Two months later, the hellish days had passed.
Now, Shirley could breathe freely without constantly battling nausea.
Her belly grew bigger by the day.
However, Shirley felt something odd. Was it normal for a four-month pregnancy to look as big as a six-month one?
"My Lady, the Marquess has sent this for you."
Day by day, Escar remained the same as he had been two months ago, ever since learning of her pregnancy.
"This time, it's dried fruit snacks?"
Yes.
"Indeed."
Escar continued showering Shirley with attention.
Sometimes, it annoyed her, and at other times, she relished it.
Why was her mute husband so excited about her pregnancy? Shirley was curious.
Was it because he was about to have an heir, as most people who married out of obligation might feel?
Or …?
TUK! TUK!
"…?!"
The familiar tapping startled Shirley, pulling her out of her thoughts.
"W-what is …?"
Shirley blinked in surprise.
Wasn't the person who usually sent her healthy snacks always busy with paperwork?
Why was he here, now, at her relaxing spot in the gazebo amidst the blooming red roses?
["How are you feeling, my wife?"]
"F-fine. Why do you ask?"
["I just …."]
"…."
"…."
They fell into a brief silence.
Escar, standing before Shirley as she sat, gazed lovingly at her.
SHRUKK!
With natural grace, he knelt on one knee.
He looked up, his usual gentle smile adorning his face.
He stared at Shirley without blinking, making her self-conscious enough to look away.
While Shirley turned her head, Escar wrote something again.
Once he finished, he tapped his book with his finger, the sound drawing Shirley's attention.
Reluctantly, but also out of curiosity, Shirley turned back.
Her crimson eyes caught the words Escar was pointing to.
["I missed you."]
Unintentionally, Shirley's lips parted slightly.
["I couldn't focus on my reports because my mind was full of thoughts of you."]
Her fiery red eyes widened further.
["Ah, of course, I missed the little one, too."]
Her cheeks, which were fuller than when she was single, turned a deep shade of red.
["May I touch them today?"]
"H-huh? U-uh … do as you wish!"
Recovering from her brief trance, Shirley turned away again.
On the other hand, Escar, having received permission, smiled shyly.
SRKK!
Without hesitation, he set his book on the ground.
Then, carefully, he placed both hands on either side of Shirley's rounded belly.
"Uh!"
It tickled. The sensation was strange but tolerable.
"U-uh. H-hey."
Escar's gentle strokes made Shirley feel increasingly uneasy. Eventually, she decided to take action.
SHAKK!
"Stop it already!"
"…?"
She tugged at her husband's silvery-white hair, intending to halt his peculiar activity.
Despite wincing in pain, Escar, now forced to look up, continued smiling sweetly as if pleading for mercy.
He pointed his index finger at Shirley, silently requesting another chance.
"Just one more time, okay?" Shirley confirmed, finally letting go of his hair.
Freed, Escar closed his eyes.
"…?"
Shirley, watching him cautiously, was puzzled.
What was he planning with his eyes closed?
Then, as her husband, Marquess Aschenford, lowered his bowed head toward her belly … Shirley froze.
CHUUUPP~!
"…."
Without warning, Escar placed a tender kiss on her rounded stomach, filled with love!
"…."
Shirley was speechless.
Her red eyes were still wide open, and her lips were slightly parted.
Not only that, her face began to flush a deep red.
"…."
Escar moved his face away from Shirley's abdomen.
It was as though time had slowed around him, and his eyelids fluttered open, revealing his mesmerizing emerald eyes.
As promised, Escar truly took the opportunity he was given.
He pulled his palms, which had been resting on each side of his wife's belly, away.
SRKK!
He retrieved his special book, which he had carelessly left on the floor, and began to write something.
SRATH~! SRATH~!
["Thank you for allowing me to touch it."]
"…."
["I—!"]
"—YOUR EXCELLENCY!"
Escar's words were abruptly interrupted by the booming shout of Sir Bashilian.
"EMERGENCY SITUATION!"
The usually calm and collected knight, who spoke only when necessary, was now frantic and hurriedly approaching his lord.
"OUR MILITARY BARRACKS ARE UNDER ATTACK!"
•••
"…."
Shirley observed the frantic movements of the knights in the residence from above the balcony.
It was clear that they were panicking, rushing to prepare their equipment to head to the barracks at the border.
Amidst the chaos, with knights scattering around like feathers caught by the wind, Shirley's red eyes focused on one man.
"…!"
"WEAR YOUR ARMOR!"
"…!"
"DON'T BE CARELESS AND LEAVE YOUR WEAPONS HERE!"
The man who, just moments ago, had touched and gently kissed her belly, was now giving serious commands to the panicking knights, using sign language.
"…!"
"ALL READY KNIGHTS, GATHER AT THE GATE!"
Not only that, his actions were supported by his deputy, Sir Bashilian, the knight-vice commander, who translated the sign language into verbal commands that everyone could easily hear and understand.
"…."
Shirley kept her lips pressed together.
Her feelings … she didn't know how to express them.
It was the first time she had seen such chaos, caused by panicked people scattering.
And it made her heart uneasy.
Especially ….
"…!"
"…!"
… Seeings Escar, now fully dressed in armor, with a sword at his waist and arrows on his back, making eye contact with her.
"…."
"…."
Amidst the noise made by the knights, for some reason, both Escar and Shirley … felt a profound silence.
Only when Sir Bashilian informed him that all the knights had left the residence to head toward the gate did Escar turn to face his wife for a moment.
"…!"
He looked up, curling his lips into his signature smile, then raised his right arm, bending it to salute her.
A parting salute to the woman he cherished, before leaving on his brief mission.
"…."
Shirley stood frozen.
She remained motionless, her mouth still shut tight.
As she saw Escar turn and walk away, his broad back getting farther and farther from her, Shirley's emotions became even more uncertain.
She still couldn't bring herself to like Escar, but that didn't mean she wanted to see him die.
If he died, what would happen to her? And to the child she carried?
Shirley didn't want that.
That was why …!
CLASP!
Shirley lowered her face, closed her eyes, and pressed her palms together in front of her chest.
She prayed.
To the Almighty, she asked.
My Lord.
Please bless my husband with safety.
Always.
•••
"Marquess Aschenford's barracks attacked? Is it them again, those barbaric and primitive Rurin people?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The young king was working on his paperwork, accompanied by the Chancellor, who was informing him of the latest hot news.
"Ha, those small kingdoms still want to cause trouble with our great Soultherns."
"What do you intend to decide? If you wish, you could negotiate with that kingdom?"
"Hm, let me think about it first."
The beautiful, blonde-haired man leaned back, interlocking his fingers behind his neck and resting in his chair as his handsome face looked up toward the ceiling.
"But … it wouldn't be fun if this conflict ended in a boring way like that, would it? Especially if they started it first?"
"… Pardon me?"
"They deserve to be tortured in hell."
"…."
SYAKK!
The young king, Michael Soultherns, startled the Chancellor with his sudden action.
He turned his head, which had been tilted upwards, and suddenly stared at him with his glaring blue eyes.
"That's why this conflict must end with one of us surrendering power, pride, or life, and submitting unconditionally."
"…!"
The Chancellor felt a chill run down his spine.
"I'm sure our kingdom will win. Ah, no, but …."
Ah, the former Crown Prince, whom he knew to be a mad psychopath hiding his insanity behind a gentle angelic appearance, had returned!
"… We must. We must win."
No! Wait a minute.
"Send my message directly to the mute Marquess."
It seems not so simple!
"You will not return to your loving wife's embrace …."
Actually, this is getting worse!
"… Until we receive an official statement of surrender from that damned kingdom."
~•••~
"THEY'RE CLIMBING THE WALLS! THEY'RE CLIMBING THE WALLS!"
"COMMANDER! PLEASE GIVE US ORDERS!"
"COMMANDER!"
"COMMANDER!"
"HELP US!"
"ARGHH, I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"
The chaos at the military barracks of Marquess Aschenford was wild, grim, and terrifying.
Sir Morgan, the knight commander, a man in his late thirties with numerous scars covering his body, was overwhelmed.
Hearing his subordinate knights scream for help, while he himself was busy fighting off three attackers who had climbed the fortress walls, made Sir Morgan feel utterly helpless.
"SIR! BEHIND YOU!"
"…?!"
Sir Morgan, alerted to the danger behind him, instinctively turned around.
"…!"
His dark brown eyes reflected the image of a figure nearby.
As if time slowed, marking the moments before death might claim him, Sir Morgan saw it clearly: his would-be executioner, a soldier of the Rurin kingdom, preparing to swing their massive blade—a signature weapon of their people.
Until …!
CRASHH!
… An arrow suddenly pierced through the air, striking like lightning and shattering the skull of the soldier who moments ago was poised to take Sir Morgan's life.
"IT'S THE MARQUESS!"
"THE MARQUESS HAS ARRIVED!"
"THANK GOODNESS!"
"YOUR EXCELLENCY!"
As his subordinates cried out in joy—when mere moments ago they had been shouting in fear—Marquess Aschenford made his entrance.
"…."
Sir Morgan turned his gaze toward the source of the arrow that had saved him.
It came from their leader, who had arrived with an undeniable presence of authority.
"…."
Mounted atop a horse on the field below, positioned beneath a clear sky where the wind blew briskly, strands of silver-white hair swayed gently in the breeze.
His emerald-green eyes, sharp as precious gemstones, locked onto new targets, his bow at the ready.
"Marquess, …."
So awed was the older commander by his lord, he murmured under his breath.
"Marquess, …."
But that murmur swiftly turned into a rallying cry.
Raising his blood-stained sword for all his knights to see, Sir Morgan shouted:
"LONG LIVE THE MARQUESS!"
And his call was met by the fervent cheers of the knights, as they regained their courage and pushed back against the invaders, ready to wipe them out completely.
"LONG LIVE THE MARQUESS!"
"LONG LIVE THE MARQUESS!"
"GOD BLESS OUR MARQUESS!"