Surviving as the Wife of the Swordsmanship Clan’s Troublemaker - Chapter 43

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 43

 

***

 

While Hallara was persuading Junel.

 

Francesca, exhausted from cooking for the first time, was sprawled across her bed.

 

Though it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet, drowsiness was overwhelming her.

 

Since the Duke had gone to war, she had suffered from insomnia and could only fall asleep after burning various teas and scented candles, but today she felt like she could sleep deeply.

 

With her swollen, drowsy eyes, she stared at the small glass bottle placed on her bedside table.

 

Inside it were the pickled onions she had made.

 

‘I peeled and sliced onions all day long, and this is all I have to show for it.’

 

Cooking was truly an endeavor with terrible cost-effectiveness.

 

Honestly, she wanted to turn back time.

 

A duchess, cooking of all things.

 

And right in front of the annex kitchen head at that. Even shedding tears in that cramped kitchen corner.

 

“I must have lost my mind for a moment…”

 

It was because she hadn’t been sleeping well. Getting caught up in her sons’ fights might have addled her brain.

 

“How delicious could mere onions possibly be anyway.”

 

Her resentful gaze turned toward the crude onion pieces in the glass bottle. Since it was her first time using a knife, the onion pieces were uneven.

 

Just from slicing a few pieces, her palms stung as if they’d been beaten.

 

If even a small knife for cutting onions was this difficult to handle, she wondered how one could manage a longsword.

 

According to her husband, sword energy was like tendons connecting sword and person, allowing one to wield the sword at will.

 

“Docheop…”

 

But Docheop, who had barely awakened to 1-star until now, must have had such a difficult time.

 

Two days later, Francesca, who had been looking at the onions with guilt toward him, prepared breakfast early in the morning.

 

The aging period Hallara had mentioned was over.

 

How anxiously she had waited during that time for those white flesh pieces to turn yellow.

 

Her face, refreshed after a good night’s sleep, looked properly composed today.

 

“Hurry and finish preparing the meal. The meat should be well-grilled – one well-done, two medium, and one rare, right?”

 

“Yes. The head chef says he grilled the finest meat that came in perfectly. He told you to look forward to it.”

 

“Excellent.”

 

Karl also perfectly carried out her orders, seeming to be in a good mood for the first time in a while.

 

The preparations were perfect.

 

Food suited to the young masters’ tastes was spread across the banquet hall table.

 

On the most ornate plate among them were placed the pickled onions she had made.

 

“Mmm, the aroma is sweet and appetizing. Maybe because I made it myself, it turned out pretty.”

 

Francesca continuously showed her satisfaction, personally bringing tableware to arrange the onions like flowers.

 

She sat down, moistening her lips with water while waiting for her sons.

 

Thirty minutes passed like that.

 

“…I’m sorry, my lady.”

 

“Why? Where are the children?”

 

Karl bowed his head deeply.

 

“Young Master Nikolai says he won’t meet with you until the young lady is driven out.”

 

The eldest had declined the invitation.

 

“Young Master Helbeorn said he must train and will skip the meal.”

 

The second son was the same.

 

“…What about Docheop?”

 

“He wasn’t in his room. I don’t believe he went out, but just in case, I left a note in his room.”

 

The third son was absent altogether.

 

In the end, no one had responded to Francesca’s invitation.

 

“…My lady.”

 

Karl had also wanted to make this banquet happen somehow, but he couldn’t handle the young masters.

 

He couldn’t easily find words to comfort her.

 

“It’s fine.”

 

Francesca forced a smile and picked up her utensils.

 

“I’m someone who’s used to eating alone, aren’t I.”

 

But seeing her looking so small, Karl wanted to ask if he should call Hallara, though he couldn’t. Hallara would comfort her wonderfully, but Francesca was someone who valued authority above all else.

 

After the suffocating meal, the maids moved busily. The banquet she had prepared was on the verge of being thrown away in vain.

 

The pickled onions prettily arranged on the plate she had carefully chosen.

 

The past days when she had made them while thinking of her son, even while crying her eyes out in front of Hallara.

 

“Wait. Bring me a tray.”

 

She couldn’t throw it away.

 

Francesca headed toward Docheop’s room.

 

Nikolai probably wouldn’t taste it.

 

Helbeorn couldn’t even tell front from back when disturbed during training.

 

That left only Docheop.

 

‘How long has it been since I last visited Docheop’s room?’

 

Even the air on the way there felt unfamiliar.

 

When she arrived at his door, her heart pounded. The hand gripping the handle grew cold.

 

Should she just go back? All sorts of thoughts complicated her mind.

 

She steeled her weakened heart by looking at the pickled onions and opened the door.

 

Cool, unfamiliar air blew toward her.

 

“Docheop?”

 

As Karl had said, the room was empty.

 

Only the curtains rippled gently in the sunlight and breeze coming through the open window.

 

Francesca moved forward and placed the tray on his desk.

 

She thought about waiting, but since it might be burdensome, she intended to leave a note.

 

“…A pen.”

 

She carefully examined the desk.

 

The desk was so clean it had nothing on it at all.

 

Bewildered, she stood up and surveyed the room.

 

Come to think of it, there was nothing that could be called a trace of Docheop.

 

Nikolai and Helbeorn’s rooms were overflowing with belongings.

 

Among them were many gifts from Francesca and the Duke.

 

But in Docheop’s room…

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Pouring tears blocked Francesca’s mouth.

 

She had neglected Docheop for far too long.

 

And then she had looked disapprovingly at Docheop when he went astray.

 

She had resented him without ever once acknowledging his pain.

 

***

 

About ten years ago, when Docheop had turned nine years old.

 

Late at night, a servant came to Francesca, who couldn’t fall asleep.

 

“My lady! The Duke says he will take Young Master Docheop to the Cliffs of the Thunderbolt at dawn tomorrow.”

 

As soon as Francesca heard the servant’s trembling voice, her heart froze.

 

“What…? What are you saying right now?”

 

The servant whispered with trembling lips.

 

“…He says he’s preparing for a test.”

 

The test at the Cliffs of the Thunderbolt. It’s usually a test taken by knights of 3-star level or higher to join the First Knight Division. In the process, there were often knights who awakened from 3-star to 4-star.

 

In other words, it meant making a nine-year-old child take a test that even evaluators wouldn’t dare challenge recklessly.

 

“Ha!”

 

Francesca couldn’t even breathe properly.

 

But she couldn’t remain helplessly like this.

 

She pushed open the door to the Duke’s study with staggering steps. At the sound of the door slamming open, the Duke slowly raised his head. His expression was emotionless.

 

“What’s this. How rude.”

 

“Docheop.”

 

At that attitude, Francesca’s voice cracked.

 

“I heard you’re taking him to the Cliffs of the Thunderbolt. Is it true?”

 

The Duke nodded without much emotion.

 

“Yes. Tomorrow at dawn.”

 

Francesca’s eyes wavered. Her breathing became rapid.

 

“…That child is only nine years old.”

 

“If he can’t endure it at that age.”

 

The Duke said as he put down his pen.

 

“Then he doesn’t have the talent to endure.”

 

Francesca strode forward to the desk. Anger flared up in her heart like flames.

 

“That’s not a test, it’s an execution. Are you planning to kill your son!?”

 

The Duke’s eyebrows twitched slightly.

 

“You’re being too emotional. Confirming a child’s talent is the family’s duty.”

 

“Confirming talent? You’re just trying to erase a stain!”

 

The Duke slowly rose from his seat.

 

“Yes. It’s filtering out. Weak blood isn’t needed.”

 

“Docheop isn’t weak!”

 

“If he can’t even handle one amateur knight, what else would that be but weak?”

 

The Duke said firmly.

 

“I’ll take that child tomorrow.”

 

Francesca’s face suddenly froze expressionlessly. As if her entire body had been frozen.

 

“…You don’t even deserve to be a father.”

 

“Say whatever you want.”

 

He was a man who couldn’t be reasoned with.

 

Though he was her husband, he was an utterly heartless father.

 

Francesca reflexively got up and rushed out of there. If she stayed any longer, she too might suffocate and die. Having escaped his study, Francesca ran aimlessly.

 

“Ugh.”

 

Because of this, her high heel broke and her ankle twisted, but she couldn’t stop.

 

“Docheop…”

 

Francesca made up her mind. Before tomorrow’s dawn, she would make sure Docheop could never be found in this house.

 

Francesca went to Docheop’s room and opened the door. Then she embraced the child. Docheop felt his mother’s hands trembling and opened his eyes wide.

 

“Mother, what’s wrong?”

 

Francesca whispered while stroking the child’s back.

 

“Docheop, let’s leave now.”

 

The child’s shoulders flinched. Francesca hugged the child a little tighter.

 

Docheop didn’t understand the situation and became more anxious, gripping his mother’s collar.

 

“At this hour? Where to…?”

 

Francesca said while cradling the child’s trembling head.

 

“…To a place where I can save you.”

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