Chapter 25

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 25

Chapter Title: Her Lips

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"Aren't you going to open your mouth?"

Kaiyan's eyebrows slanted in a frown.

The moment Clodel saw it, she opened her mouth with an "ah," but the piece of meat he'd cut was too big.

He pulled back the meat he'd offered as if to feed her and sliced it smaller with his knife.

"Here."

The meat returned to her lips, still too large for her to eat comfortably.

"It needs to be smaller than this..."

"What a hassle."

Tsking his tongue, Kaiyan cut the meat again. Finally, when he speared a bite-sized piece on his fork and offered it, Clodel quickly took it without complaint.

The meat had done nothing wrong.

And the meat sliced by her enemy soaked her soul with juices the instant it touched her tongue, filling Clodel with happiness.

"Do you normally eat so little?"

"...Pardon?"

The moment she swallowed, Kaiyan scooped fruit pudding onto a spoon and held it out.

Clodel hurriedly accepted it before he could furrow his brow again.

'Eat so little?'

He said that even after she'd emptied the bowl clean?

Was he mocking her for eating too much, perhaps?

That was when Clodel felt confused.

"I was just asking because you fussed over a single bite."

A single bite?

She blinked.

'Do women in House Temneth eat more than this, maybe?'

This plate she'd just polished off was more than she'd eaten even in her healthiest days back in Valmond.

She hadn't yet seen other Temneth women eating at Rowen Castle, so that's what came to mind.

"The doctor said you need to eat a lot to fully recover."

"I've already improved so much."

"That's nowhere near enough."

Kaiyan scooped up the potato dish she'd loudly declared delicious earlier and fed it to her.

As she meekly accepted it, Clodel found herself thinking he must like feeding her.

Kaiyan was on the verge of being buried under the piled-up lord's duties.

Not only had he wasted time traveling back and forth to Valmond due to the sudden royal command to marry, but the grand wedding feast at Rowen Castle too.

That feast had lasted just three days, but preparations had ground the butler and resident staff for a full month the moment the wedding was set.

It was possible only because Rowen was a land overflowing with food; in other territories, sourcing the alcohol and ingredients alone would take at least three months.

Then, with Clodel struck by Herzol, he'd spent time hunting for medicine and water buffaloes, letting everything pile up.

The autumn festival was just a month away.

Rowen was a mild land without winter. The harvest festivals held in the central Oberon Kingdom to celebrate seasonal changes held no meaning here.

But as the capital region's customs became refined and envied, "autumn" came to mean festivals across the entire kingdom, seasons be damned.

"I hear Valmond's autumn festival is held on the ice."

Suddenly, Clodel wondered what festivals in Valmond had looked like.

Valmond, frozen more than half the year, marked the start of autumn by the ground icing over, by kingdom standards.

"Even as the daughter of an enemy house, being my wife now feels different from before."

Previously, thinking of Valmond meant pondering how to govern a reclaimed territory from one end of House Temneth to the other, or where to first station occupying forces.

Amid all that busyness, Kaiyan had carved out time to visit and tend to Clodel.

When she'd collapsed.

Seeing her convinced she'd die, with no hope of survival, Kaiyan reflected on himself with bitter self-mockery.

He hadn't ignored or neglected her in the belief she'd live a short life or something similar—and truthfully, House Vermonte didn't deserve even a grave plot in his territory.

What he'd realized through this was that rather than her being the daughter of an enemy house, he himself was coming to see her as his wife.

He couldn't pinpoint why.

Before arriving at the castle and their wedding night, just glimpsing that signature Vermonte red hair had made him nauseous, yet with Clodel, any discomfort or displeasure faded quickly.

Even now, he struggled to understand why he'd been so determined to save her.

Royal command or not, he could have sent her corpse back in a carriage to Duke Vermonte—who'd sent his sick niece—accusing him of deception and sparking a territory war.

Kaiyan had been preparing to incinerate House Vermonte for four years already.

From the battlefield reports of their drought and food shortages, he'd blocked all northern food exports.

One broker handling Rowen-to-Valmond grain exports had even killed himself, caught between Temneth refusing permits and Vermonte pressuring him over starving territory folk.

After such meticulous, ruthless preparation, to let it all go over one woman's death?

"Well, marriage happens once anyway. Can't just pretend it never happened after welcoming her as bride."

The one reason Kaiyan could rationalize to himself was his pragmatic, rational judgment.

Clodel was his wife now.

She was Temneth, not Vermonte anymore.

To obtain a water buffalo calf's heart, Kaiyan had dug five deep pits across the vast grasslands.

Wild buffaloes were over two meters even for females, but calves were much smaller.

Archers fired volleys to keep adults from escaping the small, deep traps, while mounted knights herded them from one direction.

Once the hundreds-strong herd charged, they couldn't turn back.

Like soldiers marching in formation, any that paused or tried to turn were rammed by the massive-horned beasts behind them.

Even mothers, hearing their trapped calves' mournful cries and glancing back, were dragged along by the press from behind and the flanks.

After the drive ended, two calves had luckily fallen into the traps. Before the herd leader could return, Kaiyan swiftly roped them out, loaded them onto the prepared cart, and bolted.

It was a hunt so clean that even his elites—who'd watched his feats up close for five years—were impressed.

Kaiyan saw it as nothing special.

Every task had a key goal.

If blood was unavoidable, push through—but for something extractable indirectly like this, no need to risk elite knights' lives.

Kaiyan's undefeated record stemmed from his exceptional civil and martial prowess.

And he vowed to himself there'd be no failures ahead either.

As always.

Clodel, fed not one but two wild water buffalo calf hearts, stopped vomiting blood in a day and quit coughing by the third.

Her coma was chalked up to a body too ravaged by deep illness to rest properly.

But Kaiyan wasn't overly worried about her not waking.

He wouldn't fail at saving her either.

It was Kaiyan's impenetrable mental world, beyond mortal reach.

Even resurrecting the dying felt within godlike grasp for him.

With Clodel saved, his slightly shaken confidence and identity snapped back into place.

It was for him to decide who lived or died before Kaiyan.

He'd snatched back a woman deemed hopeless by all, from the god of death himself.

That was House Temneth's lord, Kaiyan himself.

Now, as the butler said, thinking of future heirs to raise, he planned to tighten castle discipline—and so made time for one daily meal in Clodel's room.

"Back in the day, when I was this swamped, just filling my stomach anyhow sufficed."

Five years on battlefields had made him exceedingly practical.

Pre-marriage, in crunch times, he'd wolf down ham, cheese, and meat sandwiched in bread right at his desk.

"Not appreciating this effort. What an oblivious woman."

In that vein, Kaiyan joined Clodel for lunch daily, for her dignity and recovery.

And amid it, his gaze kept drifting to her face.

The sick pallor gone, she bloomed like a pale green petal kissed by dawn dew, vitality swelling within.

Her once-ashen skin gained rosy tint, sunken cheeks plumping prettily.

And above all, drawing his eyes repeatedly: her lips.

The pale pink had deepened to vivid crimson, fascinating him into stares.

Clodel's small, pretty lips busied themselves throughout the meal.

He'd finely chop what he'd eat in three forkfuls into dozens of bits, and watching her diligently chew was so pitifully endearing he couldn't look away.

Once, plates empty and eyes met, embarrassed, he'd sliced his own meat for her—only to find it comically oversized for her tiny mouth, cutting and recutting until it fit.

With every meal, Clodel revived more vibrantly, grew prettier, leaving Kaiyan wondering if raising a pet felt like this.

Not that he'd ever had one.

Seeing her eat heartily and improve visibly was rewarding, though.

Knock knock.

The butler entered after rapping on the study door.

"My lord. Where will you take lunch today?"

Asked if he'd go to Clodel's room or handle it lightly here, Kaiyan rose.

"With Clodel."

"Yes, my lord."

As they walked the corridor, the butler reported.

"The lady practiced dancing this morning."

"Dancing?"

"Yes. The dance instructor you requested arrived today for the first time. The doctor said moderate exercise would aid recovery further, so we quickly found someone suitable locally."

"Good work."

But upon reaching Clodel's room, Kaiyan's eyes narrowed instantly.

"What the hell is this?"