What’s Wrong With My Marriage? I Was Bought as a Wife, Yet My Husband Is Madly in Love With Me! - Chapter 13

After returning from the park, the bouquet of Lisianthus that Klaus had given Luce was displayed in her private room.

Luce picked up a single, beautifully blooming stalk and thought about turning it into a bookmark.

She wanted to keep precious things by her side forever.

She especially wanted to treasure gifts given specifically to her.

Just like the flower bookmark pressed inside her favorite book of poetry.

That one was made from the very first flower she had ever received. It wasn’t someone else’s leftovers; it was given to Luce, for Luce, and belonged only to her.

(That flower in the bookmark was a Lisianthus, too.)

Opening the poetry book and gazing at the bookmark, Luce allowed her mind to wander back to the past.

—The time she received that flower was back when she was accompanying her older sister’s volunteer work, helping out at the church’s soup kitchen.

Forced by her sister to do the behind-the-scenes work, Luce had been kept busy chopping ingredients and preparing the soup.

Once finished, her sister would carry the pot out and distribute the soup to the people waiting in line with a bright smile. Though Luce had her own thoughts on the matter, she could never go against her sister, Cassandra. Besides, when Cassandra told her, “It’s better if you make it because your cooking tastes better,” Luce found herself unable to say a word.

“I’ll take it from here, you go help over there,” Cassandra had said, essentially turning Luce out of the church. Consequently, Luce ended up heading to the relief shelter with a nun.

The people lining up at the church’s soup kitchen were among the “better off” of the poor.

The people sitting dejectedly inside the relief shelter, however, had no life in them. The smell was terrible, and Luce understood perfectly well why her sister didn’t want to go there. The nun recited a prayer and then said with a smile, “I’m sure they’ll feel a bit more spirited once they have something warm to eat.”

Encouraged by that smile, Luce walked around handing out bowls of soup.

There were no particular reactions. Some people didn’t even reach out to take the bowl. The nun told her that was just how things were.

“When people fall into despair, they lose the will to do anything.”

“What should we do then?”

“Nothing! Sometimes, only time can heal them.”

Every time Cassandra went to the church for her volunteer work, Luce was sent to the relief shelter under the pretext that they had enough hands at the church. Thus, she continued helping the nun distribute soup.

After several visits, a person who had been sitting with their knees pulled to their chest thanked her. Their face was hidden by overgrown, shaggy hair. The hand visible from the sleeve of a grimy shirt was gaunt and skeletal.

“…I… I’m sorry…”

Perhaps because Luce hadn’t said anything, the person muttered an apology and looked down again. Luce had simply been surprised because she never expected to be thanked; she didn’t find the fact that they had spoken to her unpleasant at all.

“Please don’t worry about it. Today is pea soup. There’s a little bit of bacon in it too, so the flavor is savory and delicious.”

Cassandra, out of vanity, had ordered bacon from the butcher to be delivered. The young master of the butcher shop was a handsome man of such reputation that he had become Cassandra’s recent favorite.

Until recently, she had been pursuing noblemen at evening parties, but lately, she had switched her interests to men running shops in town. According to Cassandra, they provided a different kind of thrill compared to noblemen. Luce couldn’t understand it at all.

However, thanks to Cassandra’s vanity, the people here were able to eat soup with bacon in it. Luce gave a small shrug, unable to form a definitive opinion on the matter.

“…This is the kind of soup my mother used to make sometimes.”

“I see. I might not be a match for your mother’s cooking, but I’d be happy if you could eat even a little bit.”

The nun called out to Luce. She might have stayed talking a bit too long. Offering her farewells, Luce departed.

Perhaps that was the catalyst.

Whenever Luce went to the relief shelter, that person would be sitting near the entrance, and they began to thank her whenever she handed over the soup.

Luce found joy in that, and helping at the relief shelter was no longer a burden.

However, that happiness soon came to an end.

One day, after finishing her help with the soup and returning to the church, she found Cassandra alone, which was rare. Usually, her sister would have already left with the men she had met at the church.

(Knowing my fickle sister, she’s probably about to say she’s done with volunteering.)

Just as she suspected, Cassandra clearly declared that the next time would be her last.

“You can keep going by yourself if you want, Luce.”

Surprised by the unexpected suggestion, Luce’s heart wavered, thinking she might do just that.

But Cassandra continued, “I don’t know if Mother will allow it, though.”

“Mother was worried about me. You know how dangerous the public safety is around here. I’m sure she’ll worry about you too and stop you from going alone.”

(I wonder if Mother would ever worry about someone like me?)

If Mother worried about Cassandra but didn’t even bother to stop her…

The thought made Luce afraid, and she gave up on the idea of volunteering alone.

“…I’m not particularly interested anyway.”

“Humph. You really have no compassion for people, do you? Such a cold girl.”

Luce kept her mouth shut, offering no rebuttal to Cassandra’s words. It was because, as Cassandra said, Luce had never wanted to volunteer of her own accord.

(I’m only accompanying my sister.)

Luce desperately told herself this, trying to convince herself it was true. Just as her sister said, she possessed no compassion.

Surely, that was it.

And yet.

On the final day, when Luce went to help at the relief shelter, she received a single flower.

A Lisianthus flower, from that person who always thanked her for the soup.

“…I helped with some hauling work and received this instead of wages. I wanted to express my gratitude to you.”

It was the first time in her life anything like that had ever happened to her.

“Truly, thank you.”

Those were the words she had wanted so badly, yet when they were actually offered, she didn’t know how to react.

Seeing Luce’s bewilderment, the person who had held out the flower awkwardly started to pull it back.

“Ah, s-sorry… how forward of me… well…”

“No! No, it is I who should thank you. I was just so happy that I was surprised. May I have the flower?”

“O-of course! I didn’t know which flower was best so I picked the most beautiful one.”

“I see. What a coincidence. This is actually my favorite flower.”

To tell the truth, Luce didn’t have a favorite flower.

But in that moment, Lisianthus became her favorite.

Luce wanted to gaze at that single flower forever.

She kept the flower a secret from everyone.

If her sister Cassandra or her younger sister Mirella found out, they would surely mock her for being happy about receiving a flower from a commoner. She felt that their laughter would make her happy feelings vanish.

So, she quietly turned it into a bookmark in her favorite book of poetry. Along with her precious memory.

—And after that, she never went back to the relief shelter.

Luce was reminiscing about what had become of the person who gave her that flower while looking at her current bouquet, when Klaus entered the room.

“Luce, if you’d like, would you care to take a stroll in the garden with me?”

“Yes, I’d be delighted.”

Come to think of it, the person who gave her the flower seemed like a young man. Though he was gaunt and thin, he was taller than Luce, and…

And then, from between his long, overgrown bangs, blue eyes had peeked through. And near his eye, there was a mole.

(…A mole?)

Luce’s gaze became fixed on the mole near Klaus’s eye.

The mole near Klaus’s eye.

(Could such a coincidence really…)

She felt it would be difficult to ask if he was that man from the relief shelter.

To a nobleman and a very wealthy one at that.

There was no way she could say he resembled a poor man she had seen at a shelter.

However, because she was staring so intently at him, Klaus leaned in to look at her face, appearing puzzled. After thinking it over, Luce decided to ask about the mole indirectly.

“…Klaus. If you pay for it, can you add or remove moles?”

“If it’s a beauty mark, I believe they sell them at shops that handle cosmetics. …Do you want one?”

He invited her to go buy the whole shop, but Luce shook her head and declined.