Chapter 21

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 21

Chapter Title: How to Survive as the Monster Duke's Wife

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"You must have some brains rattling around in there?"

With no response from Ilrin, Viscount Arlen let out a sigh.

"A woman who sees death—an ill omen like that. The north is already riddled with superstitions, and who knows how His Grace the Duke must have felt—"

The click of his tongue echoed vividly.

Still, it was just a dream.

"But it's not as if you have no chance at all. You must have spent the night with him, right?"

Of course. They'd been together for at least a month—what woman wouldn't?

The viscount clicked his tongue again.

Ilrin kept her eyes shut tight, letting his words wash over her.

"Is anyone outside?"

The same maid from before slipped cautiously through the door.

The viscount jerked his chin toward Ilrin.

"Have the physician see to her. And you—don't breathe a word of this."

He clicked his tongue once more.

"Keep your mouth shut for the rest of your life. If there's a child, maybe you could plead your case to His Grace on those grounds."

So much for keeping quiet, you fool, she thought.

"To think you'd blab and get tossed aside. Must be that lowly blood from your mother."

At the viscount's gesture, the maid seized her arm and dragged her along.

"Come on."

It was a dream.

Ilrin kept her eyes firmly closed, refusing to open them.

A vivid dream.

She sometimes had nightmares this real.

And every time, she searched for just one thing.

Whatever happened to her in the dream, fine.

Whatever came next, she didn't care.

Before leaving the room, she turned her gaze, scanning her surroundings.

Passing over the viscount's indifferent face, the room held nothing she feared.

As long as there was no crib mobile.

No crib mobile, and I...

I won't be abandoned.

Aden had first performed the house head's succession rite at the age of eleven.

The ceremonies that followed were nothing special despite their grandiose name.

All it took was someone of House Biplten blood and the four divine relics.

Place the relics and his hand on the black round table, and the mirror atop it would flash brilliantly for a brief moment.

As a child, he'd wondered what that light meant.

He thought he'd glimpsed some kind of image during his first rite.

But as he grew, he lost interest.

Worn out from the endless demands the elders of the three houses shoved at him with every rite, he eventually wanted to freeze solid whoever had invented the damn thing.

'The power to protect House Biplten.'

That's how the elders had coaxed the young boy, only to hurl him into battle after battle simply because he'd inherited the house head's authority.

The more he wielded his sword, the easier life got for the knights of the three houses.

'Your Grace can slay a hundred monsters with ease, but for our knights to take down a hundred, dozens must risk their lives.'

Ridan of Azure Noz had said that masterpiece of a line.

As a child, he'd charged into every battlefield to spare the knights humiliation.

But not anymore.

When they'd tried to fracture Crimson Delroz and destroy it, his childhood had ended.

"Nothing will happen."

He reassured Ilrin as Ridan chanted his incantation.

Ridan claimed it was an ancient tongue passed down through the Biplten lands.

A rite the elders had performed generation after generation.

It meant little to Aden.

What mattered more was the woman cradled in his arms.

Her hand felt cold—was she nervous?

He took her trembling hand in his.

It'll be fine, he whispered over and over.

The rite was nothing, after all.

Her faint breaths spread, carrying a soothing body scent that calmed the mind.

Aden gently stroked the back of her hand.

Even at night, when he'd do the same to her tense hand, Ilrin would draw in a deep breath and relax.

She did so now.

In his embrace, he felt the faint pulse of her fragile life.

Her rapid heartbeat steadied, returning to its usual rhythm.

—

As Ridan's long chant ended, Aden guided Ilrin's small hand to the black round table.

"!"

He felt her jolt at the sudden burst of light.

He wrapped his arm around her slender shoulders.

"It's fine. It'll be over soon."

He kept whispering reassurances.

His voice eased her trembling somewhat.

But the light blazed far longer and brighter than he remembered.

"......?"

Even the elders grew uneasy at the unusual reaction.

Ilrin stood frozen, eyes fixed on the table.

"Ilrin?"

The light flickered wildly, yet she didn't blink, rooted in place.

"Something's wrong!"

An elder from Verdant Mille shot to his feet and rushed toward her.

At that instant, the light snuffed out.

In the sudden darkness, something else vanished too.

"......Ilrin?"

Aden loved listening to the tiny beat of Ilrin's heart.

Whether holding her or standing outside her door, he'd strain to hear it.

And he always did.

He never missed even a fleeting moment of her soft breaths or heartbeat.

Because in these Winter Lands, hers was the only sound like that.

But now, it stopped abruptly—as if it had never been there.

Ilrin, unconscious, collapsed beside the table.

Aden knew well the sensation of life slipping into unconsciousness.

Anyone who'd taken countless lives would.

Monsters or men—he felt nothing now when their pulses faded.

At first, it had been for survival.

To protect himself, he had to kill the monster before him.

He hadn't ignored that they were sentient beings with wills of their own.

But his own life mattered more.

Once accustomed, taking lives became just another part of living.

"Fortunately, her life isn't in danger."

Physician Beth stood before Aden, tenser than ever.

"We don't know why her breathing stopped, but it was only for a moment. She's just asleep now."

Aden gestured silently.

Out.

The air crackled, sharp as a blade poised to sever a man.

One tiny spark, and it would explode.

"She just needs to wake up."

Beth bowed deeply, adding the words as if to reassure his lord.

As he opened the door, the clamor of presences outside flooded Aden's ears.

The moment Ilrin lost consciousness, Delroz had gone on high alert.

The seventh floor of the mansion buzzed with more people than ever, all scrambling about.

Its owner despised noise, so it was usually limited to the bare minimum, moving in utter silence.

But now, speed trumped quiet.

Adjutant Ijis had braved Biplten's near-April blizzards to contact Byun.

Milo of the Esid Merchant Group—who hadn't planned to show his face in Biplten for a year—hauled mountains of Byun herbs back to the Winter Lands.

And maids who'd once served the late Duchess Elena began arriving on the seventh floor.

They were among the few with experience caring for Byun natives even here.

The mansion had always been chilly.

The recent warm days felt like a lie; now it was colder than ever.

The maids first dismissed it as imagination, but when even extra layers of thick coats weren't enough, they accepted the truth.

And their vague fear of the house head deepened.

Not just the mansion—the only one in the Winter Lands who could alter temperatures at will was him.

Any colder, and it would be no different from outside.

"Your Grace, it's Ijis."

Aden hadn't left Ilrin's room.

After a knock, Ijis eased the door open.

Milo peeked through the gap behind him.

Standing once more before the bride's room—site of that near-disaster not long ago—his face was a mix of emotions.

"The report?"

The temperature gap between corridor and room was stark.

Ijis, clutching his fur-lined coat, replied.

"Records of the rite are kept by Azure Noz—it took time to review them."

"And?"

Ijis hesitated, glancing at Ilrin.

"It's never happened before. We wondered if it was because she's from Byun, so we checked records of previous Byun duchesses closely. Not one showed any unusual reaction."

As he spoke, Milo busily handed herbs to the maids nearby.

Even if they'd cared for Byun natives, they were Winter Lands folk at heart.

Plenty to explain.

Beside him, Physician Beth examined the herbs intently.

He was local too, but a physician was better than nothing.

"Byun physicians?"

"We tried to bring some, but..."

Ijis chose his words carefully.

"No one's coming. Whether they believe I'm from Biplten is secondary... but Your Grace, April's almost here."

April.

The harshest month in Biplten's endless winter, crudely divided into four seasons.

Byun was in winter now too.

But even their mild winters made Byun folk shiver—no way they'd come to near-April Biplten.

"......Leave."

Aden dismissed them, his mind a tangle.

In the quiet room once more, he sat gingerly by Ilrin's head.

His hand trembled as it brushed her hair, as if the slightest touch might wound her.

Her breathing was steady.

But she wouldn't wake.

Ilrin slept deeply.

What if she never wakes?

Biplten was always cold.

Aden had assumed he'd live coldly in the Winter Lands and die the same.

He'd never truly grasped the idea of summer.

He couldn't understand his mother's childhood wish to visit a warm place.

Byun was sunny, breezes cool on bare skin, light so bright you couldn't open your eyes.

Sounded bothersome.

Stripping down felt alien.

So he'd never craved summer.

Not like his father.

But that first whiff of summer's scent was unforgettable, intensely so.

He wondered if it was the sunlight's fragrance more than summer's.

Ilrin had silver hair that might seem icy.

Yet even in winter's heart, she looked warmer than anyone.

Biplten without you would be too cold.

For the first time, Aden feared the chill.

Ilrin had lost count of how many times she'd opened her eyes like this.

The dreams dragged on, endless.

They'd started as beautiful vistas of Biplten, but twisted into events at Viscount Arlen's estate.

Some from her past, others she'd never lived.

Every time Viscount Arlen appeared, she hunted for the crib mobile.

In all her dreams, she'd never once seen it.

Where could it be?

Opening her eyes revealed nothing.

Ilrin blinked.

Another dream she couldn't place.

As she tried to move, she felt something against her back.

She blinked again.

She was lying down.

On something soft.

"Ilrin?"

The voice from the darkness was clear.

Ilrin turned toward it, forgetting to even close her eyes.