"Cough!"
Klein was looking down, observing the fine scales on the brass instrument, when he was suddenly choked by Raymond's earth-shattering words and let out a violent cough.
Fortunately, he wasn't drinking anything; otherwise, the bottles and jars scattered across the table would have certainly suffered today.
He looked up, staring at his serious and solemn steward with an expression of pure disbelief.
"Raymond, you..."
Hearing those words from that stern and rigid face felt like the ultimate clash of realities.
It was important to remember that this steward was usually incredibly precise with his speech, even using phrases like "intimate behavior" to substitute for "physical contact." Now, he was being this blunt?
Raymond’s expression remained unchanged, as if he were merely asking about the dinner menu, and his eyes calmly awaited an answer.
Klein pressed a hand to his forehead, feeling a headache coming on.
He cleared his throat, attempting to steer the conversation back to a normal track. "This marriage happened very suddenly. Miss Ophelia and I... we’ve only known each other for two days."
He tried to explain, "And, as you know, this was an arrangement from the imperial capital. We both still need time to adjust. Furthermore, she is a war hero of the Empire, not someone who can be treated casually..."
Halfway through the sentence, Klein suddenly realized what he was defending and felt even more ridiculous.
"I understand." Raymond nodded in comprehension.
Klein breathed a sigh of relief, thinking this awkward personal matter was finally behind them.
However, Raymond’s tone shifted, his voice becoming quiet and steady.
"When the Master's father and mother were alive, they often spoke of you."
Klein’s hand, which was about to pick up a tool, froze in mid-air.
Raymond looked out the window, his gaze seemingly piercing the deep night to see into the past.
"They said their greatest wish was to see the next generation of the Klein family."
His voice was flat, without any intentional sentimentality, yet it carried a certain weight.
"To hold their own grandson or granddaughter in their arms."
"You were devoted to alchemy and magic at the time, and they had no intention of binding you too early. The old madam even said, 'Let Klein pursue his truth; there's no need to rush into having children.'"
"But now..."
Raymond didn't finish the sentence, but the meaning was already painfully clear.
Klein lowered his hand, his fingertips tapping lightly on the cold tabletop.
A sense of absurdity welled up within him.
He hadn't expected that even in this world, he wouldn't be able to escape this familiar pressure.
However, he was no longer a child who needed to follow his parents' arrangements.
"Raymond."
He spoke with a calm but undeniable authority.
"Right now, I am the master of this manor."
He paused and added, "And besides, matters of the heart aren't something a marriage contract can solve. I respect Miss Ophelia, and I respect her wishes. Forced affection yields no sweetness; you should understand that."
He had his own plans and his own pace. More importantly, he didn't want this arranged marriage to become another form of shackles.
Raymond lowered his eyes, and a flash of understanding seemed to cross those unreadable eyes.
He knew the Young Master’s temperament; he seemed easygoing but was incredibly stubborn about certain things.
Persisting would yield no results and might even be counterproductive.
Thus, he bowed slightly and did not continue the topic.
"I was overstepping."
Seeing that he wouldn't say more, Klein took the opportunity to change the subject.
"How are the preparations for Daisy's wedding coming along?"
Raymond immediately resumed his persona as the perfect steward, answering clearly and methodically.
"Everything is in order, Master. Please rest easy."
"We can set out early tomorrow morning; there is more than enough time. The carriage has been inspected, and the gifts are prepared."
He added, "I have already factored in any potential delays on the road to ensure there are no late arrivals."
This was Raymond—always meticulous and cautious, leaving no room for fault.
Klein nodded.
"Good. Thank you for your hard work."
"If there's nothing else, you should head to bed early as well. You have a journey tomorrow."
Raymond bowed and turned to leave.
Just as he was about to step over the threshold, he suddenly stopped and said in a low voice:
"Young Master, the Master and Madam... if they are watching from the afterlife, what they most wish to see is for you to be truly happy."
With those words, he vanished into the shadows of the hallway without waiting for Klein to respond.
...
After Raymond left, the air in the laboratory seemed to grow stagnant again.
Klein let out a long yawn, weariness seeping out from his very bones.
He stood up from his chair, his back letting out a series of small, satisfying cracks.
He had been sitting at the workbench for too long, and his body had grown stiff.
He looked down at his cuff, where a smudge of silver-green powder was caught, and his fingertips still carried the pungent scent of sulfur mixed with dried herbs.
It was time for a bath.
He walked to the window and pushed open the heavy wooden frame.
The night wind rushed in instantly, carrying a chill and the scent of fresh grass from the distant wheat fields.
Klein whispered a few discordant syllables toward the window, and an invisible breeze swirled around him, sweeping away the heavy smell of potions and metal and replacing it with the freshness of earth and grass.
He leaned his elbows on the windowsill, leaning halfway out.
The manor under the night sky was silent and vast, the moonlight spilling over the distant wheat fields in a hazy silver glow.
Before long, the roses would bloom, followed by the season for the wheat to ripen. Then, the entire manor would be covered in gold, and the air would be thick with the scent of grain.
Klein knew why Raymond was acting so strangely.
He wanted Klein to truly settle down.
And for a man, the most effective way to settle down was naturally to marry, have children, and become a man of the house.
In traditional views, this was responsibility, legacy, and home.
Except...
Klein stared at the bright moon in the sky for a long time before softly uttering a single word that only he could hear.
"Sage..."
The lifelong pursuit of every alchemist, the legendary realm that encompassed all truths and laws.
Turning stone into gold, bringing the dead back to life...
The word dissipated in the night wind, light as a sigh yet heavy as a prophecy.
The air fell silent.
Klein's shoulders trembled slightly at first, and then an uncontrollable low chuckle escaped his throat.
The laughter wasn't loud, but in the silent night, it clearly traced a sense of absurdity and helplessness.
He shook his head as if to shake off some inappropriate thoughts.
The scent of sulfur and herbs on him felt exceptionally clear at this moment, urging him to do something about it.
He closed the window, shutting out the moonlight and the night wind, and walked toward the bathroom on the second floor.
His footsteps made dull thuds on the wooden floor, echoing through the empty corridor.
...
In Ophelia's room, the candlelight flickered.
She had already finished bathing, her body carrying the clean scent of water and soap.
A knight's routine was disciplined and strict, though normally at this time, she would be polishing her armor or performing strength training.
But today, those routines were set aside.
Her newly washed armor liner had already dried; before she could put it away, the night wind brushed against it, causing a soft rustling sound.
She had to attend a wedding tomorrow and couldn't wear her gear.
On the cabinet, the two sets of new clothes she had bought this afternoon were neatly folded. The fabric was soft, a stark contrast to the tough textures she was used to.
One was a light blue dress with delicate patterns embroidered on the collar and cuffs; the other was a relatively simple beige waisted dress suitable for daily wear.
Even the old leather boots that had accompanied her for three years were replaced by a pair of brand-new shoes.
She stared at the shoes for a long time, a complex emotion welling up in her heart.
Everything was signaling a life completely different from her past.
She walked to the corner of the room and lit a small pinch of soothing incense.
A thin line of smoke spiraled up, and the crisp scent of herbs soon filled the air.
Last night was the first night in a long time that she hadn't been startled awake by the cold sea and screaming sea monsters.
She had slept very deeply, without even a dream.
The exhaustion that had seeped into the depths of her bones seemed to have been washed away by the tranquility of the countryside.
When she opened her eyes, there was birdsong outside her window instead of waves crashing against rocks.
In that moment, she was almost dazed—is this really my life?
Klein...
The name slid silently through her heart.
The man who seemed gentle and polite, yet was actually somewhat mysterious.
He was very respectful toward her and hadn't shown any signs of overstepping because of the marriage contract.
This made her feel at ease.
Ophelia walked to the window and pushed it open, letting the night and moonlight pour in together.
The moon hung in the sky, its clear light bathing the courtyard and silvering the distant wheat fields.
Unlike the borders she once guarded, there were no fires of war here, no smoke—only peace and harmony.
She took a deep breath, the night wind carrying the fragrance of the wheat fields into her lungs.
Suddenly, her gaze fell on the building on the other side of the manor—it was Klein's laboratory.
At this moment, the window there was also open, with moonlight spilling over it just the same.
She didn't know what he was doing right now, whether he was tinkering with those alchemical instruments she didn't understand or if he was already resting.
"Tomorrow... is the maid Daisy's wedding."
She whispered to herself, trying to focus on the task at hand.
"Which one should I wear? The light blue one is too formal; the beige one is probably more appropriate..."
Her voice drifted away in the night wind, tinged with a bit of uncertainty.
Once upon a time, her greatest worry was choosing which suit of armor to wear or which front line to head toward.
And now, she had to worry about which dress to wear.
This change had come too fast, so fast that she hadn't yet prepared herself.
But she was Ophelia, the Sword of the Empire.
If she could adapt to the battlefield, she could certainly adapt to this place.
It just... would take some time.
She looked at the moon, not looking away for a long time.
The candlelight flickered behind her, casting her shadow on the wall, shifting between light and dark.
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