Please Take Care of My Child
It was Vincent who held back the women, who looked as though they might pounce at any moment.
"Adela, I'm hungry."
Well, no wonder he was starving. It had been three days since I'd crossed paths with him again. Having kidnapped me, Vincent had spent an entire day on transport and on winding my senses tight, then devoted the rest of that time to indulging in me — which meant I hadn't eaten a single thing the whole while.
"Do you happen to have any ingredients?"
"I've got some, more or less."
Since this was a luxury mansion built in gratitude to the hero who saved the world, it even came with a separate cold-storage pantry for keeping provisions fresh. Once again I found myself marveling at elven and dwarven craftsmanship. Honestly, if those two races ever truly cooperated, couldn't they conquer humanity in the blink of an eye?
Stepping inside to take stock, I found that every last ingredient had been a gift from the villagers — proof of just how enormous the hopes and gratitude people pinned on Vincent were. Butter, of all things; that must have stretched even their tax payments. With it, plus carrots, potatoes, onions, wine, a year's worth of preserved stores, and meat, I could put together a proper meal.
"Vincent, could you cut five portions off that meat hanging on the wall? Fat cap and all."
One look at what I was gathering and Vincent caught on to what I intended, chuckling as he took the meat down. Saint Kiara watched the two of us fall into an easy rhythm preparing the meal, curiosity blooming across her face.
"What are you making?"
"Stew. It's been a while since I've had the kind Adela makes."
At the naked anticipation on Vincent's face, the other two seemed to catch the bug as well, trailing the saint into the kitchen.
"Stew? You mean that dish we had at the inn?"
"That's right. When I was little, Ma— no, Adela used to make it for me now and then, and somehow I've never stopped eating it since."
"Ugh, I didn't care for that stuff."
The inn's version had been closer to a hodgepodge — boiled for days on end with whatever happened to be lying around — so it was little wonder it hadn't suited the palates of women raised on nothing but the finest ingredients.
"Well then, Estelle doesn't have to eat any."
"Um, Adela? Couldn't you make something else instead?"
"This time I have proper ingredients, so I'll do it properly. Seasoned right, even stew will suit your palate, my lady."
Apparently unconvinced, she pulled a face. The princess, by contrast, couldn't have cared less about the menu and only asked whether there was anything she could help with.
"Is there nothing I may do to assist?"
"Your Highness, I'll handle it. Please have a seat and wait."
I shooed the hero's party — hovering about uselessly without their hero — to the back, and simmered the stew with Vincent. From the moment the butter melted and the onions began to brown, the smell spreading through the kitchen turned all forty minutes of gentle simmering into a trial of patience for everyone present. The aroma was better than expected, and with the meal skipped, even Lady Estelle — who had balked at first — forgot her prejudice and found herself waiting for the stew to finish.
"Enjoy your meal."
The hero's party, who had waited for my greeting now that I was the one playing hostess, burst into admiration the moment the first spoonful touched their tongues.
"What the— why is this actually good?"
"It's so warm and comforting."
"Hm. It is... quite edible."
Judging by the three reactions, I'd managed to pull the dish off despite not having cooked in so long. As for Vincent's reaction — he was already asking for a second helping.
"Give me a moment. I'll bring it right out."
Taking the bowl he was about to rise with, I stepped over to the pot — and caught the conversation between Vincent and the hero's party.
"Well? It's good, isn't it?"
"I-It pains me to admit it, but it's... edible. So this is what a lawful wife is for."
"Does the hero like stew?"
"He only likes it when Adela makes it. Says anyone else's isn't as good."
"Is... that so...? I, I too... no, never mind. It's nothing."
"My, playing favorites for the lawful wife already?"
'Sorry to interrupt while everyone's enjoying the food, but could you not say things like that? I think I'm going to be sick.'
With them dredging up the uncomfortable topic over and over, I ended up not eating at all. Not that I'd planned to anyway — it would all come straight back up. Watching Vincent polish off two servings in his seat, I finally understood why they say you can fill up just watching someone else eat.
Then Vincent insisted on doing the dishes himself and shooed me off to the parlor — and I found myself wedged in among the women, at the mercy of a question barrage.
"Adela, come have a little girls' talk with us."
What they mostly asked about wasn't me, but Vincent's childhood. Having watched him grow up in my own way, I felt a strange rush of old emotions welling up as the stories left my lips.
"...You see, one day, that rascal Vincent..."
To think that tiny little tyke had grown into a fine young man, and here I was telling his companions stories of his childhood. I hadn't been the best parent to him, but I liked to think he'd turned out well enough. If only he'd give up that bizarre fixation on making me his wife.
As prospective brides went, the three women gathered here would sweep the top three spots, no contest. Maybe I should ask them instead. If they seduced Vincent and opened his eyes to proper women, they might just cure his warped tastes. And all three of them already liked him as a man — what better opportunity could there be? Now, while Vincent was away finishing the dishes, was the perfect moment to bring it up.
"Um, there's something I'd like to ask the three of you."
"Well, you did treat us to a fine dinner, so I suppose we can hear out the lady of the house."
Apparently the stew had gone over quite well, because Lady Estelle answered without a moment's hesitation.
"I had been thinking it would be rather shameless of me to steal the lawful wife's place at this late stage. Speak, then — what is it you desire?"
With the princess likewise readily agreeing, the saint followed suit.
"I'd like to entrust our Vincent to you."
"And what manner of request might that be?"
I explained the whole situation to them. The truth was, I had no intention of becoming his wife.
"What do you mean by that? Are you making sport of us?"
At the tremor in the saint's voice — anger bleeding through her pleasant smile — I hurried on.
"I'm not mocking you. I simply have no intention of marrying him, so as his teacher and surrogate parent, I wished to offer the three of you a chance."
They had already caught us in circumstances that made it plain he and I had slept together. But even so, if they liked Vincent enough to fight over the seat of lawful wife, then my proposal would be a temptation too good to pass up. The condition he'd imposed on me seemed safe enough — as long as he didn't want me, and as long as I never touched the prohibition of my own accord. The charms of the women before me would be more than enough to see it done. He might even forget all about someone like me and go off in search of happiness with them. Wouldn't that be the ideal outcome?
He had only just come back to me, and the thought of leaving his side forever made my chest sting — but surely that was simply the heart of a parent sending a child off into the world.
"Then how do you intend to explain the fact that you coupled with him?"
To Princess Emily's question, I had no choice but to answer that it had been nothing more than an accident. My flimsy excuse made the women's faces scrunch up.
"Do we look like fools to you?"
As expected, that wouldn't fly. In that case, I would have to dangle a carrot they couldn't refuse.
"I don't mind, so please — the three of you, keep seducing Vincent just as you always have. And I'll do everything in my power to help you end up with him."
"You're taking the hero's feelings far too lightly, Adela."
"Exactly. No matter how we throw ourselves at him, with you there he doesn't spare us so much as a glance. So tell me — how is he supposed to cast you aside and choose us?"
Their resigned expressions answered the question of just how impenetrable a wall Vincent had thrown up.
'You have this many women throwing themselves at you — isn't this a bit much? Why did it have to be me?'
"If even one of you succeeds in seducing Vincent, I will leave him that very moment and never return."
"The hero will obviously fly into a frenzy and come hunting for you the instant you vanish. What say you to that?"
That much, I had to admit, was fair. This was the man who had stormed the Demon King's castle alone for my sake, sweeping away the Ten Demon Generals and the Demon King himself in a single stroke. Naturally, even if I ceased to be a wife candidate, what remained between us would still be teacher and surrogate parent and child.
"You've all succeeded in seducing Vincent once before. I'm sure you can turn his heart back around."
But once I was no longer his first priority, he wouldn't abandon the wives who had become his everything to drop everything and go searching for me. A hero wed to an imperial princess, a duke's daughter, and a saint would hardly have the idle hours to go galivanting after me. And with time, his feelings for me would gutter out. Then, we could simply meet again. Even if I missed him. Even if he missed me. Before time, even his feelings would weather away.
When the three of them agreed — saying they had nothing to lose — I felt the tension drain from my shoulders. Thank goodness we'd wrapped up the talk before Vincent came back. If he'd heard, he would have gone absolutely berserk.
Leaving the three of them to discuss what came next, my gaze drifted, without my meaning it to, toward the door Vincent had gone through.
There he stood, his expression frozen into something glacial, looking straight at me.
