The Proposal
“It’s not a prophecy… no, wait.”
I had explained to her countless times that it was a divine revelation, not a prophecy, but my friend insisted on using the two terms interchangeably, claiming they were one and the same. “It’s not like I can see these things whenever I want. You told me right away the last time I asked.”
“Yes, and that was incredibly helpful at the time, but…”
Winnie had foreseen the death of the Count of Rystein a short while ago. Because Monica had known and prepared for it, she was able to seize control of the Count’s estate without any major chaos or disputes. “My dear witch, oh great witch, then just tell me how I should handle my married life.”
“Married life is nothing special. You just need to assert your dominance right from the honeymoon phase.”
“Assert dominance?”
“Marriage is, at the end of the day, a relationship between two people. A hierarchy is inevitable, and if you secure the high ground early on, it stays that way.”
“And how do I secure that advantageous position?”
“Well, you give him a hard time. At first, you nag him about everything—‘Can’t you even do this?’ or ‘Why are you so useless at that?’—and really make him feel small. Then, you sprinkle in some praise and rewards here and there. Since he’s a matrilocal son-in-law, it’ll be even easier.”
“Isn’t that just… taming him?”
“What’s wrong with taming a man? That man… Edward, was it? He’s a son-in-law who might get in your way, so wouldn’t it be better to tame him early?”
Certainly, if I succeeded in taming him, married life would be much more comfortable. I had only hoped my husband wouldn’t be a hindrance, but if I could tame him and use him as a pawn, that would be even better. Since he was skilled enough to win a tournament, I figured he would be somewhat useful.
“But how do you know all this? Have you ever been married?”
“My mother taught me.”
“Oh…”
Of course, I didn’t bother adding that my mother had never actually had a proper marriage herself.
“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. If he doesn’t propose to me, I won’t have any use for these tricks.”
“If he has any common sense, he’ll ask you again. You said yesterday that his attempt felt like a cheap ploy, didn’t you?”
“I suppose so? Ugh, I really don’t want to get married.”
I don’t want you to get married either. Winnie Melbourne had no choice but to swallow those words.
After the back-channel negotiations with Vera were settled, I went to find Monica. I have to propose… It felt like walking into a tiger’s den—no, walking straight into a tiger’s maw—but since I had an agreement with Vera, I had no choice. I had nowhere else to go, so I had to cling to the Rystein family somehow, and the only position left in the house was that of the Countess’s husband.
It looked similar to before my regression, but the situation was better. This time, I wasn’t branded a loser, and I had Vera on my side. Since I had a rough memory of the future, if I showed off my competence, I would eventually gain some say in matters.
As I sorted out my thoughts and waited in front of the Melbourne mansion, I finally met Monica.
“Good morning, Lady Rystein.”
“…What is it?”
Monica looked at me with icy eyes. Every time I faced that gaze, I felt my heart shrivel up like a frog before a snake, rather than feeling anger or resentment. Get a grip. I have to say what I came here to say.
“I’ve come to ask you something.”
“What is it?”
“Please, marry me!”
I squeezed my eyes shut and shouted it out, but no response came. When I opened my eyes halfway to check her expression, Monica looked conflicted. It was a mix of bewilderment, resignation—as if to say, ‘Of course you’d do something like this’—and a faint, underlying trace of contempt and thrill. She clearly hadn’t expected to receive a proposal in broad daylight after the chaos I caused last night.
“If you were going to do this, why did you make such a scene yesterday…”
“Uh, that is…”
“Forget it. I think I know enough without hearing it.”
With a sigh, Monica took the ring. Fortunately, she didn’t throw it away; she quietly slipped it onto the ring finger of her left hand.
“To dare pull such a shallow trick in front of a Countess. If you were a commoner, your wrist would have been severed by now.”
Yeah, right. Monica had hit me before, but she had never caused permanent physical damage. I assumed it was because she didn’t want to render me useless as a knight.
“We’ll be seeing each other often, right? You’re my vassal now. So, I’ll speak to you informally. Understood?”
“Yes…”
To think that even though my mind was forty years old, I was being spoken to like a child by a maiden not even twenty. Though, I had lived with her speaking informally to me before the regression, too.
“Hmm, Sir Edward, you’re going to be a knight of our territory, right? Then I suppose you need to be knighted by me?”
Smack! Stars flashed before my eyes. My mind was used to the fact that I’d been hit, but my body apparently wasn’t. Just like in my past life, Monica had a heavy hand. I could feel my cheek burning red.
“You know that when you’re knighted, you’re supposed to be hit until you’re half-dead, right? Consider yourself lucky that I’m being kind and only giving you one.”
Monica left me with those words, claiming she was busy, and walked away. Since it was a woman’s hand, the inside of my mouth wasn’t cut, but the taste was bitter. I felt a desperate craving for a cigarette and instinctively put a cigar in my mouth.
“Damn it…”
I felt insulted. She hadn’t even received her title yet, so she didn’t have to hit me. It felt like I’d been slapped as a penalty for having proposed to Vera earlier.
That evening, I was guided around the territory by Vera, who took over for the busy Monica. There wasn’t much to guide since I already knew every corner of the place, but I couldn’t let on that I knew everything, so I decided to treat it like a date with Vera.
“Good evening, Sir Edward. But that cheek…?”
“Good evening. This is, well… I bumped my face somewhere…”
I wanted to say I’d bumped into your daughter’s palm, but Vera still cherished Monica more than she did me. It wouldn’t be good to leave the impression that I was bad-mouthing her behind her back.
“How can you say you bumped into something when there’s such a clear handprint… Who hit you? Who dared to strike my precious son-in-law!”
The excuse I’d prepared didn’t work. To think the mark was that clear—no wonder the servants had been glancing at my face. I didn’t have a mirror in my room, so I had no way of knowing.
“Haha, you don’t need to worry about it.”
“A guest of the Count’s family has been struck; how can I, as the mistress of the house, not worry?”
Seeing her eyes narrow in a way that wasn’t like her, I realized she wouldn’t let me move a step until I told her who had hit me. Though, with her naturally drooping eyes, it wasn’t all that intimidating.
“Well, I received a simplified knighting ceremony from Lady Monica, and I got hit once.”
“…”
At my answer, Vera’s brow furrowed. Was she upset because she heard something negative about her daughter?
“Still, one slap is quite mild. Other knights get beaten with clubs or hit until they bleed, so one slap is…”
“No, no, it’s not.”
Vera grabbed both of my hands with a look full of apology. “First, come to my room.”
“Pardon?”
“You can’t go around the territory looking like that.”
Led by Vera’s hand, I was invited into her room and sat down in front of a massive vanity. Looking at it now, the red mark on my cheek was indeed vivid.
“Turn toward me and sit comfortably. I’ll cover only the red part with makeup.”
Perhaps because some time had passed since I was slapped, it thankfully hadn’t swollen. Vera brought out powder and a brush from somewhere and began dabbing at my cheek. As I received the makeup, I glanced around Vera’s room and found it shockingly similar to my memories. If I had to find a difference, maybe the flower vase or the pillows? Everything else was the same as what I had seen before the regression. She’d kept them for a long time.
“They say men freak out even if you just bring a makeup brush near them, but you’re being very still.”
“Haha…”
Well, it was a familiar routine. Even before the regression, the day after Monica hit me, Vera would cover it with makeup and apologize to me. Even though she wasn’t the one who had hit me. I suppose I’d been able to endure it thanks to Vera. I couldn’t tell her that, though.
“It’s not something I’m used to, but aren’t you doing this for my sake?”
“I’m glad you say that.”
As I sat quietly, the makeup was finished in no time. It wasn’t quite to the level of being invisible, but unless you looked closely, you’d only see a bit of redness; you wouldn’t be able to tell it was a handprint. A woman’s makeup skills were truly near-divine.
“It’s truly seamless.”
“That’s because you listened well and sat still. Monica never listens, so it’s always been difficult.”
Given Monica’s personality, I didn’t think she’d listen to anyone else well, either.
“It makes me happy to have a son who listens so well.”
“Isn’t the age gap a bit too small for us to be mother and son?”
“But you are my son-in-law, after all. I’m thirty-three, and Monica is nineteen. You said you were six years older than Monica, so… wait?”
“It’s only an eight-year difference.”
Vera looked flustered by the smaller-than-expected age gap. Before, she had handled it with the dignity of a mother-in-law, but this time, it was different.
“May I call you nuna?”