The Fake Wife of the Strongest Husband Wants to Survive - Chapter 57

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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 57
A week later, Owen was discharged from the hospital.
Even after the discharge was decided, the Physician continued to warn him seriously, over and over.
“Just because you look well doesn’t mean you are well. You understand? Your internal muscles and nerves are still recovering. For the next several months, you must absolutely avoid any strenuous activity. Don’t even think about Sword Training or long journeys.”
The plan to return to the Swamp immediately was postponed for now.
But that wasn’t entirely unwelcome.
The moment word spread that Owen had awakened, the Capital churned like a boiling marketplace.
Before long, servants were hurrying back and forth across the Hotel entrance, bearing trays.
Letters with the seals of various noble houses, stamped in red wax, piled up in such quantities that they became unmanageable.
“We most humbly request your attendance at a banquet commemorating the harmony of the Count and Countess.”
“We are preparing a modest celebration of the Count’s swift recovery, and would be deeply honored if you would grace us with your presence.”
The handwriting varied, but the message remained largely the same.
In any case, they all wanted to place Owen at the center of attention and bask in his reflected glory.
By evening, those who came in person, driving their carriages, lined up by the dozens, adding to the flood of Letters.
The lanterns hanging from the carriages arrayed beneath the marble steps seemed endless.
The servants bent repeatedly, ushering them into the reception room only to turn around and repeat the process anew.
People who weeks before had refused even to look at her—dismissing her as a wife the Emperor had forced upon him—now elevated Pesha with breathless praise, calling her “the woman an hero risked his life to save.”
Watching the scene unfold from beyond the window, Pesha exhaled a deep sigh.
‘Until just days ago, these same people whispered behind closed doors or showed her no interest whatsoever. Now they compete to sing her praises. Human nature truly is…… impossibly fickle.’
Owen, the very cause of all this commotion, continued his recovery as though none of it concerned him.
And Pesha deliberately kept her distance from him.
She spoke only when necessary, and otherwise remained silent.
‘…… It’s awkward.’
Fortunately, an empty room had become available at the Hotel.
Thanks to this, she was spared the inconvenience of seeing his face constantly.
Yet precisely because they no longer spent time together face to face, this strange distance between them seemed to stand out all the more sharply.
Either way, it was thorns and discomfort.
Pesha set down her teacup with a long sigh.
It was then that a knock sounded at her door.
“Madam, a Letter has arrived.”
Pesha answered without looking up.
“Leave it there.”
Despite the curt command, the servant lingered, hesitating.
Pesha, growing curious, lifted her head, and the servant finally spoke, uncertainly.
“The one who brought it… insisted most urgently that it be delivered directly to either the Count or Countess. Their expression and appearance seemed… unusual.”
Her brow furrowed.
The exaggerated invitations from Capital nobility could easily be handled by the household servants.
But this one demanded to be delivered personally?
An ominous premonition crept over her like ice.
“Bring it here.”
The envelope the servant offered was rougher than the other invitations.
A Black Wax Seal had been pressed hastily into place, and the envelope’s edges were already worn smooth by handling.
As she broke the seal, the paper inside revealed writing scrawled in haste and anger.
“Monsters have invaded the Territory. The damage is severe. Please return as soon as you possibly can. — Rebecca”
“Monsters…?”
For an instant, her mind went white.
The cheering crowds, the children playing in the square, the miners moving through the marketplace…….
A vision crashed over her of darkness and shadow descending upon all that peace.
Her hands trembled as she gripped the Letter.
All color drained from her face in an instant.
Still clutching the Letter, Pesha hurried toward Owen’s room, barely breathing.
Her steps quickened until they were nearly a run.
When she reached his door, she forgot to knock and pushed it open.
“Lord Owen!”
In that moment, the sight that filled her vision was utterly unexpected.
Owen stood in the middle of the room, his shirt in his hands, half-removed.
His bare chest above the bandages was sculpted with taut muscle against sun-darkened bronze skin.
The trained torso and shoulders, the smooth line of his abdominal muscles, were rendered as vividly distinct as a living statue.
The body forged in the furnace of war curved in sharp lines, radiating masculine beauty.
Pesha froze, as though the breath had been struck from her body.
Her eyes didn’t know where to look, so her gaze wavered in empty air.
She turned her head sharply to hide the heat crawling up her face, but it was already too late.
Owen’s brow furrowed slightly as he watched her.
“Has something urgent come up?”
“I received an urgent message from Rebecca. Monsters have overrun the territory… it seems there’s been considerable damage. She asked me to return as quickly as possible.”
Her voice trembled toward the end.
Owen’s face hardened the moment he took the letter.
His dark eyes raced across the words, and his expression grew steadily darker.
He roughly pulled his discarded shirt back on.
His hands moved with swift, resolute efficiency as he fastened the buttons.
“The situation appears more grave than I expected. You will remain in the Capital.”
“…I beg your pardon?”
“Since the condition of the territory is unknown, I cannot risk taking you with me. You will stay here.”
At that, Pesha bit down hard on her lip.
‘What does he take me for?’
She bristled at being treated like some delicate hothouse flower.
She understood that, given he had saved her life not long ago, she ought to yield to some degree—but if the situation truly was as dire as he suggested, she could not simply remain abandoned in the Capital.
“I know what you’re saying. But that land is something I’ve cultivated and built with my own hands!”
“It won’t look as it did then. You may find that nothing of what you remember remains.”
As he spoke of the ruin that might befall the territory she so cherished, his gaze grew only darker and colder.
That unnatural composure, that dismissive tone that pushed her away as an outsider—it infuriated her.
“Is that an order from the Lord?”
“What?”
“If it isn’t, don’t try to stop me. I’m going there to do what I can.”
Owen’s gaze fixed on her intently.
After a brief silence, he issued a low warning.
“Don’t be stubborn.”
“It’s not stubbornness—it’s my right. As the one who built that place, as the Lady of the territory, I have the right to see with my own eyes what has happened in the Swamp.”
A tense silence stretched between them.
Pesha’s resolute gaze met Owen’s directly.
This time, she had no intention of backing down.
As the silence continued, Owen finally exhaled a long breath and dropped his shoulders.
“…Very well. A carriage would take too much time, so we’ll travel by horse.”
“I’ve ridden horses before!”
“A forced march is another matter entirely. You’ll ride with me on my horse. We won’t rest or sleep along the way—understand that clearly.”
“I understand.”
Owen paused momentarily at that.
Then he continued.
“And from the moment we depart, do not leave my side. Not for a single moment.”

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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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