What’s Wrong With My Marriage? I Was Bought as a Wife, Yet My Husband Is Madly in Love With Me! - Chapter 19

“Madam, the Master will be resting in his private room today. Would you be so kind as to keep him company?”

“Yes, of course.”

Even by the next morning, Klaus remained in bed. When Luce went to check on him, Deck made the suggestion.

Luce was the Mistress of the Count Barth household, but so far, she had no real duties to speak of. Nora had told her she could learn things bit by bit, and besides, the Barth family wasn’t particularly active in social circles. Not a single evening party or tea party was on the schedule. Compared to the workload of a typical noble lady, she had an overwhelming amount of free time.

She wondered if this was proper for a noble wife, but since Luce had never really been part of high society, she didn’t mind. After all, her bad reputation had already spread through those circles. Furthermore, attending parties or garden galas carried a high risk of being harassed by Lord Riekel. Klaus had chased him away yesterday, but she couldn’t rely on him forever. Since trouble was inevitable, Luce had no desire to socialize unless it was mandatory.

“Madam, so this is where you were.”

Nora arrived at the room where Klaus was resting. It seemed she had come looking for Luce because breakfast was ready.

“Luce, please spend your time however you like. I’ll just be resting here,” Klaus said.

“The doctor said he’ll recover as long as he takes his medicine and sleeps,” Nora added.

“I understand.”

Not wanting to overstay her welcome in a sickroom, Luce left as prompted. When she asked Nora about Klaus’s diet, the maid shared something she had previously been sworn to secrecy about.

“I am truly sorry. The Master told us to wait because he wanted to tell you himself…”

“I see… tell me, Nora, what exactly does Klaus usually eat?”

Nora answered Luce’s question without hesitation. “He eats hard bread and soup. Regarding the soup, he is quite fond of legumes.”

“…He wouldn’t happen to be particularly fond of pea soup, would he?”

Luce asked the question wondering if such a coincidence were even possible. Nora looked surprised.

“My, Madam, you already knew? Yes, that’s right. Pea soup is the Master’s absolute favorite.”

The image of that person at the relief shelter flashed through Luce’s mind. The overlap with Klaus was becoming impossible to ignore.

(I wonder if Nora would tell me if I asked? But just like his diet, Klaus might have forbidden her from speaking of it.)

Should she wait for Klaus to tell her? But Klaus had said he wanted her to remember him. In that case, maybe it was better for Luce to bring it up.

(But it would be so embarrassing if I’m wrong.)

Luce squeezed her eyes shut, remembering how she had just mistakenly assumed Klaus was terminally ill. That was an embarrassment she didn’t want to experience twice. After thinking it over, an idea struck her.

“Um, Nora. Would it be alright if I did some cooking?”

“The Master told us to assist the Madam in anything she wishes to do. Please let us know what tools or ingredients you require.”

The permission was granted so easily that Luce was taken aback. Her mother back at the Orlov house would have curled her lip in disgust at the thought of a noble daughter standing in a kitchen. But this place was different.

(It makes me feel as if my existence is actually accepted here.)

Could that be true? Was she just imagining it? Was it okay to believe in this? Since she had never experienced this before, Luce simply didn’t know.

(I wish it were all real.)

In the kitchen, Luce prepared a pea soup simmered with thinly sliced bacon. It was the exact same soup she used to serve at the relief shelter. The soup that the person from her memories said his mother used to make often.

“Ah… this brings back memories. My mother used to make this for me all the time.”

When she brought it to Klaus, his eyes narrowed with nostalgia as he spoke. When she told him she had made it herself, he ate it with a look of pure joy.

This man really might be the same person from the shelter.

Yet, Klaus’s current demeanor was that of a perfect noble gentleman. He didn’t seem to be lying. Then why was he at a relief shelter back then? Would he tell her if she asked?

(But I don’t have the courage to ask yet.)

She was afraid that if she was wrong and offended him, she would lose everything. The more she got to know Klaus, the more she found herself not wanting to be hated by him. Luce couldn’t bring herself to take that one small step toward him.

(The you who gave me the flower. The you who spoke those words of thanks. I hope you are the same person.)

For now, she was content just thinking that. Luce wanted this time—this happy, dream-like time—to last just a little longer.

“It was delicious, Luce. With your skills, you could open a shop.”

Seeing Klaus’s serious expression, Luce chided him for over-praising her. Klaus, however, pushed back, asking what was wrong with praising something that was genuinely good.

“I-if you praise me that much, I’ll let it go to my head.”

“Is it bad to let it go to your head?”

“Well, yes. It would be embarrassing to get all carried away.”

(Surely, he’ll eventually get fed up and say ‘don’t get full of yourself over such a simple thing.’)

“…Is being carried away really embarrassing? I’ve been carried away ever since the day I married you, Luce…”

“R-really?”

“The employees at my company have certainly appreciated it. They say the owner has become about a hundred times more mellow.”

(Is that really a good thing? I’m pretty sure this man was in a shouting match with Dwarven craftsmen recently. If that’s him being ‘mellow’…)

Luce decided not to ask any further.

Klaus’s health seemed to be recovering; the bowl of soup was now empty. Luce was happy that he had eaten the whole thing. Wanting to feed him more, she asked what else he could eat. He explained that regarding meat and fish, he was currently in the middle of “training” his stomach to handle them bit by bit.

“My grandfather never looked kindly on my dietary habits…”

“Everyone has foods they aren’t good with.”

“Thank you, Luce. …My grandfather complained so much that back in the day, I got so irritated I considered buying up all the food supplies in the region just to paralyze the distribution chain and spite him.”

He gave a wry laugh, adding that he had decided against it because it would have affected people other than his grandfather. Luce thought his ideas were clearly unhinged, but she figured it was fine as long as he didn’t actually do them.

“Would it be alright if I made you soup again sometimes?”

“…! Of course, Luce. Thank you.”

She didn’t dislike cooking. Cooking for someone who actually expressed their gratitude filled Luce with a sense of happiness.

(…I feel like I’m falling deeper and deeper into this.)

But since Luce didn’t know how to pull herself out, she considered simply letting herself fall.

“It really was wonderful. To be honest, I’d love another bowl.”

“I think it’s better to stop for now.”

“Of course, I know that, but…”

(H-he looks so incredibly dejected. No, I can’t. When he makes that face, like a stray puppy.)

Luce was completely defenseless against Klaus’s pouting.

“When you’re feeling better, I’ll let you eat as much as you want.”

“Thank you, Luce!”

He flashed a radiant smile, and Luce found herself smiling back.

“Still, the kitchen in the Count Barth house is amazing. I can’t believe you have a stove that uses magic stones.”

“Oh, that? When I left the kitchen to the Dwarven craftsmen, that’s what they came up with. The chefs I hire love it.”

The Orlov family, being penniless, naturally used a wood-burning stove. The Barth house had a high-end magic stone stove. The stones were embedded in the unit, and the flame ignited simply by turning a knob. You could even adjust the heat, it was incredibly convenient. Wood stoves made heat adjustment very difficult, and Luce had always been scolded for “wasting firewood.”

(They complained if the soup wasn’t hot, yet they never cared that I was eating mine cold.)

Luce started to sink into a depression at the memory of how she had been treated, but she was quickly snapped out of it. Klaus had started saying something ridiculous again.

“If you like the magic stone stove so much, let’s build an extension for a kitchen just for you, Luce. Deck, call the craftsmen!”

“Wait, Klaus! Calm down! Please, just wait a moment!”