As the days unfolded in the Estate Mansion, I found myself leaving my 'normal' wife alone, trusting her capabilities and occasionally checking in on her endeavors. Mia, once the enigmatic villainess in the novel Hero Ender, had seamlessly taken the role of protagonist, immersing herself in the intricacies of territory management. I had come to understand her character well through the pages of the narrative, and her affinity for governance aligned perfectly with the responsibilities she had taken on.
In this peculiar twist of fate, I willingly embraced the role of the side character—a departure from the conventional narrative. I let Mia busy herself with the demands of the estate, fully aware that she reveled in the challenges of overseeing stonemasons, carpenters, and all the myriad tasks that came with managing the territory. It was a dynamic shift, and I couldn't help but marvel at how seamlessly Mia had stepped into the limelight.
I would leave my 'normal' wife to her work for hours, occasionally popping in to see if she had done anything crazy. I mean, it was Mia—there was always a chance she could turn a routine meeting into an impromptu magical duel. But more often than not, I found her knee-deep in scrolls and plans, jotting down strategies like a seasoned general preparing for battle. If my life were a novel, I reckoned Mia was now the protagonist, and I was her side character. Was this how a side character normally governed? I thought it was! I loved it! I could loaf around as much as I liked!
.
.
.
Four months had passed since Mia and I signed our marriage contract, and a palpable change settled over the Estate Mansion. My wife's once-flat belly now carried a noticeable swell—a telltale sign of impending motherhood. She was really pregnant! And here I was, hoping in the back of my mind that she was not. I couldn't believe she had somehow managed to conceive my child after what I could only describe as an enthusiastic, albeit questionable, night. Yeah, I know how weird that sounds...
A knot of mixed emotions tightened within me at the realization—she really and truly was undeniably pregnant. As I observed the physical transformation in Mia, a complex array of sentiments unraveled inside me. Hope and trepidation coalesced, creating a dissonance I grappled with privately.
Deep down, an inconceivable part of me wished it weren't true. The concept of fatherhood, conceived in circumstances that blurred the lines of consent, felt like an unfathomable twist in this unpredictable tale.
The memories of that night—the night she seemingly took advantage of me, turning what was supposed to be consensual intimacy into something far more complex—still lingered in the recesses of my mind. What kind of barbaric world had I fallen into?
I shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts. "Okay, Ran, think about this logically," I muttered to myself. "You're going to be a dad... kind of." I grimaced at the thought. "Not exactly the role I envisioned for myself."
With a sigh, I wandered to the window, watching the sun set over the estate, casting long shadows across the grounds. "Great. Now I have to figure out how to be a father while also keeping Mia from running the whole place into the ground," I said aloud, throwing my hands up. "This is not what I signed up for when I became a baron. Can I just return to loafing around and let her do all the work?"
A soft chuckle interrupted my thoughts, and I turned to see Mia entering the room, her expression a mix of amusement and affection. "You're really taking this whole 'I might be a dad' thing well, aren't you?"
Wistful thoughts lingered at the back of my mind—a desire to return to the familiar comforts of the 21st century, to escape this barbaric reality that now ensnared me. Yet life, as unpredictable as it was, demanded adaptation. In this world where the present moment held sway, I reconciled with the fact that one must deal with the cards they were dealt.
The night completely settled in, casting a warm glow from the fireplace that flickered in the quiet room. Mia, perched in a rocking chair, hummed a soft tune while her skilled hands rhythmically moved, knitting needles clinking together in what I could only describe as a quintessentially 'normal' wife activity.
"Hey, husband," she called out, her voice carrying a playful undertone. "Do you want to play a bet? Guessing the gender of the child?"
I paused in my task, tinkering with the wood to build a crib for the impending arrival. Glancing over, I chuckled at her suggestion. "Nah, you're a Fatemancer… You can see the future, duh? It's a losing game, so it's pointless."
The fire in the fireplace crackled, casting a dancing play of shadows in the room as Mia, still in her rocking chair, continued with her knitting. The playful banter between us unfolded, the warmth of the fire contrasting with the cool exchanges.
"Why? Afraid that you're gonna lose?" Mia teased, a glint of mischief in her eyes.
I responded with a nonchalant shrug, my tone carrying a bored air. "Yeah. A person as normal as me won't stand a chance against your might.."
A playful scoff escaped Mia's lips. "Do you have no pride? I cannot believe I'm married to such a prideless man."
I shot back, my voice laced with a bitterness that lingered. "Prideless? Look in the mirror and ask yourself, rapist."
Mia winced at the retort but quickly recovered, her pride prevailing. "You're still sour about that, huh? Move on. You won the lottery by having me. I'm beautiful, sexy, and powerful… I'm the 'perfect' wife."
I stood my ground, resolute. "You wish."
Mia, with a proud grin, delivered her verdict. "Suck it up! You get a normal wife in the daylight and a perfect wife at night. Now, that's a done deal!"
With a resigned sigh, I finally finished building the crib. "Perfect wife, huh?" I muttered, contemplating the irony. "What kind of perfect wife turns her husband's life into such a royal mess?"
A princess, probably.
"So, how's the building of the militia? Our finances might not be able to cover it," Mia inquired, her eyes reflecting a genuine concern.
I reassured her, brushing off wood shavings as I finished a piece for the crib, trying to 'perfect' it in a sense. "We will be fine… I just dumped all of the money I have in the vault. We should be able to last a year being liquid."
Her brow furrowed slightly as she questioned the necessity of a militia. "Do we really need a militia? We have two mighty sorcerers here, you and me…"
I paused, considering her words. Did we really need a militia? On one hand, I liked the idea of being the powerful baron with a magical wife. On the other, I couldn't shake the thought of what would happen if we actually needed to protect our little corner of the world.
"A normal baron will have a normal militia, not two OP sorcerers," I replied pragmatically, hoping my reasoning would satisfy her.
Mia tilted her head, clearly unconvinced. "But what if we could just, I don't know, make the militia with our powers? Why go through all the trouble?"
"Because," I began, my tone taking on an exaggerated seriousness, "there's only so much sorcery can do before it becomes ridiculous. Besides, if we rely solely on our magic, what happens when we're busy doing… you know, normal couple things?" I paused, shooting her a sidelong glance.
Mia raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "Normal couple things? Like knitting oversized sweaters and debating the gender of our child?"
"Exactly!" I exclaimed, feeling quite proud of my argument. "Imagine if bandits raided while we were stuck in a heated debate over which way the knitting needles should twist!"
She laughed, the sound lightening the mood. "Alright, fair point. But what if the militia turns out to be a bunch of incompetent farmers with pitchforks?"
I chuckled, scratching my chin. "Then we'll just have to train them like it's a summer camp for warriors. You know, teach them to be brave while simultaneously ensuring they don't stab themselves with the pitchforks."
Mia leaned back, crossing her arms as she regarded me with playful skepticism. "A summer camp for warriors? You do realize that sounds utterly ridiculous, right?"
"Utterly ridiculous is my specialty!" I declared, puffing out my chest with mock pride. "We'll have campfire stories about the brave baron and his powerful Fatemancer wife while roasting marshmallows."
She shook her head, laughing. "This is idiocy.
"You and your obsession with normalcy is disgusting… If we are inside a novel, the readers must be pretty disgusted too…" Mia said, her words playfully teasing yet sharp enough to cut through the air.
A pang of discomfort settled within me, and I instinctively interrupted. "You are not allowed to do that!"
Mia, unfazed by my protest, toyed with the notion of fourth-wall breaks. "What? Fourth wall breaks? I am a Fatemancer; I can see through dimensions. What you perceive as the readers are just the agglomeration of the universe manifesting the subconscious, and…"
I cut her off, my tone tinged with a sense of despair. "Please stop…" The weight of the revelation and the blurring of the boundaries between reality and fiction hung heavily in the air. I felt a sense of glumness, not wanting to meet her gaze. To regain composure, I focused on my breathing, inhaling and exhaling until I was as calm as ice.
Mia, perceptive to the unease she stirred, offered an apology. "I am sorry, I didn't mean to…"
I met her gaze with a measured expression. "It is fine. Since you have seen me through your precognition a lot, then you must know a lot about me."
Mia, her eyes reflecting a genuine regret, ventured into deeper territory. "Are you curious? Of what you are? Of what you can become?"
A resolute response slipped from my lips. "Never."
The ambiance in the room shifted to a more casual tone as I steered the conversation toward lightheartedness. "To a more lighthearted topic, you are perfectly doing well as my normal wife… The people love me for governing them so successfully when, in fact, it is all your work." With a playful grin, I popped a bottle of wine and poured it into a single glass. My gaze shifted to the cabinet, and I retrieved another glass, this time filling it with orange juice.
Mia, inquisitive yet demure, questioned, "It is fine if I drink a bit of liquor, right? But orange juice, really?"
I chuckled, offering a rationale. "Better safe than risk it… Orange juice has vitamin C; it will be good for you! Anyway…" With a snap of my fingers, the color of the orange juice underwent a magical transformation, turning crimson with the unmistakable aroma of alcohol. "I used my Phantasm Magic on it. Chemically, it is still orange juice. But with my magic, I made it so that you will have the illusion that you are actually drinking wine! Moreover, you can also get drunk with it, without having any hangovers!"
Mia, initially skeptical, responded with an incredulous tone. "What? That's ridiculous! Impossible!" Despite her protest, she took a sip and then nodded cutely in appreciation. "I love it."
I couldn't help but laugh at the look of delight on her face. "See? Magic is not just for serious business; it can enhance even the simplest of drinks. Next, I'll make you a sandwich that can sing!"
"Please don't," Mia replied, half-laughing, half-serious. "I'm not sure I'm ready for a sandwich serenade just yet."
I leaned back, enjoying the lightness of the moment. "Alright, no singing sandwiches. But I might have to make one that dances just to keep things interesting around here."
"Now that sounds more like you," she teased, taking another sip of her magically enhanced drink.