The Fake Wife of the Strongest Husband Wants to Survive - Chapter 13

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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 13
When Pesha let out a sigh, Sally, who’d been patting her back, tilted her head.
“Pardon? What did you say?”
“Nothing. I think I’ll step outside for a moment. My eyes are watering.”
“Of course. Oh, Miss! Let me help you!”
While Sally rushed off to assist, Pesha slipped hurriedly out of the Raccoon Den.
Though she’d only been inside for a short time, the tobacco stench clung to her neat clothes and her neatly braided silver hair.
She felt bad about leaving without properly saying goodbye to Sally, but if she stayed any longer she feared she’d suffocate, so she retraced her steps back outside.
Once she climbed to East Hill and breathed in the scent of trees, she felt she could live again.
“Even in an age when people don’t know tobacco is harmful, surely they must realize that much smoke can’t be good for the body.”
Pesha fell silent there.
The Doctor must know that too—but perhaps the situation was bad enough that he had no choice but to prescribe it.
As she descended the hill path with drooping head and flagging spirit, by the time she reached the bottom she’d straightened her spine and quickened her pace.
“That’s it! How did I not think of that? I have to go check before it’s too late!”
The moment the thought struck her, she bolted from the back gate all the way to the Garden.
Gasping for breath as she arrived, she found exactly what she’d feared—servants wielding hoes and spades, uprooting the blue flowers planted in the beds.
“M-Madam?”
The servants, startled by their mistress’s sudden arrival in such disheveled state, froze.
Pesha, breathing hard with her breath caught in her throat, managed to speak.
“Stop. Don’t do that.”
“Ma’am?”
“Don’t… don’t throw those away.”
“What do you mean? This?”
One of the servants held up a flower she’d just uprooted with her hoe.
A blue-dyed blossom that looked exactly like a rose.
The Fake Rose that had led the Butler to ruin.
Pesha swallowed dryly and nodded.
“That one has a use. So don’t dig it up.”
* * *
In the early dawn, when the pale sun barely peeked timidly over the horizon.
Mini, one of the servants, woke with hunger gnawing at her belly.
Too lazy to get up, she tossed and turned for a while before finally throwing off her blanket and jumping to her feet.
“Maybe I’ll grab some bread.”
Though it was early, there should be bread baked before dawn for the morning meal.
As she rubbed her stomach and headed downstairs to the Kitchen, flickering light danced between the kitchen door.
“Huh? Is the Chef already up?”
Well, he was a diligent man after all.
During her short time since arriving at Swarf, Mini had grown quite fond of the Chef, so she crept forward with the intention of surprising him.
She threw open the door with a flourish and called out.
“Mister—whoa!”
Mini, who’d been cheerfully calling out to him, was taken aback by the unexpected sight before her.
“Oh, Miss?”
In the Kitchen stood none other than Pesha, stirring a pot half her own size.
“Ah, Mini! Good timing. Could you help me?”
“Yes?”
“Could you roast some tea leaves for me?”
“…Yes?”
“Roast them until all the moisture is gone.”
Mini had helped out a bit in the Raidel Duchy’s kitchen before, but she’d never roasted tea leaves.
She took the pan with an uncertain expression.
“Miss, I’ve never done this before. Are you sure that’s alright? It might taste terrible.”
The taste of roasted tea leaves varied greatly depending on temperature, humidity, timing, and technique.
Mini, aware of this, was preemptively warning of potential disaster.
To that, Pesha replied as she stirred the pot.
“It’ll still be better than soaking it in alcohol, won’t it? Badly roasted tea is better than that.”
“Ma’am?”
“Just light the furnace first. We’re running out of time.”
“Yes, yes.”
As Mini lit the fire, she thought to herself.
‘The mistress is up to something strange again. She’s always doing the most unexpected things like this.’
Beneath her demure exterior lay a character that, once resolved, would commit to grand undertakings without hesitation.
Years ago, when the precious potted tree gifted to the Raidel Duke by the Emperor withered, it was she who restored it to life.
‘The Duke had grumbled that she was wasting time on frivolous techniques.’
And that wasn’t all—last year, when a grass pestilence had turned the lawns of the Raidel Duke’s Estate a sickly yellow, she’d even run away from home determined to eradicate it.
‘Waking at dawn to raid the kitchen was hardly the worst of her schemes.’
Mini glanced sideways at the bundle of flowers stacked beside them—though calling it a bouquet was generous, seeing as only the heads remained.
“But Miss… aren’t those the fake roses? The Fake Roses…?”
“They are.”
“You’re going to brew them into tea? Why?”
“I’m making a new Pain Reliever.”
“A… Pain Reliever?”
“Mini.”
The unspoken command—stop asking questions, get to work—came through clearly. Mini hastily fed firewood into the stove and seized the pan.
‘I shouldn’t pry. Even when she takes to peculiar schemes, there’s always a reason behind them.’
Everything Pesha did had purpose.
The desperation with which she’d worked to save the garden’s yellowed grass had been for the groundskeeper facing dismissal—a man scraping together his daughter’s hospital fees.
As Mini hastily roasted the tea leaves and let them cool before passing them over, Pesha steeped the flowers in hot water.
After repeating this several times, a Blue Tea emerged—its color deepened by the blue Dye the Butler had stained the petals with.
“We won’t die from drinking this, will we?” Mini asked, eyeing the strange blue liquid with suspicion.
Pesha shook her head.
“No. It’s only stained with plant extract, so there’s nothing harmful about consuming it.”
“What will you do with it?”
“Once it’s cooled, I’ll load it into the Supply Wagon and transport it.”
“You’re not drinking it yourself, Miss?”
At that, Pesha broke into laughter.
“Me? Ha. No. I’m distributing this to the patients.”
The Chef arrived for his shift just then, rubbing sleepy eyes, and halted in surprise at the sight of the two of them conversing in hushed tones.
“Madam! What are you doing here?”
“Chef! Good timing. Transfer the tea in this pot to an Oak Barrel for me, would you? You have empty barrels, don’t you?”
The Chef, bewildered though he was, obeyed without question.
By the time the cooled tea had been decanted into the Oak Barrel, the sun had risen fully and morning had truly begun.
Pesha instructed Mini to prepare the Supply Wagon before more people awoke and drew attention to them.
Then she had the Coachman load the barrels aboard.
“Miss, you’re really taking this to the Hospital Tent?”
“Would it ease your mind to come along?”
“Of course I’m coming with you…!”
Since arriving in Swarf, this would be her first time leaving the estate, and Mini’s nerves were plainly visible.
Once Pesha confirmed the Supply Wagon was hitched to the Passenger Carriage, she set the carriage in motion.
The carriage bearing Pesha wound through New Town in loops and curves, navigating through twisted alleyways until it came to rest at the entrance to Old Town.
“Madam, are you certain this is the right direction?”
The Coachman’s voice carried a note of unease.
“Hmm…”
Pesha could not offer a confident reply.
She only remembered the path that went through East Hill.
“This area connects to Old Town, and it could be dangerous if we’re not careful.”
“All right. Let’s circle once more, and if we can’t find it, we’ll turn back.”
In that very moment—
a figure’s silhouette caught Pesha’s eye.
“Sally!”
The girl in the white kerchief wrapped around her head turned at the call.
“Sally! It’s me!”
“Oh…!”
Pesha watched as Sally’s delight at recognizing her was tempered by hesitation—a search for the proper way to address her—and realized with a start that she had never given her name.
“It’s Pesha! I’m Pesha!”
“P-Pesha? What is all this? A carriage…?”
Sally’s mouth fell open in shock at the sight of the procession.
“More importantly, could you show me the way to the Hospital Tent?”
“The Hospital Tent?”
Though startled, Sally gave clear directions without hesitation.
Thanks to her guidance, they arrived at last at the Hospital Tent—today as always wreathed in smoke like the Raccoon Den.
As the carriage drew near with its great wheels rolling, the Doctor who had been resting outside the tent dropped the cigarette he’d been smoking.
“Sally! What did you bring?”
“Ah, well… Doctor. You see….”
The Doctor was limping, and from the looks of the bandages wrapped thickly around his leg—whether sprained or fractured—he’d coated the whole thing in plaster.
‘So his leg was hurting. That’s why he was smoking tobacco rolled with reed leaves.’
While Sally struggled to explain the carriage she hardly understood herself, Pesha stepped down from it.
The Doctor saw her emerge.
“And who is this woman?”
Just as Pesha was about to introduce herself, Mini darted forward ahead of her and barked out a rebuke.
“How rude! ‘This woman,’ indeed!”
“I beg your pardon?”
The Doctor’s eyes grew uncertain as he looked back and forth between Pesha and Mini.
Was she perhaps nobility?
Her fine clothes, the carriage, and the young girl who appeared to be her maid—it certainly seemed so.
When the Doctor hastily began to bow, Pesha waved her hand dismissively.
“Formalities aren’t necessary. I came because I thought this might help.”
Pesha gestured toward the Coachman.
The Coachman then hauled an Oak Barrel down from the Supply Wagon.
Pesha pointed to the barrel and spoke.
“Try using this as a Pain Reliever for your patients. I thought it might be useful.”

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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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