I Don’t Need a Guillotine for My Revolution Chapter 193: Shadow Peace - Goal

Episode 193. Shadow Peace - The Goal

The gentle sound of waves reached my ears.

And a warm, slightly salty breeze tickled my cheek.

I slowly opened my eyes and rose from my spot.

I smiled quietly, so delighted by the familiar sight of the profusion of black hair spread out before when I opened my eyes.

I covered Christine, who was sleeping with her bare shoulders exposed, with a blanket in case she caught a cold, and went outside first.

Stepping outside, the vast horizon stretched before in a single view.

This was a villa we had prepared in the Aquitaine region of southwestern Francia.

It was the place we chose for our trip, and I never tired of this coastal scenery, even though I saw it every morning.

Spring had almost ended, and sumr was just around the corner, but I was also very fond of the weather, which still felt more warm than hot.

After waking up, I stretched my stiff body, went back inside, and was preparing a simple breakfast when, just as I was about to finish, I heard the pitter-patter of footsteps coming down the stairs.

I glanced over, and Christine was descending the stairs with a blank expression until her eyes t mine.

A short mont as life slowly returned to her black eyes, which had been slightly out of focus, and a smile slowly ford on her lips.

As I was feeling a surge of happiness at the fact that such a short yet slow mont could feel so overwhelming, Christine slowly opened her mouth.

"Good morning, Pierre."

"Good morning, Christine."

Finally back to her usual pace, Christine approached with elegant steps and sat at the dining table.

…The fact that she acts that way not in a dress but in a chemise with only slippers on her bare feet is odd in its own way, but it seems to be a natural, subconscious behavior for her.

As I was cutting bread, filling it with washed vegetables, and spreading sauce, Christine, who had been watching silently, spoke with so embarrassnt.

"In the end, you're the one preparing more than ."

I brought the finished dish to her and replied.

"Haha, there is such a thing as habit, you know."

I had to prepare my own als often while rolling through battlefields, and for the sa reason, I often woke up early.

Technically, my skills are no better than that of a common field cook, and after my regression, I wasn't often in a situation that desperate, but in any case, it couldn't be compared to Christine, who habitually skipped als.

"Besides, I'm happy just knowing that you put in such effort to prepare sothing for ."

Christine flinched for a mont but soon bit into the bread without another word and began to chew.

Finding that cute as well, I stared at her until she blushed slightly and averted her gaze.

"Don't stare so intently, Pierre."

"Hahaha…."

We had decided to stay at the villa without any servants, intending to spend ti just the two of us during the trip, but shockingly, Christine had said she would prepare a al for .

When it ca to eating, Christine was so lazy that she would even skip als prepared by servants because it was a bother.

It was so bad that the butler even complained to about it, so for , who knew this well, to see her prepare a formal dinner was almost a mont of shock and horror...

What was more surprising was that the al Christine prepared was quite decent. No, to be honest, it was much more delicious than mine. To the point where I was embarrassed by the suspicious glances I had given her.

I wondered what on earth had happened, and it turns out she had been learning from the servants in her spare ti while preparing for the wedding.

No matter that I hadn't learned to cook professionally, to think that a al she learned for about two months in her spare ti was more delicious than what I had learned over twenty years of rolling through battlefields.

I never thought the unreasonable talent of a genius would extend even to cooking.

Still, for Christine of all people, who found even eating a al a bother, to learn cooking just because she wanted to make sothing for was moving enough that for the first two days, I only ate the als she made.

The problem was that I had overlooked my beloved wife's carelessness in a strange area.

When I kept telling her how delicious it was, Christine was overjoyed and, saying she would prepare a formal dinner for breakfast too, she would wake up at dawn and spend a good two or three hours preparing the al.

I was grateful, but thinking this wasn't right, I told her it was okay to have sothing simple for breakfast, and Christine's reply was a masterpiece.

-…I haven't learned how to make things like that yet.

Should I be amazed at the genius brain that can rember and replicate a difficult dish she learned but doesn't know simple ones, or should I be dumbfounded by her treating cooking as information rather than a sense?

Half-exasperated, I said I would prepare breakfast then, and Christine looked at with a shocked face and asked.

-…By any chance, was the al I prepared not tasty?

When she, who rarely showed her emotions, asked with a face full of apology and disappointnt, I, for my part, had a hard ti suppressing my joy.

Christine had said she learned it so easily that I just thought it was because she was a genius, but seeing her like this, it was so clear how much she had struggled and worked, and how proud she had been when I told her it was delicious.

Who could call this person the heartless Black Witch of Aquitaine, or use such a crude na?

She's so cute and lovely I can't stand it.

As I was chuckling, recalling her relieved face after I cleared up her misunderstanding, Christine shot a slight glare.

"What are you thinking about that's making you smile like that?"

"That you're cute, Christine."

Christine opened and closed her mouth, seeming about to say sothing, but then gave up and started focusing on eating her bread again.

Finding that cute in its own way, I couldn't help but laugh.

Christine once said she quite enjoyed seeing flustered, and it seems I'm becoming a bit like that too, which is a problem.

After finishing our al.

Christine, who was sitting across from and drinking coffee, slowly opened her mouth.

"It's already the sixth day."

Her voice was thick with regret, so I smiled faintly and replied.

"I know. Ti flies so fast."

Then I pulled Christine's hand and placed a light kiss on it.

Deliberately slow, filled with a lingering sense of regret.

Index finger, middle finger, ring finger, and even the little finger.

Kissing each finger one by one, taking my sweet, precious ti, I looked up to see Christine smiling faintly as she spoke.

"Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to just live like this forever."

"Hahaha."

It certainly seems like that would be quite happy.

But both of us know we wouldn't do that.

A week.

The ti we spent alone together during our short trip was dream-like and happy, but our roles are a bit too big to keep spending ti like this.

We have to go back to Lumiere.

Back to the people who are waiting for us, on the path we chose to walk together instead of the one where only the two of us survive by abandoning others.

I looked at Christine for a mont and asked.

"Have you had enough ti to think?"

Christine smiled faintly, then said with a slightly mischievous face.

"I don't think it was enough. Since soone wouldn't let go."

"Oh dear, my apologies for that."

...No, but now that I think about it, she struggled at first, but later, she was just as—As I was having an improper thought, Christine began to speak.

"Before I ca of age, I asked Louis sothing."

"Hm? What was it?"

"If he were to run the Aquitaine rchant Guild, how he would want to do it."

"Haha, how mischievous of you."

I don't know for sure, but Louis must have had to think quite hard about that question.

Christine smiled faintly and replied.

"He said that since he's earning and spending money, he'd like to spend it on sothing good."

"Haha, that's just like Louis."

When I gave a simple reply, Christine smiled faintly and asked.

"Pierre. You thought from the beginning that there was no way Louis would receive Aquitaine, didn't you?"

"I wasn't certain, but I thought the possibility was high. Ah, but I was being sincere when I said you, Christine, would be enough even without Aquitaine. Please believe that."

Christine answered by quietly leaning her back against my chest.

A pleasant silence fell as I felt her body heat.

"Back then, I thought it was a child's naive idea…."

Christine spoke again.

"But having that as a goal might not be so bad. Since the rchant guild was built by earning like a demon, spending it like an angel."

"Earning like a demon to spend like an angel, haha. Are you planning to expand your charity work?"

As I hugged Christine from behind and asked, Christine took my hand and, mimicking what I had done earlier, slowly kissed each finger before replying.

"I have other thoughts besides that. …I've earned enough infamy until now."

I smiled faintly.

The Black Witch of Aquitaine.

It was by no ans a good title, but it was also a moniker filled with that much awe and fear.

It was also an image that Christine had intentionally constructed, in part.

Partly because such an image was quite helpful for her activities carried out from behind the scenes...

And since she was going to pass Aquitaine to Louis anyway, her intention must have been to use her infamy as much as possible rather than go through the trouble of managing her image, and then step down, taking that infamy with her.

"Interesting. Of course, I respect you, but I didn't expect such a change of heart."

Apart from my love for her, I pride myself on understanding the person that is Christine quite well.

Christine isn't as wicked as the world thinks, but she is sufficiently selfish when necessary.

But for that Christine to set a goal that Eris would dream of, at a place we ca to for our honeymoon and for her to contemplate her lost life's purpose, was sothing I hadn't expected.

As if she knew what I was thinking, Christine let out a low laugh, snuggled deeper into my embrace, then lifted her head to et my eyes.

After a mont of silence, Christine smiled, reached out her hand, and caressed my cheek as she spoke in a whisper.

"Because I'm not alone anymore. My beloved husband, the respected Commander-in-Chief of the Revolutionary Army."

Was she worried that I would be tainted by her infamy? How thoughtful.

I took her hand, lightly kissed its back, and replied.

"Your heart makes very happy, but I would like it more if your life's goal was for you, my lady."

"It is for , too. Because…."

Christine trailed off, then, as if a thought occurred to her, she ducked her head low.

"Hm? Christine?"

Why are her ears turning red?

As I was thinking that, Christine spoke in a small voice.

"If we have a child, I want them to hear good stories, to grow up proud of ."

A daughter who lost her mother early and grew up unloved.

Spoken by her, who was betrayed by Louis's mother, who had treated her like family but doted on her own son, and whom she had to turn into an enemy.

I was at a loss for words, so I just held her tight instead.

Christine leaned against and then said softly.

"You don't have to comfort , Pierre. Instead, just love ."

I answered the plea of a person who, despite acting colder than anyone, was actually starved for affection.

"…As much as you want."

The share she never received from her parents, I will gladly fill it all.

As I was thinking that, Christine spun around, wrapped her arms around my neck, and whispered.

"Well then, since we've set a goal, we must execute it, right?"

Execute? What?

Ah.

…A child?

"That, I'm not sure, but maybe-"

Haven't we already made one?

Aside from a bit of sightseeing and eating, we've been cooped up in this villa for almost the entire trip—Then Christine gave a deep laugh and replied.

"A great commander must minimize even the slightest variable. Am I not right, Commander?"

Well, that's…

"…You are absolutely right, Admiral."

It seems the night operation will continue without fail, even on our last day.