What’s Wrong With My Marriage? I Was Bought as a Wife, Yet My Husband Is Madly in Love With Me! - Chapter 20

In the blink of an eye, the dwarves had arrived at the estate.

“Ooh, it’s the Madam!”

“It’s the Boss’s wife!”

“She’s a beauty, she is!”

“G-good day?”

A group of dwarves with long, white beards began talking all at once as they looked at Luce. Not knowing quite how to greet them, Luce pinched the hem of her dress and performed a curtsy. One of the dwarves beamed, delighted by her polite gesture.

“We’re the craftsmen employed by Boss Bart!”

“Don’t know much about the etiquette of this country, but our respects to you, Madam.”

“Looking forward to working with you.”

Placing their clenched fists over their chests, the dwarves bowed their heads. This was likely their traditional way of greeting.

(I’ve heard that manners differ by country, but seeing it in person is quite fascinating.)

“These are the craftsmen who created the stoves using magic stones,” Klaus explained. “They excel at detailed work and are indispensable to me. The success of the Bart family’s magic stone processing business is all thanks to them.”

“Oh, is that so?”

Beside an impressed Luce, the dwarves laughed boisterously, noting that it was rare for the Boss to praise them so openly.

“We’re gonna build a kitchen just for the Madam, right? Tell us everything you want, don’t hold back!”

“E-eh!?”

(So, we really are building one? …But then again, if I keep intruding on the main kitchen, I’ll only get in the chefs’ way.)

If that were the case, having her own dedicated space might be better. Though, she couldn’t even begin to imagine how much a magic-stone-integrated kitchen would cost.

(He’s a man who buys whole shops on a whim. If I refuse him here, he might not just add a kitchen. He might go and build an entirely new mansion.)

She almost laughed at how ridiculous the thought was. However, Klaus, standing right beside her, suddenly chimed in: “Actually, I wouldn’t mind building a new estate if you’d prefer,” causing Luce to shake her head vigorously in immediate refusal.

“Truth is, we’ve been wanting to meet you, Madam.”

“Wanted to hear what you had to say.”

“…About me?”

When she asked for clarification, one of the dwarves spoke up.

“The Madam cooks, right? Then we want you to tell us how the stoves feel to use.”

“See, these magic stone stoves are luxury goods, but they aren’t priced so high that a commoner couldn’t save up for ’em.”

“But they just ain’t selling.”

“Oh…”

One dwarf pulled out a box equipped with a grate, explaining that they even made small, portable versions. He mentioned it wasn’t that heavy, so Luce tried picking it up.

(It’s not light, exactly, but it’s a weight I can carry. The pots we use for the soup kitchen are actually heavier.)

“…This seems like it would be useful for the soup kitchen at the church. We usually have to carry the pots from the church kitchen to the distribution site, so the soup ends up getting cold by the end.”

“Exactly! We made ’em with that kind of thing in mind, but…”

“They don’t sell at all.”

“Perhaps a church wouldn’t be able to afford something so expensive. Volunteer soup kitchens are often funded entirely by donations.”

“On that note, I’ve priced them to be roughly equivalent to the cost of three years’ worth of firewood,” Klaus added.

(Th-three years? That is quite a high price to pay all at once.)

“But this magic stone lasts ten years!”

“T-ten years!?”

“Of course, if it breaks, we fix it. And yet…”

“Not a single one sold.”

They had been emphasizing the lack of sales for a while now.

(Is the problem that they aren’t making enough profit?)

“Why wouldn’t anyone use something this good!?”

(Ah, never mind. That’s not it.)

The dwarf began an impassioned speech about how “good things” deserved to spread throughout the world.

“I think being able to use it for ten years for the price of three years of wood is a steal!”

“That may be true, but three years’ worth of money isn’t something people can just produce easily.”

“Even if it’s high quality? Even if it’s convenient?”

Pressed by the dwarf, Luce racked her brain.

It was true that this small magic stone stove would be convenient for soup kitchens. However, volunteer work isn’t done every single day. When Luce helped out, it was once every week. It happened shortly before the Harvest Festival, right before the stockpiled food was about to go bad. Paying three years of firewood costs for something used only about two months out of the year was too much. She wondered if they really needed it to last a full ten years.

“Can the magic stone be replaced?”

“Sure can! Ten years is usually when you swap ’em out.”

“Could you make it so it lasts for, say, only ten uses?”

“Ten uses?”

“Yes. For church volunteers, they don’t use it every day. They only need to buy more fuel when a soup kitchen event is actually happening. Those fuel costs are easier to cover using the donation money.”

Paying for three years of wood in a lump sum was difficult. However, a “pay-as-you-go” fuel cost would be easy to incorporate into the budget for a single soup kitchen event. Having helped with the bookkeeping before, Luce knew how the church operated.

The dwarves began huddling together, whispering “Hmm…” and “Hrrrm…” in low voices. Luce tilted her head, unable to understand a word, until Klaus leaned in to explain that they were speaking Dwarvish.

“Dwarves use slightly different dialects depending on where they live.”

“How interesting.”

She never had the chance to learn foreign languages, so she found it intriguing.

“Are you interested in their language?”

“Well… my favorite poetry collection is a translation of famous poets from around the world. Whenever I find a poet I like and want to read more of their work, I find that most of it hasn’t been translated yet.”

“I see.”

Klaus listened to her words with genuine interest.

“In that case, would you like to study it?”

“Study?”

“Yes, Dwarvish. The Bart family also manages hotels, so having someone who is strong with multiple languages would be a huge help.”

(…I could be a help to Klaus? Truly?)

The words That’s a lie almost tumbled out of her mouth. Luce had always been the one cleaning up after someone else’s mess. Was Klaus just saying sweet things to use her, too? Even if he wasn’t, she felt she had to tell herself that—otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to bear it when the day came that he finally told her he didn’t need her anymore.

As Luce looked down and gripped the hem of her dress tightly, one of the dwarves called out to her.

“Alright, Madam! We’ll go and make a prototype based on that idea!”

“Eh?”

As Luce blinked in surprise, the dwarf repeated himself.

“If we’re gonna make the magic stone cheaper, then the grate and the body are a bit too high-end as they are. I thought durability was everything, but I’ll try changing it up.”

“We’ll bring the prototype back, and you can check it out, Madam.”

“M-me?”

“We listened to your opinion, didn’t we? We won’t know if it works until you try it yourself!”

(Is that how it works?)

Beside a bewildered Luce, Klaus gave her a reassuring smile.

“This is how things are made, through trial and error based on various opinions.”

“I… I see.”

She didn’t quite understand it all, but Luce felt a small spark of happiness. For the first time, people hadn’t rejected her words; they had truly accepted them. It made her heart feel warm.

“While we’re at it, give us your thoughts on the kitchen stove, too!”

“We want to spread ’em to commoners’ homes, not just noble estates.”

“We’re counting on you, Madam!”

(Is my opinion really okay…? Someone like me…)

Klaus placed a hand gently on her shoulder, as if telling her she would be fine. Gaining courage from his touch, Luce nodded and turned back to the dwarves.

“Um… well, first, the heat adjustment is too fiddly and hard to use. I think it should be simplified. Also, the maximum heat is way too strong—it’s a bit scary. It feels like the flames might spread if the pot is too small. And maybe two or three burners is enough? When cooking on a wood stove, you usually only use one pot at a time. And another thing…”

“Wow, she’s got a lot to say, doesn’t she?” one of the dwarves muttered in spite of himself.