Chapter 20
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: A Handful of Comfort
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Everyone needs at least a handful of comfort.
I killed time under the desk.
While stroking Elma's head.
"Go home and rest."
"……."
"Don't you want to?"
"……."
"A bride can't have a cold butt, right?"
"……."
Silent as a stone.
She must be that exhausted.
Can't blame her.
For now, I'd take the silence as agreement.
I scooped her up in my arms.
"……."
My guess was right.
No resistance.
She just buried her face in my chest.
Like a spoiled child.
===========================
We arrived home.
"Put me down…."
Elma mumbled.
I carefully set her down on the floor.
On the wolf pelt.
Her small white feet sank into the fluffy fur.
She wobbled.
Heading straight for the full-length mirror.
The spot where she always adjusted her clothes and steadied her "professor" mask.
But what the mirror reflected now…
"……."
Pathetic.
Torn dress hem.
Messy twin tails.
Smudged makeup from sweat and tears.
Darkened eyes.
Black streaks running down her cheeks.
"I look like a total beggar."
A weak mutter.
"Pathetic."
Loathing.
Shame.
She glared at her reflection.
"No wonder everyone laughs. A kid playing grown-up."
Elma raised her hand.
As if to tear at her hair.
"Elma."
Thud.
I reached out and stopped her.
"Let go."
"Don't belittle yourself."
"It's not belittling—it's the truth! Look! Is this a professor? A queen? Just a crazy bitch rolling in the gutter!"
Elma screamed.
Her almond-shaped eyes.
Well up with tears again.
I couldn't let her cry anymore.
I picked her up in my arms.
"Huh? W-what are you doing?!"
"Just stay still."
I sat her on the table.
Now our eye levels matched, more or less.
Her small feet dangled in the air.
Confused eyes.
"Wait here."
I headed to the bathroom.
Ran warm water and soaked a towel.
Just the right hotness.
Wring it out well.
Back to the living room.
Approaching with the steaming towel.
"……Husband?"
"Let's wipe your face first. Must hurt."
Bloodshot eyes.
Makeup in them, or just from crying too much?
I slipped between her legs.
Her small knees wrapped around my waist.
"Stay still."
Warmth.
I covered her face with the towel.
"Nngh…."
A sigh of releasing tension.
Gently, wipe, wipe.
Smudged eyeliner.
Tear tracks.
Even the snotty philtrum, meticulously.
"Doesn't hurt?"
"Yeah… It's warm."
She obediently closed her eyes.
Entrusting her face to my hands.
Chin up when I lifted it.
Cheek rubbed when I did.
Like a tame cat.
Soon the thick makeup peeled away.
Revealing her natural skin underneath.
Healthy barley-colored complexion.
And scattered across her nose bridge and cheeks.
Tiny freckles like grains of rice.
"……The makeup's all gone."
Elma glanced at the mirror and pouted.
"I look like a real country bumpkin. Covered in freckles…."
"No."
I shook my head.
With all the sincerity I could muster.
"You're beautiful."
"……Don't tease me. I know it's empty words."
"Not empty. I told you before."
I tapped her nose bridge with my index finger.
"Like a galaxy."
"……."
"Better than with makeup. More you. Cuter."
Her lips twitched.
She wanted to argue, but my eyes were too serious, maybe.
"……Your tastes are so weird."
She grumbled and turned her head with a huff.
But her ear tips were flushed red.
Couldn't hide the creeping smile.
Simple, lovable woman.
"Next, your hair."
I moved behind her back.
Undid the hair ties.
Brown locks cascaded down.
Long enough to reach her thighs.
Messy with dust and static.
"Where's the comb?"
"There, in the drawer."
I fetched the comb.
Stood behind her again.
Gathered a handful of hair.
"Tell me if it hurts."
"Hmph. I don't whine."
I started combing carefully.
From top to bottom.
Swish. Swish.
Pleasant sound.
When it snagged, I eased up and gently worked it out.
"……."
Elma said nothing.
Just leaned her back into me.
Her legs dangling under the table swung back and forth.
A sign she wasn't displeased.
Forest scent.
Wet earth after rain and nuts.
Elma's natural smell wafted over.
"Husband."
"Yes."
"Your touch is so gentle."
Drowsy voice.
"For hands that look so rough. Not bad."
"Combing your wife's hair is one of a husband's romances."
"Hmm… Is it?"
She leaned back a bit.
Small, firm back against my solar plexus.
Cozy warmth transferred over.
"Not bad."
Elma hummed.
"No. Good. Keep going."
Swish, swish.
Dust fell away, shine returned.
Strand by strand.
Like grooming a porcelain doll, with care.
How much time passed?
Elma's head bobbed.
Lulled by the drowsiness.
"All done."
"Mmm… Already?"
"Tie it up again? Or leave it down?"
"Tie it. The usual."
"Twin tails?"
"Yeah."
Her stubbornness.
Trace of pride.
"Not confident in tying."
"It's fine. As long as it's you, I like it."
Beaming smile.
"Got it. I'll try."
I parted her hair into two sections.
Tied the left, then the right.
Balancing was tricky, as expected.
"There."
Showed her the mirror.
"……."
Silence.
"Husband."
"Yes."
"This… left one's higher… no, it's totally uneven?"
"Oh."
Looking again, it was lopsided.
Obviously so.
"Sorry. Let me redo it."
"No. Leave it."
"Huh?"
"I wanna keep it like this."
Her hand stroking the crooked hair in the mirror.
A look she'd hate normally.
Yet she was smiling.
"Looks dumb, but cute."
She giggled.
"I like it 'cause I can tell you tried."
"Insult or compliment?"
"Both. Hehe."
Elma turned around.
Still sitting on the table, almond eyes sparkling.
Life returned to her face.
"My turn now."
She reached out.
"Come here, Husband."
I stepped closer.
Pat, pat.
Small hands brushed my chest.
White dust from holding her earlier.
"Can't even keep clean. Husband's all grubby too."
"Whose fault?"
"Quiet. Stay still."
Firm hands straightened my clothes.
Smoothed the wrinkled collar.
Evened the hood strings poking out.
Dusted off.
Her lashes fluttered under my chin.
Breath so close.
"……Done."
She looked up, our gazes locked.
"Looks neat now. My man's handsome, as expected."
Satisfied smile.
She placed both hands on my shoulders.
"Hey, Husband."
"Yes."
"Thanks… for earlier."
"For what?"
"Just… everything."
She averted her eyes a bit, toes wiggling.
"I could endure because of you."
"We're married."
"……Yeah. We are."
She threw her arms around my neck.
Pressed her forehead to mine.
Thump.
Our body heat flowed together.
"Your head's so hard."
"Yours isn't soft either."
"Hehe…."
Pleasant hum.
She rubbed noses playfully.
"I'm okay now."
Whisper-soft voice.
"Ugly, small, freckled all over. But you said I'm pretty."
"Just facts."
"Such a smooth talker…."
Pouting lips.
So adorable, I couldn't hold back.
Tilted my head slightly.
Mwah.
I stole a kiss.
"……Huh?"
Elma's eyes went wide.
Face flushed bright red.
"Reward."
"Re…?"
"For holding out today. My queen."
"Hey! Queen is…!"
"Princess then?"
"…That works."
"Yes. Cute princess."
I grinned, and Elma narrowed her eyes.
Seductive smile.
"Think one peck ends it?"
"Not enough?"
"Way not."
She clung tighter, arms locked around my neck.
"Do it right."
Commanding tone.
But pure spoiling.
Her voice trembled.
"Blow away all my sadness."
Elma closed her eyes tight.
I wrapped her waist, watching her quivering lashes.
Claimed her lips.
This time, deep.
Lingering.
"Mmph…!"
Her small body jolted.
Clumsy but eager tongue met mine.
Desperate, like confirming my heart.
"Smch… Nn…."
Wet sounds.
Our breaths tangled wildly.
The wounded queen.
And her knight alone.
Silly, childish role-play.
Whatever.
Everyone needs a handful of comfort.
==============================
How long did we hold each other?
How long did we kiss?
Grrrowl-.
Loud rumble.
Source…
"……."
Obviously.
Elma.
"……."
'Of all times?'
Her face said it all.
Temperature skyrocketing.
Steam practically rising from her head.
The mood we'd built?
Shattered.
"Th-this is…."
Her eyes darted wildly.
"Uh… mana combustion reaction."
"Mana combustion?"
"Yeah! Cried too much, so my mana depleted fast inside, making that sound. Yeah. Any esteemed dwarf mage…."
Babbling nonsense.
"Now?"
"…"
"Really."
"…"
"Hungry, right?"
"…"
We've seen it all by now.
I get it.
Women live and die by the mood.
But stomachs don't lie.
Grrrowl-.
This time, outright protesting.
Feed me.
"Ugh, seriously…!"
Elma smacked her belly.
Traitorous gut.
"You are hungry, right?"
"……Can't deny it."
Elma pursed her lips.
"Only ate once today."
"Lunch just passed."
"Dwarves need five meals a day minimum!"
She huffed.
"Plus, emotional drain! Sugar crashed. Hands and feet shaking. For real."
Fair enough.
Screaming and crying like that.
I'm starving; her tiny body must be worse.
"What do you want?"
"Hmm…."
Elma tapped her finger to her lips.
Pretending to think.
"Sweet and salty."
"Huh?"
"Sweet stuff and salty stuff. Together."
Very specific.
"Seasoned chicken first."
"And?"
"Dunk-a-longs. Filled to bursting. Cheese, chocolate, strawberry flavors."
I heard her swallow.
Cry then laugh grows butt hair, they say.
Cry then eat? Where's the hair sprout?
"Got it. Ordering."
Pulled out my smartphone.
Opened the delivery app.
"Let's see… High-rated place…."
"Not there! I know a super tasty one. That 'Yellow Olive' place!"
"Delivery fee's steep."
"Doesn't matter! Corporate card!"
Professor's company card.
Wonder if it's okay for this…
Eh.
Emergency now.
Professor's hypoglycemia crisis.
Research expense to prevent it.
Yes.
Reasonable.
[Estimated time: 40 minutes.]
"40 minutes?"
Elma despaired.
Face like the country fell twice over.
"My stomach's sticking to my back…."
"Hang in there."
"Can I chew your arm at least?"
She chomped my forearm.
Tickled.
Puppy with milk teeth.
"Drool."
"Hmph. My drool's clean."
Grumbling, but she waited obediently.
On my lap.
Small white feet kicking in the air.