I Woke Up from Hibernation and Found a Husband - Chapter 25

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 25
“Little one.”
Sunlight streamed through the window, flooding the modest kitchen with warmth. The blonde-haired man kneading dough broke into a radiant smile at the sight of the small child entering the kitchen.
“Father.”
“Yes, Claire.”
As he brushed the flour from his hands, fine white powder drifted through the air, catching the sunlight and shimmering like stardust.
“Wow!”
Claire’s bright eyes widened as she reached out her small hands to catch the dancing particles. Ian, charmed by her innocent wonder, lifted her effortlessly into his arms.
“I’m heavy.”
“Hmm? Not at all for your father.”
At his words, Claire’s expression grew skeptical.
“You’re lying. Father is weak.”
“Ugh.”
Ian’s face twisted at the child’s innocent observation—though the painful truth was that he did, in fact, feel her weight. The realization stung far more than the words themselves.
“…Claire. You should pretend not to notice things like that.”
“Hehe.”
Delighted by her father’s exaggerated expression of despair, Claire laughed aloud.
“What are you two finding so amusing?”
A woman entered the kitchen then—tall and striking, with deep rose-colored hair that bore an unmistakable resemblance to Claire’s. She moved directly to Ian and gently took Claire from his arms.
“Veronica, you’re back. Earlier than expected.”
“Spring brings plenty of game.”
Following Veronica’s gesture, Ian glanced out the window to see the courtyard piled high with wild beasts.
“Wow! Deer!”
Claire gazed out the window, her mouth watering. Veronica clicked her tongue at the sight of her daughter’s dampening chest.
“Claire, close your mouth.”
“Just a moment.”
Ian approached the pair, his gaze catching on something, and reached out his hand. His pale fingers found the nape of Veronica’s neck.
“You have a wound here.”
“Hmm?”
Veronica, still cradling Claire with one arm, touched her neck with her free hand. Indeed, she felt a wound roughly two finger-widths in length.
Her expression hardened as she murmured.
“How shameful. A mere scratch from hunting. It will heal in days—leave it be.”
Ian’s face fell, and he shook his head with concern.
“It must have hurt.”
He stepped closer to Veronica and ran his fingers gently over the wound. As he slowly traced the crimson gash, her ears flushed a deep red. Claire watched her mother for a moment, then turned her gaze to Ian.
His warm brown eyes were shimmering with a soft golden light.
‘Beautiful.’
If the sun itself became human, would it look like this? The tender, wavering golden gaze was so breathtaking that even a child’s heart felt captivated by its beauty.
Claire turned her attention back to Veronica. In that instant, the wound on her mother’s neck began to fade away slowly.
“All better now.”
Veronica stepped back sharply, shielding her neck.
“That’s enough now. I’m fine.”
Ian nodded obediently at her words. Claire descended from Veronica’s embrace and looked up at her father’s pallid face. His eyes had returned to the same warm brown as Claire’s own.
‘Those gleaming eyes are beautiful, but I prefer him like this.’
Claire suddenly wrapped her arms around Ian’s legs.
* * *
The sound of birdsong drifted through the air—the peaceful, leisurely chirping of a morning awakening.
“Morning?”
Claire blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling above her. Unlike her previous room, which had been barely the size of her palm, this space was vast and luxuriously appointed. She ran her fingers across the bedding, which felt as though she’d pulled clouds themselves into her arms.
‘What about Gregory?’
The moment she registered the peace surrounding her, the image of Gregory’s crazed expression flashed through her mind.
‘What happened to that man?’
Claire sat up and felt along her wounded areas. Beneath the silk of her nightgown, she could feel bandages wrapped around her injuries. Rather than rising fully, she leaned her back against the headboard.
‘If I’m being treated this well, it means the Young Master must have won.’
As Claire assessed her physical condition and reviewed the situation, the door opened and someone entered.
“Claire?”
Isabella, carrying a water basin, froze in the doorway with wide eyes.
“Claire!”
The child’s large eyes glistened with tears in an instant. She hastily set the basin down on the floor and rushed forward, throwing herself onto the bed.
“Young Miss?”
“Claire, I was so worried. Grandfather came, but you wouldn’t wake up. I was so scared.”
Afraid of causing Claire further pain, Isabella couldn’t bring herself to hold her directly. Instead, she gripped the white blanket like a rope, her small hands trembling as tears streamed down her face.
‘It may be improper, but right now—’
Watching the child’s distress for a moment, Claire reached out and pulled Isabella up onto the bed.
‘I should be a proper servant, but ignoring a crying child would make me less than human.’
As Claire held the girl tenderly and patted her back, Isabella’s sobs only intensified. Her small shoulders heaved as she made sounds like a baby raccoon whimpering.
‘If she said grandfather, then Count Ludwig Voltier must have returned.’
Even at news of the Count’s return, Claire’s expression remained unmoved. Truthfully, her feelings toward Ludwig Voltier were far from favorable.
‘The man who adopted Gregory, the very source of all this suffering, and ruined both his son and grandson. Even if Gregory caused trouble in between, the fact remains that he abandoned those children.’
Though Claire was employed as a maid in the Voltier household, her loyalty naturally bent more toward the raccoon siblings than toward the master.
“I assure you, I’m perfectly fine. A wound like this would heal with just saliva.”
Claire rotated her arm to demonstrate, but Isabella gasped and stopped her.
“Stop! You’ll reopen the wound!”
As the child stamped her feet and whimpered, Claire lowered her arm with an awkward expression.
‘It really doesn’t hurt at all.’
She scratched at her neck. Though Gregory’s tentacle-like hair had pierced through her body, her condition was sound enough now that she could rise and run immediately.
“They said if the wound reopens, it might leave a scar!”
“It’s not even a cut, though.”
“Claire!”
Seeing the little raccoon’s lips pout, Claire decided to stop teasing her. Meanwhile, their conversation had apparently carried into the corridor, for others now entered the room.
“Claire?”
“Young Master Theodore.”
Theodore entered with the Dark Green-haired Woman in tow, his expression blank with disbelief.
“You’re awake. Thank goodness. I was so worried when you suddenly collapsed….”
He continued speaking, but Claire’s ears had closed to his words. She was too startled by Theodore’s transformed appearance to hear anything else.
“Wait, wait a moment. How many days was I unconscious?”
“Four days.”
Four days.
In that brief span of time, Theodore had changed completely. His dull ashen hair now gleamed with a luminescence like moonlight, and his hunched posture had straightened into perfect alignment.
‘His eyes have cleared too.’
Those eyes that had always been glazed with exhaustion now shone with crystalline clarity. His expression carried unmistakable confidence, and Claire found him oddly unfamiliar.
‘The prickly little raccoon has evolved into a wolf cub.’
Theodore gazed at Claire’s dazed expression with concern before speaking.
“You’re truly all right, aren’t you? My uncle—no, Gregory possessed far more than one ability.”
“There were more?”
“Yes. Beyond that power he used to attack you, he also wielded poison and brainwashing. You’re fortunate to have awakened so quickly despite the poison—his abilities were formidable enough to be terrifying.”
At his words, one of Claire’s eyebrows rose slightly.
‘Brainwashing?’
The household servants who had revered Gregory with uncanny devotion, the Count and his associates who had never suspected him—the puzzle pieces were clicking into place. That repugnant man had certainly stripped the dead clean with meticulous care.
“Still, thanks to your beastkin bloodline, you awakened safely. Brown bears are naturally resistant to poison.”
The woman who had entered with Theodore interjected into the conversation, placing a hand over her heart as she introduced herself.
“My apologies for the late introduction. I am Emilia, one of Count Ludwig Voltier’s attendants.”
“I am Claire, the Young Master’s dedicated maid.”
“Oh, of course I know. You are the benefactor of House Voltier, after all.”
“Benefactor?”
At the uncomfortable praise, Claire’s expression became subtle. She averted her gaze from Emilia and gently soothed Isabella nestled against her chest.
“I merely fulfilled my duties as a maid.”
“No, no! You accomplished far more than that. You rescued the Young Master from the clutches of that mad gnome—no, Gregory himself!”
As the endless stream of compliments threatened to continue, Claire cut her off with a question.
“But how did the Count know to return? Did the Young Master contact him?”
At that, Theodore smiled and shook his head.
“It wasn’t me.”
“Then who?”
“Me.”
Isabella, who had been burying her face against Claire’s shoulder, lifted her head and broke into a bright smile.
On that chaotic night, the servant assigned to watch Isabella had abandoned her and fled alone when circumstances grew dire.
“I’d heard from my older brother before about where the communication artifact was kept. I’m sorry I couldn’t act faster.”
Isabella buried her face against Claire’s shoulder once more. In truth, her regret outweighed any sense of accomplishment.
‘If only I’d been quicker. If only I hadn’t wasted time not knowing how to use it, Claire might not have been hurt.’
Claire’s lips curved upward slightly at Isabella’s fidgeting. The timid little raccoon who feared loud noises.
‘When did she become so brave?’
The fragile, warm presence exerting herself for his sake, weeping for him—it kindled a gentle warmth in his chest.
“Thank you. I owe my life to you, Miss.”
“Hehe.”
Emilia, who had been watching the two of them with a pleased smile, finally spoke.
“Now that your condition has improved, would it not be wise to have a light meal and then meet with the Count?”
At those words, Claire nodded without hesitation.
“Of course, why not.”
Whether she liked it or not, he was the grandfather of the raccoon siblings and the patriarch of House Voltier. As a servant, Claire could not reasonably avoid such a meeting.
“Are you truly certain? If you’re exhausted, it’s perfectly fine to rest a while longer.”
Theodore approached with a worried expression, his hand settling against Claire’s forehead. Lowering himself on bent knees, he brought his face close enough that their foreheads nearly touched, meeting her gaze at intimate proximity.
“There doesn’t seem to be any fever.”
Eyes like a summer lake, their blue depths shimmering with light like sunbeams. As Claire met those luminous eyes, she felt a sudden rush of heat flood her mind.
“Too—”
“Too?”
“Too close.”
Unable to bear the ticklish sensation of warmth, Claire reflexively swung her hand.
Thwack.
The bear’s paw struck Theodore’s shoulder with full force. Though he had recovered, barely four days had passed. Theodore flew backward in a graceless arc, tumbling across the floor—a clean parabola reminiscent of their first meeting.
“Oh dear.”
Emilia watched Theodore sprawled on the ground with a mixture of alarm and sympathy. Just as he lifted his head dazedly, the door opened once more.
“…What on earth are you doing?”
A towering figure with white hair—Count Ludwig Voltier—stood looking down at Theodore.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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