Episode 41. If You Thought of Me as Your Husband
“Haven’t His Highness been acting so strange lately?”
Wyatt was complaining, his cicada-like eyebrows twitching.
Wyatt’s eyebrows seemed particularly prominent today, likely because the snow that was falling now kept settling on them.
Timothy, who was walking around the outskirts of the castle with Wyatt without Lacrahan, tapped Wyatt’s eyebrows with a wrinkled hand.
The two of them looked like a grown son and father at first glance.
“What the Knight Commander said is true. I’ve indeed been seeing a lot of sides of His Highness that I’ve never seen before. I guess.”
“That’s what I meant. You know, butler, right? When a person suddenly changes, it means it’s time for them to die.”
“Haha. But sending Your Highness away completely is a bit much.”
“No, I said. It’s not me who’s being harsh, it’s His Highness the Grand Duke. How could the Princess have returned to the palace in the middle of the night without a word?”
She gently rolled the crumbs of her scone with her fingers and replied, as if to herself.
“Thank you.”
Lacrahan rose from the bed.
“We wanted to do it early, but I think the wedding won’t be possible until this evening. It’s taking some time to find a priest to be our witness.”
“Yes.”
“Still, I’m glad you slept well.”
Lacrahan waited for Bercheria, who was asleep, and it was not without wondering if he'd have to wake her a few times.
But as he drew closer, those thoughts vanished without a trace.
It was because she was crying.
It was a barely audible whisper, but if you listened closely, it was a plea.
She was apologizing, and she was also whispering for her life.
Bercheria's voice was so desperate that it made him furious.
Mother. Mother, please.
What did this world look like to her now?
Was it terrifying?
Or was it simply a playground for filthy people?
"I have a favor to ask."
Lacrahan paused, taking a deep breath, then continued.
"If you change your mind, you can break off the marriage at any time, and if you want to leave, you can tell me that too."
"...Yes."
"But for the rest of our marriage, I want you to think of me as your true husband."
Bercheria's lips parted thinly at Lacrahan's words.
"As if I were your true protector."
“Haven’t His Highness been acting so strange lately?”
Wyatt was complaining, his cicada-like eyebrows twitching.
Wyatt’s eyebrows seemed particularly prominent today, likely because the snow that was falling now kept settling on them.
Timothy, who was walking around the outskirts of the castle with Wyatt without Lacrahan, tapped Wyatt’s eyebrows with a wrinkled hand.
The two of them looked like a grown son and father at first glance.
“What the Knight Commander said is true. I’ve indeed been seeing a lot of sides of His Highness that I’ve never seen before. I guess.”
“That’s what I meant. You know, butler, right? When a person suddenly changes, it means it’s time for them to die.”
“Haha. But sending Your Highness away completely is a bit much.”
“No, I said. It’s not me who’s being harsh, it’s His Highness the Grand Duke. How could the Princess have returned to the palace in the middle of the night without a word?”
When the Princess and her party failed to appear even at mealtime, Lady Morgan set out to find Kelita herself.
She belatedly caught the maids and party as they were about to leave the castle and questioned them, only to be told that Kelita had already left Lacrahan’s castle.
She belatedly caught the maids and party as they were about to leave the castle and questioned them, only to be told that Kelita had already left Lacrahan’s castle.
“You know what His Highness has been most concerned about all this time, don’t you?”
“I know.”
It was undeniable that the north was peaceful because Lacrahan maintained a suitable distance from the imperial family.
While they had suffered from natural disasters, at least they hadn’t suffered at the hands of humans.
“The mere appearance of Bercheria in the north would have turned the imperial family upside down, and now she's marrying the Grand Duke? Isn’t this practically a declaration of war between the North and the imperial family?”
Timothy looked toward the eastern castle where Lacrahan’s chambers were.
Of course, Wyatt wasn’t wrong.
But considering the broader future, Lacrahan's decision was the right one.
If he handed over Bercheria out of fear of conflict with Gerard, the divine protection would never return to Periat again this century.
It was clear as day that the people would once again be exposed to unforeseen natural disasters.
"But, Commander, right now, His Highness's choice is the right one. If he marries Bercheria, Emperor Gerard will lose his justification for taking the Weather Goddess as he pleases."
"Ah, that's right. That's what I'm saying! Why are you doing this when it would be easier to just give it to her?"
Timothy left the agitated Wyatt and reached out to catch the snow falling from the sky.
"No matter what, we need the Weather Goddess."
He closed his wrinkled eyes, smiled, and patted Wyatt on the back.
"Enough with that, let's go. His Highness should be up by now."
Wyatt glared aimlessly at the sky, where the sun was already beginning to set.
“Of course. If you had a conscience, you’d be up, of course.”
Waking up at the same time every night, no matter when he fell asleep, was a long-standing habit for Lacrahan.
From a very young age, his father had emphasized the importance of managing time.
Learning to manage your own time was the foundation of becoming an adult.
Today, Lacrahan, waking up at his usual hour, was lost in thought, looking at Bercheria, who was soundly asleep.
Should he continue his routine, or wake her?
Or should he let her sleep longer?
“I guess I overdid it.”
It must have been difficult for such a frail body to bear the power of a goddess.
Lacrahan covered Bercheria, who was curled up in a ball, with a blanket and added some more firewood to the fireplace. He then sat on the couch with a book in hand and waited for her to wake.
A full eight hours had passed.
“If you’d woken up a little later, I would have eaten dinner right away.”
Lacrahan stretched, his body curled up.
He'd started reading just one book, but he was already on his third.
He almost became the Northern Reading King.
"Have you been waiting here for me?"
Lacrahan put down the book in his hand and straightened his back.
"Yeah. I thought you'd feel uneasy if you woke up and found no one there."
"Am I a child?"
"If you were, I wouldn't have worried."
Lacrahan probably said it without meaning, but her fingertips tingled for no reason, so she tucked herself under the covers.
The scenery outside the window was peaceful, and the soft blanket felt neither hot nor cold.
As a child, waking up alone in the tower was a chill that made her shiver.
She began her day by curling up and retracing the memories of the previous Awakened.
The occasional flashbacks made recalling difficult, but since she had nothing else to do, it wasn't a major problem.
What she envied most then was someone who greeted her when she woke up in the morning.
With someone like that, she wondered if there was anything to fear in the world.
If there was just one person who cared about her, she felt like nothing could be more frightening.
Because of those memories, she seemed to be infinitely vulnerable to affectionate people.
Seeing how her heart softened at the soft, gentle tone of his words, she loved hearing Lacrahan's voice as soon as she woke up.
It was something she hadn't realized, since their opinions were often at odds.
"You must be hungry. Do you like scones?"
Lacrahan walked to the table, carrying the tray Mrs. Morgan had brought for lunch, and approached Bercheria.
He removed the dust-proof food cover, revealing soup and scones in pretty bowls.
"Eat. You must have been hungry from sleeping."
Bercheria raised her wide eyes and looked up at him.
“Am I eating alone?”
He sat cross-legged next to Bercheria’s neatly placed feet.
“I waited and ate first. Mrs. Morgan says this soup gets more flavorful when it cools. She said it somehow becomes sweeter, but I don’t quite remember.”
Lacrahan moved the cutlery in front of Bercheria so she could eat more easily.
Even though everything was ready, Bercheria just stared at the food left for her.
“Why?”
“I feel strange every time I see this.”
Lacrahan brushed his disheveled hair back.
“What?”
“Food for me.”
She smiled dejectedly.
It was sometimes bittersweet that only after returning like this could she objectively look at her life back then.
“Once a day, Mother came to the tower, carrying dried, warped bread.”
“Was that all you had for meals?”
“Yes.”
Lacrahan recalled the face of the woman he'd seen in his past memories.
It wasn't someone he'd seen recently, but it was a face he'd clearly remembered.
Where had he seen her before?
Where on earth had he seen her before?
The muscles on Lacrahan's chin bulged nervously.
There had to be a reason for seeing her face.
The world isn't made up of mere coincidences.
He wondered if she was even human.
Could she be a beast in human form?
In Lacrahan's view, this was something a human shouldn't do.
More precisely, it was something a human couldn't do.
Treating a human like that would be absurd, but to treat the guardian deity of this empire so carelessly was even worse. And to do so was to imprison and brainwash her from a young age, when she could never resist.
Lacrahan barely suppressed the rage welling up within him.
He couldn't show an even angrier expression in front of Bercheria, who had personally experienced such a thing.
“Actually, I knew from the beginning. What was in that bread? I knew that eating it would make me lose my motivation and make me want to stop thinking.”
Bercheria playfully stroked the tip of the fork Lacrahan had placed before her.
“Still, I ate it because I was hungry. I had no other choice.”
“...”
“The really funny thing is that the memories of the previous Awakened people still remain in me, so I can recall the smells and tastes of all kinds of food.”
“...It must have been painful.”
“But as time passed, I gave up on that too.”
Bercheria picked up a spoon and scooped up some soup.
“I don’t know why I brought this up; it’s so boring. Just forget it.”
As Lacrahan had said, the soup, now cooled slightly, gathered into a sticky consistency and then slid into her mouth.
“It’s delicious. Really.”
Lacrahan brought a knife to her and cut the scone into bite-sized pieces.
Even Lacrahan, who was more resilient than anyone else, had no idea what to say to this woman right now.
Although he never said it out loud, he was determined to find the woman Bercheria called "mother" and make her pay the price she deserved.
No matter how long it took, he would do it.
Until then, his only solace was that he could protect Bercheria through marriage.
But would she feel the same way?
“If you have the memories of other Awakened, then you know what marriage is like.”
Bercheria made a puzzled expression.
Lacrahan then remembered that none of the Awakened had ever married a human.
“Even if they had, it would have been difficult for me to know what it was like. Not only is everything not preserved, but it’s literally like observing. I can’t know what emotions they felt or what their thoughts were at the time.”
All of Bercheria’s Awakened had died unmarried.
“And humans don’t truly love gods.”
Lacrahan’s expression hardened. No rule in this world says humans can’t love gods, or gods can’t love humans.
I don’t know if there is one for gods, but at least there wasn’t one for humans.
“Why do you say that?”
Bercheria, who was fingering a scone with her fingertips, raised her eyes to Lacrahan.
“I’m not talking about me. These are the memories of the previous Bercherians.”
“Hasn’t there ever been one?”
“At least not in my memory. Men always come to me with ecstatic eyes, saying they love me and will give me everything.”
Some sang songs praising love.
Others knelt and begged for love.
But none of them could bear the weight of fate that Bercheria carried.
They ultimately left her at the crucial moment.
“Because you’re beautiful.”
“Huh?”
Lacrahan’s deep gaze slowly lifted, engulfing her face.
“Bercherias are famous for their beauty. You are no exception.”
“I know.”
It was undeniable that the north was peaceful because Lacrahan maintained a suitable distance from the imperial family.
While they had suffered from natural disasters, at least they hadn’t suffered at the hands of humans.
“The mere appearance of Bercheria in the north would have turned the imperial family upside down, and now she's marrying the Grand Duke? Isn’t this practically a declaration of war between the North and the imperial family?”
Timothy looked toward the eastern castle where Lacrahan’s chambers were.
Of course, Wyatt wasn’t wrong.
But considering the broader future, Lacrahan's decision was the right one.
If he handed over Bercheria out of fear of conflict with Gerard, the divine protection would never return to Periat again this century.
It was clear as day that the people would once again be exposed to unforeseen natural disasters.
"But, Commander, right now, His Highness's choice is the right one. If he marries Bercheria, Emperor Gerard will lose his justification for taking the Weather Goddess as he pleases."
"Ah, that's right. That's what I'm saying! Why are you doing this when it would be easier to just give it to her?"
Timothy left the agitated Wyatt and reached out to catch the snow falling from the sky.
"No matter what, we need the Weather Goddess."
He closed his wrinkled eyes, smiled, and patted Wyatt on the back.
"Enough with that, let's go. His Highness should be up by now."
Wyatt glared aimlessly at the sky, where the sun was already beginning to set.
“Of course. If you had a conscience, you’d be up, of course.”
***
Waking up at the same time every night, no matter when he fell asleep, was a long-standing habit for Lacrahan.
From a very young age, his father had emphasized the importance of managing time.
Learning to manage your own time was the foundation of becoming an adult.
Today, Lacrahan, waking up at his usual hour, was lost in thought, looking at Bercheria, who was soundly asleep.
Should he continue his routine, or wake her?
Or should he let her sleep longer?
“I guess I overdid it.”
It must have been difficult for such a frail body to bear the power of a goddess.
Lacrahan covered Bercheria, who was curled up in a ball, with a blanket and added some more firewood to the fireplace. He then sat on the couch with a book in hand and waited for her to wake.
A full eight hours had passed.
“If you’d woken up a little later, I would have eaten dinner right away.”
Lacrahan stretched, his body curled up.
He'd started reading just one book, but he was already on his third.
He almost became the Northern Reading King.
"Have you been waiting here for me?"
Lacrahan put down the book in his hand and straightened his back.
"Yeah. I thought you'd feel uneasy if you woke up and found no one there."
"Am I a child?"
"If you were, I wouldn't have worried."
Lacrahan probably said it without meaning, but her fingertips tingled for no reason, so she tucked herself under the covers.
The scenery outside the window was peaceful, and the soft blanket felt neither hot nor cold.
As a child, waking up alone in the tower was a chill that made her shiver.
She began her day by curling up and retracing the memories of the previous Awakened.
The occasional flashbacks made recalling difficult, but since she had nothing else to do, it wasn't a major problem.
What she envied most then was someone who greeted her when she woke up in the morning.
With someone like that, she wondered if there was anything to fear in the world.
If there was just one person who cared about her, she felt like nothing could be more frightening.
Because of those memories, she seemed to be infinitely vulnerable to affectionate people.
Seeing how her heart softened at the soft, gentle tone of his words, she loved hearing Lacrahan's voice as soon as she woke up.
It was something she hadn't realized, since their opinions were often at odds.
"You must be hungry. Do you like scones?"
Lacrahan walked to the table, carrying the tray Mrs. Morgan had brought for lunch, and approached Bercheria.
He removed the dust-proof food cover, revealing soup and scones in pretty bowls.
"Eat. You must have been hungry from sleeping."
Bercheria raised her wide eyes and looked up at him.
“Am I eating alone?”
He sat cross-legged next to Bercheria’s neatly placed feet.
“I waited and ate first. Mrs. Morgan says this soup gets more flavorful when it cools. She said it somehow becomes sweeter, but I don’t quite remember.”
Lacrahan moved the cutlery in front of Bercheria so she could eat more easily.
Even though everything was ready, Bercheria just stared at the food left for her.
“Why?”
“I feel strange every time I see this.”
Lacrahan brushed his disheveled hair back.
“What?”
“Food for me.”
She smiled dejectedly.
It was sometimes bittersweet that only after returning like this could she objectively look at her life back then.
“Once a day, Mother came to the tower, carrying dried, warped bread.”
“Was that all you had for meals?”
“Yes.”
Lacrahan recalled the face of the woman he'd seen in his past memories.
It wasn't someone he'd seen recently, but it was a face he'd clearly remembered.
Where had he seen her before?
Where on earth had he seen her before?
The muscles on Lacrahan's chin bulged nervously.
There had to be a reason for seeing her face.
The world isn't made up of mere coincidences.
He wondered if she was even human.
Could she be a beast in human form?
In Lacrahan's view, this was something a human shouldn't do.
More precisely, it was something a human couldn't do.
Treating a human like that would be absurd, but to treat the guardian deity of this empire so carelessly was even worse. And to do so was to imprison and brainwash her from a young age, when she could never resist.
Lacrahan barely suppressed the rage welling up within him.
He couldn't show an even angrier expression in front of Bercheria, who had personally experienced such a thing.
“Actually, I knew from the beginning. What was in that bread? I knew that eating it would make me lose my motivation and make me want to stop thinking.”
Bercheria playfully stroked the tip of the fork Lacrahan had placed before her.
“Still, I ate it because I was hungry. I had no other choice.”
“...”
“The really funny thing is that the memories of the previous Awakened people still remain in me, so I can recall the smells and tastes of all kinds of food.”
“...It must have been painful.”
“But as time passed, I gave up on that too.”
Bercheria picked up a spoon and scooped up some soup.
“I don’t know why I brought this up; it’s so boring. Just forget it.”
As Lacrahan had said, the soup, now cooled slightly, gathered into a sticky consistency and then slid into her mouth.
“It’s delicious. Really.”
Lacrahan brought a knife to her and cut the scone into bite-sized pieces.
Even Lacrahan, who was more resilient than anyone else, had no idea what to say to this woman right now.
Although he never said it out loud, he was determined to find the woman Bercheria called "mother" and make her pay the price she deserved.
No matter how long it took, he would do it.
Until then, his only solace was that he could protect Bercheria through marriage.
But would she feel the same way?
“If you have the memories of other Awakened, then you know what marriage is like.”
Bercheria made a puzzled expression.
Lacrahan then remembered that none of the Awakened had ever married a human.
“Even if they had, it would have been difficult for me to know what it was like. Not only is everything not preserved, but it’s literally like observing. I can’t know what emotions they felt or what their thoughts were at the time.”
All of Bercheria’s Awakened had died unmarried.
“And humans don’t truly love gods.”
Lacrahan’s expression hardened. No rule in this world says humans can’t love gods, or gods can’t love humans.
I don’t know if there is one for gods, but at least there wasn’t one for humans.
“Why do you say that?”
Bercheria, who was fingering a scone with her fingertips, raised her eyes to Lacrahan.
“I’m not talking about me. These are the memories of the previous Bercherians.”
“Hasn’t there ever been one?”
“At least not in my memory. Men always come to me with ecstatic eyes, saying they love me and will give me everything.”
Some sang songs praising love.
Others knelt and begged for love.
But none of them could bear the weight of fate that Bercheria carried.
They ultimately left her at the crucial moment.
“Because you’re beautiful.”
“Huh?”
Lacrahan’s deep gaze slowly lifted, engulfing her face.
“Bercherias are famous for their beauty. You are no exception.”
Bercheria felt a sudden heat rise to her face and lowered her gaze.
She gently rolled the crumbs of her scone with her fingers and replied, as if to herself.
“Thank you.”
Lacrahan rose from the bed.
“We wanted to do it early, but I think the wedding won’t be possible until this evening. It’s taking some time to find a priest to be our witness.”
“Yes.”
“Still, I’m glad you slept well.”
Lacrahan waited for Bercheria, who was asleep, and it was not without wondering if he'd have to wake her a few times.
But as he drew closer, those thoughts vanished without a trace.
It was because she was crying.
It was a barely audible whisper, but if you listened closely, it was a plea.
She was apologizing, and she was also whispering for her life.
Bercheria's voice was so desperate that it made him furious.
Mother. Mother, please.
What did this world look like to her now?
Was it terrifying?
Or was it simply a playground for filthy people?
"I have a favor to ask."
Lacrahan paused, taking a deep breath, then continued.
"If you change your mind, you can break off the marriage at any time, and if you want to leave, you can tell me that too."
"...Yes."
"But for the rest of our marriage, I want you to think of me as your true husband."
Bercheria's lips parted thinly at Lacrahan's words.
"As if I were your true protector."
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