I Woke Up from Hibernation and Found a Husband - Chapter 95

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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 95
The day after returning to the Mansion.
Claire had slept for a long time and woke late in the afternoon. Unlike the lukewarm morning sunlight, the scorching rays of the sun touched her nightclothes, yet it didn’t feel unpleasant.
Rather, the warmth spreading across her skin felt like proof of where she was now.
‘It would be a lie to say everything is fine, but I’m not in despair.’
Claire rose from the Bedroom and tidied her bedding. There was no time to waste lingering about.
‘We need to discuss more details to capture Umbra.’
After quickly washing her face and changing clothes, she opened the door while rubbing her stiff neck. Claire’s eyes widened as she descended to the Dining Hall, feeling hunger.
“Ah, Claire. You’re awake?”
A warm, affectionate voice calling to her. It was Angela.
“Angela? What are you doing here…?”
“Theodore called me over.”
Angela said this as she set down the pot she’d been holding onto the Dining Table. She had been worried about Claire’s departure to the Convent and had come to hover nearby, so she was quite startled by the sudden late-night summons.
“You slept well? Are you hungry?”
Rather than asking for details, Angela guided Claire to a seat.
“Everyone craves home-cooked food sometimes, don’t they? This is Angela’s special dish!”
Claire’s expression, which had seemed surprised, soon softened into a gentle smile.
“Angela, I…”
“Eat first, then we’ll talk. It won’t taste good if it gets cold.”
Angela opened the pot with an air of anticipation. Angela’s signature stew appeared—filled generously with large crayfish, beef, and various vegetables.
“Eat plenty.”
Angela ladled a generous spoonful of stew onto Claire’s plate.
‘It’s been so long.’
A cherished memory of food from before leaving the Cabin, something that had grown distant through various trials.
“I’m grateful for this meal.”
The long-simmered stew was so tender that the vegetables crumbled at the mere touch of a spoon. She placed a spoonful of vegetables and meat into her mouth.
“How is it? Delicious?”
Angela sat beside her, smiling contentedly as she watched Claire. After swallowing the stew, Claire smiled gently and spoke.
“I missed this.”
The fresh, fishy taste distinctly present in the freshwater crayfish, the gritty texture of vegetables, minimal seasoning.
‘Angela hasn’t changed.’
A rough, utilitarian mercenary-style dish that prioritized nutrition over flavor. The consistent taste of her cooking, even after nearly a decade together, somehow brought Claire reassurance.
“Is it delicious or not?”
“Thank you for making food for me.”
“Claire?”
Crunch. Claire bit down and swallowed the crayfish shell and all. The taste mattered less than the affection contained within it.
“…Is it not tasty?”
As Angela took a bite of the stew and made an uncertain expression, Claire naturally shifted the conversation.
“About yesterday, you know.”
Claire began her story while eating the familiar food. A rough yet warm aroma. Angela, leaning slightly across the Dining Table, listened intently to her account. A scene that seemed to recreate the Cabin days perfectly. The confusion and sorrow gradually melted away in the familiar warmth.
“Veronica got caught up in something like that.”
As I finished my explanation while minimizing direct mention of Umbra, Angela exhaled a deep sigh.
‘Veronica, trying to end it all alone until the very end—that’s so like you.’
Angela watched Claire, who seemed to be gauging her reaction, fidgeting uncertainly.
“What’s wrong?”
“Are you really okay, Angela?”
“About Veronica’s situation?”
“Not just that.”
A dear friend’s daughter, thrust upon her one day without warning. The burden of an unwanted child was obvious, yet Angela had protected her all these years until adulthood. Now that Claire was growing up and beginning to understand responsibility, she was starting to grasp its weight.
‘If you ask whether I’m okay…’
It would be a lie to say it was nothing. She who loved freedom and had never even taken a lover—then one day a child fell into her life. Even when missions called, the child kept crossing her mind, and her weary body had to keep moving to return quickly.
‘Because I was all Claire had.’
But then.
“Angela! I waited for you.”
When she opened the Cabin door with her exhausted body laden with sweets, small hands reached out and pulled her into a tight embrace. As if she craved Angela more than the sweets themselves, the child clung to her waist, looked up, and smiled brightly.
‘How could I ever find you bothersome?’
To Angela, who had drifted freely, Claire’s existence was not a heavy anchor but a lighthouse.
“I’m fine.”
Angela said so and ladled another serving of stew into Claire’s bowl.
“Really, everything’s fine, Claire.”
“Angela.”
At Claire’s moved expression, Angela mischievously squinted her eyes.
“You know mercenaries keep precise accounts, right? You’ll have to repay me that much.”
Despite the playful words, Claire nodded vigorously as if she would never forget.
Crunch.
Claire emptied her stew again. In the memory, it tasted faintly of bitter earth.
* * *
At the Mansion where Angela had returned, Theodore approached Claire, who had been gazing for a long time in the direction Angela had disappeared.
“Thank you for calling Angela.”
Noticing his presence, Claire turned to face Theodore.
“I just suddenly thought of her.”
At her noticeably more relaxed expression, Theodore’s lips naturally curved upward.
The bond between the two he had witnessed on the Laten Plain. Just as Theodore had steeled his resolve upon seeing Isabella, it seemed his decision to call Angela had been right—to soothe Claire’s anguish.
“There’s much we need to discuss.”
Claire recalled the things she had witnessed in Veronica’s memories.
‘Gregory had been disguising himself under the identity of Knox.’
There were about three months left before they made their move, so maximum preparation was necessary. Theodore, agreeing with her words, spoke.
“Speaking of which, Claire.”
“Yes?”
“What do you think about returning to Voltier Territory for now?”
* * *
‘How tedious.’
Aaron gazed down at Rozina, who clung to his hand.
The Young Noble Lady of Lloyd, bearing a face so similar to Ian’s.
‘I had hoped for someone of comparable spirit, but she shares nothing in common with Claire.’
Unlike Claire, who always met his gaze with bold directness, Rozina kept her head bowed as though she’d glimpsed a ghost, her hand trembling in his grasp.
“Tell me—do I frighten you?”
“N-no, not at all.”
“I do hope you’re being truthful. I wish to savor your presence for quite some time.”
Aaron closed his eyes, relishing the purifying energy that suffused his body.
Tedious though she was, the woman proved useful. As the ‘purification’ continued, Aaron noticed the strange, intrusive impulses that had been surfacing sporadically were beginning to subside.
‘If I can endure brief moments of boredom to maintain my sanity, it’s a worthwhile trade. Mother has finally done something I approve of.’
Recalling what Ian’s enhancement had felt like, he received the purification, and soon opened his eyes as he sensed Rozina’s hand withdrawing.
“That concludes today’s session.”
“Hmm? Surely there’s still more to do.”
At his words, Rozina—her complexion now pallid—bowed apologetically.
“My apologies. My strength is limited, I’m afraid.”
Aaron barely restrained himself from clicking his tongue in displeasure, instead offering her a gentle smile.
“Ah, of course. Forgive me for being so greedy as to exhaust you.”
The chill that had lingered in his eyes vanished in an instant. Feigning tenderness, Aaron drew her hand closer and pressed a light kiss to the back of it before bidding her farewell.
“Then I shall see you at our next appointment.”
Click.
Despite his courteous demeanor, the door shut without mercy.
‘Revolting.’
Rozina stepped into the Back Garden, claiming she needed fresh air. The vast darkness she’d glimpsed within Aaron, that viscous madness—it kept surfacing in her mind, leaving her deeply unsettled.
‘It’s not merely poison or malice, but something far more….’
Her desire to distance herself as much as possible led her to the edge of the Back Garden. Once she confirmed the Palace was far behind her, she glanced around before picking up a large leaf.
“Why would he put his lips there?”
Scrub, scrub, scrub.
Her motions were rough as she wiped her hand. The man was already unsettling enough in his nature, and his actions only deepened her revulsion.
‘I have to return again.’
The mere thought made her dizzy. Rozina cast aside the leaf and sank down before a garden tree.
Hector would scold her for such unbecoming conduct, but there was no one here to witness it.
Or so she believed.
“Um….”
At the sudden sound of a voice, Rozina started and turned her head, only to see a man rise from behind the flower bushes.
“Are you all right?”
A man with leaves caught in his hair, his expression somewhat vacant.
He was Elliot, the Second Prince of Berus.

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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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