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Chapter 45
A Talent Close By
Luckily, the dress I wore today—a simple dove-gray one—was perfect for working in the garden.
I thought I’d just wrap a cloth around my head to avoid getting sunburned, when Cedar came up beside me.
“Where are you going?”
I’m going to get away from you, so don’t follow me.
I waved my hands like I was shooing away sparrows eating grain.
“It’ll take a while, so I’m going to pull some weeds. I’ll check how much the herbs have grown, too. You stay here and rest.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll do it.”
Cedar stopped me, but I lifted my arm and replied,
“I’m strong now, really. I’ve recovered my health. I know my limits, so I’ll work carefully.”
I’d meant to show him that I’d gotten sturdier, but the look he gave me—like he was staring at a twig that might snap if he touched it—made me feel oddly embarrassed.
If he’d just scoffed instead, it wouldn’t have been this awkward!
“I’m not saying this to ignore your will,” Cedar said quietly. “But there are people watching the mansion. I don’t know who sent them.”
“Watching us?”
From assassins to spies now—my shoulders tensed in surprise.
Cedar rubbed his chin, face dark.
“Do you have any idea who might’ve sent them?”
“Me? I hardly know anyone here. But if someone in the capital wanted to keep tabs on me…”
There was no point saying it aloud. There was only one person.
Baroness Diana Ferryway—my younger sister.
Just thinking of Diana made my chest heavy.
I’d already experienced her obsession with the Archmage’s inheritance, but knowing that didn’t make it any less depressing.
Cedar nodded slowly.
“I think your guess is right. So for now, try not to go outside too much. At least until the watchers disappear.”
“…Okay.”
My answer was weak, but honestly, it wasn’t such a bad thing.
I wasn’t one for outdoor activity anyway, and if Cedar was handling the herb field, all the better.
Actually, it was Cedar who’d have the hard time doing unfamiliar work.
I bowed my head deeply to him.
“Thank you! If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t even know we were being watched. Please take care of the herbs too.”
“If you’re really thankful, stop calling me that weird title and just say Cedar.”
“That’s embarrassing.”
“…Yet you say Grisha’s name just fine.”
“What was that?”
Did he just say something about Grisha? I blinked, but instead of answering, Cedar asked another question.
“When do you receive the inheritance?”
“In about a month.”
“No wonder you’re restless.”
It hit me then—three whole years had passed.
Now there were even spies. Not exactly the way I’d wanted to feel time moving.
As if to comfort me, Cedar reached out and ruffled my hair. His touch was rough, but warm.
“Don’t think too much about family. People are lonely by nature. Don’t waste time wondering, ‘Why would my sister do that? What did I do wrong?’”
“Is that from experience?”
“Who knows.”
He shrugged, then gave me a teasing smile.
“Well, I’ll do as my wife requested and go pull some weeds.”
“Wh–wife?”
My face went up in flames at the shameless word.
Cedar winked and stepped out of the mansion, leaving me standing there, touching the hair he’d just mussed.
‘He feels… warmer somehow.’
Not just in my imagination—his gestures and expressions toward me had definitely grown softer.
He even joked now, something I never thought he’d do.
‘Ever since I said I wouldn’t get divorced, he’s been like this.’
Even though I was only his wife on paper, maybe he saw me as his person.
‘Maybe Cedar’s a lonely person too.’
For some reason, that big man—like a wild leopard—felt almost… sad.
I didn’t think I could concentrate on anything else, so I curled up on the sofa in the sitting room instead of going back upstairs.
‘The young leaves of mossa herbs can be used soon. Then I can make potions.’
I’d sell them quickly, save some money. It’d be great if I could manage to sell before I went to collect the inheritance.
Thinking that, I dozed off. It wasn’t a deep sleep—no dreams, just a short nap.
‘Ugh, cold…’
I should’ve pulled the blanket Cedar gave me over. But I was too lazy to open my eyes.
Just then, something thin and soft settled over me—a blanket.
Warmth returned, and a drowsy smile spread across my face.
A large hand patted my shoulder gently, kindly.
Half asleep, I squinted and murmured the name of the hand’s owner.
“…Cedar?”
At my sleepy call, the hand stilled and quickly withdrew.
Aww. It felt nice. I blinked my eyes open, about to ask for more pats—only to freeze.
“Grisha?”
“It’s done,” he said calmly.
“Oh, really? I must’ve slept a while then.”
I wiped the corner of my mouth—hopefully no drool—and sat up. The blanket slid off my shoulders.
“You covered me? Thanks.”
“It’s nothing.”
Grisha’s expression was as gentle as ever, but I’d known him long enough to sense something was off.
‘Is he tired?’
His pale face looked even whiter than usual. I reached out and touched his forehead.
“Are you okay? You’re not sick, right?”
His blue eyes shimmered like the sea. He bit his lip, lowering his head.
“Maybe I am a little tired…”
His dark hair slipped forward over his long neck. I brushed it back behind his ear.
“Your hair’s gotten long. Doesn’t it bother you?”
“You know I never have time to cut it, even if it does.”
“That’s true.”
Professors at the academy really shouldn’t complain about talented students not staying—when they work them to the bone like this.
Who’d want to stay when they can’t even find time for a haircut?
‘And that cursed trend with chrysanthemum tea and Jerusalem artichoke tea—someone needs to stop it.’
I liked tea, sure, but I brewed real tea leaves.
Because of that fad, apprentice mages had to spend every autumn drying fruit and roots for tea blends.
‘Jerusalem artichoke was the worst. If you dried it wrong, it rotted or grew mold…’
While I was remembering those miserable days, something tangled around my fingers.
Grisha had ducked his head under my palm.
His soft, round eyes looked up at me like a puppy’s.
“Tie it up for me later, please. I can’t seem to do it right myself.”
“Sure.”
How could he still be this cute, even after growing up?
I patted his hair gently, and just then, Jacques entered the sitting room, smiling faintly.
“You two seem to get along very well.”
Well, Grisha really was the only person I thought of as family. I shrugged and asked,
“How are you, Sir Jacques? Feeling better?”
“I am deeply grateful to you, my lady, for introducing me to such a remarkable mage.”
Jacques bowed deeply, almost to his waist.
“From this day on, I shall serve you as my benefactor. Not only I, but all the forestfolk will regard you as kin.”
That was far too much praise. I waved my hands in alarm.
“B-but it was Grisha who healed you! You don’t have to thank me!”
“But without meeting you, I’d never have found this connection. It is divine providence.”
“Haha…”
Even so, it felt too much. I glanced at Grisha, hoping he’d help tone it down, but he instead calmly explained about the curse.
“It was quite severe. Too complex for me to fully decode right away. But I believe I can finish within a week.”
“A week? Isn’t that fast? I thought it was an old, complicated curse.”
“This man is an exceptional mage,” Jacques said solemnly.
Coming from someone as old as Jacques, that meant a lot.
Grisha acted like it was no big deal, but it clearly was.
‘What a brilliant boy.’
He’d worked so hard and become such a fine mage. Pride warmed my heart.
Jacques cleared his throat.
“Since you’ve helped me greatly, it’s time I fulfill my promise to you.”
I figured it was something Grisha shouldn’t hear, so I asked him to let Jacques and me talk alone for a moment.
Grisha quietly left and closed the door behind him.
When it was just us, Jacques lowered his voice and whispered,
“To resolve your mana depletion, you must stay close to a being that constantly emits mana—very close.”
Given how secretive he sounded, the content was… surprisingly mundane.
I couldn’t help laughing softly.
“A being that constantly emits mana? Does such a thing even exist? Maybe a dragon, at best.”
“You are already doing well, my lady.”
“Dragons don’t exactly roam around on street corners…”
I started to reply indifferently—then froze.
One person came to mind.
Someone whose mana was so immense that it distorted the air around him, like light shimmering near the sun.
‘Wait… wasn’t Cedar’s ancestor said to be a dragon?’
That was why, when Cedar Granite became the youngest Swordmaster in history, the entire academy went wild.
Could dragon ancestry truly affect descendants? Was his heart shaped differently from an ordinary human’s?
Professors proposed all sorts of theories, and I’d had to physically stop a few from running off to test them on Cedar himself.
Yes—Cedar Granite.
That man was right beside me.
