta approached her secretary, who was busy arranging the samples on a table wide enough to seat ten people for a meeting.

“This is from Milg. That pile over here is from Detanato, and this one is from Cyress Fabric Wholesalers. Each supplier proclaimed their fabric was the pride of the region they sourced it from.”

“The samples just continue coming, don’t they?”

“It’s most likely because the fabric we used for those military coats made such an impression recently. These are essentially invites for you to patronize other suppliers as well. It’s all because the material you found was so good.”

Byletta hadn’t been able to find what she’d been looking for among the main merchants who sold fabric wholesale, so she’d turned her gaze farther afield. The fabric she’d found in the rural provinces was unique, born from that particular region’s climate and unique produce, and had proven extremely popular when turned into military coats.

Soldiers were often out on drills and were dispatched all over the empire to protect its borders. They, of course, did a lot of marching as well, with foot soldiers and operatives spending their days running around lugging heavy weaponry. And given how warm it was in the south, the temperatures of the capital would feel frigid to any returning soldiers.

Fabric tended to become heavier when wet, so coats that sucked up as little water as possible and were fairly durable and warm were highly sought after. But the coats the soldiers had been using previously had been absorbent, making them cumbersome and cold.

Byletta had finally found the perfect replacement fabric in the Yahawelba Empire. It was made from animal skin, which—if sourced from the right creatures—was resistant to water. Those were the skins that had been used to make the fabric she’d made the military coats out of. They’d proven slightly difficult to sew, requiring a special sewing needle and thread to get the job done. Naturally, Byletta had entrusted the job to the best seamstresses in the factory.

Armed with strength and skill, the seamstresses had worked almost day and night to complete the garments. It had been tough, but the experience had in time become a fond memory.

It was thanks to Byletta’s discovery that fabric wholesalers across the empire had caught wind of her reputation and had begun to send her samples of new fabrics they found.

When Byletta had first said she was going to build a factory within the imperial capital, those same wholesalers had completely ignored her. They’d wanted their materials to be used in one-of-a-kind handmade products and had mocked her rack-ready creations, asserting they would never sell. And look at them now. If something sold, then it didn’t matter where it had come from. But Byletta still found it difficult to keep a bitter grin off her face.

“We’ve got a lot of orders to process, so let’s work hard today.”

“You’re the one who’s hardly been here this past month.”

Once Arnald had returned from the front, they had almost immediately departed to the Swangan’s country estate to capture the grain thieves. And even though they’d briefly returned to the capital once for the victory celebration, they’d abruptly left again due to the demands to halt the flood control project. It truly had been an entire month since Byletta had been able to dedicate some time to the garment factory.

“I’ve already apologized for that. It’s why I’m here working like this today. Besides, I sent plenty of letters from the estate.”

“I know you did, but it’s quicker if you can examine the samples in person.”

“Fine. I won’t do it again. Now, let’s get back to work.”

“All right… Since we’re so buried in work today, I’ll forgive you.”

“Then I can only pray that the factory remains busy for all eternity.”

Byletta shrugged, and the secretary chuckled quietly. Byletta thought about how everything finally seemed back to normal in the city, and she smiled.

But not for long.

“I wonder if the recent coup d’état will affect us?”

“Not directly. But when I went over to deliver shirts to the senior officers, I was told they’d be incommunicado for a while. It seems the ones who enacted the coup were lower-ranking officers who had served on the front lines, including those who’d already retired from service. They’ve been causing trouble around the city because they say they haven’t been paid their bonuses…and I also heard House Swangan is involved.”

“So the rumors have reached you, too. I only found out from my uncle yesterday, myself.”

Byletta’s secretary dealt with her company’s external affairs and often visited customers to take their orders as well. He wasn’t just a secretary, but a capable salesman, too.

As he explained what he’d been told in an indifferent tone, Byletta sighed heavily.

“There have been explosions all over the city, so it can’t be easy for your family to go out and about, can it?” the secretary asked.

“No one has targeted me yet. I have no idea what my husband is playing at, though.”

It was normal for Arnald to hardly ever come back to the house. He was probably off doing something with the military, but as they hadn’t had the opportunity to talk, all Byletta could do was parse the information she had. For the present, she knew he was still alive only because she hadn’t seen his name in any obituaries.

While Byletta knew she’d still rejoice if her freedom came to her by way of her husband’s death, eliminating the need for her to win the wager or get a divorce, the prospect still bothered her.

She would much rather win the wager and her freedom fair and square, with her husband alive.

“Yet I heard you were quite cozy with one another just a short while ago. Now it seems things have taken a dark turn indeed. But I suppose that’s typical for you, boss.”

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“You apparently made an adorable couple at the recent victory party. I heard all sorts of interesting tidbits about how the Deadly Bloom of Cardenhague had ensnared the ruthless Silver Fox and completely melted away the frost of the lieutenant colonel. I heard the same rumors when I delivered a recent shipment to the military, too. Almost all of them were begging me for an introduction to you. It was quite taxing fending off so many questions about the mundanities of your married life.”

Cardenhague was a poisonous species of flower with purple petals and thorns on its stem. Calling Byletta that was an extremely pointed joke, given her amethyst-colored eyes. But she could have gladly gone a lifetime without ever hearing that nickname again.

“Seeing the lieutenant colonel look so affectionate certainly intrigued the ladies. They were very open that it made no difference to them whether he had a wife or not. Although I’m sure that fervor has somewhat lessened since the coup. It seems you have a penchant for punctuating your romantic tales with blood and violence.”

“Neither of those things has anything to do with me.”

It wasn’t as if she had plotted for her husband to attract the attention of the women at the party or to enact a coup.

“And you still don’t know where your husband might be, even with all that is happening here? Speaking of which—have you heard about what happened with Countess Rydewall?”

Byletta cocked her head at the sudden mention of Carla’s name.

“Does it have something to do with my husband?”

“There are rumors that he has been meeting with the countess in secret. The military is apparently abuzz with gossip about their alleged affair. For the time being, I informed his subordinates that you were very worried about it.”

“You needn’t have. If they are having an affair, she can have him. I’ll even wrap him up nice with a little bow.”

That would be convenient for Byletta. She wished to divorce Arnald anyway, so she would have no complaints. Even if she did have to hand him to someone like Carla. She wouldn’t even be angry, even if the thought did make her feel slightly uncomfortable. But she could ignore that.

Byletta’s secretary’s eyes widened at her casual comeback. A mean-spirited smile played on his lips.

“So you’re that confident your husband loves you. I’ve never heard you gush over someone before.”

“What did I do to make you think I was gushing? It’s all in your head.”

“No, you gushed just now. But anyway, when the prodigal son suddenly began to visit his estates as soon as he was married, it caused quite a stir among the noble faction. It seems you got to know each other very well out on the Swangan lands.”

All Byletta and Arnald had done at the estate was inspect the flood control construction, soak in the hot springs, and bicker like an old married couple.

Come to think of it, while she’d gone there to work, what had Arnald gone to the estate to do, exactly? He’d accompanied her on the inspections but often disappeared as well.

She had a feeling he may have accompanied her to see how the former soldiers were doing instead.

“He was working, too. I’m sure he went to the country estate when he heard about the coup to see how the soldiers were faring. Given his past as a commanding officer, perhaps he wanted to see how far the unrest had escalated. Anyway, in the end, he only stayed at the estate for a week before returning to the capital, so it’s hardly as if we were inseparable.”

Even though he’d said he was on a month’s leave, Byletta knew that didn’t necessarily mean Arnald wouldn’t be doing any work. But then again, it raised the question of why he’d been so insistent about being by her side all the time. Even for a postwar break, his period of leave had seemed long. Wouldn’t there still have been some matters to settle?

It made sense to think of it as work.

But then Byletta got angry.

The thought that he’d just wanted to use her as his plaything in his spare time off the job enraged her.

And that was without even considering the wager or all the comments he’d let slip that made her sound like a whore. He’d said she had an insatiable body, that she had seduced him. He’d even wondered aloud how he could possibly make his selfish wife happy.

Where and when had that man gone? Who was he with?

“It’s unusual for you to be so openly angry, Lady Byletta. Were you envious of your beloved husband’s work? Did you feel lonely even though you were all over each other the entire time?”

“I can’t help wondering why you speak as if you were there with us. Don’t be so ridiculous. Isn’t it time now?”

Byletta glanced at the clock to find that it was already ten to ten.

The secretary shrugged defeatedly. “Ahh, we didn’t make very much progress, did we…?”

“Well, if you had just dropped the subject… It’s no wonder we got so little done. We’ll get back to it after lunch. But first, we have a guest we ought to take good care of. I don’t know the purpose of his visit, but he’s made the effort to come all the way here just the same.”

“Please leave the hosting to me.”

The secretary wore a cocky smile as the two nodded at one another. He left for the reception room.

The garment factory was split into two sections: the factory floor, where the women who worked there assembled clothing, and a building full of reception and meeting rooms for receiving clients. Byletta’s office was in the latter part of the site.

As she sat waiting on the sofa, a man was shown into the room by the secretary.

“It was so nice to see you at the victory party a few weeks ago, Mr. Gracche. What can I do for you today?”

“Hmph, how rude. Are brusque questions what pass for greetings in this establishment?”

Leaning back importantly into the sofa, legs crossed, was none other than Emilio Gracche.

He jerked his chin at Byletta, who’d stood to greet him out of courtesy. It was like he was telling her to sit. This was her factory, yet he was behaving like he owned the place.

His pale blond hair, almost white in color, was tied at the back of his head, swaying gently with every move he made. As Byletta watched him, she seated herself down opposite.

Byletta’s secretary had studied under her uncle for a long time and had known Byletta herself for years. He knew all about what had happened between her and Emilio during their academy days. Not even the teachers had believed Byletta back then, so the quiet presence of an ally like her secretary, standing just behind her, was comforting.

Clothed in a fine suit stitched by the finest tailors in the imperial capital, Emilio Gracche oozed arrogance from every pore. Even his sharp ice-blue eyes shone with a penchant for belittling others.

He wasn’t the kind of man who would be in the market for ready-made clothes mass-produced in a factory. He must have been there in a professional capacity. There could be no other reason for his visit.

Because this man, a member of the old nobility and heir to Marquis Gracche, took more pride in his standing than anything else.

“I only ask because the schedule of the aide to the Speaker of Parliament must be quite hectic.”

“You misunderstand. I’m here today as an old school friend to offer you a warning. Be grateful.”

“What…?”

Emilio may have been in the same class as her at Stacia Academy, but she had in no way been his “school friend.” In fact, he was the one who’d first spread the rumors that she was easy and a whore. He was also the ringleader of the gang of boys who’d tried to assault her, a confrontation that had turned bloody when she’d defended herself. He may have been someone connected to her past, but she definitely did not want to associate with him in the present.

What could he possibly want after everything that had happened? He’d even treated her with disdain when she’d bumped into him at the recent victory party.

If he hadn’t said what he did back then, my feelings toward Arnald would not have grown so complicated, she thought, shooting the man a glare.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the unrest throughout the capital. I was told that you’d retreated to the lands of your husband, but then you suddenly came back. Your tamed fox must have either run off on you or come to despise you.”

“One might be forgiven for thinking that you are no better. After all, you rushed over here this morning to arrange a meeting knowing I’d only just returned.”

“Hmph! As you know, I’m a very busy man. I’m not so dispensable that I can waste all day on matters as trivial as these. However, I am not so heartless that I would simply look the other way when a target is being painted on the back of an old classmate.”

“And yet you sound awfully calm…”

“It seems even a she-devil like you has trouble handling the Silver Fox. Your life is in danger.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Perhaps, even though he’d just returned from the war, he ran out of patience with his charmless wife. I’m sure you’ve been told by now that your husband is the leader of the coup d’état. Well, I’ve also heard that a certain someone intends to use said coup as a pretext to have his wife murdered. Beg for my mercy. Then I might consider saving your life.”

“You must be joking.”

No matter how death nipped at her heels, Byletta would never cry and beg for Emilio’s help. She could tell he would abuse his power over her to make her submit to him.

“It’s not like me to run and hide just because my husband has plans to kill me.”

Byletta had always planned to leave the Swangan household. Why would her husband feel the need to murder her after she’d told him multiple times that she wanted to leave him? It wasn’t adding up. If he wanted her to go, she would in a heartbeat. There was no need for such measures.

Spinning such a tale was in and of itself a strange thing for Emilio to do. And she wasn’t going to be swayed by him pretending that they’d once been close as classmates.

Her secretary had commented that they should prepare for an ambush, but Byletta could never have imagined that Emilio would bring warning of her husband’s apparent plot to kill her. Still, she would never accept his assistance.

Byletta grinned at Emilio. “There was no need to trouble yourself, Lord Gracche. My husband and I are on good terms.”

Byletta and Arnald had made a wager to determine whether or not he would grant her a divorce. Now they were awaiting the arrival of Byletta’s monthly affliction to ascertain the result. She wanted to believe their agreement was amicable.

“Our visitor will be leaving us now. Please escort him out.”

“Yes, Lady Byletta.”

“There’s not an ounce of sweetness in you, is there?! Don’t come crying to me later!”

Byletta watched Emilio get pushed out the door and sighed deeply.

It seemed she really was being dragged into the machinations of parliament—or rather, the noble faction. She needed to tread carefully. They were attempting to cause her trouble and make her rely on Emilio to sway her over to their side. Yet as soon as they’d chosen him to carry out their dirty work, the possibility that she would put her faith in them had dropped to zero. Perhaps the person who’d come up with the plan had only focused on their history as classmates at the academy.

Byletta didn’t know what they were plotting, but she desperately wanted them to do so far away from her.

That night, Byletta received a scolding in her sister-in-law’s room at home. Arnald’s half sister, Milena, shook her long, lustrous blond hair and stared up at her with pale-blue eyes full of anger.

“Why does he always have to push the work onto you, Letta? And why do you always agree so easily?”

Byletta couldn’t help but laugh at the sensitive fourteen-year-old’s face as it puffed up adorably in fury. Milena showed her emotions so openly that it was hard to believe she was related to Arnald by blood, even if they were only half-siblings. If only her husband had been this straightforward to read, it would have been much easier to handle him.

“I’ve tied up all the loose ends I can. Now it’s all down to how much effort your father is willing to put in. I’m glad you’re so angry for me, though. Thank you for caring.”

The wager was over, and since there were no signs of a child in Byletta’s belly, it appeared as if she had emerged victorious. In other words, her divorce would be granted, and she would no longer be constrained by her obligations to House Swangan.

“Why are you always so quick to make fun of me?!”

“I’m being serious! Anyway, shall I make it up to you by taking you out one day, just the two of us?”

“Really? I thought you’d be busy with work after spending all that time at the country estate. I’m so happy to hear you have time to go on an outing with your little sister.”

“I’ll give you anything you ask, my lovely. Anything you have in mind?”

“Spending time together is more than enough, Letta. You meanie.”

“Mm-hmm, sure. Fine. Tell me a day that’s convenient for you.”

“Don’t you believe me, Letta?”

“Hee-hee, I’m sorry. I was just joking. I’m happy, too. Where shall we go? I hear there’s a play that leaves everyone with their jaws on the floor playing at the imperial theater.”

“My mother says there’s a Sharza exhibition running right now. And a new restaurant on Dittel Street!”

“Come now, I only have one body! I can’t be in so many places at once.”

Milena was the very definition of innocence. Her honest joy and pure smile warmed Byletta’s heart to an almost unfathomable extent.

It was bliss, plain and simple. So she basked in it.

There was a knock at the door. Donovan, the butler, popped his head inside.

“Apologies for disturbing you mid-conversation, but a messenger has arrived from the factory, my lady. They are waiting in the entrance hall and seem quite frantic to speak with you.”

“Oh, I wonder what it could be about? I’m sorry, Milena. I have to slip out. Will you pick out a few dates for me while I’m gone?

“Certainly. Let’s speak again later.”

“Yes. See you then.”

Milena walked with her all the way to the door to see her off. Leaving behind her sister’s soft face, Byletta quickly proceeded down the hallway.

Her mind was racing with possibilities. What could’ve been so urgent that Donovan had disturbed them in their moment of sisterly bliss?

As she reached the entrance hall, a man waiting in a simple coat came into view.

Supposedly, he was someone who’d come to deliver an urgent message from the factory, but Byletta had no recollection of ever meeting him before.

She suspected he could be the husband of one of the women who worked there, but the pensive look on his face concerned her. Although perhaps pensive wasn’t quite the right word. He looked downright grim.

The way he stood somehow reminded Byletta of a soldier. Yet if that were the case, he would’ve looked a shade different.

Byletta wasn’t quite as sharp as Arnald, but soldiers had a special aura. They gave off a certain kind of tension, like they were balancing on a tightrope. Her father was ex-military, so she was used to the feeling.

Oh, he’s ex-military, too.

The thought had instantly come to her mind. Byletta began to assess the situation.

The city had been taken over by the military in a coup d’état. Was this man perhaps complicit? Could he be after money? Or be a potential connection to Arnald?

But if any of that were true, then why had he come all the way to the Swangan residence under false pretenses?

Why did he want to see her specifically?

“You say you’ve come to deliver an urgent message from the factory?”

As her mind jumped between all the possibilities that had popped into her head, Byletta stopped Donovan and addressed her visitor from a distance.

The man looked up and smirked. “Byletta Swangan, I presume?”

An employee of her factory would never address their boss by name like that. She could see the color draining out of Donovan’s face beside her. It seemed he’d also worked out that the man was lying.

But Byletta remained calm.

I’m so close to getting a divorce! Why did this have to happen now…? Byletta lamented while giving the man a nod.

“Ha-ha, then die. Yar geibasse!”

The man’s disciplined voice boomed through the room as he gave a salute. It was a proclamation of loyalty, of honor. Byletta wasn’t very knowledgeable about the phrase’s meaning, but she knew soldiers uttered it before they left for war or as a greeting to their superiors.

She remembered what Emilio had told her that morning. About the plot to murder her in the chaos of her husband’s coup. It seemed that whether it was actually her husband or somebody else who’d orchestrated the hit, the existence of a plot to kill her, at least, had been true.

As the man screamed, he moved to take something out of his breast pocket. Byletta’s nostrils were immediately filled with the stench of chemicals.

She immediately jumped at Donovan to push him back.

“M-my lady?!”

She could already see Donovan on his knees, begging Arnald for forgiveness through his tears. He would try to do penance for hours and hours on end.

Don’t make such a senior, distinguished butler do that! What happened was inevitable! He didn’t push me over or attack me. It was an emergency!

Lives were at risk!

Her imaginary, bedridden self was pleading to Arnald. She could practically feel his anger pressing her down into the mattress.

Little did she know, tomorrow’s tableau would look much the same…

A boom ripped through Byletta’s eardrums at the same time she was blown backward by an intense shock wave and a burst of heat. She tightened her grip on Donovan, who was still in her arms.

As she lost consciousness, she was sure she could hear the laughter of a man at death’s door.

“And so ends my report.”

General Dreslan looked around and nodded.

His tone was gentle, but it was very likely everyone there knew it was only for show. As each of them waited with bated breath, Arnald stood behind Movris, glaring at them silently.

The Countercoup Headquarters meeting was underway within a room with a long row of tables that could seat thirty people.

Arranged in a U-shape, the right and left sides of the table held the key figures of each of the brigades that had been formed. General Dreslan was seated in the open area between the two sides and, from what Arnald could see, appeared to have quite a view.

The ebony-colored table stood out against the red carpet of the meeting room, but Arnald doubted it inspired much comfort in anyone.

A map of the imperial city was laid out on the middle section of the U. Placed on top were small scraps of paper containing details of the coup d’état. There were notes on the date and time of explosions and attacks, as well as the number of assailants witnesses had reported. Even the size of the blasts and the number of casualties had been recorded in an effort to grasp the scope of the coup and deduce the locations of the enemy’s main bases.

Chess pieces were placed on military-related buildings, like the intelligence headquarters, the accommodations for officers ranked field officer and above, the training grounds, and the residences of several generals and lieutenant generals, as well as some of the top brass. The targets of each attack had mainly been those who’d been promoted during the victory celebration. As such, General Dreslan was one of their number. He’d been attacked while he was aboard a carriage.

“Surprise is key when it comes to a coup. Getting the situation under control as quickly and with as few units as possible is strategically important for us, but it’s already much too late for that.”

General Dreslan had divulged to Arnald that suppression of a coup didn’t only require skill, but also trust. Large meetings were pointless, as it was impossible to tell friend from foe.

While they were certain the Speaker of Parliament had been the one to incite the coup, it was still unclear who the actual leader was. If he had to guess, Arnald would say parliament had embedded a traitor who’d risen to some standing into the military, but there were no obvious signs that marked anyone a suspect.

The only credible name whispered was Arnald.

“Y-Your Highness… With all due respect, the enemy is quick, and they leave behind few clues, so the information we currently have is limited. The rumor is that the ringleader is the Silver Fox, so can you explain that, please?”

“Captain Lumiere, I thought your report had ended. Given your outburst, I can only assume you have more to say. Perhaps if you have time to lay accusations based solely on a rumor at the feet of my direct subordinate, you’ve had time to acquire more meaningful information.”

“But…it seems so credible. I can’t tell you how many times people have told me that it was him who took leadership, blew up the bridge, and—”

“And you believe pursuing an investigation of him will end up worthwhile.”

Movris was no longer smiling. He was probably trying to determine the credibility of this intelligence, but to his opponents, it most likely came across as him subtly ordering them not to speak out. If they didn’t have the utmost trust in the information, he would not allow them to continue to discuss it.

“No, erm, my apologies.”

Just as expected, the man apologized. The lieutenant to Movris’s right chuckled to himself silently, as if to say the whole meeting was a waste of time.

Scrutinizing the information raised in the meeting was going to be a chore. It wasn’t hard to guess the value of rumors.

The locations and body counts of fresh explosions had been reported in the materials shared during the meeting. Yet there appeared to be some discrepancies between the eyewitness information presented and that in possession of General Dreslan. One such report was described eight soldiers orchestrating an explosion that had left several survivors, but in reality, it turned out there were three attackers, and everybody had died in the blast. At what stage was information getting so corrupted?

The thought of having to investigate each and every rumor made Arnald sick to his stomach. Finding out the mastermind behind all the attacks was important, but he’d rather not waste time chasing down idle gossip and rumors.

“At this point, we might as well be on a wild goose chase. We’re done for today.”

With Movris’s declaration, the meeting came to an end.

“The rumors about you are spreading like wildfire, Arnald. I’ll have to put you in cuffs before long.”

“Go ahead.”

Even if Arnald was apprehended as the leader of the coup, it would still go on regardless. But Movris knew, so he wouldn’t do it.

“You’re no fun, Silver Fox. I wish I could banter with your wife instead. Maybe you’ll have to lend her to me for a night.”

It had been more than two weeks since Arnald had last seen Byletta, but he’d heard she’d arrived in the city the day before last. Despite being present in the imperial capital as well, Arnald had been unable to return home. He’d only heard of Byletta’s activities from Donovan, the family butler. He’d been deeply impressed by her work ethic and how she’d immediately gone back to her business as soon as she’d gotten home.

Why should Movris get to see her when her own husband couldn’t? And what did he mean by “lend,” exactly?

“Ah, I did hear that your wife likes to sleep around, Lieutenant Colonel. Perhaps I can have a go, too. At least once His Excellency is done with her.”

The adjutant lieutenant colonel seated beside General Dreslan smirked.

Arnald’s response was immediate.

“I’ll die before I let you do such a thing.”

“Whoa, calm down. That’s your superior you’re speaking to—have some respect. Disobey his orders, and he could have you court-martialed!”

If my superior officer is going to order me to “lend” him my dear wife, perhaps I’ll go join the coup d’état instead, Arnald thought, discomfort bubbling up in his stomach. The next words from his mouth were a firm rebuke.

“I’ll make you regret ever making that request.”

“Come on, now…”

“Sorry. We were only joking. I know you’re head over heels in love with your dear wife.”

Movris interjected. “Come to think of it, you still haven’t introduced her to your men, have you? They were making quite the ruckus at the victory party, I’ll have you know. They were desperate for a closer look.”

“Please stop. You’ll spoil everything.”

The lieutenant pulled a mischievous grin, fully mollified by Movris’s skillful mediation. Although given it was the man himself who had started the whole jape, the effort rang somewhat hollow.

“Bwa-ha! Spoil what, exactly?” asked the lieutenant. “This is no good. This fool really is madly in love. Our cold-blooded fox is completely ruined! But if you’re this enchanted by her, then it just makes me want to borrow her all the more.”

“If you want to take something that belongs to someone else, you’d better be prepared, hadn’t you? Especially if that something is so important to the other person.”

“That’s rich, coming from a depraved general like yourself. Besides, you started it. Anyway, even His Excellency has seen how obsessed you are. And here I was, thinking you were having a rendezvous with Countess Rydewall during the victory party. There were rumors that you two were spotted looking very cozy.”

Arnald had spoken with Carla at the party, but he only remembered discussing Byletta. He hardly would have called it a “rendezvous.”

But now that the lieutenant had mentioned it, Arnald recalled he’d received a letter from Carla that morning. It was a formal invitation pertaining to a request the military themselves had made, so he couldn’t ignore it out of hand. But he’d still rather not have to bother looking inside.

Carla had sent him letters before. Unfortunately, the value of their contents was always low. They were full of line after line of meaningless words that Arnald struggled to comprehend, mostly dinner invitations and the like. They hardly ever contained any instructions pertaining to the coup, so he just skimmed through them.

As Arnald tried to remember when the letter had been dated, Movris shrugged.

“You two are certainly in a playful mood today. The gaps between attacks are narrowing, and it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for you to be assaulted by someone here, so be careful. No matter how skilled you may be.”

As soon as Movris finished stating his exasperation with the pair, hurried footsteps indicated the arrival of a man outside the room.

“State your business.”

“My apologies! It’s urgent!”

The man who entered was a subordinate of Arnald’s. But he was pale and out of breath. He’d obviously run all the way there. The others had been about to leave but stopped in their tracks, appearing to wonder what on earth could be so urgent.

“There’s been a report of an explosion in the entrance hall to the Swangan residence. It appears Lieutenant Colonel Swangan’s wife was knocked unconscious.”

For a split second, Arnald couldn’t understand what he’d just been told.

But his heart could, and he heard his breath catch in his throat.

After getting permission from Movris, Arnald rushed home and frowned at the ruin of the entrance hall. There was no trace of the old entrance left. It was completely unrecognizable.

He couldn’t see Donovan, even though the butler would usually be there to welcome him home. There were just a few maids milling around, unsure of what to do.

Arnald called out to the sole figure surveying the damage among them, as if he was familiar with it: his father.

Count Swangan had grown accustomed to inspecting such scenes during his time at war. He was an old hand at it and didn’t appear to have lost his touch. Arnald watched his father from behind as he silently worked.

“I’m home.”

“You’re late!”

“I came back as quickly as I could.”

“Enough talk. How much do you know?”

“That the entrance hall was blown up and that Byletta is unconscious.”

The maids were afraid of the count’s domineering attitude, which he directed even toward his son, but Arnald just responded calmly.

The count nodded in affirmation, his displeased expression shifting into one that looked more curious.

Arnald didn’t have a good feeling about it.

“It seems a man came under the pretense that he had an urgent message from the girl’s factory. Then he just blew himself up with an explosive that gave off dark-green smoke. Although you’d probably know more about what went on than I do.”

“Yes, that’s true. They were probably involved with the recent coup d’état. It’s getting out of control. I would wager the explosives are connected to them as well.”

Explosives that used conventional black gunpowder gave off white smoke. But those used in the coup d’état generated a dark-green plume. It was already widely known that the gunpowder they used was an order of magnitude more powerful than the usual black variety.

They were often seen in action on the southern front, too.

The first thing the army had done was move to make sure they had control of all their explosives. Since the bombs couldn’t be sold on the black market, they must have been either sold as unidentified explosives or freshly manufactured. The military had always procured their explosives from the factory run by the Rydewalls, but since they’d reported that none had gone missing, there was no need to investigate them.

If those explosives had been newly created for the purposes of the coup, the rebels would have needed a place to produce them and capital to fund the operation.

Arnald had been tracing the flow of cash until recently, but nothing in the military’s accounts seemed strange. The noble faction had even carried out their own investigation, but they hadn’t found anything suspicious, either. In fact, after supplying all the weapons on the southern front, the Rydewalls were turning the most money.

The conclusion Arnald had come to was that there must have been some unaccounted-for explosives in existence.

Someone must have been secretly misappropriating them from the southern front. How long have they been planning all this? Arnald wondered, falling silent.

“It seems she was the first to realize something was amiss. She must have grabbed Donovan and jumped behind the pillar. There, behind that one. There was a boom, and when I rushed to the entrance hall to investigate, I found the pair entangled on the floor behind that half-destroyed pillar. It was quite a shock, I tell you. The girl and the butler. But as I approached, I saw that the girl was shielding Donovan with her body. It was such a mess. She was gripping onto Donovan so tightly that we didn’t even attempt to separate them. We just carried her back to her room, but she still wouldn’t let go of his clothes. She must love that butler. Eventually, we were finally able to pry her off, and now she’s sleeping.”

“I see.”

“The pair have been strangely close since before you came back. Like a pair of gossiping fishwives. It didn’t matter what it was—she always seemed to discuss it with Donovan. I suppose it was because of that special relationship that she couldn’t let him go. Even after risking her life to shield him and losing consciousness, she wouldn’t release him.”

The reason Byletta had become so friendly with the butler so soon after she joined the family was because the count had always been blind drunk and useless, but he wasn’t about to admit that. Arnald could see right through the smirking, mean-spirited man, but he still felt uncomfortable with what he’d just been told.

“What condition is she in now?”

“Not interested in playing around today, are you? Just when I thought I’d get a rise out of you. In any case, the girl is being attended to by the doctor, so ask him.”

“I will.”

He would get even with Donovan and Byletta. But only once he had the facts.

As for his father? He didn’t need to know.

Arnald silently climbed the stairs from the entrance hall to the second floor.

As soon as he reached Byletta’s room, where she was sleeping, Donovan appeared before him. Arnald noted the man’s wounds had been treated as he bowed his head and began to apologize.

It appeared the doctor Arnald’s father had spoken of had just finished administering treatment to Byletta. He was packing away his things in a medical bag.

“Please forgive me, young lord!”

“You can apologize later. How is Byletta faring?”

Arnald didn’t want to let the butler off the hook so easily, but he was more concerned about Byletta’s condition.

“There’s a burn on her back and some abrasions. I’ve administered painkillers and antipyretics in case of fever. She doesn’t appear to have hit her head, but please make sure she rests for the next twenty-four hours, just in case.”

The doctor in the employ of the Swangan household was a middle-aged man. Arnald was familiar with him, but strangely, he wished he could forget the man had just looked over his wife without his permission. He wished he could’ve been the one to look her over. Even if he’d only learned a little bit about medicine in the military.

“I see. Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure. My lady was very brave. It was ingenious of her to quickly dive behind the pillar as she did, and it was also why she managed to get away relatively unscathed. Please take good care of her when she wakes.”

The doctor smiled genially and exited the room. Donovan had escorted him out, so Arnald approached Byletta instead.

She was breathing steadily, as if she were in a deep sleep, but showed no signs of being ready to open her eyes.

Arnald looked down at the gentle bumps in the duvet drawn over Byletta and stroked her cheek. Red lines streaked over it, like she’d been grazed by something. It pained him to look at them.

What was “relatively unscathed” about this?

As he gazed down at his wife’s pallid face, Arnald clenched his fist. He had no doubt that the so-called minor injuries on her face had been replicated over her entire body underneath the duvet.

The urge to take his sleeping wife into his arms was hard to ignore.

He wanted to wrap himself around her and never let her go ever again.

Even though he knew she would just scowl and reject him.

Just then, there was a knock from the other side of the door.

When Arnald looked over, he saw Milena enter the room, accompanied by a maid.

“Oh, Arnald. You’re here.”

“I am indeed. The military has been informed. What do you have there?”

Arnald eyed the scissors in the maid’s hands as Milena frowned sadly.

“Letta’s hair got singed, so I thought I’d trim it.”

“Is that really necessary right now?”

The young girl, whom Arnald had only ever seen cowering as she peeped from behind her mother’s skirts, was now glaring at him. Even after his return from the southern front, she’d still looked at him with a nervous gaze. Her behavior now was a testament to the contempt she had for him.

“I heard from Donovan that Letta got caught up in this through no fault of her own, just through her association with you. If you had only granted her a divorce, she never would have gotten hurt. You neglected her for eight years. If only you could have suppressed your pigheaded stubborn streak and accepted the divorce, she would have been somewhere safe.”

“Isn’t this a waste of time, blaming me for something that has already happened?”

They could talk about what-ifs all day.

The fact that Byletta had managed to escape with her life couldn’t be described as anything but dumb luck. He could easily have lost her. Arnald had never considered that his work or position could result in the sacrifice of his family or his beloved wife. But he was a soldier who’d been to battle—he was used to being resented. He was aware that one day, someone might come looking for revenge. Yet if they had come for anyone else, Arnald doubted that he would have felt quite as shaken.

That was why he’d been so shocked that his mind went blank back in the meeting room.

And why he now needed to devise a strategy that wouldn’t allow for anything of the sort to happen again.

He knew all too well how easily life could be taken away. Remembering the countless times he’d witnessed death on the battlefield, he felt as though his world had flipped on its head.

She had truly corrupted him. There was no other explanation for his desperation to not lose her.

“You’re too ignorant of the workings of a woman’s heart to be here! Now, get out!”

Having received such a scolding, Arnald quietly left the room.

He couldn’t bear the thought of being the one to wake his wife.

It seemed Milena had left quickly after trimming Byletta’s hair. By the time Arnald returned, his wife was sleeping in an empty room once again.

Arnald gazed at his wife all night. In what felt like mere seconds, dawn took over the horizon. Byletta hadn’t opened her eyes once, merely continuing to breathe steadily in and out.

As Arnald stared at her white face in the morning light, Donovan came calling. Arnald shot a sideways glance at the man, who seemed slightly nervous after his lord’s rebuke the previous day. Then they headed to the entrance hall together, where a visitor waited for his wife. As to what they could have possibly wanted at this time of morning, Arnald had no clue.

The butler informed Arnald that the visitor was Byletta’s secretary, but after all that had happened the previous day, he was slightly wary, even if he knew his misgivings were most likely unfounded.

Amid the rubble of the entrance hall stood a refined-looking man.

“My apologies for the early timing of my visit. I am Lady Byletta’s secretary. Word of her assault reached me last night. I’m very sorry for barging in like this, but I couldn’t wait any longer. How is she doing?”

The worried frown on the man’s face told Arnald that he was genuinely concerned about his wife.

“She has a burn on her back and some minor scrapes and bruises. However, her doctor has ordered that she rest today.”

“That makes sense. Although I wonder if you would be so kind as to pass on to her the message that I will be choosing fabric twenty-one. Today is the deadline for our reply, and I know Lady Byletta was fretting over the matter.”

“I will let her know when she wakes up.”

As Arnald nodded, the secretary’s expression relaxed.

“I have to say, you’re not at all what I expected, given what I’ve been told.”

“What you’ve been told…? By my wife?”

“Lady Byletta never spoke about you. I just happen to overhear things when I deal with the military for work.”

“Oh?”

Arnald didn’t like the sound of that. Sure enough, the rumors Byletta’s secretary repeated were not flattering.

“They say you’re inflexible and narrow-minded. I believe that was from one of your direct subordinates.”

“I see.”

They seemed to be bearing a grudge from when Arnald had refused to introduce them to Byletta at the victory party. Not that all the fuss they were making about it now made Arnald any more inclined to change his mind.

“When you have such a lovely wife, the struggles never end.”

The secretary’s words were laced with some gentle ribbing, which left Arnald slightly taken aback.

The man didn’t seem to hold any animosity toward him, despite the fact that Byletta’s uncle had been full of nothing but contempt.

If anything, it felt like he was getting déjà vu from when he’d first met Byletta’s father.

“Have you known my wife for a long time?”

“I’ve known Lady Byletta since I was a student. Her uncle was a mentor to me. He taught me all there is to know about business. Oh, that’s right—there was something I wished to divulge to you. Forgive me for changing the subject so abruptly, but do you know a man by the name of Emilio Gracche?”

“Do you mean the aide to the Speaker of Parliament?”

“The very same. He’s an old classmate of Byletta’s. It seems that at one time, he was quite infatuated with her, but recently, he has begun to go much further. I’d like you to be wary of him.”

“I already knew he was interested in Byletta, but what exactly is it that you wish me to be so careful of?”

“There was an issue with an assault during Byletta’s time at the academy. Were you aware of that?”

The secretary peered at Arnald questioningly. He was most likely hinting at the instance when Byletta had been attacked and fought back during her final year. Emilio Gracche’s name had surfaced when Arnald was conducting his initial investigation into her.

Though he’d met the man in person, they’d only exchanged a few words during the victory party. Arnald had heard his name being bandied around a lot at work recently, however.

“He was the gang’s ringleader. It seems he got others to do his dirty work for him and tried to pose as an innocent bystander, but ever since then, he’s been persistent in his efforts to claim Lady Byletta for his own. There was even talk of him making her his mistress at one point. And an invitation from within his family for her to come and work for them. I heard Byletta’s father quickly understood their objective and put a stop to it.”

Hearing that Emilio had been the ringleader made Arnald remember how Byletta had appeared at the victory party. That must have been why she’d been acting so strangely.

And on top of that…

…Emilio had wanted to make her his mistress?

Byletta?

Even though it was an insult to Byletta’s character, Arnald couldn’t help but smirk when he heard that.

“I would love to see him try.”

“I agree. My master also said something similar. We believed he had given up on that endeavor, but he has recently resurfaced—specifically to warn Lady Byletta that her husband was plotting to kill her. The lady, of course, was having none of it and sent him away, but given that she was attacked so soon afterward, I was quite concerned.”

“He told her I was going to take her life?”

And she hadn’t believed it? Did that mean she actually trusted him? Or had she just not felt much one way or another about the matter?

Arnald couldn’t be sure at all.

Her body felt so heavy. And it hurt.

But despite these strange sensations, when Byletta opened her eyes, she still thought everything that had happened was all naught but a bad dream. Then it all rushed back to her in detail, and she realized why she’d found herself in bed. Gingerly, she called out into the room.

“G-good morning…?”

As she opened her eyes, she saw her husband standing at her bedside, his face painted with displeasure.

Before Byletta had even realized she was in their bedroom at the Swangan residence, she recognized her husband’s mood.

For the first time in a while, a chill ran down Byletta’s spine.

She wanted to run, but she couldn’t.

It was so bad that she couldn’t tell whether she had woken up naturally or if the dark aura of the room had done it for her.

Why was Arnald at the house just after sunrise? Shouldn’t he be busy?

Donovan had told her that he didn’t come back to the house much anymore.

In fact, she hadn’t seen him even once since he’d left the Swangan’s countryside estate.

As the potential ringleader of the coup d’état, he must have been buried in work.

So why was he standing in front of her?

“Good morning. Or should I say, ‘Good afternoon’?”

“What? Afternoon…? No! The deadline for the fabric selection!”

“Your secretary called here early this morning and informed me that he would respond in your stead. You have orders from the doctor to rest today.”

“Oh, good. The luster of fabric twenty-one would make for a wonderful coat that we could mass-produce at a low cost, and… I’m sorry. I’ll take the day to rest.”

The mood was so dark and tense, she could almost hear it.

I shouldn’t speak about work.

If she did, her husband would transform into something different entirely.

“Oh, right! There was an explosion! What happened? Is Donovan all ri—?!”

She saw Arnald’s expression change—dramatically.

Surely he wasn’t dead?

Byletta turned white.

Arnald’s voice was quiet when he next spoke.

“My father found you both on the ground. He whittered on and on about how you were so closely entangled with Donovan that they almost couldn’t pry you apart. Like you were holding onto him for dear life.”

“Huh? So does that mean Donovan is all right?”

“You bore the brunt of the blast, so he sustained nothing but a few cuts and bruises as you were blown to the floor. He’s already returned to his regular duties.”

“Aah… Thank goodness. Thank goodness! But why the haughty tone?”

Byletta looked up somewhat accusatorily to find Arnald with a derisive smile on his face.

He was actually using his facial muscles for once. Despite the fact that he never did so at home.

Wait, perhaps it wasn’t a derisive smile after all. Was he…trying to show how worried he was for her?

But why here? Why now? There was no one around for him to perform that expression for.

Come to think of it, this is the first time I’ve ever seen him look like that…

The chill running down Byletta’s spine became a full-blown blizzard.

She wished only to run away. To leave. As soon as possible.

“Your back was burned in the blast. Your hair was also singed, so Milena brought a maid to trim the burned parts off.”

“Oh, right. Thank you for telling me. I’ll make sure to thank her later.”

That thoughtful and kindhearted girl was a worrywart. Byletta could only imagine how sad she’d been cutting her hair, given how much Milena had complimented her on it. She was probably more upset than Byletta was.

Ignoring his wife’s inner turmoil, Arnald continued speaking.

“Most of the entrance hall was blown away, and the perpetrator was blasted to smithereens. Clearing the area has proved to be no small feat. The maids kept fainting, so we’ve had to hire an external contractor to take care of it. Even they were complaining about how long it was estimated to take. That’s how lethal the blast was.”

“Oh, I see.”

“And despite that, you’re worried about Donovan and want to go and thank Milena? Is that right?”

“What? Should I not?”

“No, it would make me uncomfortable.”

“Why?!”

What did he mean by “uncomfortable”?

Byletta didn’t want praise, but he should at least appreciate the fact that no one had died. And it was important to her that she show her adorable sister-in-law her gratitude.

But what about that made Arnald uncomfortable?

Byletta was confused.

Arnald’s subsequent lecture was long, but to sum it up, it felt like he was warning her against getting too close to other men. But why was she getting chastised for saving a life?

After the butler, the next person she was concerned about was Milena. Her husband then asked her if she had no words for the man who’d stood vigilantly by her bedside, and she reminded him that she’d bid him good morning, which only exacerbated his anger.

It baffled Byletta.

And yet…she felt it would probably be best not to interrupt his tirade. But saving lives was still important. And Milena’s concern was something to be appreciated, wasn’t it? When she firmly stated this to her husband, he stared at her with an ice-cold smile on his face.

As her husband subsequently unleashed a torrent of rebukes, all Byletta could do was make excuses and apologize.

“You’re not allowed to leave for a while.”

Those arbitrary words formed the final piece of Arnald’s tedious lecture. He was so condescending.

Byletta being Byletta, she could feel the urge to rebel bubbling up inside her.

“How dare you act so high and mighty! I have to work.”

“I only ask you stay inside until the situation settles down. Now, what do you value more? Your work or your life?”

“Don’t be so melodramatic… It’s not that easy to kill me.”

The perpetrator had been blown up in the attack. Byletta knew well just how close she’d come to death. Still, she didn’t want to tell Arnald that. It hurt just to admit it.

This was a game of tit for tat.

But Arnald’s gaze instantly sharpened.

“Oh, I see. So you’re impervious to bombs, swords, and guns now?”

“I didn’t say that. I wouldn’t even be human, then. Why are you being so childish?”

“Because I’m pigheaded and stubborn? As well as inflexible and narrow-minded?”

“Wh-what are you talking about?”

Byletta couldn’t help but stare at her husband as he began to reel off a list of personal faults.

Her anger faded, replaced by suspicion that she was being brushed off. But Arnald didn’t seem to care.

“Whatever the case, you’re not allowed out. In fact, you can just stay here, in this very spot.”

Arnald’s emerald-green eyes shone with a questionable light.

As her husband sidled up onto the bed, Byletta instinctively grabbed a pillow and threw it at him.

“Our wager was for just one month. It’s over now, so I ask that you do not touch me again.”

They had only agreed to act as husband and wife for those thirty days.

Arnald moved the pillow away, then began thinking out loud.

“But you are still my wife, are you not?”

“For the time being. But once you divorce me, I’ll be leaving immediately.”

“And what if there’s a baby in your belly?”

“Even if that is the case, you promised we’d only have to be together for a month.”

“But if there’s a child, then our marriage will continue in perpetuity. I take it that your monthly visitor is still yet to arrive?”

“It is, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve succeeded. And if you haven’t, that means the divorce is granted, and we aren’t husband and wife any longer.”

Since she couldn’t prove she wasn’t with child, Byletta had made sure to think of a reason to refuse Arnald even if she hadn’t technically been granted a divorce yet.

“So that’s how it is, then. I see that we’ve reached a stalemate and that I won’t be able to sway you so easily. On a different note, I heard you met with Emilio Gracche.”

“What are you—? That doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

Emilio had come to tell her that Arnald was leading the coup d’état and had a plan to kill her, so it did, in fact, have a lot to do with him. But since the tale had come from the mouth of Emilio, Byletta was highly suspicious of it.

“My wife truly is a bloom like no other.” Arnald sneered, his expression twisting.

Byletta was so angry that she started trembling.

He was referencing the name used by the men who’d spread the gossip that’d made her so infamous.

She began to hear hazy voices in her head as the memories came flooding back to her.

Always, always, always—

“Everyone always thinks they can come up to me and make me do whatever they want!”

It never mattered what Byletta wanted. She was just abused by other people who thought they could use her however they liked, whether through what they said or how they acted. Each time, her fragile heart would be wounded, but that only seemed to encourage them more. Byletta knew that even the arms meant to protect her possessed an ulterior motive. That was why she’d had to become strong enough to stand on her own two feet.

The thoughts and intentions of others were always a world away from what she herself desired. People always embroiled her in things, pushed work on her, and slapped labels on her. She was haunted by gossip. She was a she-devil. A whore. A prostitute.

No matter how much she struggled, how much she pushed away, having her attention yanked from one thing to the next made her feel sick.

Just like all the desire, self-interest, scorn, and ridicule.

She doubted there was a single pair of eyes that looked at her and saw her true self anywhere.

No, actually, there was one. The clear, emerald-green eyes in front of her were lifeless. But at some point, their gaze had begun to feel vaguely warm.

Byletta had a feeling the transformation had started when she’d first met Arnald, though they had continued to change since then.

But those eyes that looked at her with such lust were nevertheless still a subject of her ire.

Feeling as if Arnald’s gaze could read every thought in her head, Byletta chose not to meet it.

He was no doubt about to say something infuriating to her, just as he always did.

She could never tell what he was thinking.

And that day was no exception.

“Byletta, it’s because of you.”

It was always the fault of the irresistibly beautiful Byletta.

The strong-willed, prideful, and haughty Byletta.

The quick-witted, sensitive Byletta.

Who was wrong? Who was at fault? Every single time, it was Byletta’s.

Would she have been happier if she was uglier? Fainter of heart? More reserved? Dumber?

But that just wasn’t who she was.

Byletta slapped Arnald as hard as she could in the face.

Chapter 6: You, Whom I Despise

The entrance hall of the Swangan residence was absolutely not going to be fixed in a single day. Not after such an enormous blast. Fabric had been hung around the area, along with a makeshift entryway to be used while the hall was still under repair, but after becoming so accustomed to seeing a normal sturdy door, Byletta thought it was all rather flimsy.

Also, the uniformed soldier standing imposingly in front of it felt frighteningly out of place.

“I’m not sure a bodyguard is quite necessary,” Byletta said, setting everything else aside.

But this didn’t even put a dent in her companion’s arrogance. He had maintained an attitude that suggested his assignment was nothing more than a chore ever since he’d arrived and didn’t appear inclined to change it, no matter how uncomfortable he was making Byletta.

“I agree, especially after hearing all those rumors about you. This bodyguard assignment is ridiculous.”

“You are completely free to withdraw.”

“I’m here on orders from my superior. I cannot disobey.”

“And you always follow your superior’s orders.”

This was most likely her punishment for making Arnald angry. She’d never thought he would pull anything like it. She had no need for a gossip-loving bodyguard. She hated to admit it, but she was quite impressed with how petty he could be.

“M-my lady… Who is this?” Donovan interjected, seemingly unable to bear watching what was happening any longer.

Byletta smiled to put him at ease. “He’s one of Arnald’s men.”

But she wanted to ask him one thing nice and loud: “Why are you here?”

After she’d slapped Arnald the previous day, he’d left with a butler who’d come to call on him. Apparently, he had been summoned to help General Dreslan, whose mansion was under siege.

His cheeks had turned red, but it didn’t appear to bother him in the slightest. That said, given his silence afterward, he must have been furious.

Once Byletta had the chance to calm down, she’d realized there was no need to be so angry and no excuse for hitting her husband. True, he’d needed to be punished, but the way she’d gone about it made her feel low.

All she’d done was unload an entire month’s worth of frustration onto him. Not to mention all the years of gloom he’d put her through. He was but a tenth as bad as all that, really, but bad was still bad.

And her husband was a genius at making her angry.

At first, she’d thought that when she met Arnald, she would ask him about the coup d’état and his alleged complicity, but she hadn’t. Neither had she been able to probe him as to whether he’d plotted to kill her.

And since then, Arnald hadn’t returned once, so she’d been unable to apologize to him.

As for her new bodyguard, he’d arrived just this morning as Byletta was getting ready to go to work. Donovan had spotted her and begun to plead with her to prioritize her health when the uniformed soldier had arrived. He’d grumpily informed them that he’d been commanded to act as her bodyguard.

The fact that Arnald had seen fit to assign her a bodyguard even though he’d told her she was prohibited from leaving the house showed just how well he knew her. Perhaps it was an attempt at a compromise. But upon discovering how foul and unpleasant a person his subordinate was, Byletta quickly realized this was, in fact, his way of getting back at her.

It seemed that her anxiety about the possibility of another attack was going to get supplanted by crippling depression, inspired by her sullen protector. She wondered where she should have her bills sent in the case of a nervous breakdown. To the ones who’d staged the coup? Or to her husband, who’d ordered the man’s presence?

“So where are we headed today? Off to see a lover of yours?”

Byletta made a mental note never to anger that petty husband of hers ever again. It seemed silly to go to work now, so she informed the coachman that there would be a change of plans.

They would leave for the commercial district of the capital.

“Erm, where are we headed, Mrs. Swangan?”

The guard’s voice sounded suspicious, but Byletta had no obligation to answer his question.

She simply encouraged the soldier sitting opposite her to remain quiet instead.

She was already angry.

The entire Swangan family were thought to have used their ample wealth to fund the coup, and were suspected of linking up with foreign armies to sow discord within the ranks of the Gaihandar military. Whether Arnald really was the leader of the coup or not, she wanted to tell the world that the rest of the family had nothing to do with it. Moreover, Byletta had been the victim of a suicide bombing. She could have died.

The feeling of being under suspicion was most vexing. If possible, she wanted to drop by the Rydewalls’ business to spy on the enemy. Byletta’s uncle often said you couldn’t fight an enemy without first knowing who they were. Of course, the same could be said in business.

“Isn’t this an arms shop?”

The carriage had stopped in a nook of the commercial district, and Byletta was now walking down the street with the soldier. He’d posed the question upon seeing the direction she was looking in.

“This is the arms shop House Rydewall funds and operates. Do you know of it?”

“Of course I do. Almost all the military’s supplies come from here, even if we do have dealings with a few other traders. In any case, this is where the entire country gets its equipment.”

That sounded perfect to Byletta.

Given that House Rydewall was of the noble faction, they shouldn’t have been permitted to increase their influence within the military. But due to political grounds, it was likely their involvement couldn’t be avoided.

How were they supposed to fight such a powerful foe? Just one look at their store, which was full of busily working staff and customers, told Byletta that it was a respectable establishment. Nothing seemed amiss.

“Why have we come here, exactly?”

“Surveillance. Even the most trivial scrap of information could prove vital. We have nothing to lose by keeping an eye on them.”

“I see. Very crafty.”

The guard’s mutter was gloomy, but before Byletta could pay much heed to what he’d said, she spotted a wagon pull up behind the shop. She frowned. Something felt very odd.

The wagon was fitted with a canopy, so it could be used to store and transport weapons easily, but Byletta doubted it was capable of carrying much weight. More importantly, there wasn’t a shop mark or insignia to be found on it anywhere. It was completely nondescript.

Just as Byletta noticed the lack of marks on the wagon, two men came into view, carrying a sack from the back of the store. As the pair threw it into the back of the carriage, Byletta could see something poking out of the top. Rubbing her eyes to try and gain a better view, she realized it was a human hand and shivered.

It appeared the sack contained a person.

“D-did you just see that? Let’s follow that wagon.”

Byletta didn’t know precisely what was happening, but she did know it was a crime.

What else could it be when there was a person inside a sack? She had no idea if there was anything she could do, but she possessed a strong sense of moral obligation; doing nothing wasn’t an option.

“Tch, those idiots… They said all I’d have to do was stay by your side and keep an eye on you. Fine. You’re coming with me.”

“What?”

The man’s tone had completely changed. As soon as she looked at him, she felt a powerful blow to her solar plexus. Then everything went black.

“…lady! Young lady…!”

From somewhere in the darkness, Byletta could hear a voice calling out to her. Her eyes snapped open, and she found herself face-to-face with a familiar short-statured old man. His white hair was unkempt, and he seemed very weary. His simple outfit of a shirt and pants appeared to be of fine quality, but it was scuffed and marked. Hands bound behind his back, he peered questioningly at Byletta.

“Where am I…?” she asked.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re awake. You were asleep for the better part of two hours after they drugged you and brought you here. I know it’s past lunch, but as for where we are, I have to admit I have no idea, either. I was brought here the same way you were, you see.”

The room they found themselves in appeared to be a large reception area of some sort. It was furnished with various objects, and a fine painting hung above the hearth. The windows were also draped with thick, heavy curtains, making it impossible to see outside.

Byletta had awoken on a sofa.

The old man was kneeling beside her on the carpeted floor. Given that he had been brought there at the same time, he must have been the owner of that hand she saw back at the Rydewalls’ arms shop. Unless she’d been taken somewhere completely different.

“Did you happen to be brought here in a sack?”

“Oh, you saw that, did you? Yes, it was me. Apparently, our current captors don’t believe in respect for the elderly. Just as I was growing accustomed to that cellar under the store they had me in, they stuffed me into a sack and threw me on the back of a wagon. I may lack height, but I’m not a toy. When they finally released me from the bag, they tied my hands. They showed absolutely no respect for their elders.”

“I apologize, but I’m not quite following…”

“Ha-ha! And yet you appear so calm. You’re the young wife of Lieutenant Colonel Swangan, I presume?”

“You know who I am?”

“You were quite the conversation piece at the victory party. To witness the mighty cold-blooded Silver Fox tamed by his wife was quite the spectacle. I’d never seen that boy look so tenderhearted in my life.”

“Wh-what?”

What “Silver Fox” was he talking about?

It couldn’t possibly be the same one she knew.

Byletta wouldn’t say Arnald necessarily had the shrewdness to lead a coup, but he’d been petty enough to assign one of his most annoying men to be his wife’s bodyguard as revenge for her slap.

But the old man appeared to know not only about Arnald, but the victory celebration, too.

She was certain she’d seen him before. As she searched her memory, it suddenly dawned on her.

“Lord General Grusbel?”

Vasia Grusbel was a celebrated war hero and a man whom Arnald claimed to be greatly indebted to. Indeed, he was the very same short-statured general she’d seen from across the room at the victory celebration.

“I retired just recently. But how self-conscious I feel to be recognized by such a wonderful young lady.”

Byletta felt like she could see the ghost of General Dreslan and his demonic smile reflected in the old man’s cheerful grin. Knowing Grusbel had been Dreslan’s direct superior made her shudder. Perhaps spending so many years in each other’s company, breathing the same air, had made them take after one another. Did that mean her husband would gradually turn into General Dreslan?

That was a terrifying notion. More troubling than any other kind of infectious disease she’d seen at work.

“Was it the military who brought me here?”

“Yes. Do you know something?”

The bodyguard her husband had arranged for her had a bad attitude, but perhaps that lack of respect for her was because he’d already known what he was going to do. In any case, he’d been the one to knock her out, so it wasn’t a great leap to assume that the man she’d met this morning had been the one to drag her there as well.

“I think it was one of my husband’s men.”

“Oh? I don’t believe it. Those hooligans were much too rough to have been that boy’s men. Hmm, he may have a few who are rough around the edges.”

“Do you know my husband’s subordinates well?”

“Your husband leads an entire regiment, so I can’t tar everyone with the same brush. But his subordinates had it good. He used to hire expensive prostitutes and completely rent out high-class brothels for them. They were very grateful for it.”

Byletta had heard similar tales from Wied. It sounded like when men went to war, all they ever talked about was women.

“The boy is feared by his enemies for his ruthless and level-headed strategy making, but he’s idolized by his soldiers. Ah, there was that bitterness at the victory celebration, though.”

“At the victory party? How come?”

“Most of those men don’t get the opportunity to meet young ladies as lovely as yourself in person very often. They assumed their commander would at least introduce you, but he never did.”

When Byletta had asked Arnald back then why he didn’t go and greet his men, he’d very curtly commented that it would just make things awkward. But in reality, it seemed he simply hadn’t wanted to introduce her to them. At the time, gossip that she was a harlot had been circulating in the military, so she’d wondered if he had been protecting her from facing any ugliness. But she also understood that Arnald viewed her as nothing more than his personal prostitute, so perhaps, rather than doing something kind for her, he’d merely wanted to avoid the clamor and bother that would come with introducing her.

“It was a long time ago now, but during one military operation, a spy was found to have embedded himself in one of the boy’s units and was leaking information to the enemy. It was, of course, the lad who was able to play that to his advantage and achieve suitable retribution, but it was me who first told him about the spy. Ever since then, he has always accommodated me as if he felt some sort of debt of gratitude. He may seem like a cold-blooded fox on the outside, but he’s a surprisingly principled man. I’ve heard he makes sure to mingle with his soldiers.”

Byletta remembered her husband had indeed spoken of his high regard for Vasia before. She’d thought he simply respected Vasia as General Dreslan’s direct superior, but Vasia really had saved him.

“He’s a curious fellow to not introduce his wife to his soldiers despite all their pestering, though.”

Byletta cast her eyes down unconsciously without saying a word. She wished she could tell him it was because Arnald cared nothing for her.

Arnald hadn’t told her anything. Despite that, she found her heart beginning to fill with hope and her cheeks starting to flush.

Did he truly think she wasn’t a wife worth showing off? Or…

As she felt her heart rising with feelings that directly contradicted the more logical thoughts in her head, Byletta desperately ran through the list of reasons that she should dampen her expectations.

Firstly, it had been Arnald’s subordinate who’d abducted her. What was she expecting from a man like that? Even the suicide bombing she’d been caught up in had been orchestrated by her husband, according to Emilio.

But if he truly wished to kill her, why come up with such an elaborate plan?

And he would never have worried about her to the point of anger, like he had the previous day.

She remembered how earnestly her husband had lectured her, and she began to feel uneasy.

That was right. He’d been worried about her. Her workaholic of a husband who was always too busy to come home had rushed to her side the moment he heard she’d been hurt.

When she thought about how that made her feel…

…it’d made her so, so happy.

Even if she still couldn’t be completely sure that it wasn’t her husband planning her murder.

As she worried endlessly, the door to the room opened.

In came Emilio.

“Mr. Gracche… Pray tell, what is the meaning of this?”

“I just saved you from getting killed.”

“Then how do you explain General Grusbel’s situation? Look at him! He’s tied up.”

“The aide to the Speaker, hmm…? Just when I thought the enemy was finally revealing themself. So this is the noble faction’s doing, then.”

It appeared Vasia also knew of Emilio, although that was perhaps only natural, given he’d filled in for the Speaker at the victory party.

“I carry little influence with the military anymore, so I cannot fathom why you have seen fit to capture me.”

“I need you for my little fox hunt. You’re an important pawn who’s going to make the fox dance to my merry tune as I block off his dens, unleash my hounds, and spur my horse until he’s surrounded on all sides.”

“Mr. Gracche, that’s no way to speak to a war hero.”

Vasia was extremely accomplished on the battlefield, a man who had defended the empire countless times. And yet Emilio was still referring to him as a pawn. Byletta was well aware that Emilio had no love for the military, but such a man still deserved to be treated with respect.

“Hmph! Who cares? If you don’t want to be called a pawn, then you can be one of my hounds instead. It makes no difference to me. All I care about is capturing the Silver Fox.”

Presumably, he was referring to Arnald. It seemed as though Emilio had captured Vasia as a means to control Arnald’s movements.

“So you mean to frame Lieutenant Colonel Swangan as the leader of the coup.”

“I don’t need to frame him. He is the one behind the entire plot. We’re the ones attempting to stop him. In any case, he’s even gone so far as to deal with his direct superior.”

That obviously meant General Dreslan. Byletta knew Arnald had left for General Dreslan’s residence after hearing the man’s home was under siege. But what did Emilio mean when he’d said Arnald had “gone so far as to deal with” him?

“I’ll bet it was the Speaker who came up with this plot. How contemptible… You noble faction folks are as sly as ever.”

Vasia frowned in disgust, but from Byletta’s vantage point, she could see that his shoulders were also trembling. He was most likely desperately trying to contain his rage. He knew the noble faction was wielding Arnald’s respect for him as a weapon. Perhaps he was even finding it difficult to forgive himself for getting caught up so carelessly in their plot.

Emilio kept mentioning a fox hunt. Did that mean they planned to get rid of the fox they were plotting to corner?

In other words, it seemed they intended to murder Arnald and frame him as the ringleader of the coup d’état.

They had first muddied the waters by setting the stage for the coup, swindling soldiers out of their bonuses. Then they had laid the foundation for the execution of a certain lieutenant colonel by painting him as the coup’s ringleader. And who was they? The noble faction, of course. If they succeeded, there was no doubt they would inflict considerable damage to the military while empowering their own side.

The military faction was essentially composed of regular citizens. Just like Dreslan and Vasia. But the instigator of the coup would be painted as Arnald, the heir to House Swangan. But that wasn’t all. He’d also be framed as a man who’d led rank-and-file soldiers to target the officers and top brass of the military faction.

They were going to make an example of House Swangan because they had chosen the military faction over the nobles. The house’s fate would serve as a warning to the other titled members of the military faction, while also demonstrating the power of the noble faction.

If the coup succeeded, it would be a win for the noble faction as well. They would use Arnald as their puppet. But even if it failed, Arnald’s resultant execution would strike a devastating blow to the military faction.

And the nobles? They would all walk out of it unscathed. Only the military would lose any power. It was a win-win situation for them.

Any noble family who had aligned themselves with the military faction would have worked for this plan, but Arnald and House Swangan had just so happened to be the best fit at this time. Not only was he heir to lands that had still managed to turn a profit even during the war, but he was also famous among the army’s ranks. The cherry on top would be seeing Movris, a man who’d accomplished so much on the southern front that he’d been made general, betrayed by a direct subordinate. That would be a real shock to the military.

Byletta was extremely troubled by what Arnald had been dragged into, but she also felt a sense of relief. She’d felt like something was amiss ever since she’d heard the rumor that Arnald was behind the coup, and it turned out she’d been right. Given a man he’d respected had been taken hostage, it was understandable that Arnald had had no other choice.

But that still didn’t explain why she had been targeted and the Swangan residence had been blown up.

“Ah, I see our guest has awakened.”

The door cracked open, and an extravagant-looking woman with blond curls appeared.

Her usual pungent perfume made Byletta blink rapidly.

“How do you do, Mrs. Byletta Swangan?”

Carla Rydewall narrowed her brown eyes. The animosity in her gaze was plain.

When Byletta had first met her at the victory party, Carla had been wearing a gaudy purple dress, but it appeared that she dressed the exact same way at home. This time, she was clad in a loud green garment that was an affront to the eyes. It was a very odd dress, and it would be impossible to miss in a crowd. It suited Carla well, as always.

“Welcome to Rydewall Manor. Although this isn’t exactly the main house. I’m not sure why a stowaway has been dragged in alongside the one I actually desired, but now that you’re awake, could you please leave us? I don’t remember extending an invitation to you.”

It wasn’t as if Byletta was thrilled about being there, either, so she’d be happy to leave—if she could. It seemed that though she had no idea who had issued the order to bring her here, she could at least be certain that it hadn’t been Carla. Much more likely, it had been at Emilio’s instruction.

“It’s almost time, so I’m taking the old man. I don’t want to face our guest’s wrath if he doesn’t look presentable.”

It appeared Carla had come to take Vasia away. But who was the person they didn’t want to make angry?

As if he’d caught on to Byletta’s thoughts, a relaxed smile spread across Emilio’s face.

“Oh, he’ll be here soon enough. Countess Rydewall, are the preparations complete to receive our guest?”

“Of course. I’ve readied his favorite food and drink. I’m sure he’s not been satisfied of late by our young lady friend here. Come. Now.”

With a flurry of skirts, Carla led Vasia out of the room before slamming the door shut. Leaving without a bang would have probably left her pride unsatisfied.

It seemed Carla still had a penchant for harsh perfumes that stung the nose. The smell was stifling even now that the countess had left.

Emilio was the only other person still in the room. But when she started coughing, he began to speak as if he was in a hurry for them to head out as well.

“Hey, we’re leaving. If you stay here coughing any longer, you’re going to get killed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your husband is on his way.”

“Arnald?”

So the person Carla was getting ready to welcome was Byletta’s husband. She was probably going to clean Vasia up a little to show she hadn’t been mistreating him. But why would that mean Byletta was going to get killed?

“I don’t think we need to go anywhere. Killing me sounds a little bit too drastic.”

“But you struck Lieutenant Colonel Swangan, didn’t you? Do you not think he’ll come seeking retribution?”

Had she really hit him hard enough for him to seek revenge?

As Byletta fell silent, Emilio’s shoulders shook with glee.

“That bright-red mark on his face didn’t go unnoticed by his fellow soldiers. And if that wasn’t enough, the lieutenant colonel had the misfortune of having to attend the first day of parliament today. The swelling had gone down by then, but it still became quite the talking point. You’re the only one who would do such a thing to a man of his status, aren’t you?”

That meant it wasn’t just the army, but the other parliamentarians who’d witnessed the mark, too.

But how could Emilio be so confident it was her doing when she hadn’t admitted to it?

His icy blue eyes shone with contempt. It drove Byletta up the wall to have to nod in agreement.

She found it deeply embarrassing to be with someone who knew her history at Stacia Academy.

“I take it that since you have no clever comeback, I was correct. So it was you.”

“You seem to be enjoying this.”

“I did try to warn him this would happen. He only has himself to blame.”

Emilio’s “warning” had most likely occurred at the victory party. Byletta remembered Arnald hadn’t allowed Emilio to tell him all the rumors of how she was an evil harridan. Still, seeing Emilio take such pleasure in all of this was infuriating. It seemed he was holding a grudge against her husband. He’d gone to the effort of telling Arnald what a bad wife she was and had been driven away for his trouble. That must have been a hit to his ego.

He was just as sly and wicked as he’d always been.

“I have to compliment you on being able to enrage your husband so, but don’t cross the countess.”

Byletta wasn’t particularly happy to receive praise from Emilio for hitting her husband, but she was curious why he’d warned her about Carla.

“She really doesn’t like you.”

“If that’s true, she certainly didn’t show it.”

“I must admit that I cannot fathom her infatuation with the fox, either, but the venom she has for you is something else entirely.”

So she held a misguided grudge?

A sneaking suspicion popped into Byletta’s head. She turned to Emilio.

“Does she wish I were dead?”

Emilio averted his eyes, a foul look on his face. What had he just said about clever comebacks?

That meant it must have been Carla who’d taken advantage of the coup to try and kill her.

“Why did you lie and say it was Arnald’s doing?”

“Because you look down on civil servants.”

“Wha…?”

Byletta couldn’t see how the two were connected.

How did Emilio tricking her into thinking Carla’s attempt on her life was her husband’s doing have anything to do with her past ridicule of officials?

“You’ve always reserved any goodwill for merchants and the military, and then you went and got married to a lieutenant colonel who belonged to a noble family… I bet you didn’t even take notice of the invitation I sent you to join mine.”

“What invitation?”

“I invited you to come and work for the marquis. If you had agreed, you’d be my mistress now instead.”

It was the first time Byletta had heard of any such invitation, but she could easily see her father rejecting an approach from a marquis of the noble faction, given his allegiance to the military one. Especially if he understood it was just a pretext to make Byletta into Emilio’s lover.

Emilio’s attitude was full of the self-centeredness of a highborn aristocrat. It was as if he was telling her to be grateful for his attention. That was something she perhaps did look down upon.

“Did you really tell a man to hand over his sixteen-year-old daughter to become your mistress? Are you insane?” Byletta said, then sighed. She was certain that Emilio truly believed it would have been a boon for her to become the mistress to the heir of a noble family. She knew that no matter how much she objected, they would never see eye to eye on the matter.

As such, she didn’t care to speak of it further. She instead steered the conversation toward Emilio’s hard work.

“Haven’t you always spoken about wanting to become a parliamentarian? I don’t make light of people who work hard to achieve their dreams. And that goes for civil servants and soldiers alike.”

“Huh…? You remembered something so trivial, but all you try and do is infuriate me.”

“Why are you so angry at me for complimenting you?”

“Because you always speak to me so impertinently. So brashly… Even though women are supposed to treat men with respect.”

If that’s the type of woman you desire, you should’ve chased after anyone other than me, Byletta thought.

But even though the retort had formed in her head, she never got the chance to say it. Emilio was drawing closer.

In an instant, he’d grabbed her by the chin and pulled her face upward. Byletta was forced back into the soft fabric of the sofa, but the burn along her spine didn’t hurt at all. It was where he’d grabbed her that was throbbing with pain.

Emilio was so close, Byletta could feel his breath. His icy blue eyes narrowed into a wicked smile.

“Is the reason you’re so calm because you’re used to this? Because you like it? It wasn’t my original intention to make this fun for you, but I have no objections.”

“What? Wai—!”

Emilio’s lips, twisted with pleasure, crashed down onto hers. Byletta’s eyes went wide with shock.

She’d thought he hated her. That he detested her.

Even if he’d wanted to harass her, she’d never thought he’d ever do anything like this.

She hadn’t been prepared for it at all.

Byletta was the wife of a soldier from the very military Emilio had such disdain for. She’d overestimated him, subconsciously thinking he was too smart to ever lay a hand on a married woman.

But here he was, kissing her.

An intense feeling of disgust pierced Byletta.

Her hair stood on end.

She didn’t want this.

Emilio was so different from him.

Thoughts swirled around her head as she heard a voice whisper her name.

“Byletta, is this what you want?”

Arnald had always seemed to indulge however he pleased, but she knew his each and every action oozed with affection.

That was why he’d asked her every time. Because he cared about her.

And even in the hazy, dreamy state he put her in, she’d known that the man who so desired her body, to the point he’d seemed to want to drown himself in her, made her feel happy.

Only now did Byletta realize that despite her lifelong discomfort with men coveting her, there was a part of her that found happiness in her husband doing so.

And now…

…she knew he didn’t want just anyone.

“Aah, if you take anything away from this, it’s that you should play a little ni—?! Wh-why are you crying?”

A confused Emilio hurriedly pulled away from her. Though she was free, Byletta couldn’t move. It was as if she’d been sewn into the very sofa. All she could do was cry endless streams of tears.

“If this was enough to make you cry…then you should have clung to me from the beginning.”

Emilio scowled and yanked Byletta’s chin up once more.

“Be my lover. I’ll look after you.”

Even though she was furious and just wanted the man to leave her alone, Byletta could do nothing but stare at the pair of lips that were once again nearing her face.

If he hadn’t caught her off guard, she could have avoided them. All she had to do was detach his hand from her chin, and—

Suddenly, as she glared at Emilio through her tears, Byletta caught sight of something that made her heart stop.

“Please…I’m begging you. Can you please not cause us any more headaches right now?”

At their dinner and debrief meeting after the first day of parliament had wrapped up, Movris’s aide couldn’t hold back his complaints any longer.

The table they were seated around was loaded with sumptuous dishes fit for high-ranking officers of the military, but the man grumbled loudly without even throwing the food a passing glance.

“Turning up to a siege with a bright-red handprint on your cheek amid a coup… It’s a good thing for your sake that we wrapped it up nice and quick. Rumors about it were all through the military and parliament the very next day. You’re a soldier— What are you thinking, attracting the attention of even the brigadier general?”

Arnald’s cheek had throbbed with pain, but its appearance should have already returned to normal. The hit had been surprisingly light for a woman as strong as his wife, so there luckily hadn’t been much swelling. If she’d been serious, he doubted he would have gotten away with a handprint… Just imagining what could’ve happened made him shudder.

His wife had the strength to wield a sword. Perhaps it was for the best that the strike had been openhanded. Arnald couldn’t help but smile when he thought about how he’d been touched by his wife’s kindness. The aide beside him was pallid.

“Why are you holding that mark on your cheek and smiling…?”

Parliament convened every quarter, and deliberations would last the entire month. Laws were reviewed, new systems were agreed upon, and the outcomes of the discussions were summarized into petitions that were forwarded on to the imperial government. Only members of parliament—all nobles—were allowed to participate, so as a rule, any military member ranked lower than major general was prohibited from attending. In other words, if a soldier ranked as a general or higher, they could participate along with others they had approved.

This time, Movris’s aide, the brigadier general in his capacity as staff officer, and Arnald were in attendance. After the siege at his home the previous day, General Dreslan was unconscious and in critical condition and had been moved elsewhere for his own safety. That was why he wasn’t in attendance.

As the meeting was mainly comprised of members from the noble faction, it was only natural they had a collective momentum. Parliament was the place where they held the key to putting the military faction in their place.

“Given this is you we’re talking about, I bet you were thinking of that lovely wife of yours. Ahh, it makes me sick. Spare a thought for those of us who don’t have women to go back to. It wouldn’t hurt to have her provide a little companionship to a man with naught but a dark house waiting for him at the end of the day, would it?”

Movris’s voice was pleading.

“Your house was half destroyed in the siege yesterday, which is why we’re having to eat like this. Would it hurt you to have a bit more appreciation for the subordinates already keeping you company?” his aide snapped back.

After a ten-hour standoff at Movris’s residence the previous day, the incident had finally been resolved by lobbing a few bombs over the wall and having a platoon storm the building. The hostages had been retrieved, and the perpetrators arrested, but Movris wouldn’t be able to return home for a while. And now that they had spread the disinformation that Movris was badly wounded and unconscious, straddling the line between life and death, he’d also been put into hiding in his office. It was a complex strategy. They wanted the news to spread externally, but they had to make it look like the upper echelons of the military were desperately trying to keep it under wraps. Movris seemed quite bored of it already.

Hence why his two busy subordinates were now stuck enduring his charmless self-centeredness. It would have been bad enough even without the aide there, too.

“Besides, you hate anything that shackles you down, don’t you, Your Excellency? Isn’t it more like you to say we shouldn’t even bother concerning ourselves with anything like that?”

“Not necessarily. Did I not introduce my dear subordinate to a wife?”

“I suppose the lieutenant colonel does seem happy enough. But doesn’t the fact that you aren’t married yourself only further support what I said?”

As Movris laughed bitterly and pouted, his aide countered all his arguments. Despite all the complaining going on, they all were able to slowly enjoy the drink they were sharing together.

The documents they had submitted to parliament were all fake. The military had simply lied to everyone there and said they didn’t know what the intentions behind the recent coup d’état were. Their report stated nothing more than that recently, returned soldiers had been angered by the delay in their bonus payments and had enacted a coup, causing untold amounts of damage. They had completely concealed the fact that they suspected the parliament-affiliated noble faction was involved. They’d also made it look like they were desperately trying to hide the absence of the general who was supposed to be leading them. Parliamentarians had repeatedly demanded that Movris be presented to them, but each time they had, Arnald’s team had feebly rattled off a faltering list of excuses as to why it wasn’t possible.

As a result, the meeting had ended with the noble faction verbally attacking the military.

In reality, however, the units who would implement the military’s own strategy had already been deployed here and there and were taking action. They’d already crushed the bases of some of those discovered to be participating in the coup.

As other actors were already on the move, it was strange for Movris to hold such a relaxed dinner party. But nobody seemed to begrudge him for it, and neither did anyone try to stop it.

“It’s almost time for me to go.”

“Oh, that’s right.”

As Arnald was forced to interject, Movris gave him a composed nod.

However, the melancholy of the dinner was quickly shattered as a man intruded into the room, replacing it with an atmosphere of tension.

“I’m sorry to intrude, but the Nilba is on the move.”

“You’re sure? That’s earlier than expected.”

Nilba was a word of the former empire that meant “industrious mouse.”

Language from the old empire was often used in parliament, but not so much by the military. It was purely a status symbol of the old nobility. A common language was currently in use throughout the empire, so the military had no reason to use such words.

They only ever used them for strategic names to annoy parliament and the noble faction.

This time, the word was being used as a generic term to refer to the soldiers who were from the noble faction and participating in the coup as a synonym for spy and traitor.

The term itself didn’t alarm Arnald.

But the man who’d just appeared certainly did.

Arnald’s eyes narrowed.

“First Lieutenant Sightall, is your mission to protect my wife complete? What is the meaning behind your report on the Nilba?”

Arnald hadn’t meant to speak in such a low voice, but as Sightall stood there saluting his superior, the man began to faintly tremble.

“No bullying your subordinates,” ordered Movris.

“He was supposed to be guarding my wife. I sought your permission to post him there, General, so you should know all about it. Yet here he is, reporting on the rats. I do believe it’s my right to question him as to why.”

After Byletta had been attacked, Arnald had requested Movris to assign a guard to her so that it didn’t happen again.

“Well, since he’s here anyway, I think we should listen to his report first.”

Even though Movris spoke calmly, Sightall nervously hurried through his report.

“Yes, sir! The commander’s wife was taken by the Nilba. The coachman was bound and sent back to the Swangan residence together with the empty carriage.”

At that moment, a great crack could be heard from the glass in Arnald’s hand.

But to Arnald, the noise sounded like it was awfully far off in the distance.

“Gah, that was an antique… A favorite of an old emperor from generations ago…or something… At any rate, it was a gift from His Majesty the Emperor.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were into antiques.”

“Of course I’m not. I just wanted to overstate my subordinate’s mistake. But this is unusual. I’ve never seen you react like this before.”

Arnald wondered if he could get away with cutting the two men down before they could finish their poorly timed comedy act.

But he knew that wouldn’t be enough to suppress the emotional surge he was feeling.

“This was your doing, wasn’t it?”

Movris was the one Arnald had asked about posting a guard with Byletta. As soon as he’d received permission, Arnald had tasked one of his own men with the objective—his direct and trusted subordinate, Sightall.

Naturally, Arnald had tried to persuade Byletta not to leave the Swangan residence, but he’d known she would never blindly follow his instructions. That’s why he’d deemed a guard necessary.

But at one stage or another, Sightall had abandoned his mission of guarding Byletta and had instead chosen to come report on the rats. And according to the very account he’d just made, one of them had disappeared with Byletta. Which meant someone, somewhere, was on the move.

It was likely that the rat had been intentionally posted with his wife, and Sightall had subsequently been tasked with monitoring the rat instead. And the man who had given that order was no doubt the very same one who was sitting there smiling at him.

“What? You can’t seriously suspect me. How could I possibly predict that your wife would be abducted?”

“The reason I asked you to post a guard with my wife was because I expected this very situation. I doubt it would not have crossed your mind as well.”

“Ha-ha! Well, your wife does have a penchant for getting into trouble. That said, if you’re so concerned, do you really have time to sit here and attack me?”

Movris’s grin really did make him look like the devil.

And who was Arnald, to have slept so easily next to that monster?

Once all was done and dusted, Arnald hoped the beast that was his superior would go back whence it came.

He wanted to tell the man not to involve innocent people in his schemes. But if he truly wanted Movris to behave himself, perhaps he should’ve put a target on his back. Even if it meant sacrificing Movris himself. At least then the death count would only go up by one.

That said, the enemy had taken their time to launch the coup. It would probably take a while to end things, too. Could he really wait that long? Asking himself logically, Arnald immediately knew the answer was no.

He would have to be swift. Maximum damage with minimal action.

That was the motto of the Imperial Army.

“Where is she?” He turned to Sightall, who answered immediately.

“At a villa owned by House Rydewall. Saydaburg Mansion. It’s a residence to the southwest of Iyan and Dandaya Street. Block Seven in the Handar District.”

Arnald felt uneasy, as if he’d heard that address somewhere before, but nodded silently and passed by his subordinate’s side.

“Lord Commander. May I go with you?” Sightall asked as he saluted his superior. It took all of Arnald’s strength to suppress a tut.

“With me, then. I’ll also need you to mobilize the third company. That’s First Lieutenant Peckell’s men. We’ll try to overwhelm them.”

He’d made it sound very simple, but at that precise moment, Arnald felt like it might be possible.

He was so angry that it felt like things would work out somehow.

The injuries Byletta had sustained during the suicide bombing may have been minor, but she was still injured. And she’d been abducted in such a state.

It wasn’t logical that the person who’d previously attempted to kill her had chosen to simply kidnap her this time. It was likely that the enemy was not a monolith and thus didn’t necessarily care about whether Byletta survived or not.

If she died, it would demoralize Arnald. If she lived, she could be used as a hostage.

He couldn’t abandon his wife to someone like that.

If only a better guard had been assigned to her, the entire situation could have been avoided. But it had never crossed Arnald’s mind that he would be betrayed by the very guard meant to protect her or that his superior would seek to undermine his authority.

Just the thought of Byletta all alone made him feel sick with anger for the first time ever.

This was also the first time he’d ever prayed for someone’s safety.

He just wanted to hold her close.

Thoughts swirled around his head. The ringing in his ears was deafening.

Arnald clenched his jaw and ran like the wind down the hallway.

Byletta watched Emilio’s body get lifted into the air and flung across the room in shock.

In his place stood a handsome man with ash-colored hair, staring fixedly down at her.

“Lord Arnald… Why?”

As she sat there surprised, she began to feel nervous about his current location.

She’d known he was on his way. Carla had summoned him. What she was surprised about was why he was in front of her instead of Vasia.

Without a single care for her state of mind, Arnald boldly approached Byletta, ash-colored hair swishing, and pulled her into a tight embrace. His arms were long and slender but surprisingly strong. She could feel the soft fabric of his uniform brushing gently against her skin.

His familiar scent told her beyond doubt that he was really there.

As her body stiffened, he slowly began to caress her back.

The gesture was sympathetic and intended to ease her worry, but Byletta was so angry that she didn’t realize.

“Why are you here?! Former General Grusbel is in another room…”

“Did he make you cry?”

“I’m not crying!” Byletta couldn’t help but snap back as Arnald narrowed his emerald-green eyes and looked her in the face. She had been crying until just then, so he could probably tell from the tearstains on her cheeks.

But now she was not.

Still, she knew it would be pointless to try to deceive him. It just pained her to admit it for some reason. Her stubbornness was working overtime.

Arnald gently wiped away the vestiges of the tears at the corners of Byletta’s eyes and blew out a breath.

Then he popped his finger in his mouth right in front of her, as if he wanted her to watch.

“Salty.”

“Don’t lick them!”

“Ha, you really are stubborn, aren’t you?” he said before planting a gentle kiss on Byletta’s lips.

“Mmph… Ngh… W-wait! Wait just one moment!”

As Byletta squirmed in Arnald’s arms, he gently blinked his emerald-green eyes, his long eyelashes brushing over her skin.

“What’s wrong?”

“This isn’t the time or place for this! Why are you—?!”

“Arnald Swangan! You think you can get away with taking a swing at someone like me?!”

After being smashed against the wall, Emilio looked pale. He winced in pain as he struggled to get back up on his feet, sputtering in anger.

“Heh, I’m the elder here. I suppose you’re free to omit honorifics if your house is of a higher status, but I never expected a boy who still hasn’t inherited his family title to call me by name.”

“Get your hands off her. Stay away…”

“She’s my wife. Incidentally, Byletta, you’ll get your punishment when we return home. I did tell you that you weren’t to set foot outside today.”

“And I told you where to stick it!”

Was this really the time to bring that up again?

Byletta was shouting angrily, but Arnald, his expression inadvertently becoming a scowl, closed the gap between their faces again.

And deepened the kiss.

“H-hey, wait… Mmph.”

Why did Arnald have his back to Emilio even though the marquis-in-waiting could attack him? And why was he going and making a show of kissing her?

“My wife is just so lovely that I couldn’t help myself.”

“I’ll never understand you!”

Pushing Arnald’s face away, Byletta spotted a speechless Emilio out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t seem to be in the mood to attack them at all. Perhaps after Arnald turned his back to him and kissed her, all the will to fight had drained out of him.

As Arnald saw his wife turn an even more vivid shade of pink, his smile widened.

“See? You’re lovely.”

“Get ahold of yourself!”

Could he not understand the words coming out of her mouth?

Her head was spinning. It felt like they were speaking different languages.

Yet Arnald simply smiled as if he’d found something amusing. Byletta couldn’t understand how he could do so in their current predicament.

“I merely wanted to show you whose wife you are,” he said, kissing her again.

Byletta’s mother had had both beauty and a childlike heart.

Both Byletta’s father and uncle said she was the spitting image of her mother. And that they both loved her mother deeply. Her father had fallen in love with her mother’s beautiful and graceful form and calm yet strong-willed nature, while her uncle felt so indebted for the upbringing she’d given him that he idolized her over his own mother.

Byletta had been told she was so adorable because she resembled her mother.

But Byletta had quickly come to understand that she was adored because she looked like someone else.

It was her mother who was the underlying basis for their affection.

Byletta was merely the next iteration. That was why she began to pursue things her mother never would’ve done.

Like the sword and the study of commerce.

But all her father and uncle saw in her was her mother. Although they’d never denied Byletta anything, they would grin and tell her they saw her mother in each and every one of her actions.

Byletta’s past had been one of constraint.

Before long, she’d begun to dream of one day living in a place where nobody knew her. She’d yearned for love, too, but rather than heart-fluttering romance, she’d wanted freedom. She’d wanted to put herself to work so she could stand on her own two feet.

That was what she’d come to crave.

Byletta’s father had the traditional military mindset. He thought of daughters as objects to protect so that they could marry and find happiness. This had sparked many fights over the decades. Byletta knew her father loved her, but no matter how many times she’d told him that she pictured happiness differently, the stubborn man would put an end to the conversation by telling her to stop being so selfish. It was a habit she wished she could knock out of him.

Little did she know, the house she would reluctantly end up marrying into would be a more comfortable place for her than she ever could have imagined.

Once her father-in-law had overcome his alcoholism, he presented himself as a man with a very straightforward ideology: If you could use something, use it. He was the sort of person who would use Byletta for his own benefit and tell her it was her duty to pull her weight as one of the family.

It had always annoyed Byletta that he barked orders at her so arrogantly, but she had to admit that managing the estate’s affairs had been interesting to her. It differed quite a bit from running a business.

Things were built without any consideration for profit, as those enterprises were for the people. Public works projects required enormous budgets, but their ultimate purpose was to enrich the land as a whole.

That was the main way managing land differed from business: It wasn’t simply about chasing revenue. The wisdom to help those in need was required, yet it would never be possible to please the entire region. From a profit-seeking perspective, those sorts of acts appeared meaningless. There were always those who asserted that large investments of money should be utilized to generate maximum profit instead.

Even if you were to argue that the work was based on different premises from a business, they wouldn’t listen. But though there was never a perfect solution, it was always fun to come up with a plan that could at least appease one side. Byletta couldn’t deny that it had been enjoyable to consider things from different points of view.

But perhaps she had grown greedy.

House Swangan itself had its fair share of business problems, but she had always managed to find ways to solve them. The work itself was rewarding, and being in an environment where she could immerse herself in it without drawing attention for her looks or for being a woman was wonderful.

She’d begun to think that perhaps her husband would never come back at all.

She’d become a forgotten wife who never received so much as a letter.

Or at least that’s what she’d dared to hope.

Maybe, just maybe, she’d thought, I can carry on living freely as a daughter-in-law of House Swangan. Yet as soon as she’d gotten her expectations up, along had come her husband.

He’d forced himself on her, claiming it was their wedding night. She did not remember it fondly, and she regretted being so confused that she hadn’t been able to resist him.

Her husband was a man of few words and had a way of thinking she couldn’t comprehend. All he did was annoy her.

She knew he cared for her, and she could recognize his clumsy way of attempting to be considerate of her.

Sometimes, she noticed him looking at her with fire in his eyes.

Branded as she was as a free-to-use prostitute, she’d always been told it was she who enticed men to her side.

She’d fallen into depression time after time, wondering if her husband even liked her.

She’d felt stupid for swinging between worry and joy over how she looked to those emerald-green eyes of his.

She hated the fact that she’d agreed to something as silly as getting a divorce based on the outcome of a bet, and she hated being seen as a loose woman, but she couldn’t give up on her childhood dreams. She wanted to get divorced, but she also didn’t. There was a recess within her fluctuating and complicated state of mind. And there, in a small corner of her heart, was him.

And, she realized, he was firmly settled there.

That was why she hated the idea of shackling him.

For someone who sought freedom, the thought of being the shackles that held their own partner back was like a nightmare.

“I thought I asked you to stop!”

As Byletta covered Arnald’s lips with both hands, his eyes crinkled with seeming amusement.

“This isn’t the time for that. Why did you come here?”

“Is it not a husband’s duty to rescue his wife?”

“You must understand that this is a trap. Go and save General Grusbel. Do you want to dillydally here until you’re branded ringleader of the coup?”

“No, I don’t.”

“But they want you to! I don’t understand how you can stand here so confident.”

“I think it’s strange that you think I could possibly leave my beloved wife behind in such danger. Especially when she has been reduced to tears, as one who never cries. How could I possibly abandon you here?”

But she wasn’t crying anymore. And if he thought she was, she would tell him it was just sweat.

At any rate, it was his subordinate who had brought her here.

“But it was one of your men who abducted me.”

“I have to admit, it upsets me to hear that you believe I would command one of my own men to kidnap my lovely wife. This was General Dreslan’s doing. He wanted to see where the rats would lead us. The man I originally assigned to your protection simply stood and watched while you were taken away and then had the gall to come and report it to me.”

There was one particular sentence in her husband’s explanation Byletta didn’t understand, but Movris’s name clicked it all into place for her.

This was all a ploy to use Byletta as bait to deal with the coup d’état problem once and for all, wasn’t it? Even if things didn’t end quite that definitively, Movris probably thought they would give him quite the foothold.

Now she knew whom to bill for damages.

“Although I’m unsure where you fit into the overall picture, even if your methods are different, I do appreciate that you attempted to protect my wife.”

Arnald’s thanks made Byletta unconsciously turn to Emilio.

The man had been speaking of saving her until just before Arnald appeared. In other words, it hadn’t been a metaphor, but the truth? It had been Emilio who gave the order to bring her here?

“So he isn’t simply an enemy of ours?”

“He’s an enemy of mine. He’s trying to snatch you away.”

As Byletta gently glared at the man swooping back in to reclaim her lips, Arnald removed the arm he’d wrapped around her and reluctantly began to explain.

“The plan at work behind the coup d’état was to frame me as its ringleader. To that end, they abducted General Grusbel and issued several orders to be carried out in different places. And I moved accordingly. Therefore, it would have been pointless to kidnap you as well. There was no need to capture nor kill you, meaning your abduction is completely unrelated to the coup.”

Arnald let out a quick sigh and stared at Byletta in exasperation.

“My wife is a popular woman.”

If it had been Carla behind the attempt on her life, it had been Arnald’s popularity that got them into this mess in the first place.

Byletta’s popularity had nothing to do with it. She wasn’t even popular to begin with.

However, that did mean Emilio had gone out of his way to attempt to save her from Carla. It seemed he’d lied when he’d said the plot was Arnald’s, but his warning that her life was in danger and his urging to escape from Carla’s clutches had been genuine.

“So…this is all because you considered me a dear former school friend?”

Yes, she and Emilio had been classmates and graduated from the same academy, but why had he sought to protect her so? She couldn’t believe he would hold such deep concern for a simple classmate, but perhaps he placed greater value in attending the same school than she thought.

“Heh… You can be quite a slow-witted woman sometimes. Not that that isn’t adorable in its own way.”

Was he flattering her or insulting her? Byletta couldn’t be sure, but she certainly felt a degree of mockery in his words.

As Byletta flashed a glare at Arnald, he smiled impishly and turned his attention to Emilio.

“It doesn’t seem as though you’re quite making your point.”

“I have no need of your pity. I care nothing for whether she knows or not.”

“You two seem to be getting along well. You’re both stubborn, for one.” Byletta’s surprised words were tinged somehow with sympathy.

She also felt uncomfortable, like she’d been left behind all alone.

“So? What are you going to do now?”

“Hmph. As if I would be discouraged by something so trivial. Let’s just sit back and look forward to what His Excellency the Speaker does next.”

“Yes, let’s. You’re the one who’s going to decide anyway. The Speaker likes competent people, so he probably has a dislike for the ineffectual. Let’s hope he continues to want you by his side.”

Emilio seemed overtaken with the idea that the odds weren’t in his favor.

“Aah, Lord Arnald, there you are.”

Everything changed in a moment when Carla announced her presence, having quietly entering the room.

Her smile was wide, and her words dripped with flirtatiousness. The tone of her voice was saccharine.

It contrasted dramatically with the scene behind her. Guided forward by another man, a bound Vasia trailed inside behind her. Even though Carla had claimed they were going to clean him up, Vasia looked disheveled, his hair wild. He’d likely made a bid to escape.

Byletta recognized the man holding onto him as the same soldier who had been guarding her that morning. The fact that he’d appeared in the room beside Carla could only mean he was her man.

“After all the trouble we went to in preparation for your arrival at the front entrance.”

“I apologize for the inconvenience, but once I heard you had my darling wife, I felt compelled to rush straight to her side instead.”

How long was Arnald going to continue to pretend that she was his darling wife? He had tried to show it back on the Swangan estate, too, but Byletta had no idea for what purpose. She didn’t know who he was trying to sell the idea to this particular evening, but she wished he would’ve considered his enemy before he started.

Or was his strategy to make Carla angry rather than jealous?

Byletta was no longer Arnald’s wife. Their wager was over, and victory was already in her hands. Even though her monthlies were yet to be upon her, the usual signs were there. Still, Byletta didn’t have the mental capacity to raise any questions at that moment.

“It doesn’t seem like they have been very hospitable to you, Your Excellency.”

“Pfft, I’ve had worse. Remember when I fought those pirates in the west? How fragile our navy was. What with all the seasickness and steering issues, we were practically useless, but it was still half a year before we could step foot on land again. Now that was imprisonment.”

“I see. I do remember requesting that they not treat you so brutally.”

“Oh, as far as imprisonment goes, I was kept comparatively well. I am an old man now, after all. Even if I did have to endure being stuffed into a sack and transported here on the back of a rickety old wagon.”

Carla stared at the two soldiers as they chatted casually.

“We’ve prepared dinner in another room. Let’s take our business there, shall we?”

“No need. I’m satisfied now that I’ve seen His Excellency in good health. Now, as my wife is injured, I believe I’ll be taking her home with me.”

“Fine. Then I’ll receive your reports here.”

“I’ve already reported to the Speaker, so you may already be aware, but the coup has seized key locations. The direct assassination of General Dreslan ultimately failed, but he was gravely injured by a blast during yesterday’s siege. Given the state he was in, I believe it’s only a matter of time until he draws his last breath.”

Byletta cocked her head at the indifference Arnald showed as he made his report.

She remembered that when he’d come to visit her the previous day, he’d been summoned away to deal with a siege at Movris’s residence. She hadn’t realized he hadn’t attended the day’s parliamentary proceedings, but from the timeline she’d been presented with, it had been Movris who’d ordered the switch in guards that allowed for her abduction.

Yet he was on the verge of death?

Carla nodded, satisfied.

“I heard it was his lieutenant who attended parliament today, but no one knows where he is currently holed up. Or whether he yet lives. Hearing that it’s only a matter of time will surely please the Speaker.”

“And I have a report to offer from His Excellency the Speaker,” Emilio stated, his face contorted in pain. The spot where he’d hit the wall after Arnald’s throw looked awful.

“Very well. It seems that the number of top brass is dwindling thanks to Lord Arnald’s work in subduing the powerful General Dreslan. That will leave room for noble-affiliated soldiers to fill the gaps in the upper echelons and will make things much easier for my own sweet boy.”

Carla Rydewall was a countess, but the seat had originally been her son’s to inherit. She’d simply assumed the role until he came of age. Byletta had heard that the boy was due to turn fifteen the following year and that his place as a parliamentarian was already determined. He would likely inherit his seat soon as well.

If the opposing military faction were weakened, it would make matters much easier for the countess’s son. All the more so if she could successfully ingratiate herself with the noble faction. A mother’s love was a strong thing indeed. To think it would be compelling enough to make her conspire so with the nobles…

Byletta was surprisingly impressed when Carla, smirking victoriously, turned her fiery eyes on Byletta herself.

“Now, for the last item on the agenda. Lord Arnald, won’t you be a dear and kill that woman for me?”

“…What is that supposed to mean?”

“You know, I just cannot accept it.”

When she turned to Arnald, the tone of Carla’s fawning voice remained unchanged. Yet she suddenly seemed like a completely different person. Her words bore down upon Byletta with a coldness and weight that were difficult to describe.

“I, too, was named a she-devil and endured the revolting gossip of the upper social circles. My dear departed husband was an older count renowned for his ruthlessness. Accused by others of being an arms dealer behind his back. He couldn’t even attain a high rank within the noble faction. There was not a single person to protect me, my husband among them. I don’t have the faintest memory of being loved by him. Don’t you think it’s silly that the moment I bore a son for him, he considered the role I had to play finished?”

Carla let out a yearning sigh and looked at Arnald with anguish in her eyes.

“I’ve struggled and struggled to make it this far on my own two feet. Now I hold a decent position within the noble faction. So why did you have to go and put on such a show in front of me?”

“Huh?”

Arnald frowned as if he had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

And Byletta found she was glad he didn’t.

If he struggled to see the similarities between her and Carla, that meant he didn’t see Byletta as a she-devil at all, didn’t it?

Emilio understood. He understood well why Carla hated Byletta so.

They had both been labeled harlots by their peers.

They had both married men of greater rank and age than themselves. One had not been loved by her husband. The other had a husband who purported to love her and had come all the way here to save her.

Both women labored through hardships, and both accumulated notoriety. They should have ended up the same, yet the positions they’d found themselves in were like night and day.

But that was exactly why Byletta didn’t intend to roll over and let her murder happen so easily.

“Now, Lord Arnald. I will return your beloved old man to you here and now if you kill your wife before me.”

“I refuse.”

“Then I suppose we’ll be forced to take the old man’s life instead.”

“The return of His Excellency without a single scratch was the first promise you made when I agreed to cooperate in your coup d’état, was it not? Why must you involve my wife in this?”

“As I told you earlier—because I cannot accept it.”

The smiling Carla was always elegant and charming, but her gushing resentment of Byletta was dark and intimidating. Byletta couldn’t help but gulp as it threatened to overwhelm her.

“You’re a wife who takes up relations with her uncle and father-in-law. Not only that, but you flew into a rage and struck Lord Arnald, didn’t you? And yet, despite being made such a fool by you, he still loves you. How envious I am of that.”

Carla scowled in fury and looked down at Byletta as if she were something on the bottom of her shoe. It was hard to believe all that emotion was born of jealousy. Yet she smiled. That must have been Carla’s pride showing.

“I don’t care whether you accept it or not.”

Byletta needed her coolheaded husband to read the room.

No matter which way one considered it, the woman needed sympathy.

Even if it was just pretend, he needed to sympathize with her.

Byletta glanced at Emilio, who was standing by the wall, but his face simply drained of its color when he caught her staring. She understood he would be of no use to her in that moment.

“I’ve said it before, but my wife is wonderful, beautiful, and unbelievably lovely. How could I possibly not love her?”

“Oh! Why do you have to blurt such things out in a situation like this…?”

“What did I blurt out, exactly? And I’m the only person who knows what an enchantress you can be in the bedroom. I know that for a fact.”

Byletta couldn’t understand what he was trying to emphasize. But why did she feel a hint of pride?

Why had her husband come all the way there? Was it to save her life?

Or was it a roundabout way of making sure she died?

“When you flirt with one another, it makes me jealous. But…I seem to remember you also enjoyed your tryst with me. We did so much that you could never indulge in a boring girl like her.”

Byletta had heard about Arnald and Carla’s night together from Carla herself. How she was his unforgettable first lover. As she imagined it, an indescribable discomfort began to bubble up inside her. It was only now that she could honestly accept it for what it was—envy.

There had always been whispers of their encounter among the military. Byletta had even heard whispers of subsequent rendezvous again while she’d been on the estate, but for someone Arnald had supposedly been so intimate with, his attitude toward Carla was extremely cold. Somewhere deep down, that made Byletta happy. As she chastised herself for feeling something so ugly, she recognized something else. Perhaps even that hideous emotion could be born of love.

She couldn’t stand to be touched by anyone else. Nor could she forgive any other woman for approaching Arnald.

“I remember being assaulted. But nowadays, it matters to me not. My wife is so bewitching that I forget everything else.”

“Arnald! Could you please stop that?!”

Why did he always have to say things like that? Byletta couldn’t help but plead with him.

All Arnald did was stare at her quizzically. He didn’t seem to get it at all.

“Are you upset I mentioned our lovemaking in public? I suppose it’s something that should be kept to ourselves.”

“That’s not it! You’re wrong. Just be quiet!”

Despite Byletta’s flat denial, Arnald soon flashed her a happy smile. Even that seemed to put him in a good mood. Perhaps he’d decided to dedicate himself to enraging Carla.

Byletta’s head was starting to hurt. Was there no salvation to be found anywhere?

“Grrr… That’s enough from you!”

Carla pulled her arm back in a wide arc, bringing it flying back down toward Byletta’s cheek.

Reacting to her movements, Arnald pulled his wife toward himself forcefully. Byletta’s head hit his chest as she was pressed into him. Carla’s hand simply swished through the void, leaving the air vibrating behind it as it passed.

“You just violated our terms. Please do not attempt to harm my wife any further.”

“Your little wife is that precious to you, hm? Then I’ll just have to deal with the pair of you together,” Carla muttered under her breath expressionlessly. She turned toward the cabinet near the doorway and took out two bottles. Or more accurately, a metal pipe and a bottle of liquid.

“Please wait, Lady Carla! That’s not a good idea!”

Despite Emilio’s desperate pleas, Carla took no notice.

“If you don’t wish to get caught up in the carnage as well, I’d recommend leaving. She’s my only target.”

“Do you know what that is, Lord Arnald?” Byletta asked without removing her gaze from the triumphantly chuckling Carla. He whispered the answer under his breath.

“A new type of explosive that was deployed during the recent coup d’état.”

“Really?”

“Those items paired together make a special type of bomb. It doesn’t use the same gunpowder as traditional explosives, and it’s magnitudes more powerful. They were brought in during our time on the southern front. I’d even go so far as to say they made a significant contribution to ending the war. I’d been told they were purchased from Countess Rydewall’s arms store, but I can’t believe she would keep them on hand like that. Especially given that the chemical ingredients are so toxic…”

The building they were in was apparently a villa owned by House Rydewall, so there wouldn’t be an issue for Carla if it got blown up. That being said, it seemed illogical for her to stash explosives after she summoned Arnald over. Perhaps too much love could indeed lead to hate.

And that hate was primarily focused on Byletta.

“Incidentally, you didn’t make plans for any of your men to storm the building, did you, Lord Arnald? Such as men waiting in the hallway outside, or…?”

“When I saw that you were crying, I forgot I was supposed to be surveying the scene and burst in by myself, so I don’t know what the others are doing.”

And that wasn’t an issue? Where had the ruthless and cold-blooded Silver Fox she needed disappeared to?

Byletta was desperate for him to rear his sly head sooner rather than later.

Byletta sighed curtly and tried to focus her mind.

If no one was going to do anything, then it was up to her to get them all out of here. Prematurely giving up hope would only result in their deaths.

“I’m sure you’re quite familiar with the power of this explosive, Lord Arnald, but I do wish that wife of yours had gotten more than a taste of its might,” Carla said, smirking ominously.

The words left Byletta stunned.

They made it clear that this bomb was the exact same as the one that had been used to blow up the entrance to the Swangan family home. Carla wasn’t even attempting to hide the fact that she’d tried to kill Byletta. Although her murderous intent had been obvious from the moment the woman had tried to force Arnald to kill his wife right in front of her.

“Arnald, I’m leaving the countess to you.”

He began to say something in return, but then just nodded his head.

Taking that as agreement, Byletta spread her arms wide.

Women had guts. Businesspeople had the ability to bluff. And above all, salespeople were good at cajoling others into doing what they wanted.

She could tremble with fear once it was all over. But now it was time to play all the cards she had at her disposal. Or so Byletta told herself as she stared at Carla.

“It wasn’t very proper of you, my lady, to go so insane with jealousy that you ordered my husband to kill his own wife. Arnald’s love brings me such joy that there is no way I would go down without a fight.”

As Byletta fluttered her eyelashes at Carla, a smile brimming with joy on her face, the older woman could do nothing but flap her mouth open and closed.

Byletta was trembling with embarrassment on the inside, of course, but she didn’t show the slightest hint of that to her adversary.

“Wh-what are you…?”

“Coming here to save me like this and always hanging around wherever I go… He’s a nuisance, really. He even follows along when I visit my uncle. Do you know how difficult it is to juggle two partners? He’s usually so obedient, but on those days I refuse him, he gets all bad-tempered and won’t do anything I ask him to. Possessive men truly are troublesome, aren’t they?”

“You’re being deceived, Lord Arnald. It seems your wife is a wicked one after all. Please, open your eyes.”

“You don’t need to concern yourself. I already have.”

“Heh-heh, my husband is a perceptive fox, you see. And given that he’s the jealous type, those nights when I’ve made him angry are the most challenging. He’s so rough and persistent…as I’m sure you know well, right, Countess?”

“You… You stupid little girl!”

I know I’m younger than her, but I’m twenty-four years of age—hardly a little girl, Byletta thought, incredulous.

Seeking to provoke Carla further, she took one step, then two steps more toward her.

The older woman was trembling with so much rage that her face had gone white. Her focus shifting entirely to observing her enemy’s approach, she sent a monstrous glare Byletta’s way.

Strangely impressed that Carla’s face had managed to skip all the other colors of the rainbow and go straight to white as she reached the peak of her anger, Byletta took another step forward. Then a huge stride to the right.

Arnald, who had been lurking behind her, lunged at the countess. Beside him, Byletta stamped the heel of her shoe as hard as she could on the foot of the man who held Vasia.

As the man yelped and let go of his prisoner, Vasia seized his chance to launch a roundhouse kick at his stomach. The speed and military-level refinement of his technique was incredible.

“Gyuh!”

The man slammed through a nearby door, crashing straight into the wall of the hallway beyond before crumpling to the floor. Byletta watched, amazed.

“That was incredible, Your Excellency.”

“No more so than your masterful provocation, my lady.”

“Why don’t you save some of that appreciation for me as well?”

When Byletta looked back, she saw Arnald standing there with both bottles in his arms. Carla was lying unconscious on the floor, not even twitching a muscle.

“I didn’t see what you did, so it’s difficult to know what to say.”

“Oh,” Arnald said. Then, without the slightest hint of disappointment, he immediately called out into the hallway.

“Targets suppressed. Take them away.”

It seemed several soldiers had come running upon hearing all the commotion, as a number of uniformed men obediently rushed through the door to arrest Carla and Emilio. Emilio put up no fight and went with the men willingly.

“I thought you said you didn’t know where your men were?”

“I didn’t know, but I could predict.”

Couldn’t he have told me that before?!

Did that mean she’d put her life on the line needlessly?

As Byletta struggled to find words, Arnald saluted Vasia.

“I apologize for the delay in your rescue, Your Excellency.”

“Think nothing of it. I’m sure it was part of a whole plan that brat cooked up. And I was the one who caused the inconvenience.”

“That brat” was likely Movris.

“No, it was my fault,” Arnald admitted. He saluted Vasia again, but the older man shook his head.

“Ha-ha, if you misjudge your own abilities, you’ll live to regret it. But more importantly, you have a wonderful young lady there, so take good care of her. Now, for the first time in a while, I’m exhausted, so I’m going home now.”

“Of course. I’ll have one of my men escort you.”

Arnald exchanged a look with a soldier, who immediately saluted and began attending to Vasia.

Once everyone else had filtered out of the room, Byletta turned her eyes to Arnald.

“How bad will their punishments be?”

“It will be down to the Speaker’s discretion. Since Emilio is the son and heir to a marquessate, his family will certainly endeavor to minimize any punishment. As for the countess, she mustn’t be allowed to go free, so I intend to arrange for a large number of people to testify for her imprisonment in parliament tomorrow. Are you concerned for the aide?”

“I know his methods were questionable, but he did try to save me in his own way…”

“I see. My wife is a fickle one after all. That settles it—I’ll have to punish you as well.”

Byletta glared at Arnald, then let out an exasperated sigh.

“On what authority? Our wager is over.”

A fickle wife? Her?

Byletta pushed Arnald aside and slipped out of his arms.

She proudly threw out her chest and raised her chin, but it seemed to have no effect on him whatsoever.

Rather, it only seemed to add fuel to Arnald’s fire.

“On that note, there’s something I need you to make me understand. What aspect of our marriage makes you so unhappy?”

Byletta considered how she should respond. He’d asked if she was unhappy with their marriage.

Of course, there were aspects that frustrated her.

How could he think there weren’t?

And anyway, he was the one who desired divorce most of all, wasn’t he?

If he didn’t, then he would have never approached her with that ridiculous wager during their first night together.

“Aren’t you the one who wants to divorce?”

“Me? I’ve never stated any such intention.”

“Oh, that’s right. You simply didn’t care either way. If you had, then you would never have brought a wager that you had no intention of winning to me.”

In Arnald’s eyes, Byletta was nothing more than his own personal prostitute and a means by which to ward off his swarms of female admirers.

But anyone could fill that position—it didn’t have to be her.

Moreover, any other woman would probably be happy to take her place, regardless of whether it caused them to gain an ugly reputation or to be labeled as a harridan.

Byletta didn’t want to admit it, but that was where her greatest frustration lay.

“I always intended to win.”

“Wh-what? But didn’t you pooh-pooh the idea of having children? It doesn’t matter to you, does it?”

“I find it hard to believe I scoffed at the idea of having a child with the woman I love.”

“The woman you love? But your idea of a wife is a prostitute free to use at your own convenience.”

“I love you. Sexual desire is a part of that. Especially with a wife as attractive as you are. Is that truly so reprehensible? And when did you hear me say the term ‘prostitute’ anyway?”

Arnald’s look of suspicion grew more penetrating. Byletta’s heart began to beat faster in turn.

A chill ran down her spine—she was in trouble.

Why had her words made him so angry?

She still didn’t know what she was doing to enrage him.

Looking back on the night of the party, Byletta realized she’d overheard those words spill out of the mouth of someone who appeared to be Arnald’s friend, not from Arnald himself. But he hadn’t refuted what the other man said, either.

That must have been why she’d mistakenly believed she’d heard it from him.

“Byletta?”

“Oh, well, I suppose I didn’t hear it from anyone.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure!”

Arnald looked at her with suspicion but seemed to accept her response. Byletta breathed a sigh of relief.

“So what do you dislike about our marriage?”

“U-u-um… Perhaps the number of times a night you wish to have relations.”

“I apologize profusely. But you’re just so insatiable. I believe I’ll calm down in time, but please bear with me a little while longer.”

“What? Erm, and that you take me wherever you like.”

“Also your fault.”

“My fault?”

Byletta was astonished that Arnald could keep a straight face, blaming her so.

It seemed he had no intention of changing anything.

But was that truly something she could divorce him over?

She didn’t want to be an encumbrance, nor did she want to cause any more trouble than she already had.

If the same thing ever happened to her again, she knew Arnald would come and save her.

Even if she didn’t need it.

She was sick of always being protected.

That was the hardest part for Byletta.

Because she had come to realize that she loved him.

But just as she opened her mouth to argue, the sound of footsteps began to echo down the hallway, and a voice called out.

“Commander, shall we withdraw?”

“Yes, let’s go home.”

“Yar geibasse!”

Among the salutes of his men, Arnald turned to Byletta with a smile.

“Let’s speak more later. I’ll take you home.”

After safely depositing Byletta at the Swangan mansion, Arnald soon returned to the military.

It was likely that he had many loose ends to tie up.

But Byletta understood. She decided she would forget about their conversation for the time being and instead turned her focus to calming a sobbing Milena. Once that was done, she took a bath and sat on her bed, the exhaustion of the day catching up with her.

It was doubtful anyone would be angry if Byletta decided to be absent from work the next day.

Apart from her secretary, at least. The man took much pride in his work and hated nothing more than incurring losses because of delays.

It seemed like she would be going to work after all, then. Even if she was still incapable of thinking straight.

Too much had happened that day. She was exhausted from her emotions tugging her every which way.

The disgust she’d felt at Emilio’s kiss. The surprise she’d felt at the connection he had with her as his classmate. The happiness she’d felt when Arnald had come to her rescue.

And the love she’d realized she had for him, too.

That was precisely why she wanted a divorce. She didn’t want to be a mere woman of convenience for him.

Even if she’d realized that he didn’t see her as his personal whore, she still knew she was not the sort of wife Arnald wanted. She’d been pushed on him by his superior. Arnald had had no say in the matter at all. And now that he’d been promoted, the purpose of their marriage had been fulfilled for him.

Their wager was over, too.

He no longer needed to lie to her about feelings he didn’t have. He didn’t need to say that he loved her, nor that she was his beloved wife anymore.

There was no longer a reason for her to be by his side.

So Byletta decided to run away.

If only he hadn’t taken his time with her until morning during their wedding night, which had been eight years in the making, she wouldn’t have fallen into his trap. She could have lived a life without knowing love, without ever knowing the face of the awful husband she’d never even met.

She would never have been subjected to such ugly and complex emotions.

Byletta wanted to be needed by someone. To be told she had a place somewhere.

She wanted someone to see her as she was, untainted by rumors.

All the better if that someone was a person she’d fallen in love with.

Despite all that, she loved Arnald—and he didn’t feel one way or the other about her.

He’d rescued her out of duty, as a performance.

He only ever whispered to her of his love in front of others. Only once his desires were sated did he hold her.

He cared nothing for her. He only ever proclaimed his love to keep her by his side, not because those were the feelings that resonated within his heart. He simply found it too much of a bother to find a new partner.

It was hard to be with a man whom she loved but who cared nothing for her in return. Until then, Byletta had had no idea how painful unrequited love could be.

Once he realized she’d gone, Arnald would probably chase after her. But if she told him directly that she truly didn’t want to be with him anymore, he would definitely get tired of her and let her go.

Arnald was ruthless and hated nuisances.

Byletta mentally prepared herself.

Then as soon as her husband returned to their bedroom late that night, she pushed their contract at him.

Arnald stared fixedly at the papers that had been shoved before him and cocked his head.

“Does this mean you want a divorce right now…?”

“Yes. My bags are already packed, so I can leave immediately. I know it was for but a short time, but thank you for everything. Some other documents may become necessary for the divorce, so we’ll see each other again then. Good-bye, husband.”

Byletta picked up her belongings. But as she walked straight past Arnald, she felt a hand grab her arm.

“Just when I thought I finally had you back, you leave me of your own accord… I truly do have a selfish wife.”

“…Let me go.”

“I can’t. I realize I already asked you what upset you about our marriage, but is there anything else?”

“There are plenty of things I don’t like about it, but I want a divorce for another reason entirely. And I don’t want to say what it is.”

After all that’d just happened, it was perhaps selfish to say she wanted to leave her husband because he didn’t love her, but that was how Byletta truly felt. It left her with no other choice.

In the end, the only thing she’d come to understand about the married life she yearned for was that it was hard to conceptualize.

“I see. Now I understand why my superiors told me to lay out everything I felt. It’s because I have absolutely no idea what you think.”

“You needn’t worry about figuring that out anymore. Now, let me go.”

“Why are you angry?”

“I’m not angry at all.”

“That’s a lie. You always smile when you’re angry. Are you angry?”

Perhaps she was a little, but she was mostly just sad.

She felt so sad for the foolish side of herself.

She’d never wanted to become like her mother.

She’d always thought the happiness her father envisioned for her was ridiculous.

She wanted to become the businesswoman that her uncle saw in her.

She couldn’t let go of her dreams.

Believing in them was how she’d made it all the way to where she was.

But then she’d fallen in love with a man who was no good for her.

Love will never bring me happiness, Byletta lamented. Only pain.

She didn’t want to get hurt anymore, so she was trying to run away.

All she felt was sadness and frustration at her own weakness.

Wasn’t she supposed to be stronger than that?

Was this something she wanted to run away from that badly?

It felt like she’d been betrayed by her very self, and that made it all the sadder.

“Byletta?”

The soft utterance of her name made Byletta’s chest go hot in an instant. She couldn’t help but laugh internally at how silly she was being.

Her husband was a quiet man, one ignorant of his own feelings. He was also calculated, intelligent, and a very proud soldier. As he continued to push forward on his own path, he would have no need of these feelings of hers.

It was frustrating how distraught that made her feel. It was unlikely that Arnald would ever understand.

“I despise you.”

He was the person who made her feel weak.

The person who made her feel like just another woman.

The person who’d made a complete fool of her by turning her convictions upside down.

Byletta both cherished and despised the man she was in love with—so much so it was almost unbearable.

She smiled, and Arnald’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Wow, what…an honor.”

“Excuse me? I just told you I despise you.”

“And that’s why I told you it’s an honor.”

Byletta had thought that perhaps he’d misheard her, but when she’d reiterated her feelings, Arnald simply nodded at her with a deadly serious look on his face.

What did he mean by “honor”?

Perhaps he thought the word meant something different.

This was no good. Byletta had no idea what her husband was thinking.

Had she truly fallen in love with such a nuisance? For a beginner in love, he was impossible to keep up with.

“I despise you, so I want to leave you. I want to divorce you.”

“You do, do you? No matter how many times you say it, I can’t help but feel embarrassed.”

“Come again?”

It was no good. She couldn’t even understand what language he was speaking in anymore.

What part of “I despise you” would make someone feel embarrassed?

“Anyway, it’s getting late. Let’s retire for the night.”

“Will you divorce me tomorrow?”

“Of course not.”

“Why?”

As Byletta shot a suspicious look at her husband, Arnald asked her a sudden question.

“Regarding our contract: When do you think our month of living as husband and wife ends?”

Byletta was confused by the sudden change in subject.

“Sorry? That would be one month from the time you appeared in our room, would it not? That was when our wager began. Meaning that more than one month has elapsed.”

“I wrote that our lives as husband and wife were to last for a month, but how long do you think that concept actually covers?’”

“Huh? How long it covers…?”

“As far as I understand it, marriage lasts for a lifetime.”

“W-wait, what? Then—?”

Even though they had been going at it all night from dusk until dawn, they had certainly not managed to incorporate a lifetime’s worth of lovemaking into a single month.

Despite Arnald’s lust for her, she was certain that if their activities were added up, they would not amount to such a large stretch of time.

Byletta snatched the document from Arnald and reread it.

She scanned the text from top to bottom, but there were no exact dates to be found. Neither was the term living as husband and wife defined.

He’d gotten her.

She should have combed through the contract more carefully when she’d first received the agreement. The entire affair had been so outlandish that she’d been careless. Arnald had been the one to provide the document and put a brisk end to the conversation surrounding it. He had tricked her.

“It seems that beyond still being my wife in my heart, you are under the agreement as well. The contract we have is still completely valid.”

“Spoken like a true con man.”

“I thought the deceived was always the one at fault, according to you businesspeople.”

“That’s true. My uncle always told me to be extremely careful when signing anything. And you used that to push the position of wife onto me. I hate that. I’ve had enough of being a woman of convenience for you.”

“I see. It’s the wager that frustrates you so. Or, more importantly, the concept of being a ‘convenient woman.’ Let’s stop using the word ‘wager.’ For me, it doesn’t matter how—I just want you to be my wife.”

“If there’s no wager, I’m leaving. I’m fed up with being used by you.”

“Hm? Oh, right. My wife is rather shy.”

Byletta had no idea where Arnald was steering the conversation. It must have made sense to him, but she couldn’t understand at all.

What did he mean by “shy”? She’d been called stubborn and courageous countless times, but never shy. In fact, it had been Arnald whose list of requirements for a wife had sounded more at home on a soldier recruitment drive flyer.

So even if he was convinced of her so-called bashfulness, Byletta certainly wasn’t buying it.

“I know you hold your head up high, always ready to fight. You’re a competitive woman who stands firm in the face of rumors and vulgar stares. You have a strong sense of justice and would put your life on the line to protect other women, children, and anyone else weaker than yourself. You have the grit and wisdom to strategize and deal with issues caused by stubborn old men. You have the bravery to provoke an enemy with a bomb in their hand and inspire the soldiers who rush in to help. You’re strong, brave, and smart. I want to boast about you and be able to have pride in you. But I know you also fear on the inside. You’re prudent and shy—” Arnald’s emerald-green eyes crinkled into a broad smile. “—my lovely wife.”

“You… You… Ugh!”

Byletta couldn’t prevent her face from turning beet red.

Although she knew she must look ridiculous, her mouth opened and closed soundlessly. She’d been rendered utterly speechless.

It was the first time she’d ever felt her body get hot with embarrassment.

Why was Arnald suddenly drowning her in compliments?

What was he plotting this time? Not falling for sweet talk was another of the fundamental rules of business.

Byletta desperately tried to regain control over her expression.

“I also know you’re unfamiliar with flattery. You’re more embarrassed to be called lovely than beautiful, aren’t you?”

He knew exactly what he was doing. And it was completely malicious.

Arnald was one who coldly and calmly analyzed all the information he gathered. He wasn’t nicknamed the Silver Fox of the Battlefield for nothing.

But to use such skills on his own wife? It was a waste of his talent.

I wish he’d just apply himself to his work instead, Byletta thought. Though there was no doubt that his skills were what had allowed him to quell the coup d’état with little fuss.

But how she wished he would demonstrate those talents elsewhere! She truly did!

“You prefer something from the heart over expensive gifts. And the jewelry you do wear is always modest. You don’t like sweets, and you lean toward alcohol that has a refreshing aftertaste. You prefer understated, subtly scented flowers over stronger-smelling blooms. You wear the clothing you want to sell so that it appears you don’t have many of your own preferences. You accept the goodwill of others upfront and ignore or parry their malice…”

“Please, no more. Are you truly so desperate for our wager to continue?!”

“I am. I was mistaken from the very beginning. Byletta, on the first night I met you, I resented how uncomfortable you made me feel. It felt like I had been betrayed.”

“Huh?”

What was this abrupt confession?

Byletta couldn’t understand how Arnald’s mind worked. She’d never been able to understand it.

“I was never concerned with finding a wife. I had no need of one and lacked the necessary emotions for such a relationship. For me, marriage was naught but an entry in my family register and a pile of documents. I never anticipated that once the war was over, my stranger of a wife would come picking a fight.”

“I wasn’t picking a fight!”

Despite the fact that Byletta had done little more than state the facts as she saw them, it seemed that Arnald had taken her letter the wrong way. When she thought back to the notice of divorce she’d written, she remembered how even her father-in-law had scornfully laughed at its cynical content.

“I have to admit, that letter piqued my interest in you. But once I returned to the capital and dug into your past, I became quite the fool. I thought I’d been made the ignorant butt of my superior’s jape. He’d somehow tricked me into marrying a witch who was having an affair with my own father. That’s why I approached you with the wager. It’s just as you said—I didn’t care one way or the other if I won. I just wanted to get even with you in that room, on that night. It was only the following morning when I realized I’d made a mistake and regretted it intensely. I even received a scolding from my father for it afterward. I made a grave error that morning.”

Arnald paused and shook his head gently from side to side. Then he turned his gaze back to Byletta.

Was the dull light shining behind that penetrating stare a marker of his regret?

“I should have apologized for treating you so poorly because of my own mistake and begged for your forgiveness then and there. I should have taken back the wager and made a promise to you instead.”

“A promise?”

“I won’t ever hold you back. You are free to make your own choices with work or whatever else you please, even if that means traveling abroad on business. I don’t even mind if we have children or not—all I need is for you to be my wife. That should have been my promise to you.”

“B-but why would you be so gracious?”

All she had to do was be his wife? They could make a promise instead of a wager?

Arnald had presented Byletta with a promise, earnestly and without an undue advantage on his side. That alone made her happy.

Yet she still found it difficult to believe he was proposing something so advantageous to her.

The marriage he was offering was the sort Byletta had always envisioned. A union that allowed her to do what she wanted without the meddling of her husband.

One where her husband loved her, though she was so desperate for him to return her feelings, she couldn’t express what she desired in that moment.

Despite all that, the promise seemed very unfavorable to Arnald.

“I still won’t attend parties with you, you realize?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Sometimes, I’ll go abroad to buy exotic products, and I could be gone for up to six months.”

“That is no different from me being dispatched to the front. I won’t be home for long periods of time, either.”

“I-if we don’t have children, we’ll be putting your father in a tricky situation. He won’t have anyone to inherit his lands and title.”

“He has relatives and Milena’s future offspring. Once he decides it’s time, he’ll find an heir one way or another. Although I don’t foresee him relinquishing his title just yet.”

That was true. Count Swangan didn’t appear to intend to pass his title down to Arnald and retire just yet.

He had given up drinking and taken up training with the sword in an effort to prevent anything from happening to him.

But that wasn’t what they were talking about in that moment.

“My shy wife is usually quite adept at finding escape routes, but has she found that they’re all blocked up this time?”

A shiver ran down Byletta’s spine for some reason, as if she were prey caught in a hunter’s sights. Arnald’s laudable attitude of reflection had already disappeared. Did he genuinely think a few flowery words would be apology enough to make up for that wretched first night they’d shared?

Wait… Had he apologized?

Arnald had said so much that Byletta had lost track. He’d probably just rescinded the wager. But without it, there was no avenue left open for her to get her divorce.

That was a problem indeed.

Because the girl inside her was screaming that she couldn’t stand to be a mere accessory to drag along to parties. Because the young Byletta was crying out. But Arnald had just told her she didn’t have to exist purely to decorate his arm.

What was happening? She couldn’t keep up.

More importantly…where was this conversation headed? She had an acute feeling that she would regret asking Arnald outright.

Before her husband had arrived back to their room, Byletta had been stewing in the despair of unrequited love. But what about now? Their conversation had taken so many twists and turns that she was completely disoriented. Something was giving her a bad feeling.

Arnald had told her there was no escape anymore, meaning he likely didn’t intend to free her from her position as his wife.

What merits did such a promise hold for Arnald? In the business world, it was said that smooth words were a pretty facade to something uglier hidden behind.

Byletta needed to put her brain to work. If she didn’t start thinking now, when was she going to? But her enemy was already busy adding insult to injury. He wasn’t going to allow her time to think.

“Now, Byletta. Do you have any more questions?”

“Y-yes!”

She couldn’t let their war of words end there. She could already see him grinning as soon as she ran out of things to say. That same face always made a shiver run down her spine.

“But if you allow me to just be your wife…what’s in it for you?!”

Byletta grimaced deeply as the question just slipped out.

She knew she shouldn’t have asked. She wished she could just cover her ears.

But her husband’s answer came swiftly.

“I love you from the bottom of my heart, Byletta.”

What had he just said?

Byletta began to convince herself that she must’ve taken what he’d actually said and simply spun it in a way that happened to align with her own wants and desires.

If she hadn’t, would Arnald truly tell her such a thing so straightforwardly?

Arnald ignored her confusion and continued speaking.

“I’d like you to give me the right to stand beside you. I want to be the first person whose name you call, the first person you reach out to hold. I want to be the one you tell when you get hurt, the one you run to when you’re in trouble. I want to be your husband.”

“Is that really…a benefit for you? Something you desire?”

“Everything that happened today cemented it for me. I’m but one of the men who love you, but unlike the others, I have the privilege of being your husband. Today, I understood that privilege. I could bring you home, for instance, and when I return, you would be there to greet me.”

Arnald wrapped his arms around Byletta as he spoke. His gentle embrace felt like being wrapped in silk. It was soft, and it warmed her heart.

“Even if my selfish and fickle wife was fully prepared to walk out on me.”

Arnald’s sigh tickled the crick of her neck.

He was telling her he had been worried.

His trembling voice was full of relief, spurring on the fluttering in her chest.

“I’m a man who is ignorant to his own feelings, so I found it difficult to understand how I felt about you. I know I misunderstood some things, and I treated you in a way that no wife should be treated. I deeply regret it. Yet you still felt something for me. You told me you despise me—for you, that’s nothing short of a declaration of love.”

“I don’t see how…”

“When you’re faced with someone you hate, you never tell them so to their face. You simply deflect with smiles. You’re the same when you’re angry. It doesn’t matter if you feel angry or resentful—you never lash out at the other person. That’s why I’m so glad whenever you turn those passionate feelings on me. It makes me happy when you tell me you hate me, or you want to divorce me, or whatever bad thing that’s happening is my fault. It’s an honor.”

There was no fetish. No perversion.

Arnald had simply realized he loved her.

It didn’t matter if it was a positive or negative emotion she directed at him, as long as it was an emotion.

It meant that she accepted him as her partner. That she truly recognized him as such.

“Please tell me the real reason you want to divorce me.”

Byletta wanted to wipe the smile off his face.

She really hated smart men. Abhorred them, even.

Men like her uncle. Like her husband.

They could always correctly read into the thoughts behind her words. They probably realized things about her not even she did. And they would never allow her to say they were wrong about her.

“I’m never going to tell you. Because I absolutely cannot stand you!”

Arnald laughed out loud and planted a kiss on her.

In the end, Byletta never did divorce Arnald, nor leave the Swangan household. Because the biggest reason she’d wanted to get a divorce had disappeared.

Their wager was over, replaced instead by a promise.

One Byletta would be reminded of for a long time to come. Till death did they part.

The second day of parliament lurched from commotion to outcry.

While both were very similar, Arnald doubted that either would prove a useful stopgap for the higher-ranked officers.

Because Arnald was angry, and he had Movris as a boss.

It appeared as if the entire coup d’état issue had been a mere means of passing the time to Movris.

To some extent, he seemed indignant toward the old man in front of him, but whether that was a facade or part of some sort of game, Arnald couldn’t be sure.

The old man who occupied the Speaker’s chair was extremely short. Even if he stretched his back out and sat up straight, he would still be small in stature. His long white beard almost reached down to his chest, and his deeply lined face could only be described as meek.

A person of distinguished character, the Speaker who had long reigned over parliament was ever the sly old man.

Marquis Carisein Girelle. He had also long been the head of the noble faction that propped up the former empire.

While it was impossible to detect any hints of impatience in his expression, those surrounding him were causing quite an uproar as they deliberated.

Only a true monster would be able to endure such an annoying racket without showing anything on their face.

Meaning that the military had their demon and the nobles had their monster.

Arnald had to shake his head slightly as the scene in front of him morphed into an otherworldly battle inside his head.

“I was told you were at death’s door, but thankfully, you look very alive to me.”

Marquis Girelle spoke with gravitas, but Movris was quick to reply.

“As you can see, I didn’t quite make it over the threshold. It was a wonderful place, though. I wish I could’ve shown you. What would you say to a little sojourn one day?”

“Why, you! How dare you address the Speaker in such a way?”

“I forget my manners. Like many of us in the army are prone to do.”

“The young are wont to cause mischief.”

“Even a young man like myself knows the difference between an old man and an old fox.”

The previous day, Movris had tricked Arnald into participating in a plot that had ended in a strike to the main base of operations for the coup d’état and the arrest of all the key players. The plan itself could only be described as brilliant, and Arnald was impressed at how creative his demonic superior could be with his solutions. It was also awe-inspiring how, even though he’d been working almost the entire night, the man still had a vigor about him this morning.

“Now, why don’t we get the second day of this parliamentary session under way?”

At Movris’s suggestion, each of the instigators they had captured the previous day were lined up in an orderly fashion around the Speaker’s seat, then forced to recite what they knew about the coup in detail. The Speaker listened quietly without even raising an eyebrow, but he likely wasn’t feeling as calm on the inside. Arnald was a mere soldier and would have preferred not to get involved if he could, but he had to admit he’d been astonished by the boldness of the parliament’s plan to frame him as the coup’s leader.

But was it boldness? Or was it just recklessness?

Based on outward appearances, they’d probably thought Arnald was little more than a puppet. He wished he could’ve told them that a man so meek would never have been able to work under his demonic general for so many years.

Ultimately, the leader of the coup d’état was identified as Captain Lumiere. There had been no such ringleader originally, but he had been found to be connected to parliament and had been actively covering up and falsifying evidence.

He denied the charge again and again, but once he was informed he would receive a reduction in his sentence if he took responsibility, he quickly capitulated. He was originally the second son of a count and a member of the noble faction, so more crimes of his would likely come to light. Lumiere wasn’t particularly highly ranked, but his leadership had probably been determined by his lineage.

That the coup d’etat had been enacted by a leader determined on such shaky grounds meant it was sloppy. It begged the question: Why had they struggled so much over the past few weeks if the rebelling men were being led with such ineptitude?

If Arnald was pondering over that, he knew the demon beside him must have quite a lot of feelings about it as well.

And yet Arnald got the impression that the man simply looked at the whole situation as a means to distract himself before the next war. Even if it had been a nuisance to be involved.

“In the face of all this evidence, you still won’t give up?”

“Don’t be rude to the Speaker! Watch your mouth!”

“You, unfortunately, seem to have forgotten that waging war is what we do.”

“Ho-ho-ho, how assertive you are.”

The Speaker, who had the air of a good-natured elder, laughed with amusement.

“I understand your grievances, but no matter how much evidence you present, I simply have no recollection of it. Now that the coup d’état is no longer a problem, shouldn’t you be dealing with the aftermath yourselves?”

“Speaker!”

The man who’d yelled out was the Speaker’s aide, Emilio.

Movris stared amusedly at the Speaker, who’d cruelly and decisively thrown his protégé and the rest of the prisoners to the wolves. He must have had a black heart concealed in that chest of his.

In Emilio’s case, he was the heir to a marquis, so a petition had already been submitted to spare his life. In exchange, the military had forced him to disseminate several pieces of information, so even forsaken by the Speaker, he would manage.

Carla, on the other hand, was maintaining her silence, so she was not in attendance at this particular parliamentary session. Her son had been summoned instead—not that Girelle cared. It was all just a play to break her anyway.

“Now, may we move on to the next order of business? We have a lot to get through today.”

“Even when presented with all this, he still won’t face up to what he did? What a maddening old man.”

But even Movris’s words, followed by a sigh, couldn’t discompose the marquis.

Arnald shifted his gaze to the ceiling. How long is this all going to take? he wondered, thinking of the face of his beloved wife.

“You’re too soft on him, Letta!”

“Do you think so?”

“Yes! No one would blame you if you stormed out of the house!”

Byletta couldn’t help but smile wryly as Milena violently slammed her cup back down on the round table before her. When she turned to look at her sister, Arnald came into view on her other side. The enchanting smile on his face told Byletta that he wasn’t listening to her and Milena’s conversation at all.

If he was, he would have realized he was the person being criticized.

Arnald had been given a week of leave for his success in thwarting the coup d’état. The man hardly worked—he’d only just taken a month’s leave when he came back from the front. And since he was unfortunately on vacation again, that meant he was following Byletta around. He’d even planned on accompanying her to work, so she’d decided to take a day off. While he’d intended to behave while he was there, Byletta would have been teased incessantly by her secretary and other employees to the point that she wouldn’t get any work done.

As a result, Arnald had joined Byletta and Milena while they were enjoying a spot of tea. Byletta’s sister-in-law didn’t appear very happy about it, given the incessant snide comments she’d made about her brother—including multiple bids to try and get Byletta to divorce him—while they’d supped. By now, Milena had realized she wasn’t having as much of an effect on her brother as she’d hoped, so she’d turned her attacks to Byletta. She just nodded along unconsciously, yielding to her sister-in-law’s zeal.

“You’re right… I’ll think it over.”

“Byletta is never going to leave me.”

“And how can you be so confident about that, Arnald?”

“Because she promised.”

“What on earth did you say to make my brother so gleeful, Letta?”

She’d only told him she despised him.

But the fact that he was still so full of such confidence made her very embarrassed. She realized he saw right through her, and she couldn’t say anything.

The three of them had come to a popular café in the imperial capital to relax. The café had been Milena’s choice. The outing was partly Byletta’s way of apologizing to the younger girl—she’d been so worried over her older sister-in-law lately. But all she’d managed to do was put Milena in a worse mood, which made Byletta feel even more sorry.

A crisp breeze passed through the flung-open windows. From the seats on the second-floor terrace, the three of them could see the crowds walking along the bustling city streets below. Every single person looked cheerful.

It was most likely because the coup d’état had been put to an end. For the first time in a while, the city felt alive again. Just that morning, the newspapers had been packed with articles on how the coup had been put down and how it had unfolded in the first place.

It was reported that Movris and his men had been the ones to deal with things in the end. Byletta certainly knew the man had been working Arnald quite hard. As they’d tied up the loose ends, Arnald had come home at varying times of the night. Sometimes, he would return past midnight or come back in the evening before heading right back out again. It had all been very hectic.

Once the situation in the city had calmed down, Byletta had resolved to take Milena out as she’d previously promised. The adorable, stylish café they’d ended up going to was very popular among the younger crowd, and its interior was quite comfortable. While only light plates were offered as sustenance, the food was superb.

They were currently enjoying a post-meal cup of tea.

Milena had seemed quite happy to eat all the delicious food, as well as to be out and about with Byletta. That she could vent her anger about her nuisance of a brother was a particularly delightful bonus. Byletta found her constantly changing expressions absolutely adorable. There was no doubt in her mind that given the choice, most men in this world would pick a girl like her sister.

Especially over a twisted she-devil of a woman like her.

I’m such a child sometimes, Byletta thought.

But she somehow felt that her husband would still say he preferred her over anyone else.

It was more a certainty than a vague feeling, but the thought embarrassed her so much, she couldn’t find it within herself to say he’d declare that for sure.

“Do you feel warm, Letta? Your face is very red.”

“O-oh. Yes, today is hotter than usual.”

“But we’re already well into fall.”

“It must be because my drink was so hot.”

“You’re acting very strangely today, Letta! But if you ever plan to leave, I’ll help you. You can ask me anytime!”

Byletta stared at her keen sister and cocked her head. She had always been so afraid of Arnald. When had she become so assertive?

“I thought you used to find it difficult to handle your brother.”

“Aren’t most children afraid of blank-faced adults who hardly speak? Now I know his taciturnity and emotional ignorance are due to his own laziness. He just doesn’t understand how a girl’s heart works. And if it’s to protect you, Letta, I can handle anything.”

Byletta didn’t know how Milena had come to her conclusions, but she was right.

Maybe that was why Arnald had been taking various measures to set up a match for his younger half sister. Byletta’s mother- and father-in-law were of the view that Milena should be able to marry for love if she wanted to, but then Arnald had suddenly brought the topic to the fore.

He probably wanted to make sure that she left home first in case she ever decided she wanted to oust Byletta from the manor.

Perplexed as to why his son, who’d shown no interest in his half sister before, was bringing up the subject of her marriage, the count had paused the conversation for now. But if he understood Arnald’s true motivations, he would probably delay it forever. The man never missed a chance to taunt the son he was so awkward around.

Byletta found it strange that the only person directly connected to this talk of marriage—and the web of motivations behind it—was the only person in the dark.

Still, when she daydreamed about her lovely sister-in-law’s wedding day, Byletta couldn’t keep herself from chuckling.

“I’m so glad to hear you say that, but I want you to be happy, too.”

“Of course,” Milena said with a nod. “I have a very loving older sister who, I’m sure, would send any strange suitors running.”

When had Milena become such a resilient young lady? Byletta found everything about her lovely sister-in-law adorable.

Not only that, but the girl was indomitable and proud.

How different she was from Byletta and Arnald.

Byletta looked into the distance as she reminisced about the previous night.

“I’m going to be dispatched to the southwest next week.”

“The south…west…?”

“It seems one of our neighboring country’s armies surreptitiously crossed the border. They probably thought it was a perfect opportunity, given the recent coup d’état.”

Arnald’s low, calm voice sounded incredibly pleasant to Byletta’s ears.

But why did he always have to broach such important subjects when she couldn’t think straight?

Why did he have to bring them up at a time like this—while they were naked and one atop the other in their marital bed?!

As she shot him an angry glare, her husband broke into a smile.

“Oh, I apologize. I didn’t mean to neglect my wife’s needs.”

“No, tha— Nnngh…”

Her protest to the contrary turned into a moan.

Arnald was a selfish husband. He never listened to what his wife had to say. He just said whatever he wanted without the desire for a response. And he was just as selfish a lover. He just gave and gave until he himself was satisfied.

Byletta’s anger gave way to pleasure as her thoughts remained in a state of flux.

Her interrupted words seemed to have reached Arnald in a different way than she’d intended. He drew her into a tight embrace.

She lay there, squirming amid her climax.

But then she caught sight of her husband smiling down at her happily, and she wanted to kill him.

“I love you, Byletta.”

Did he truly think passionately whispering that into her ear was going to placate her?

Yet he still tightened his arms around her, as if to tell her he wouldn’t let her go again.

“Please send me another letter. I’d be happy to read any words from you.”

“I’ll tell…you…I hate you.”

“Ha-ha, thank you.”

As Byletta contemplated hitting him, she stared at the side of his face. Despite their proximity, he was staring the same way back at her.

It was difficult to pin her melting thoughts down. Sweet tingles inundated her entire body, scrambling her emotions.

The loneliness she’d felt upon hearing that she wouldn’t be able to see him for a while must have just been in her imagination. She must have been mistaken when she’d imagined how much she’d yearn for his warmth and weight.

The little girl with big dreams within Byletta was crying. How weak must she have become to want to cling to her husband so.

They say love makes fools of all of us, but Byletta didn’t think it made people weak.

Still, irritated by the fact that her husband showed no signs of loneliness himself, she was determined not to let her own feelings show.

Ignorant of her thoughts, her husband laughed happily.

“Let’s enjoy our time together all the way until morning.”

As if that would be enough to make up for his absence!

But Byletta’s quibbles melted into their kiss before they could reach him.

Even when she didn’t behave, when she stubbornly complained, when she told him she despised him—even then, Arnald still embraced it all and told Byletta he loved her.

He forgave the part of her that depended on him.

Somehow, that made her happy.

While the young girl inside Byletta cried with loneliness, too, she knew she would be satisfied eventually.

The feelings would always exist in parallel, but that was just the form Byletta and Arnald’s marriage took.

I must have been corrupted a long time ago to even entertain that wager, Byletta thought as she gladly accepted her husband’s kiss.

Happiness filled her up to the brim, leaving her intoxicated at the taste of it.

Epilogue: A Letter from My Beloved Wife

In the entrance hall to the Swangan residence, a man set his belongings down on the floor.

The home he’d returned to for the first time in half a year stood silent. He had walked back without informing anyone in advance, so no one was there to greet him. Arnald had known that would be the case. He looked around the vicinity.

The entrance hall had been built with space in mind, and its high ceilings—supported by a number of thick pillars—only made it look more cavernous. Arnald examined the hallway that led further into the house, the stairs that went to the second floor, and the vases of flowers that decorated the entrance. The fact they were all in the exact same place as before he’d left made him feel at ease.

Explosions weren’t everyday occurrences, and although he hadn’t heard any recent reports, the fretfulness and unease from that time still cast a shadow within him.

“Welcome home, my young lord.”

“Thank you.”

Having heard footsteps, the butler, Henri, had come to greet Arnald with a pleasant smile.

Donovan had retired a few years ago and introduced his nephew into the household to take over his role. The capable young man had accumulated experience at another residence and had the same quiet and pleasant demeanor as his predecessor. He was a man of few words, but he never came across as stuffy.

The only thing about him that bothered Arnald was his youth. He was approximately the same age as Byletta.

Age was a reality Arnald couldn’t change, but he didn’t think his wife cared about it. Yet he still worried about some of the silliest things. What would he do if Byletta developed even the faintest of feelings for the young man? There was nothing Arnald could do about the years he’d accumulated, but if his wife ever wanted him to act more youthful…he would do his best to accommodate her. He still wanted to be able to delight his wife, even if just a little.

Just then, Arnald heard footsteps. Turning to see who was making them, he found a young girl slowly descending the stairs. As soon as she saw him there, she stopped.

The girl had the same strawberry-blond hair as her mother, but the emerald-green eyes that came from her father sparkled as she addressed him in a cool and quiet voice.

“Oh, Father. Welcome home. I’m glad the war is over and that you’re back without injury.”

“Thank you. It’s nice to be home. Erm…”

“If you’re looking for Mother, she’s in her workroom. But I wouldn’t barge in right now if I were you. You know how precious that time is to her, don’t you?”

After informing her father of her mother’s whereabouts, the girl smiled in amusement. Her tone showed that she knew her mother was the only thing on her father’s mind just then.

She was their eldest child, Elmletta.

She had the same face as her mother, and she was fully aware she could capture the attention of a room with just a flash of her lovely smile. The only thing Arnald didn’t like was that she resembled him in character. Even though she was completely ignorant of her own feelings, she was very good at perceiving the inner workings of others.

It didn’t matter what expressions were on others’ faces; she could always correctly tell what they really thought on the inside.

It was terrifying, considering she was only ten years old. She even had his father, the current Count Swangan, wrapped around her little finger.

But at that moment, Arnald was more concerned about what she’d just told him.

“Her precious time…”

Arnald knew what that meant, but he still hurried up the stairs and opened the door to the workroom.

“Reynald, you’re supposed to knock on the door before you come in.”

A bewitching woman with elegantly tied-up strawberry-blond hair entered Arnald’s field of vision.

She was standing by the window and didn’t even look up from the documents in her hand as she called their six-year-old son’s name. Arnald strode over and wrapped his arms tightly around her slim body.

“Argh! A-Arnald?!”

“Please don’t mistake me for my son.”

“I’m sorry. Lately, that boy keeps barging into my workroom whenever he feels like it, so… Anyway, welcome home. I’m glad you were able to end things quickly this time.”

Their ash-haired, amethyst-eyed son took after Byletta. He was curious about everything and seemed to show up everywhere. It seemed as if Byletta’s workroom was one place he liked to play.

Arnald couldn’t help but notice that while his wife spoke tenderly to him, she wasn’t returning his embrace.

“Byletta, you can try to hide it all you want, but I know you’re reading a letter from your lover.”

“Could you please stop referring to Master Gail’s reports like that? Anyway, I believe you promised not to disturb me at work anymore.”

“I don’t think prioritizing your husband who has just returned after six months at war breaks our promise.”

“Fine. I suppose His Excellency the Brigadier General must have been quite lonely at the front.”

“He merely missed his beloved wife.”

As Arnald muttered those words with a sigh of relief, a red-faced Byletta trembled.

After serving on numerous fronts, Arnald had been promoted to the rank of brigadier general upon his return, although he’d occupied the same position for the past several years. That said, there were both positives and negatives about a roster of higher-ups who never seemed to change.

Arnald’s monster of a general was as demonic as ever. He still liked to put Arnald to good use and send him off to the front.

It was because of that Arnald was never able to spend time with his family at home. His last assignment had taken half a year. He hadn’t had enough of his wife in that time, and he feared that if he didn’t replenish himself soon, he wouldn’t be able to breathe.

As he enjoyed his wife’s slender yet soft body against his, Byletta sighed, a flush still dusting her cheeks.

“Why must you be so cruel, Arnald?”

“All I said was the truth, and still you insult me.”

Arnald chuckled and gave Byletta a light kiss.

No matter how many years she aged, his wife was still adorable. He wondered if that feeling would ever fade. Perhaps it would burn just as brightly for the rest of his life. For as unfeeling as he was in other areas, Arnald felt like he’d struck a good balance.

“I missed you more and more with each and every letter.”

“You were the one who asked me to send them, remember?”

“My married friends are always jealous when I boast about the letters. But when I receive one from my beloved wife, I feel happy, then sad, and then I yearn for you even more.”

“What a nuisance.”

Byletta smiled wryly and gave him a tender kiss.

When he deepened the kiss, she returned the favor. It made Arnald glad to be alive.

He always kept the letters from his wife concealed in his breast pocket. Even now, one was getting tightly crushed between their bodies.

It had been eleven years since Arnald received his first letter on the battlefield.

And he held on to each and every one. They were his treasures.

Words certainly were mysterious. They conveyed the feelings poured into every letter and clause.

Even if his wife wasn’t there, he could feel like she was right beside him just by reading them.

A long time ago, she’d told him she would write to tell him she despised him, but a letter like that had never arrived.

Instead, she usually sent calming letters like status reports and what her worries of the day were.

It was strange that no matter how his heart had hardened on the battlefield, reading the letters from his wife brought him peace again. Even his friends could understand why he would boast to them so.

And now back at home, he realized how happy he was.

How wonderful ordinary days when nothing happened could be. How happy he was to be greeted by his dear wife.

“I love you, Byletta.”

“I thought I told you I hated people who disturb me at work?”

The glare on her face indicated she meant business. Arnald knew from experience that she would get angry if he provoked her any further.

“Then I hope you’ll make time for me later.”

“I can’t make love all the way until morning.”

“Then why not until the sun is just about to rise?”

“Isn’t that still morning?”

Byletta wasn’t going to concede an inch.

“Would it hurt to take care of your husband after six months apart?”

“I’m trying to tell you to take care and relax.”

“I see.”

He would forget about making love all night. They would do it all day the next day instead. Sometimes, pulling back before readying another attack proved an effective strategy.

She would still be his wife tomorrow.

Because she’d given him the privilege of being her husband.

Perhaps that night he could put his things away and reread all the letters she’d sent. He’d already read them so many times that he knew their contents by heart, but no matter how often he flicked through them, they never failed to move him.

“It’s beginning to feel somewhat tense in here.”

Byletta’s expression had shifted to one of suspicion inside Arnald’s arms. Though he was feeling a bit sorry for himself, Arnald tried grinning instead.

It seemed strange, but Byletta seemed to grow afraid whenever he grinned at her like this. Even now, her face was stiff as she stared at the cautious Arnald.

“I’ll be patient tonight.”

So she’d better be ready to make up for it the next day.

It seemed Byletta had correctly guessed the hidden message in his smile.

She sighed deeply. It was a long, deep exhale.

“Then I’d ask you be gentle with me.”

Movris had said marriage would spice his life up a bit.

His words had proved to be correct in a sense, but also wrong in another.

Even though wrong in that instance did not mean bad.

His wife was his happiness and someone who reminded him of his emotions, whether they were joy, anger, or sorrow. He couldn’t even have fun without her.

He was eternally grateful for being able to meet someone like her, to say nothing of marrying her.

That was why, even if it was out of character for him, he prayed that these days would continue. After fighting across battlefield after battlefield and taking thousands of lives, he knew it was a selfish thing for him to ask. He was prepared to lose his own life at any point, just as long as Byletta didn’t go before him. His fear for the future was another emotion his wife had bestowed upon him.

It was frightening, but it made his love for her grow.

In the end, it all came back to the fact that he loved her, come what may.

“I’ll compromise, of course, but it’s been half a year, so my feelings have only grown stronger in that time. They may run away with me. Why don’t we make a wager instead? If I lose, then we’ll simply fall asleep in each other’s arms.”

“No, thank you. I’ve had enough of your wagers for a lifetime.”

Arnald was perplexed by Byletta’s firm refusal. He hadn’t foreseen such rejection.

“Don’t you want to play with me anymore?”

“I don’t think any of the wagers we’ve made until now are things I’d dismiss as ‘play.’ We’ve already made enough promises.”

Whenever Arnald won a wager he’d brought to her, it always turned into a promise.

For example, they’d sworn to each other that they would kiss the moment either of them returned home.

He’d gotten her to swear to greet her husband with a smile, as well, and to let him hold her whenever he wanted.

When Arnald won a bet, his wife would reluctantly agree to turn even the smallest of everyday requests into a promise between them.

Even though this time he’d come up with a wager he couldn’t lose, his wife appeared to be fed up with losing all the time. But if she wouldn’t listen to his requests, then there was no other way. Although she would probably say he was too full of desire.

But that was his wife’s fault for being too lovely.

“Then I’ll have you report to me about the past six months tomorrow.”

“I thought I wrote about those things in my letters, did I not?”

“I just want to hear you say them, too.”

“So you won’t be requiring any more written correspondence?”

“What do you mean? I hope you’re not thinking of taking my treasures away from me,” Arnald pleaded, his heart stopping.

Byletta’s eyes widened in surprise, and she smiled.

“Your…treasures?”

“Yes, my treasures.”

When Arnald reaffirmed what he thought of her letters, his wife gave him a shy kiss.

It had all started from a single letter he’d received on the battlefield. And he’d treated each and every one he’d received since then as his most treasured possessions.

He knew his stack of treasures would only get bigger.

Because he was sure the letters that spelled out his and Byletta’s future would only continue to come.

Afterword

Nice to meet you. I’m Kori Hisakawa.

Thank you for choosing to read this novel. This book is based on a web novel I wrote, and it includes a lot of amendments and additional material. If I were to explain the story briefly, it’s a tale of a husband who is unintentionally wrapped around the finger of his neglected wife and eventually finds that he’s fallen in love with her. The heroine doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. Her husband simply ends up falling for her as she pursues the things she wants in life. It’s very difficult to explain everything that happens in this novel. I just packed it with lots of different things I wanted to write about. Even I have trouble understanding it sometimes. I can’t tell you how impressed I was when the editors were able to rearrange my story into something much easier to follow.

I wrote it very haphazardly originally, but the professionals managed to turn it into something much more readable. If you’ve read the original online version, you’ll easily be able to see the differences. It bowled me over when I first read it because it now feels exactly like the kind of book you would find at a store.

That’s why I’ve been so overwhelmed with how it has been turned into a physical novel. I’m so grateful to everyone, so I’d like to express this gratitude to all who have been involved with this book, including those who originally read it online, my editors who have painstakingly edited it with me for print, and Airumu, who illustrated the cover just as I had always imagined it. Most of all, I want to express my overwhelming thanks to everyone who took the time to pick up this book.

They say you never know what life is going to throw at you, but I never once dared to think my childhood dream would come true. Thank you so much for giving me this wonderful opportunity. There were countless times when I thought I was going to wake up and find out this was all a dream or a scam, but those feelings have long faded into fond memories now. That said, it still feels like it happened to someone else. Even though I can hold the book in my hands, it doesn’t feel real.

Thanks to everyone involved, this book demonstrates talent well beyond my own, and I hope it resonates with everyone, even if just a little.

Lastly, this world is a complex place, but I hope those who read this book will be able to pass some time in peace.

Thank you very much!