WFMW 19

Chapter 19

 I’ll Just Do It Myself

The next morning, as if my fever had been a lie, my temperature was completely gone, and I could easily get out of bed.

‘Feeling great!’

It was as if being sick for a short while had been just to build momentum—my body felt incredibly light.

When I stretched, a series of cracks echoed pleasantly through my whole body.

I was enjoying how light I felt, moving around here and there, when a deep voice rumbled beside me.

“Awake?”

“Eek!”

I’d thought I was alone in my room, of course—but from one corner of the room, a pair of sharp, blue-tinged eyes gleamed.

It was like a tiger emerging from the shadows of a dark jungle, revealing itself as it prepared to hunt its prey.

It was Cedar.

Startled, I yanked my blanket up to my chest and shouted.

“Wh-why are you here?”

Cedar slowly rose from his seat.

He was such a large man that just his presence made the entire room feel smaller.

With one hand on his hip, he replied confidently,

“Something might happen if I take my eyes off you.”

“What could possibly happen?”

Was he worried an assassin might sneak in or something?

‘We’re inside Cedar’s own mansion, and as far as everyone knows, I’m still in a coma—who would target me?’

No matter how I thought about it, there was no reason for him to keep such a close watch on me, so I scratched my cheek awkwardly.

Seeing my expression, Cedar let out a sigh so deep it could have cracked the floor.

“…You really have no idea about your own condition, do you?”

Was he worried I might relapse into a more serious illness?

I shrugged my shoulders and answered energetically,

“I’m perfectly healthy.”

“Yeah, sure.”

O-of course, I had come down with a fever just from digging up a few patches in the garden with a shovel.

But that didn’t mean he had to scoff that hard!

“I am healthy! I mean, sure, I was in a coma for a long time, so I might not be as strong as before, but still…”

The more I spoke, the smaller my voice became.

Because, come to think of it… even before the coma, I hadn’t exactly been the picture of health.

As I mumbled to defend myself, Cedar’s sigh fell on me again like a shadow.

Then, with a sharp turn, he said,

“Let’s eat first.”

Following Cedar into the kitchen, I was immediately ordered to sit quietly at the table and not move, in case I collapsed again.

Feeling embarrassed, I sat there alone, when soon enough a delicious aroma began drifting from the kitchen.

‘Smells so good…’

My stomach, quiet until now, growled eagerly.

It was a sensation I hadn’t felt back when I was buried in magical research all day.

‘Come to think of it, I’ve been eating regularly since getting married. Is this the benefit of marriage?’

When my senior once said marriage helps you maintain a regular lifestyle, I’d laughed it off as nonsense. But now I kind of understood.

‘A lifestyle unimaginable for a mage.’

Waiting patiently and then eating a warm, freshly made meal? No one would believe me if I told them.

They’d probably joke that I must have captured a cooking fairy slave or something.

‘If I said Cedar Granite cooks for me himself, no one would believe that either.’

Not because he’s domestic or particularly caring—but simply because he wants to keep my recovery a secret.

‘Still, I’ll probably remember this even after we divorce. “Once upon a time, I used to get three home-cooked meals a day…”’

As I was lost in thought, Cedar emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray.

When he set my plate down in front of me, my eyes widened in disbelief.

“Honey? This is… way too many vegetables.”

Cedar had always been obsessed with making me eat vegetables, but this was extreme—the entire plate looked green.

Humans aren’t herbivores, so why was half my plate grass?

To my reasonable complaint, Cedar snorted.

“You need to eat all of it. You’re too weak.”

“To get healthy from vegetables alone, I’d have to eat like an elephant for years! And health is about balance, you know!”

Humans are closer to carnivores than herbivores, so clearly I deserved more meat.

But even with my logical argument, Cedar didn’t budge.

Instead, he sat across from me, arms crossed, his eyes gleaming.

“Eat everything. I’ll check if you’ve left anything out, so don’t even think about arguing your way out of it.”

Check if I finish everything? Even when I was seven, no one did that!

“Ugh! Do you think I’m a child?”

“You’re worse than one.”

“That’s so mean.”

“Mean? Who’s the one complaining even after I cook for them?”

“…Yes. I’m the sinner here.”

All because I didn’t want to eat vegetables, I’d somehow become a guilty criminal.

Resigned, I picked up my fork and reluctantly chewed the greens I didn’t want.

One of the many reasons I hate vegetables is because no matter how much you eat, the plate never seems to get emptier.

Pouting, I jabbed at the tough stem of a vegetable that refused to be picked up properly.

“I was going to order seeds and seedlings today, and till the soil. Guess I’ll have to eat fast.”

Cedar’s face twisted as if he’d just heard the strangest thing in the world.

“…What did you say you were going to do?”

As expected of a highborn duke—he didn’t know the first thing about farming.

While subtly pushing the vegetables to the side of my plate, I explained,

“I said I’m going to till the soil. It’s been untouched for so long that it’s really hard. You have to loosen the earth if you want anything to grow well. Roots need air to grow strong, you see.”

As I patiently lectured him with a tone like “You can do it too! Practical farming 101!”, Cedar gave me a look of pure disbelief.

“Do you even know how many days it’s been since you woke up from your coma?”

Ah, that’s what bothered him. I gave an awkward smile.

“Then maybe… tomorrow instead?”

My “compromise” bounced right off him. He took an unused spoon and dragged all the vegetables I’d pushed aside back to the center of the plate.

“Do you really have to do it yourself? Can’t you have someone else do it?”

Did he think I hadn’t considered that? I shrugged.

“It’s supposed to be a secret that I woke up, remember? If I call someone else, that secret’s gone. You’re fine with that?”

“…”

Cedar’s face hardened dangerously.

He looked so intimidating that even I, who’d proudly declared I’d plow the field myself because of him, flinched.

‘He looks like he’s about to eat me alive.’

I didn’t know why he suddenly changed his mind, but it was clear he didn’t like the idea of me working in the garden.

Watching his expression, I whispered carefully,

“If it really bothers you that much, I can just…”

…Give up?

I couldn’t bring myself to say it aloud, so I closed my mouth. Then I realized—

I had actually been excited about making that magic potion.

‘But with Cedar looking like that, I can’t bring myself to insist.’

His narrowed eyes looked like they’d scold me harshly at any moment.

Why, though? Was it because I’d collapsed before? Or did it just irritate him more than he expected?

‘Maybe he doesn’t want me walking around and being seen by others.’

He clearly didn’t want anyone to know I was awake.

He’d even been cooking for me and staying by my side, nursing me back to health.

‘If he’s doing that much, maybe I should yield a little.’

My inner scale began to tip in his favor.

I’m not the kind of person who usually suppresses my own desires out of consideration for others, but…

‘Still, I can’t be the only one benefiting from this arrangement. I can always make and sell magic potions after we divorce.’

It was disappointing, but if Cedar was that against it, I’d just back down.

Having made up my mind, I slowly opened my mouth.

“In that case, I’ll just—”

Before I could finish, Cedar slammed his palm against the table with a loud thud!

I blinked in surprise at the sudden noise.

In a blunt voice, he said,

“I’ll do it.”

“Ah, I mean, I was going to give up—wait, what?”

Had my ears gone bad?

Cedar, in a deliberate, clear tone, repeated himself.

“That stuff—you heard me. I’ll do it.”

“……?”

Even after hearing it again, I couldn’t make sense of it. He’d… do it? What, plowing the field?

My gaze automatically shifted to him.

My eyes were first drawn to his perfectly symmetrical, muscular frame—typical of a well-trained knight.

The muscles on his forearms, from wrist to elbow, were clearly defined beneath the folded sleeves of his shirt, thick and smooth as if layered upon one another.

‘There’s probably no part of his body that isn’t muscular. And he’s incredibly strong, too.’

He was a Swordmaster—a man who had transcended merely controlling a sword with aura, capable of turning his very body into a perfect blade.

But being good with aura had absolutely nothing to do with what I wanted to do.