Chapter 31

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 31

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

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The border between Biplten and the Sunlands was as clear-cut as a painting.

If the Sunlands were summer, brilliant sunlight poured down right up to their edge. But the moment they entered the Winter Lands—the domain of Duke Biplten—the sunshine vanished as if it had been washed away.

Yet the scene unfolding before her eyes in the dream stretched on endlessly as Sunlands.

"The distance is too..."

Ijis trailed off mid-sentence.

He was focused on batting away arrows and barely managed to continue.

"Even if you reach Biplten, Your Grace's authority won't extend to the Sunlands."

"Attacking into Biplten from the Sunlands would be impossible."

Etra chimed in next.

Ilrin's eyes widened at the dagger clutched in Etra's hand.

She could wield a blade too, it seemed.

"We—"

Ijis cried out abruptly.

"Your Grace!"

The horse bucked wildly.

Aden's body pitched forward in an instant.

Ilrin, watching in horror, went wide-eyed.

His back—clad in thinner garb for the Sunlands excursion—now bloomed with red blood, spreading slowly.

The arrow buried deep in his back shuddered, impossibly.

A fatal wound.

Ilrin's eyes snapped open.

Cold sweat chilled her neck the instant it met the air, cooling her entire body.

"Ilrin?"

It was Aden's voice.

Only then did Ilrin realize she was clutching his hand in a death grip.

She let go in surprise.

But Aden gripped hers all the tighter.

No matter the carriage's jolts, he couldn't miss her trembling.

"Ah..."

Ilrin tested her voice softly.

No strange echo here—this was reality.

Only now did the chill air prick her skin.

Her gaze drifted to the window.

Aden's authority had thinned the snowfall to a mere flurry, far lighter than usual.

From the Sunlands, though, it would still pass for a raging blizzard.

They were still in the Winter Lands.

Aden took an arrow in the Sunlands.

On the way back here.

So not yet.

But...

"Ilrin."

Aden's steady voice drew her back.

Ijis and Etra, sharing the carriage, dutifully averted their eyes—as subordinates ought.

As if they weren't even there.

"What has you so shaken?"

Aden stroked her hand gently.

He distinctly remembered her seizing it just before waking.

"You had a Precognitive Dream."

He murmured to her again, low and close.

Ilrin startled.

She glanced involuntarily at Ijis and Etra.

Their stares remained fixed out the window, unwavering.

Had they heard Den? Or did they already know about her Precognitive Dreams?

Her chest tightened, squeezed like a vise.

Ilrin exhaled sharply.

Then Crimson Delroz crossed her mind—the others.

Ijis and Etra included, plus knights Milia and Nis, her silent escorts.

They guarded her back wordlessly, but oh so reliably.

No soul in Delroz wished her harm.

She pictured the Delroz maids packing her things.

Hadn't they scurried about, stuffing in emergency supplies for their undemanding lady?

Azure Noz or the other houses, who knew—but Delroz? Perfect allies.

No cause for tension.

Only then did the knot in her chest loosen.

"What did you see?"

Aden asked softly once more.

His voice, ever calm and resolute, inspired utter trust.

His whispers tickled her ear, sweet as honey, coaxing secrets free.

This man would understand.

With him, she could speak.

'Your Grace!'

Ijis's scream echoed vividly from the dream.

Ilrin squeezed his hand.

She could tell him.

But what if he got hurt?

He would get hurt—it was foreseen.

Speaking it wouldn't alter fate.

'Keep your mouth shut and live. No ill omens from your lips—stay silent.'

Her father, Viscount Arlen, always said as much.

Ill omens...

Ilrin sealed her lips tight.

"I'm all right."

Aden soothed her then.

As if peering into her fears, he patted her shoulder, drawing her close.

"Whatever you saw, whatever befalls us—you won't lose me."

Utter conviction.

Ilrin gripped back fiercely.

Yes, with this man, all would be well.

"I saw you get hurt."

Ijis and Etra twitched at that.

They'd been listening, after all.

Ilrin noted it, unperturbed.

These two were Crimson Delroz.

"Me...? Then it was in the Sunlands."

Aden wouldn't fall easily in the Winter Lands.

Even the avalanche from her last vision—monster-triggered, near-natural disaster—spared him injury in foresight.

Winter Lands kept him safe.

Not this time.

"Yes... We were heading back to the Winter Lands."

Ilrin began haltingly.

"Just the four of us, riding hard like this."

She folded Etra and Ijis into it naturally.

They dipped heads briefly, eyes asking if they'd fare well.

Ilrin offered a soft smile.

It faded quick—dream's weight crushed her breath anew.

"Black-masked foes pursued, bows at ready. Carriage wrecked... no other allies in sight."

"The other two knights too?"

Delroz's knights should ride alongside her.

As those two did now, outside.

But the dream showed them not.

Ilrin bowed her head, glum.

"Yes."

"I see... So I took an arrow."

"Yes. You urged racing to Winter Lands. Ijis said it was still far."

Aden pondered.

"Wrecked carriage. Just four of us. Recall how many masked attackers?"

Ilrin faltered.

She'd seen the chase—no count crossed her mind.

She shook her head.

"Roughly our number..."

"That's plenty."

He drew her shoulders in.

Propping her upright now that sleep had fled.

"No need for such worry."

Aden straightened the Azure Noz veil atop her head.

"No death foreseen. Winter Lands heals wounds swift enough."

"Ah."

But the knights? Her eyes flicked to the window unbidden.

"We'll bench those two knights for the return."

"Pardon?"

Ilrin blinked.

Aden smiled.

"If they weren't with us in the dream, keep them out from the start."

Ilrin's mouth fell open, a sliver.

Never occurred to her.

She'd assumed absence meant mishap.

"Can't dodge a scratch, but we'll unmask them at least."

Aden's lips curved slyly.

"Fool Ijis—no, fool the dream."

Ijis blinked huge, singled out from silence.

"Pardon?"

"Ijis."

Aden beckoned.

"Outside."

The carriage halted midstride.

Ijis, curiosity piqued, obeyed without demur.

No reentry till Sunlands.

Gone, Aden curtained the window.

His authority-wielding hand blazed blue, fierce.

Stronger than usual—the glow proved it.

No outward change.

"What... was that?"

"Ijis knows Winter Lands cold. Sunlands terrain? Blank slate—forces map-guessing."

Aden pointed ahead.

Sunlands rushed to meet the carriage.

"Ambush hit en route to Winter Lands. Know the goal, you know me."

Foes aware of Winter Duke wouldn't chase inward.

Aden pointed forward again.

"I'll shave winter's fringe. Mimic Sunlands."

Sunlands-winter line: knife-sharp.

"Ah."

Ilrin's eyes flew wide.

Dream-Etra's words.

"Attacking into Biplten from the Sunlands would be impossible."

Ijis, pursuers—they'd peg warmth as Sunlands limit.

No venturing into flurries.

But his climate command turning winter's edge Sunlands-warm?

They'd plunge boundary-blind into winter.

Aden's faint smile said she grasped it.

"Winter awaits them."

A chill smile.

The carriage reached Sunlands unscathed.

Esid Merchant Group had dispatched folk northward ahead to greet Biplten's party.

"Huh? Clothes look fine on all."

Winter Lands natives, naturally.

They'd prepped Sunlands garb for folk blind to local winter bite.

Yet arrivals dressed fit to stroll straight in.

"What's the deal?"

Murmurs hushed as they spotted Ilrin—knees slapped.

"We greet Madam."

Courteous bows, then clothes stowed deep in baggage wagons.

Madam hailed from Sunlands.

Her aid ensured no weather-mismatched attire.

Sunlands Madam spared them work—they beamed, guiding winter folk.

Deeper bows for Ilrin, naturally.

Sunset tinged Esid's arrival.

Winter folk blinked at unaccustomed sun, flustered.

Even stoic Aden eyed it wonderingly.

His gaze lingered on his sunlight-stretched shadow.

Ilrin's soft laugh bubbled at the sight.

Sunlands aid seemed her lot aplenty.

"Winter here's off."

"This winter? Too... hot!"

Maids' whispers delighted her ears.

Return meant heavy heart—yet lighter than feared.

Ilrin drew a quick breath.

"You've arrived."

Waiting Milo of Esid offered crisp salute.

No winter-depth formality.