Chapter 14

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 14

Chapter Title: How to Survive as the Wife of the Monster Duke

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How to Survive as the Wife of the Monster Duke

Aden de Biplten was originally someone who had no need for improvisation.

It might have been necessary in the unpredictable chaos of the battlefield, but after inheriting the house's authority, he relied more on that power than quick thinking.

But this situation couldn't be resolved with authority.

'Why is he acting like this?'

Milo mouthed the question silently to Ijis, thanks to his sharp-eared master.

Their lord truly seemed lost in thought.

"Couldn't he just avoid showing himself to the bride as the duke?"

Milo offered a simple solution.

A swordsman of Aden's caliber could hide intentionally, and there was no way a frail new bride from sunnier lands could notice.

Aden gave no reply.

As Milo opened his mouth to say more, Ijis nudged him.

Ijis kept his eyes fixed on the duke.

He was incredulously considering one possibility.

Why go to her in person otherwise?

Ijis pictured his lord standing before the bride.

He hadn't seen it himself, but he'd heard plenty from the corridor.

After probing the surroundings in his duke guise, he'd met her deliberately as the Knight Commander.

The difference between the two roles was just one thing.

His lord had wanted to speak to her face-to-face.

When the suspicious bride had asked if she could enter, he'd even fabricated an excuse that it was fine in Biplten.

It was utterly unlike their master.

Ijis felt he'd grasped the truth a step ahead of his usually swift-judging lord this time.

'Because she's a sun-dweller...'

'He still hasn't emerged from beneath her skirt hem.'

The mansion staff, guts practically spilling out, were gossiping like that.

Of course, Ijis neither believed it nor cared—even if true, it was his master's choice.

The lord he'd watched since childhood, Aden de Biplten, despised this winter region.

The brutal cold that had devoured his mother—he always wanted it gone.

He loathed the other houses for lining their own pockets, yet he'd still taken up the sword to defend the north.

That was enough.

Whether his master loved the bride for being a sun-dweller or for some other reason, it made no difference.

The duke in that room wasn't the winter lord who commanded blood and blizzards—he was just a young man.

A youth fallen in love.

"Hm... Or perhaps,"

Milo added, seeing Aden's lackluster response.

Sweat beaded on the back of his neck.

"Wouldn't it be better to just tell her outright?"

That got a reaction this time.

Aden lifted his gaze to Milo.

"Tell her?"

"Yes. Madam has no reason to leave the mansion anyway."

They said only Crimson Delroz maids surrounded Ilrin.

She showed no sign of mingling with outsiders.

'Is it an Azure Noz item by any chance?'

She was the type who'd tried to remove the cloth atop her head the moment she realized it was from Azure Noz, even in that freezing cold.

Aden tapped the desk slowly with his index finger.

"But that would make it seem like Your Grace deceived Madam from the start."

Ijis cautiously offered a counterpoint.

Milo blinked.

Deceived her? Yeah, he did— so why the issue?

Then, under Ijis's steady gaze, his eyes widened belatedly.

Before Aden, he could only gape silently.

Really? For real? Is that what I think it is?

Ijis had no intention of confirming it.

Thinking back, hadn't Milo caused all this mess?

That day his master had pulled off his not-quite-mishap of a bedside visit, Ijis had already instructed the Crimson Delroz knights.

They likely had no business there, but if they needed to relay something to the bride, they could enter her room.

To the murmuring knights puzzled by the odd order, Ijis couldn't reveal his master's intentions.

He merely added one thing:

Always ask the bride's permission first.

It was a strange command even to him, but all he could say.

Only Milo, who'd been out, missed it.

Sure, read the room and step back if it felt off—but bluntly contradicting his lord head-on?

Even if being absent wasn't Milo's fault, he'd still done the deed.

"Why not just sell Milo off instead."

Ijis spoke up.

Aden leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.

Go on, he meant.

Milo, standing beside him, gawked at Ijis with bulging eyes.

Sell me? What? Where? Why?

Ijis ignored the wordless barrage from the side and laid out his idea.

Lately, Aden had a nagging question.

Why am I doing this?

It deepened after aimlessly pacing the same corridor four times by "chance."

Why the hell am I doing this?

He wasn't short on work.

Outside, the red-scaled Molri Tribe was stirring ominously.

Their horde was scattered, so no immediate crisis, but wiping them out now could cripple them for good.

Yet he was putting it off, claiming no urgency.

And what was he doing instead? Pacing while waiting for the bride to appear.

Pathetic childish antics just to "bump into" her.

He couldn't comprehend himself.

He considered turning away when—

"Oh?"

The bride appeared before him like magic.

Aden was startled, but so was she.

"Hello."

As he approached, she raised a hand to stop him.

"Wait—just stay there for a moment, please?"

Her guarded stance was adorably animal-like.

Even with his utterly non-threatening gesture, Aden halted at a distance.

"I... heard something different from what I heard before."

Her straight-to-the-point approach reminded him of that letter.

I will become your bride.

Aden unwittingly let slip a faint smile.

"Yes."

Ilrin tilted her head slightly.

"I don't know much about Biplten yet."

"Yes."

Aden listened patiently to her gentle words.

"But it felt odd having another man enter the bridal chamber."

At her words, Aden let out a short breath.

He recalled Ijis's advice.

'If you wish to meet without revealing yourself, there's no other way.'

"Who told you that?"

Ilrin answered honestly.

"Milo of Crimson Delroz."

"Ah, that."

Aden suddenly felt like his mind was buried in snow.

Sometimes in those vast snowfields, there were deadly spots where a misstep could trigger an avalanche from piled layers.

Disturb the high snow over a crevasse, and it poured in, sweeping the person above down with it.

For some reason, he felt perched right on one.

Speak and regret—that's what he thought, yet he spoke anyway.

"He must have confused it with sunland customs. Or perhaps he panicked seeing Madam."

Why would a laid-back merchant type panic? Ilrin tilted her head at his words.

Then she suddenly recalled her state then.

It was bridal attire.

Biplten style, so thick, but just a single robe.

And the marks of night so blatant even maids flustered... Oh god.

Ilrin covered her eyes.

Etra promptly straightened her attire again beside her.

Come to think of it, Den had hesitated unlike himself that night before me.

"...I understand."

"If it's uncomfortable, I can strictly forbid knights from entering per sunland etiquette."

"No."

Ilrin sighed briefly and replied.

Her face still burned, but her voice was steady.

"It's fine here in Biplten."

Meaning she'd follow local custom.

As Ilrin passed him and left, Aden pressed his forehead.

His heart pounded harder than charging a monster camp.

Swept away in an avalanche.

Seemed he'd built this wrong from the foundation.

'Your Grace!'

Should he have revealed on day one, I'm the Duke of Biplten, to the woman who'd startled and dropped her gaze at being called?

Aden burst out a short breath.

"Etra, one favor, if I may."

"Even if they say to lower your speech."

"This feels natural to me."

"I overstepped."

Their voices faded into the distance.

"It's fine. Then could you fetch someone to teach me Biplten etiquette?"

Aden's mind blanked.

He pondered gravely.

Whoever it was, he needed to meet them first.

Biplten's "new" etiquette required special instruction.

Could wandering a bit tire her this much?

Ilrin opened her weary eyes.

The bed was plush.

But instead of a ceiling, a gray hazy sky filled her view.

Huge snowflakes poured down, heavy enough to make opening her eyes a chore.

Ilrin sat up.

"Kyaaak!"

Startled, she stumbled back.

She was in the midst of monsters.

Her heart plummeted.

She scrambled away, but the snow she'd mistaken for a bed left no footprints.

Ah?

"She's coming this way!"

Red-scaled monsters she'd seen before lurked amid the snowdrifts.

Some had crudely whitened themselves to hide their scales, catching her eye.

And none noticed her.

"Wait till she gets closer!"

Amid their phlegmy, guttural exchanges, she spotted a swaying mobile.

Ilrin exhaled the breath she'd held.

A dream.

A precognitive dream.

She moved through the monsters, surveying around.

The red-scales hid atop an impossibly high cliff.

Raiding perhaps? But too few for that.

Below stretched what resembled a village.

Too distant to see clearly, it didn't look human.

Unfamiliar structures clustered—not a castle or mansion—making it seem village-like.

Far off, knights marched toward it.

A gentle downslope trailed behind them.

Ilrin eyed their vanguard.

Neat hair whipped wildly in the snowwind.

But even from afar, those scanning blue eyes stood out.

Den?

"Ambush!"

What?

That instant, nearby monsters lunged forward.

A burst of blue light exploded beside her.

Ilrin nearly tumbled off the cliff from the unfamiliar sight.

She barely crouched; in the monsters' hands were strange rods.

The blue erupted from the rod tips, etched with alien patterns.

Magic?

Rumble rumble rumble!

The ground shook.

Startled, Ilrin peered below.

And witnessed the unbelievable.

The ground moved.

No—the snow mound rose.

The snow pile reared up like a living thing, poised to engulf the knights,

when Ilrin awoke.