Ignoring Aurelia's barely-contained fury, I hurriedly made my exit, brushing aside Acier's frantic pleas. It was difficult to reconcile the strong woman I had always admired in the story -the indomitable force of nature-with the fragile figure laying before , her eyes darting nervously as if trying to gauge the repercussions of every word. The fear that I might erupt like a volcano at any mont only served to deepen my discomfort. Acier Silva was celebrated as one of the mightiest individuals in her world, her radiant smile and unshakeable confidence broadcasting an unyielding resolve-even as she prepared to embrace death when it eventually ca. But now she seed so broken, so far removed from the powerhouse she
once was.
As I walked out of her villa and made my way back to the office, an unsettling churn twisted in my stomach at the mory of her dull, haunted gaze, which flickered with the faintest hint of hope as she regarded . In the original work, my existence as Sebastian Silva was rely an afterthought—nothing more than a footnote noting Acier's eventual marriage and the four children she would bear. Perhaps the author chose to exclude him entirely, aiming to preserve Acier's independence and strength. After all, an illustrious figure like her shouldn't have been made to look like a re appendage of a man, a hapless wretch clinging to her success.
Yet, the reality was starkly different. Acier's husband was undeniably real, and the tornt he had wrought upon her during their sixteen years of marriage lood large. To crudely compare, I imagined my existence paralleling that of Jacques Schnee from RWBY-an opportunist who had married into the esteed House Silva (the equivalent of the Schnee Dust Company) purely for personal gain. Although the comparison painted a simplistic picture; Sebastian's character was layered, encompassing a genuine, albeit twisted, love for Acier-love that was now tainted by the years of emotional abuse he had inflicted.
In this grim narrative, Acier exemplified a far more resilient and nurturing mother than Willow of RWBY, refusing to allow the bleakness of her marriage to eclipse her devotion to her children. If anything, her tribulations seed to deepen her love for them, compelling her to pour even more attention and affection into their lives.
Tragically, her life was cut short at the tender age of thirty-three-a devastating reality in a world where mana enhanced not just abilities but also resilience and vitality. Had she been plucked from this tale and placed into the modern realm, she might have been mistaken for a vibrant twenty-five-year-old. Within the confines of this cruel story, had she continued to endure, there was an unnerving possibility that she would have eventually succumbed to the pressure and trauma. Yet, unlike Willow, who retreated into the shadows, Acier would likely not lose herself entirely; instead, she would have projected her hidden scars-visible only in the presence of her torntor-and beco increasingly vulnerable to the world around her. Damn it all—how pathetic I was, too. I couldn't even muster the courage to respond to her. I couldn't tell if it was the remnants of Sebastian's wretched disposition or my own timid nature as the transmigrated soul that drove to flee like a coward. My dark mood clung to like a shadow as I strode through the main estate. Typically, the staff would part for out of respect, but this ti it was different; their faces bore an unmistakable dread, eyes averted, bodies trembling as they avoided attracting my ire.
I chided myself for the transformation I had allowed to unfold. Despite being intertwined with a man as rotten as Sebastian, I had yet to fully succumb to that darkness, I mused, berating myself for the annoyance swelling within. I refused to lay my frustrations upon these poor souls. They were not deserving of my wrath. But the door to my office-now that was a different matter entirely.
As I reached for the doorknob, I turned it slowly and stepped inside. The door swung shut behind with a resounding crash, shaking the very walls of the room. Damn, it didn't even break! What on earth were these doors made of? I shook my head in exasperation, my irritation boiling just beneath the surface.
I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as I realized just how tense I had been. The release of tension was almost instantaneous, making feel much better. My eyes drifted to the stack of paperwork cluttering my desk- a daunting reminder of the myriad tasks that needed reviewing and signing. Procrastination wasn't an option; leaving it for later would only result in an unbearable pile-up. I needed to clear this off my plate to free up my schedule for my plans this month, especially ti for Acier. Resolutely, I picked up my quill pen and inkpad. Instead of sitting in that dreadful excuse for a chair by my desk, I opted for the coffee table in front of the sofa. The Victorian-style couch, while prioritizing aesthetics over comfort, was still an improvent over the chair. Making a ntal note, I considered dedicating a budget to replace the estate's seating furniture, at least in the areas I frequent.
As I looked at the mountain of paperwork, a migraine threatened to surface. If only I hadn't sent Alfred away; he could've been manipulated into handling this for . I psyched myself up. "Co on, Sebastian, you can do this," I muttered. After all, I was a dical student who had made it to my final year, written essays as long as textbooks, and morized procedures and protocols lengthier than the constitution. I picked up the first sheet and my brow furrowed in confusion. A wedding offer addressed to one Nozel Silva. The re title was enough to make crumple it up and toss it into the waste bin. If only I were a fire mage, I could have incinerated it.
The next sheet...another wedding offer. A quick review of Sebastian's mories made it clear. With Acier soon to be out of the picture, many nobles and royals greedy for House Silva had set their sights on my eldest, the next heir in all but na. Annoyance flickered through as I began sorting through the papers, pulling out all the ones labeled with wedding or engagent offers. To my dismay, nearly 60% of them fell into this category. It would be easy to shred them all, but my curiosity got the better of . I wanted to know who had the audacity to reveal their greed so plainly.
As I scrutinized the senders, my frown deepened. Sebastian's aristocratic knowledge enabled to see that 90% of the offers ca from House Kira or noble houses allied with them. So were so desperate that they adopted daughters just to make an offer or even proposed their sons. Despite my irritation, I couldn't help but stifle a laugh-Sebastian knew Nozel's preferences well enough to know he didn't swing that way. So offers were ludicrous, proposing significant age gaps or even suggesting patriarchs' wives, concubines, or mothers and aunts. A few were so shaless they promised newborns as concubines when they reached marriageable age.
Even the more reasonable ones, offering daughters or second sons, were shredded all the sa. I made a note of one particularly bold offer for Noelle, nominating the sender himself. Clearly, he had heard the rumors of her resemblance to the Steel Princess and hoped to sire children with her presumably large magic reserves.
I decided Alfred would arrange a eting with Damnatio. Not only to deal with the upcoming Conrad issue and Lovilia's imminent assassination but also to address the nuisance that was House Hapshass. Wasn't that the house where that blonde idiot, who tried to plot against Yuno, ca from? Salim, or sothing like that. Sebastian's knowledge confird they were indeed a family of lightning mages, making more confident in my decision.
A smirk played on my lips as I gathered the remnants of the ridiculous proposals. At least dealing with this nonsense provided so amusent amidst the tedium. I reached the final marriage offer, ready to toss it away without a second thought. These offers sickened , but sothing made pause. I squinted at the paper, disbelief washing over . Surely, this was so sick joke. Reading it again, my blood ran cold. Clutching the paper, I wanted to
shred it and tear the sender apart. The title read: Marriage Offer For Sebastian Silva From House Kira.
"Hahahahhahahahahah!" My hysterical and furious laughter echoed in the room. Thankfully, the walls were soundproofed, or passersby might have thought I'd lost my mind. My muscles tensed, and my mana flared instinctively. I wasn't alone in my rage; Sebastian's very essence was repulsed by this idea.
It was no secret that Sebastian and Acier had a loveless marriage. But why then did Noelle and her siblings not have any half-siblings? In noble circles, it was common to have many lovers and concubines. Yet, Noelle's father never remarried after Acier's passing. The truth was, he still loved Acier, albeit in a twisted manner. To him, Acier was a jewel, an idea of perfection he wanted to corrupt and mold. Despite having won throw themselves at him, he chose the undefeated princess of the battlefield. He was a competitor, not interested in the result but the journey and chase. He wanted to defeat Acier slowly, making her kneel before him because she had the strength to oppose him. He didn't want an obedient wife; he wanted a fighter and
a rival. Basically, he was an M.
House Kira's blatant disregard, not even waiting for Acier's passing or the standard mourning period, infuriated him. As my hysterical laughter subsided, I looked up at the ceiling and mused manically, "Perhaps, Augustus has outlived his usefulness."
In the sumr of 1619, Sebastian Silva began planning regicide.
3 Hours Later
I sank back onto the sofa, utterly spent after a grueling session of managing the family's financial affairs. The weight of responsibility pressed down on , as I signed off on budget allocations for various sectors-food, defense, magical tools, education, and instructors, to na a few. I also had to approve the distribution of our monthly earnings, ensure all outstanding taxes and fees to the kingdom were paid, and authorize those dubious "donations" (which were more akin to bribes) to the courts and the church, all to keep them from prying too deeply into the Silva family affairs. It was an arduous and unenviable task, to
say the least.
The strain of calculating expenses took a toll on my wrist, but it was the heartache of watching so much gold slip away from our treasuries that truly weighed down. If I hadn't known better, I might have thought I was having a stroke, but I forced myself to rember that, in the grand sche of our wealth, it was rely a drop in the ocean that constituted the
Silva fortune.
I couldn't help but daydream of the sort of chaos I could unleash on the economy back in my old world if I were able to return with even a fraction of our resources. Uncle Sam might seriously entertain the notion that the Clover Kingdom is in desperate need of so liberty!
As tempting as it was to simply turn in for the night and let the burdens of the day fade into oblivion, I steeled myself to rise from the sofa. I knew if I allowed myself a mont's respite, procrastination would ensue, and no amount of fusing with Sebastian would rectify my chronic lack of work ethic. With determination, I made my way through the now quieter hallways, offering indifferent nods to the patrolling knights as I set my sights on heading back to Acier's villa. Tomorrow promised to be a long day, making it wiser to rest there, where I could optimize my ti. I only hoped my family's tension wouldn't be too palpable at my
presence.
Acier Silva
A shiver coursed through my body as I twisted and turned on the bed, battling the overwhelming urge to surrender to sleep. Co on, Acier, I urged myself, you can fight this- don't close your eyes! The thought of drifting off terrified ; I had little faith that I would
ever awaken again if I let slumber consu . I was acutely aware of my own fragility, a state I had never experienced so intensely-not even as a toddler, when I first learned to navigate this world. This curse had rendered so weak that I could barely sense the flow of mana within , marking an ominous approach to the end of my life.
In a desperate attempt to prolong my wakefulness, I had requested Nozel to leave the blinds open and the window unlocked, allowing the moonlight to flood the room and the chilly night breeze to nip at my skin. "Just one more day," I whispered to myself, thinking of the experts scheduled to arrive tomorrow. Though I dared not entertain hopes of a full recovery, maybe they could restore enough of my strength for to live my final days in peace and tranquility. Perhaps I would even have enough vigor to hold Noelle-if only for a fleeting mont.
"Just a few more hours," I pleaded with my weary limbs, desperation creeping into my thoughts. I genuinely doubted my body's resolve to bring back should I give in to the temptations of a short nap. My eyelids felt impossibly heavy, and the resistance I had so fiercely clung to began to crumble as my vision blurred and darkened.
No... no, please! I silently begged. Nozel, Aurelia, soone-anyone! Tears I wanted to suppress began to swell in my eyes as I desperately called out, "P-please." Just at that mont, a gentle yet masculine sigh broke through the stillness, followed by a strong, warm hand resting on my forehead. Instantly, I felt a rush of cold water coursing through my mind and down my mana veins, invigorating as if a surge of life had just entered my weary body.
My vision sharpened, the fog lifting as I focused on the source of that comforting touch. To my astonishnt, it was a figure I had never expected to see by my side-the very essence of what should be the backbone of any family, the one whose face mirrored the features of our sons, my husband.
In that mont, everything else faded away, giving a glimr of hope and strength to cling to. "W-Wait, Sebby?" I whispered hoarsely, disbelief flooding my senses. As soon as the pet
na slipped from my lips, a wave of anxiety surged through . It had been so long since I had called him that—back when we were engaged and every syllable wove affection between us. But after Nozel's birth, he clearly demonstrated how much he loathed being addressed
that way... and he did so quite violently. The way he paused in that mont sent a chill through , and I felt a knot form in my stomach, worried he would withdraw his touch in a fit of petty spite, leaving to languish in despair. I could almost feel the words gathering in my throat in a futile attempt to explain myself. Yet, he lingered for only a breath before returning to his gentle ministrations, bathing my forehead in soothing recovery magic. "If it hurts, you shouldn't speak," he remarked indifferently, his voice devoid of emotion. I remained in stunned silence as I watched him care for , an unexpected rush of mories sweeping over . I envisioned tis long past when he would eagerly heal my wounds after I returned battered from training or missions, tis when he sought out knowledge from renowned doctors just for my benefit. It stirred a bittersweet ache within , a nostalgia for a past I tried desperately to bury. Now, with hindsight, it all felt tainted-a lie I wasn't ready to confront. I had been so lovesick back then that I couldn't accept that his concern might have masked sothing darker, that the worried glances he cast my way whenever I erged with bruises or injuries, large and small, might simply have been a façade.
"This... t-takes... m-... back," I stuttered, the words escaping my lips before I could truly grasp their weight. A fresh wave of apprehension washed over as I braced myself for a reprimand or even a harsh response, yet none ca. He persisted in his task, enveloping us both in an awkward silence until the magic's maximum effect seed to reach its pinnacle. With a reluctant sigh, he drew his arm away, and I felt a pang of embarrassnt for missing the warmth of his skin against mine. But I wouldn't voice it-not anymore. That was a
vulnerability I could no longer afford to reveal.
As I sat watching him in silence, I felt the urge to break the tension when he suddenly reached into his satchel, pulling sothing out that surprised . It was an unusual sight-Sebastian, the typically stoic royal, holding sothing other than his grimoire or communication device. When he retrieved a circular jar, my curiosity piqued.
I observed him with bewildernt as he uncorked the jar, releasing a sweet aroma that even
my congested nose could detect.
"H-honey?" I stamred, half in confusion. He then produced a spoon from beneath his robe and dipped it into the golden nectar, drawing out a generous tablespoon. "Yes," he replied with his characteristic indifference as if this was the most mundane task in
the world. Then he reached for sothing else—a smaller container this ti-and sprinkled
dark specks over the honey.
"And pepper?" I gasped, incredulous at the sight. It was utterly out of character for Sebastian
to prepare his own food, let alone combine honey with pepper. The absurdity of it left in a comical state of disbelief.
I braced myself to witness his peculiar culinary choice, but instead of feeding himself, he
brought the spoon to my mouth. My puzzlent deepened as I noticed the honey-pepper mixture take on a blush hue; he was channeling a bit of recovery magic into it.
For ? I was about to voice my shock, but as I opened my mouth to speak, he quickly interpreted that as my consent and shoved the teaspoon into my mouth.
"Mph, mfff..." I muffled in protest, attempting to flail my arms in indignation as he shot a
stoic look. "If you want to pull it out, swallow it all. It'll clean your throat so you can at least speak
like a human being," he said matter-of-factly.
Two conflicting thoughts raced through my mind: my husband was feeding , and his justification could easily paint a more "erotic" scene for anyone overhearing our exchange without context. Shaking off the absurdity, I nodded and obliged, swallowing the strange
combination of flavors that balanced sweet with a sharp bite. As the healing magic flowed through , I felt the soothing sensation start to clear my throat, alleviating the itch and irritation that had lingered.
He withdrew the spoon, placing it back into the honey jar and setting it on the side table. "Better?" he asked, turning away from the table to face once more. "Better," I replied, surprised at how effortlessly the words ca out. "Much better," I tried
again, delighted to find that even my nasal passages had opened up, allowing to breathe and speak without sounding like I was drowning.
All he offered was a slight nod before he reclined in the chair. I noticed him frown as he
adjusted his position, attempting to make himself more comfortable. I was tempted to tease
him about it, but the seriousness etched on his features convinced that there were certainly better monts to test my luck.
"Why are you here?" I decided to confront the elephant in the room. It was hard to fathom why the illustrious Sebastian Silva had stepped down from his throne at the main estate to grace his wife in her villa with his presence-not once but twice in a single day-especially after years of ignoring .
"Didn't I tell you? Experts are coming in tomorrow," he replied matter-of-factly as if I were
the one who had lost track of the conversation. The tone ignited a flicker of irritation in . Perhaps he noticed my annoyance, as he continued, "They're not the most social or pleasant bunch... so I'll need to handle the negotiations to ensure they fix you and Nozel up. Besides, with both of you unable to voice your issues without 'her' knowing..."
He truly knew it all, I thought somberly, nodding with a muted expression. "Even then, why
are you here, in my room?" I pressed.
"I wasn't planning on it," my husband shrugged indifferently as if it held no significance. "I
was still on the fence about checking up on you, but I heard your plea and let myself in. Was that alright?"
A warm feeling flickered to life in my stomach, threatening to rise to my cheeks. I quickly stifled it. I had learned much over the past 16 years-two decades if I counted our ti as fiancés. I was no longer the lovesick fool I had once been, susceptible to all his whims and sweet nothings. He wouldn't take hold of my heart so easily again. Still, given that he had just saved my life, I looked at him earnestly and said, "Yes, it was. Thank you."
Out of all the responses I could have anticipated from Sebastian, watching him blush like a schoolgirl while scratching his cheek and mumbling a bashful "don't ntion it" was not among them. Who are you and what have you done with my husband? I wondered, recalling the days when his flirtation had piqued my interest and held my affection. Regaining his composure, he slumped back into his chair, crossing his arms and turning his
gaze toward the wall across from him with indifference. He might have looked regal, if not for that brief mont of vulnerability I had just witnessed.
"So what was that about?" I asked tentatively, feeling the weight of the mont.
He blinked at in confusion, his brows furrowing. "What was what about?" I propped myself up against the bed's backboard, trying to steady my racing thoughts as he
helped sit up straight. Twirling a lock of my silver hair around my left index finger, I studied him. His genuine bewildernt stirred a mix of frustration and vulnerability within . Gritting my teeth, I finally forced the words out. "The honey... and pepper... and..." I felt the heat rush to my cheeks, unable to suppress my embarrassnt, "...feeding ." I half-expected him to blush and turn as red as a tomato, fumbling for words in a flustered
ss. Instead, his expression shifted to one of nostalgia, a hint of lancholy washing over his features as he gazed up at the ceiling. Disappointnt gnawed at , convincing he was slipping back into his familiar habit of ignoring . My head began to slump back down onto the pillow when he unexpectedly began to speak softly. "Whenever I got a cold, or a stuffy throat or nose... my mom used to feed that." His voice
carried a lingering affection, and I blinked in surprise as he studied my reaction closely. A wave of thoughts washed over . For soone like Sebastian, whose parents had died when he was very young, I had always assud he wouldn't have many mories of them. The fact
that he chose to share this fragnt of his past with , especially knowing how sensitive he usually was about discussing his parents, felt significant.
"Thank you." I sounded like a broken record, repeating the only response I could muster. If
my words stirred any annoyance or offense in him, he didn't show it—just a soft nod in acknowledgnt. "So what now?" I asked, attempting to shift the topic away from the intensity of the mont. "Originally, I was going to rest in one of the guest bedrooms," he began, then narrowed his
gaze at . "Alas, it seems you're quite scared to sleep." I felt the air grow heavy as he touched on that sensitive subject. Normally, I'd brace myself for mockery or snide remarks, but instead, he added gently, "So if you don't mind, I could just stay in this chair, and we can
keep you awake by chatting until sunrise when our guests arrive?" Once again, I found myself blinking in bewildernt. This was not the Sebastian Silva I had co to know since our marriage. This was sothing akin to the man my fiancé had been before the weight of the Silva na had changed him-an offshoot of the family, so distant from the core that it was easy to forget he belonged at all, aside from his striking hair. Please, don't let this be so cruel joke, I thought, a ga designed to lift my hopes only to them later. Anxiety coiled tightly in my chest as I gripped the covers, my questions etched across my face-concerns, a plea for the truth. I couldn't stop the silent tears from spilling as I pressed my lips together in frustration. His eyes held mine, reflecting a complicated mix of emotions. Please tell . "What is that supposed to an?" I managed to
shatter
ask.
In response, he leaned toward , and I instinctively closed my eyes, bracing for mockery, the sharp sting of insults to pierce through the mont. But none ca. Instead, I felt gentle thumbs underneath my eyelids, wiping away my tears. Opening my eyes, I fought to stop trembling and to calm the hitch in my throat. He stood up and knelt beside my bed, turning to
with an earnest expression as he clasped his right hand over mine. "I... can't... speak for the future," he began softly. "But right here, right now... this is all real. No gas, no ploys, no sick jokes or sches. It's just you and , interacting like a husband
and wife should. If you don't want to talk, we can sit in silence. I'll keep you awake with so
light mana pulses."
Looking into his eyes-sincere and earnest, despite the betrayals of the past-I felt a flicker of confidence. This ti, the honesty behind his gaze felt undeniable. I gave him a shaky nod,
and we let the silence envelop us, finding comfort in the delicate touch of our hands against one another. Glancing beyond him at the moonlit sky, I silently wished for this mont to
last just a little longer.
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