The Fake Wife of the Strongest Husband Wants to Survive - Chapter 69

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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 69
Pretending not to care, Fulton knitted his brow, but Pesha spoke without removing her hand from her pocket.
Her words only deepened his curiosity.
Something even the Lord has never seen?
What on earth was she planning to make with it?
Fulton kept his expression stern and spoke in the smallest voice imaginable.
“What is it?”
Try as he might to feign indifference, he couldn’t hide the curiosity burning inside him.
Seeing his face, Pesha let out a soft laugh and withdrew the object from her pocket.
It was nothing more than a scrap of cloth the size of a palm—a handkerchief, really.
But it was dyed in a blue so vivid and profound that it stood out sharply from any ordinary blue fabric he’d ever seen.
“This is… something even my lord has never seen before?”
“The color is rather lovely, don’t you think?”
It certainly was an eye-catching hue.
Yet Fulton still couldn’t imagine how it could replace the Beryl.
“I’m going to use this to make the Swamp safe and prosperous.”
That such possibility could be contained in a handkerchief the size of Pesha’s small palm seemed beyond belief to Fulton.
“Is this truly what you’re confident about, madam?”
As he stared intently at the handkerchief, Pesha smiled brightly.
“Yes. Fortunately, the dye itself turned out exactly as I’d hoped. Now the only question is how to captivate people with it.”
“Do you… have a method in mind?”
At Fulton’s question, Pesha tucked the handkerchief back into her pocket, and her smile deepened.
“I’m considering something, though I can’t be sure it will unfold as I hope. But I should give it a try.”
Her words left room for doubt, yet her expression was brimming with confidence.
* * *
Princess Lodriess had turned eighteen.
Born the youngest among the Imperial House, she was the Emperor’s most cherished and beloved daughter.
It was customary for the Imperial House to marry quickly upon reaching adulthood, and Lodriess was renowned for her warm relationship with the betrothal partner arranged for her in childhood.
Most everyone predicted she would marry the moment she came of age.
Had a scandal not erupted the day after the Princess’s Baptism Ceremony, that prediction would have come true.
“Ugh, don’t even speak of it.”
Jane, who had traveled to the Capital to deliver news of the Swamp’s invasion and defense, had been sitting in Pesha’s study for three hours already.
She chewed cookies that Mini had reluctantly offered with obvious reluctance, recounting news no one had asked for.
Pesha hardly bothered to respond properly, yet Jane’s chatter was so endless that one’s ears might bleed.
“I mean about the Duke Cobit’s affair. Despite having a princess of his own, apparently he was meeting with a noblewoman eighteen years his senior. A betrothed eighteen-year-old girl, and he was having passionate nights with a woman eighteen years older! Kyaa, what a spicy life to live, don’t you think?”
“…”
“And that Duke Cobit fellow—his shamelessness is extraordinary. To humiliate the Princess like that and then have the audacity to say—what was it?—’My heart toward Your Highness has not grown cold. I love her madly even now. Both of them.’ The more one hears it, the more absurd it becomes. We should compile it into a collection of his sayings. Or perhaps he was flailing about trying not to be executed?”
“…”
“In any case, madam, the Emperor was so furious that the atmosphere in the Imperial City became absolutely frigid. I’m telling you, even if ten Owen Namoies had invaded the Swamp, the court wouldn’t have cared.”
“…”
“Dragging out dealings with such a scoundrel only makes the Princess look foolish. A broken engagement can’t be helped, so she needs to find a new match. But this time, His Majesty is looking abroad, you see?”
“Abroad?”
Delighted to receive an answer after three hours of silence, Jane set down her nearly drained teacup—already on her second pot—and continued with newfound enthusiasm.
“There’s no suitable man in the Empire. And since she might encounter another fool like Duke Cobit, the Emperor has decided to open negotiations with foreign royalty instead.”
Pesha stopped kneading the Beeswax Dough mixed with Lapis Lazuli and fell into thought.
Had the original story also extended the marriage search beyond the Empire’s borders?
This part had been covered so briefly in the original that she couldn’t be sure.
But that wasn’t the point.
There was a reason Pesha had been listening silently to this tedious chatter for three hours.
“Is that all?”
“Pardon? Well… that’s everything, isn’t it? They’re exerting themselves completely to make the Princess a costly prize on the marriage market. But if she’s an Imperial Princess, isn’t the matter already settled? How could she become more valuable than that?”
“Perhaps because she’s the daughter of such a powerful figure, the Emperor hopes that an equally distinguished man will propose.”
“I swear, trying to make a turnip into a watermelon. And they’re holding some sort of grand Portrait Contest, no less. Squandering the treasury…”
At that remark, Pesha removed her gloves and turned her body toward Jane.
“A Portrait Contest is being held?”
“Yes. Something about capturing the essence of art that will lead the Empire’s future through the Princess’s portrait, but ultimately it’s just ‘We seek someone to paint our daughter beautifully,’ isn’t it?”
At those words, Pesha broke into a knowing smile.
“I see… With such a scandal surrounding the Princess, all eyes will be on how this unfolds.”
“You’re telling me. It’s already the talk of the town. The prize money is enormous, by the way. I should have studied brushwork instead of swordplay. What good is a Knight’s commission? All I do is handle Treasury documents day in and day out, so all I’m developing is skill at wetting my fingers… Ah, madam, that wasn’t meant for your ears.”
Jane hurriedly finished her sentence and watched Pesha’s expression carefully, but Pesha was already absorbed in her own thoughts.
The Empire was currently enjoying unprecedented prosperity under the peace Owen had brought.
The continental war that seemed to begin with the Clapton Kingdom never came to pass—Owen had made them a decisive example, crushing their ambitions so thoroughly that no nation dared defy the Empire’s will.
Moreover, the Abyss Land, once the Empire’s only weakness despite its otherwise rich territories, posed no threat now that Owen himself guarded the front lines to prevent monster proliferation, leaving no opening for internal strife.
In such circumstances, the Emperor—needing to fortify alliances with powerful nations to cement the continent’s dominance—would accomplish this through his daughter’s marriage.
If the Emperor wanted to make the Princess’s marriage into a grand spectacle for the Empire, the situation was turning decidedly in Pesha’s favor.
Pesha smiled quietly and opened her mouth.
“The Portrait Contest for the Princess will make quite a stir across the Empire for some time. Whoever’s selected—painter or patron alike—will have a prosperous future ahead of them.”
“True enough, but getting selected there? That’s hardly simple. It’s just artists playing their games anyway, so I’ve barely been paying attention and decided against it.”
Pesha watched Jane shake her head side to side, then spoke up without preamble.
“Well, I’m going to enter.”
“Pardon? Enter what?”
“The Portrait Contest.”
“You’re joking.”
Jane, who had been about to shake her tea service asking for a refill, stared with a bewildered expression.
Pesha’s brow furrowed.
“Why would I joke with you, Penrose? Are we the sort to trade jests?”
Realizing she was serious, Jane pressed further.
“Do you paint well?”
“No.”
“Then… you’re sending me?”
Jane hugged herself, her eyes wavering with uncertainty.
She’d said she should have learned brushwork, but she hadn’t meant to actually wield a brush…
Pesha observed Jane’s muttering and anxious glances with apparent exasperation.
“I’m going to find a painter.”
“Even if you find a painter, where would you… wait, before that—the contest will draw every renowned artist from across the nation. Who exactly are you planning to bring? The Swamp has no one but sign painters.”
“I didn’t say I’d find one in the Swamp.”
“If not the Swamp, then where? No, wait—that’s not even the issue. Say by some chance you do win—what then?”
“I’m not expecting to win.”
“Then what?”
“Well…”
Pesha answered with the expression of someone asked an obvious question.
“I’m thinking of making money.”

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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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