My Slain Dragon Bride

Chapter 67: Chapter 67

Chapter 67 - The Second Tea Party

Ferda looked over everything that had happened at Valdrova Castle.

It had been an entire month since he had last been here, so he wondered whether anything unusual had occurred, but everything had been progressing smoothly.

The first place he visited was Vernel’s laboratory.

Even Vernel’s notoriously difficult theories had gradually been refined into something much easier to understand.

It was the result of fifteen assistants working alongside him.

"They’re still a long way from the summit, though."

His greatest challenge was still Malcolm.

"Mr. Malcolm, could you put this into the right-side intake?"

"The right side, correct!? Understood!"

"No, the right side! Your eating hand! No, not there! Aaagh!"

To people who had spent their lives competing with geniuses, Malcolm was nothing short of a catastrophe.

The moment anyone used even slightly complicated words, a giant question mark would appear over his head.

He was the greatest idiot in history, unable to tell east from west, north from south, or even left from right.

Even geniuses couldn’t understand one another at times, yet they now had to explain everything until a fool could understand it.

Vernel had pulled at his hair so much that his once-lush hair was beginning to reveal his scalp.

Meanwhile, Malcolm—the very cause of all this suffering—looked as carefree as a dog out on a walk.

"Magitech Engineering is ultimately meant to be used by ordinary humans, not mages."

Even if someone like Malcolm couldn’t apply its principles, as long as he could understand its purpose and operate it, then ordinary people would eventually be able to use it as well.

That was Ferda’s ultimate goal.

"In any case, things seem to be going well here."

As he walked past the sight of everyone clutching their heads in frustration, Ferda heard a loud commotion from one corner of the hallway.

"Hyaaahhh!?"

The moment he heard the overdramatic scream, he knew exactly who it was.

The demon, Penelope.

"What is this witch doing here!? Why is there a witch freely wandering around a dragon’s castle!?"

The witch she was referring to was undoubtedly Echidna.

"Hehehehehe... If a demon is allowed to wander around, why can’t a witch?"

Ferda wondered why those two had become entangled with one another, but the reason soon became obvious.

"Miss Echidna? Could you calm down and listen to me for a moment?"

It was because of Zed.

As Ferda approached, the situation became perfectly clear.

Penelope was clinging to Zed’s leg.

Zed looked completely overwhelmed.

And Echidna was pointing a knife straight at him.

Her eyes were unfocused.

"Ah, Lord Zed. Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you. I’m merely trying to perform Contract Separation."

"Contract Separation?"

"Yes. We simply cut off the place where you’ve engraved the mark, grant it new life, and thereby escape the curse. Then your body will become perfectly clean again, just like before."

"...Doesn’t that mean you’re cutting off my arm?"

"And you’ll have to live in terrible pain every day afterward. But that amount of pain is nothing!"

Zed was so dumbfounded that he blurted out exactly what he was thinking.

"Are you insane?"

"It’s okay! Even if you only have one arm, I’ll love you forever, Lord Zed!"

"I happen to love both of my arms!"

"We’ll overcome it together! With the power of our love!"

Things here were just as much of a complete disaster.

Simply hearing the conversation was enough for Ferda to deduce the cause.

"It’s because of the covenant he made with Penelope."

On the day he rescued her, Ferda had forced Penelope and Zed into a contract.

It prevented Penelope’s body from returning to Hell while also allowing her movements to be monitored.

He had also placed an absolute gag order on her, ensuring she could never speak about Sitri’s Life Vessel without his permission.

Although she had effectively been put on a leash, the arrangement couldn’t have been better from Penelope’s perspective.

Wasn’t hiding safely inside a dragon’s domain far preferable to living as a fugitive everywhere she went?

"I suppose... it’s good for Zed too?"

He was the type who instinctively flirted with any woman he met.

Since Penelope was, at the very least, a woman, Ferda figured Zed probably didn’t mind.

Ferda had never explained Penelope’s true purpose to Zed.

It was enough for him to believe that she was simply Sitri’s dearly beloved daughter.

While Zed found himself trapped between a demon and a witch, his eyes met Ferda’s.

Zed’s gaze said only one thing.

Please save me.

A real man speaks with his back.

Ferda responded like a true man.

He simply turned around.

Handle it yourself.

"Anyway, everything seems to be functioning without any problems."

Completely unaware of what kind of chaos they had caused while he was away, life at the castle continued as usual.

"Lord Ferda."

Luri, the petite girl dressed in a maid outfit, approached him as she always did.

"It’s ready."

"Understood."

Ferda absentmindedly adjusted his necktie.

Black hands extended from his clothes and began straightening his attire once more.

He had risked dealing with demons in exchange for information.

He had killed those who threatened Luri so she would not be taken away.

He had faced two crises severe enough to endanger the very survival of a nation.

Yet even combining all of those moments together, none made him as nervous as this one.

It felt just like hiding a bed sheet he’d wet as a child deep inside a wardrobe.

Like concealing a secret that might remain hidden for now, but would inevitably be discovered someday.

That uneasy feeling disappeared as the arcade’s door opened.

Before him were the wide-open balcony, the tea table...and the unmistakably out-of-place Dragon Dragoon Armor.

"Again today."

Having already seen it twice, he was no longer particularly surprised.

She sat perfectly still, quietly looking in his direction.

The helmet modeled after Valdrova’s Dragon Eyes radiated an overwhelming presence toward anyone facing it.

"Why is she just sitting there?"

Ferda walked forward.

He found himself imagining what expression might lie behind that helmet.

Before his imagination could arrive at the worst possible conclusion, he realized the truth.

"Snnnore..."

She was asleep.

Valdrova’s head slowly drooped forward.

It tilted so far that it looked ready to slam into the floor before rising back upright again.

"Mmm... mm... huh?"

The helmet slowly lifted as Valdrova turned toward Ferda.

"Mmm... Mr. Ferda...?"

Her voice echoed dreamily.

She stared blankly at him.

"Huh!? Mr. Ferda!?"

She hurriedly leapt to her feet to greet him.

"Y-You’re here!?"

"Yes. Greetings, Grand Duchess Valdrova."

"W-Welcome, Mr. Ferda. I was just..."

Valdrova couldn’t think of an appropriate excuse.

Ferda came to her rescue.

"It seems you had much on your mind. You appeared to be deeply lost in thought."

"Huh? Ah... actually, I had fallen asleep..."

"When a monarch wakes after dozing off, that’s the polite explanation people are supposed to give."

"O-Oh... I see. That’s right! I-I was thinking. Yes!"

Apparently delighted to have found a respectable excuse, she nodded repeatedly.

She was a woman who was terrible at lying.

"Are you all right, Mr. Ferda?"

"Yes."

"I heard there was a problem with your carriage. So... I was told you stopped by Count Consilus’s territory..."

Ferda glanced quietly toward Luri.

Standing silently like a decorative folding screen, she gave the slightest nod.

So Ferda answered affirmatively.

"Yes, that’s correct."

"You weren’t hurt, were you?"

"It wasn’t anything serious. It was only a minor issue that could be resolved with routine repairs."

"That’s a relief. I was a little worried."

She looked genuinely relieved.

That very reaction reminded him why the truth had to remain hidden.

"What was discussed at the Grand Ducal Council?"

Ferda told her about what had been discussed there.

Nothing more than a territorial dispute.

"I see... I’ve heard that wars occasionally break out on the Cerdes Continent."

It was a territorial conflict between the elves and the dwarves.

"Are they still fighting? I think they were doing the same thing long ago..."

Most of the conversation was like that.

Conflict.

Anger.

There was nothing that could bring smiles.

Yet Valdrova listened with complete attention.

That was precisely what frightened him.

He feared that her innocence might eventually coax him into making a mistake.

It wasn’t easy to trample muddy footprints across such pure snow.

"And..."

The story was reaching its conclusion.

"We also discussed the Eastern Campaign."

"The Eastern Campaign?"

"I declared that we would conquer the Land of Demons along our border."

"Ah..."

The Land of Demons.

The moment those words were spoken, even Valdrova, who had been responding so readily until now, fell silent.

She absentmindedly rubbed her own forearm.

Her gaze drifted beyond the balcony.

The scenery of early autumn, when the colors of nature were at their richest.

The very landscape that ordinary people of the Cerdes Continent knew.

"Even the place that’s now called the Land of Demons..."

Her voice was filled with distant nostalgia.

"...There was once a time when it possessed scenery just as beautiful as this."

Her words carried emotions far too complicated to describe.

"It’s become a land stained black now... but someday it can regain those beautiful colors again, can’t it?"

Of course.

He could have answered with those simple words.

But Ferda couldn’t.

"It won’t be easy."

He refused to make promises he couldn’t guarantee.

"But I’ll do whatever it takes to restore the landscape you once saw."

Instead, he spoke of his resolve.

"Is that so?"

Valdrova brightened, genuinely moved by his words.

"If there’s anything I can do to help, then I’ll do everything I can."

She clenched her fist tightly.

"My fiancé is working so hard. I can’t just sit around doing nothing."

"If Your Highness extends your hand to me, it would be the greatest honor I could ask for."

Watching her, Ferda felt a sense of peace settle over him.

Someone whose words could simply be accepted at face value, without needing to search for hidden motives.

This...was true innocence.

"U-Um... isn’t there... anything else you’d like to tell me?"

"There isn’t."

"Ah... I see..."

Valdrova’s voice trailed off, lacking confidence.

What was that?

What had she been hoping to hear?

Ferda lifted his cooling tea to his lips.

"Well... Luri told me..."

"Yes?"

"...That you even held hands with a woman named Olivia."

"Pffft."

He choked and spectacularly sprayed his tea everywhere.

Valdrova looked even more flustered than Ferda, who had just spit out his tea.

"Mr. Ferda? Are you all right?!"

"Yes... I’m fine."

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you... I just wanted us to talk..."

As Ferda wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, he turned his gaze.

His eyes met Luri’s, who was standing there like a decorative folding screen.

So you even told her that?

He glared at her with that question in his eyes, but Luri simply looked away.

It would be a lie to say he didn’t feel at least a little resentful.

A headache came over him in an instant.

What am I supposed to say to get out of this situation?

She grabbed my hand first?

Yes, we held hands, but it didn’t mean anything?

Dozens of excuses flashed through his mind.

But Ferda erased every one of them.

"I’m sorry. Holding hands with another woman in front of Your Highness..."

"What? Betrayal? I don’t care about something like that!"

She hurriedly waved her hands.

"Mr. Ferda is a man... and I heard she’s incredibly beautiful too. So... I think that’s only natural."

She muttered as though she understood.

But her fidgeting fingers and lowered head told a different story.

A heavy sense of guilt settled over Ferda’s heart.

"So..."

She looked up at him cautiously.

"I was wondering..."

Tilting her head ever so slightly, she asked him,

"...Would you... perhaps... like to hold my hand too?"

Ferda felt his mind go completely blank.

"...What?"

The question escaped his lips before he could stop it.

"Your Highness’s... hand?"

"Yes. You’ve held it once before... and... I think... I can manage at least that much..."

I’m still not ready to show my face, though.

She swallowed the rest of the sentence and waited for his answer.

"W-What do you think?"

Unlike her seemingly casual attitude, Ferda became more cautious than ever.

This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

He couldn’t throw it away carelessly.

Suppressing the trembling in his body, he swallowed once to steady his voice.

"I... want to hold it."

"All right. Just a moment."

She removed her gauntlet.

Unlike the massive gauntlet, the hand that emerged was small and delicate.

It was an arm so fragile that no one could associate it with the Aspect of Strength.

When she shyly curled her fingers into a small fist, it looked even smaller.

"H-Here..."

She stretched out her open palm toward him.

Ferda stared at it in a daze.

Even the slender fingers and the delicate lines across her palm looked like a work of art.

Very carefully, Ferda reached out to place his hand on hers—

"Eep!?"

Valdrova’s hand instantly jerked away.

He hadn’t even had time to feel how soft it was.

"Is something wrong?"

"N-No... it’s just... I don’t think I can control my strength very well... I-I just need a little time to prepare myself..."

Her words trailed off, and her breathing grew heavy beneath the helmet.

For a moment, Ferda feared she was about to change her mind.

She placed both mismatched hands over her chest and took several deep breaths.

Since her nervousness showed no sign of fading, Ferda made a suggestion.

"If controlling your strength is difficult, then how about I place my hand over yours instead?"

"Huh! That’s... that’s a good idea! Let’s... do that."

Valdrova gently rested the back of her hand on the table.

Once more, Ferda slowly placed his own hand over hers.

Crack.

At that very moment, something shattered.

Looking closer, he saw cracks spreading across the table.

Wasn’t this table made of granite?

A material said to be so durable that even a meteor falling from the sky couldn’t break it.

If a table was made from such a material, it was probably the toughest table on the entire continent.

I heard it almost never even cracked... As expected...

There was a reason she was called the Aspect of Strength.

Thinking that, Ferda suddenly remembered something he himself had done.

Their very first meeting.

The impulsive act he’d committed simply because he wanted to see Valdrova’s face.

I’m pretty sure... I even interlocked our fingers back then.

Ferda silently gave thanks that his right hand hadn’t been crushed into pieces.

Even while feeling that chilling realization, he couldn’t bring himself to let go of Valdrova’s hand.

It was small.

Soft.

Its warmth and steady heartbeat were vividly transmitted to him.

A tiny part of her he wished he could hold onto forever.

If he had to let go, then he wanted to feel it completely, without regret.

Maybe... I wouldn’t even mind if my hand got crushed a little.

For a brief moment, he considered simply throwing caution aside.

But reason quickly suppressed the thought.

"Are you still suffering because of the Bloodlust these days?"

Valdrova shook her head.

"N-No... I’m all right."

"Lady Valdrova was unable to hunt yesterday."

"L-Luri?"

Valdrova looked startled.

Luri casually dropped the information as if it were nothing before falling silent once more.

"Is that true?"

"Well... yes... But it’ll probably be fine. Just because no monsters appeared yesterday doesn’t mean they won’t come today."

"But neither is there any guarantee that they will."

"That’s... true."

"If you can’t hunt... then you’ll end up hurting yourself."

"..."

Valdrova quietly closed her mouth.

She simply didn’t know what she should say in an atmosphere like this.

Fortunately, words weren’t necessary.

"Ah..."

Valdrova suddenly felt something flowing into the back of her hand.

It was a sensation she knew very well.

The same thing that had once calmed her Bloodlust before.

"Mr. Ferda..."

"It’s all right."

Valdrova fell silent.

As it entered her body, it gently calmed her heart.

Even though she had experienced it once before, she still couldn’t help but marvel.

The violent urge that could only be relieved through rampaging was quietly fading away this peacefully.

"U-Um... Mr. Ferda..."

"Yes?"

"I think... this is enough."

"Is it?"

"Yes."

Ferda stopped infusing Mana.

Silence settled between them.

An unbearably awkward silence.

Yet neither of them dared to break it.

The moment either of them spoke, it felt as though they would both stand up and walk away.

As though the hands that had finally found the courage to meet would drift apart.

Just a little longer.

They quietly savored that uncomfortable silence.