Why Is My Husband the Villainous Schemer! - Chapter 18

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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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Episode 18
The moment I called his name, Carcel tumbled backward out of his chair with a tremendous crash.
Being a muscular man with such a thick chest, the noise was deafening.
I rushed into the room toward him.
“Are you all right?!”
“Y-yes, I’m fine.”
Carcel picked himself up with an embarrassed expression.
I moved toward him at once.
“Did you trip on something?”
“…No.”
He avoided my gaze, looking utterly mortified.
“Get up.”
I extended my hand to him.
He stared at my hand for a long moment before reaching out to take it.
Unlike my smooth hand, unmarred by a single visible vein, the back of his hand—twice the size of mine—was crisscrossed with sinews and blue veins.
My hand disappeared entirely into his palm, and before I could even register my surprise, he was on his feet.
Yet even standing, he didn’t let go of my hand.
Trapped in his firm grip, I opened my mouth awkwardly to ask.
“Could you… let go of my hand?”
“Oh.”
As if only then realizing, Carcel hastily released my hand.
I tilted my head, observing him more closely.
“It looks like you have a mark on your cheek.”
A flush bloomed across Carcel’s smooth cheek like a flower.
But no matter how I thought about it, there was no reason for that.
Could he have scraped himself when he fell, gotten a bruise?
I asked carefully so as not to startle him.
“May I touch your cheek for a moment?”
“…Yes.”
My fingertips slowly made contact with Carcel’s cheek.
He watched my approaching hand unguarded, and at the slightest touch, he exhaled as if nearly crumbling, his breath shallow.
His warm breath touched my face.
I traced the red mark on his cheek delicately, using only my fingertips.
“Does it hurt?”
Each time my fingers traced down his cheek, his body flinched slightly.
After a brief silence, he answered in a hoarse, fractured voice.
“A little.”
“There doesn’t seem to be a scratch. Your skin must be quite sensitive.”
I hadn’t noticed it at first, too focused on my concern.
But the distance between Carcel and me was… far too close.
And unlike before, he subtly avoided eye contact, his cheeks visibly flushed.
‘Just moments ago it was only his cheeks, but now his neck is completely red.’
The rich scent of Carcel’s body mingled with the fragrance of the soap he used, tickling the tip of my nose.
‘It smells good.’
It was a clean, neat fragrance.
Certainly at first I had only meant to check whether his cheek was injured.
But now, without realizing it, I found myself admiring his face so close to mine.
Delicate lashes framed cool eyes; a well-defined nose and firm lips without the slightest hint of a smile.
Eyes that revealed nothing of his inner self gazed back at me.
When he smiled subtly, I hadn’t noticed—but now that the smile had faded, his face appeared uniquely fierce and sensual.
“Um…”
I found myself at a loss in the awkward atmosphere, my lips moving uselessly.
Why had my lips gone dry?
As my face drew closer to Carcel’s, I suddenly snapped back to awareness—if I swallowed hard now, the atmosphere would become strange.
“S-sorry. It doesn’t look like there’s a wound. It seems you just bumped it a little when you fell, that’s all.”
“Mm, yes, of course.”
It seemed I wasn’t the only one who had suddenly come to my senses.
Carcel also showed signs of tension, forcing his lips upward into a smile.
“I would appreciate it if you would forget my recent… unseemly behavior.”
“You were startled when you saw me and fell trying to get up? I’ll pretend I didn’t see that.”
It seemed that being blunt would only make things stranger, so I lightened the mood with a touch of humor.
“By the way, there were no roses here yesterday, but today the place is suddenly decorated with them?”
I allowed Carcel to help me out of my chair and changed the subject as I sat down.
Carcel, fortunately, took his seat across from me without incident this time.
“Oliveto was originally inspired by the olive tree, so the interior has a natural wood-grain style. Fresh flowers seem to suit it better than I expected.”
“Don’t you dislike having so many roses?”
“They’re pink, so they’re lovely, and the fresh rose scent that tickles my nose is quite pleasant.”
“I’m glad.”
Carcel smiled with a satisfied curve to his eyes.
“I came here yesterday, and I’d recommend the grilled steak and lamb, along with soup made from spring peas.”
As I chattered away, the flush on Carcel’s cheeks had begun to fade somewhat.
Instead, he gazed at me warmly once more, letting out a low, soft chuckle.
‘What’s gotten into him?’
Yesterday I had thoroughly sampled the menu both to feed Linea and to select dishes for Carcel, resulting in my stomach reaching capacity.
“Oh, and the pasta made with mustard greens pesto was delicious too.”
“What about wine?”
“I didn’t get to try wine yesterday when I came with Linea. I’d appreciate a recommendation.”
Carcel nodded understandingly and pulled the bell.
When the server arrived, he ordered all the dishes I had recommended, along with wine.
“Please wait a moment.”
After the server left, it was just the two of us in the private room again.
At least this time he didn’t seem as uncomfortable as yesterday.
Sensing the food would soon arrive, I spoke up before things became awkward.
“You know, I didn’t invite you here today simply because I owed you a meal.”
No matter what Carcel had paid for, I could have paid him back half the cost or simply never called him again.
Carcel met my eyes from across the table and asked.
“You said it wouldn’t be something calculated.”
“Right. I’m not sure where to begin, though.”
Being the impatient sort, I launched straight into the main point.
“Let’s try dating first!”
Truth be told, after I confirmed yesterday that Carcel was neither a scammer nor a philanderer, I had made a decision.
Contract marriage? Fine, let’s do it.
What I had originally envisioned was a purely transactional arrangement—trading what each of us needed.
But a contract marriage in a romance novel? That’s essentially the same as committing to a relationship.
It’s marriage in name only, nothing more—date after the wedding.
I’ve never seen a couple who actually went through with a contract marriage and then parted ways after the contract ended.
Honestly, Carcel and I couldn’t deny that we were already in such a situation.
We were aware of each other.
I didn’t love Carcel, not exactly—but I wasn’t indifferent to him either.
‘A handsome man like that is pursuing me. Why would I push him away?’
If Carcel didn’t possess the title necessary to take Linea away, things between us would have been impossible from the start.
I needed at minimum a single, unmarried man with a marquessate.
But he was even a marquess of Livandel!
It was the conclusion I had arrived at after considerable thought and deliberation.
Carcel, however, did not answer for a long while.
The silence stretched unnaturally long as I waited for his response, my heartbeat quickening.
Finally, when he opened his mouth, his answer was this.
“…What is ‘dating’?”
“I mean, what if we spent time getting to know each other on the assumption that we’d be in a relationship?”
At those words, Carcel’s eyes widened.
I began to explain further.
“This is the third time we’re seeing each other privately. We still don’t know each other well, but I don’t get the feeling you’d hurt me.”
“I would never harm Asha.”
Though Carcel said so, in my view I had upgraded him from kidnapper to scammer to an acceptable contract marriage partner.
“I originally planned to propose a contract marriage to you.”
“A contract marriage? If it’s marriage, it’s marriage—why call it a contract? Why do such a thing?”
His question, asked with genuine curiosity, was difficult for me to answer.
Right, in our genre there’s a keyword called contract marriage.
Faced with his innocent, ordinary question of what that even was, I answered step by step.
“I want to leave the Del Moire Count’s Household with Linea. I looked up the imperial legal precedents, and to take a ward away, I need proof of abuse and evidence that I have an environment suitable for raising the child.”
I added further explanation.
“I bought the land to demonstrate that I have sufficient assets to provide for the child’s upbringing.”
At that, Carcel seemed to remember something and spoke to me.

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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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