Mister. police!!!

I screamed so in my mind.

A man is forcing himself into my room!

Your relation with the man? We are married. Yes, he is my husband. On paper, at least.

Location? My room inside the mansion. Yes, we live together… It is my husband’s house, after all… This is the room that was granted to me to do as I wish with.

Domestic violence? No way. He hasn’t laid a finger on me other than as my escort. I always feel like there is something to be anxious of… Well, I think that’s the fault of my parents, but…

Does he look agitated enough to harm me? No, he is expressionless as usual, he doesn’t seem to be raising his voice, he’s keeping his distance, so I don’t see anything unusual… The only thing unusual here is him visiting his wife’s room.

Ah, wait, mister police!! Come on, don’t just tell me to talk about it with him since it’s a private family matter, mister police! Mister police!!!

“How do you feel? “Shouldn’t I call a doctor?”

A low voice shaking my eardrums brought me back to reality from the charade in my mind.

“Yes, yes. It isn’t a big deal, so I will be alright if I sleep.”

“…It doesn’t seem like you’re laying down, though.”

“…I intended on doing that just now.”

I couldn’t help but reply like a little kid being scolded by her mother for not doing homework. I feel like that, too.

My husband, Edward, is in my room. What the hell’s that? I secretly pinched the back of my left hand with my right hand, but it hurt as usual. It’s not a dream. I don’t get it. Mister police, save me.

“Well, umm, dear husband… Was there something you wanted from me?”

Did… Did I do something? I’ll indirectly ask about it.

For a moment, my husband turned his eyes away from me, as if thinking about something. Then he looked right back at me.

“I was in town today, you see.”

“Ah, yes.”

“I have a souvenir.”

“…That was kind, thank you?”

Raw food? Did he have to hand it to me so urgently because it’s raw food? Is it something so important that he has to barge into his wife’s room without permission to hand it to her? Is it the last seconds of something like a sell-by date from my previous life?

I can’t hide my confusion. Why would anyone want to give a gift like that?

As I was sitting on a sofa, Edward slowly walked towards me from the door with those long legs of his, and put his hand out.

Huh? Did he come here holding clutching raw food in his hand?

I fearfully held out my hands, and what was gently placed in my palms seemed to be a brooch.

It’s not… Something raw, huh?

I took a good look and drew my conclusion.

It feels hard and slippery. If I put it in my mouth without thinking, it could chip my teeth. This brooch looking thing, it really is a brooch, huh? This.

Why?

As I sat with my hands held out, I looked up to my husband in front of me. I want an explanation. A serious one.

My husband is expressionless as always… But it almost looks like his eyebrows are dropping. Like he’s… Worried?

No, really, why? It’s actually making me worried, you know?

I’m a bit annoyed that I can’t understand.

What does my husband want? He brought a gift to his wife. He handed it to his wife. His wife is looking at him in silence.

…

“Can I really be granted such a fine thing? I am very grateful.”

First, I’ll try saying thanks. That’s right. I was too shocked and did not have the proper manners as a human being. That was close.

“…I wouldn’t call it fine. I got it from the general store that we went to earlier.”

Well, of course. I wouldn’t call it cheap, but I wouldn’t say that it looks expensive enough to fear touching it either. There are no jewels on it either.

It has a humble design with a metal base, milk-white background and several graceful flowers drawn in the centre.

It was not a store that sold luxury goods for aristocrats, so I assume it’s meant for ordinary ladies with some extra money.

“This is the first thing I’ve been given by you, husband. I shall take good care of it.”

A present isn’t about the price, you see. Leaving that aside, I still don’t understand why he was in such a rush to hand this to me.

“…There are no stores in Liditz that sell expensive jewellery. No things or people come here unless peddled or brought in from the outside.”

Hmph, that’s right. I lightly nodded.

I would hardly call this area safe, after all. If they dealt in expensive goods, they’d have a higher chance of encountering emergencies. Even if it wasn’t so, from the point of view of the lord, the territory is not rich enough to be suitable for opening a store.

Ah, but if there are all these mountains, can’t they collect gems or something from somewhere? Maybe with the constant war they don’t have the time to search for ore veins and mine them.

As I came to an understanding myself, my husband naturally still looked worried.

Like he’s thinking about something..?

I wonder why. Is he trying to make sure I don’t ask for something expensive?

“…My mother had a treasured amethyst ring that my father had given her when they were young. Apparently, it was my mother’s birthstone. She always had it with her.”

Ah, yes. He’s starting on some story about the old days.

“You may already know this, but Liditz is a place of no connection to luxury goods. My mother didn’t have much jewellery. She treasured the ring until her last moment, so it is now below the gravestone with her.”

Yes, yes, what a pleasant story. Pretty bad timing, though.

“…I’ve never seen something more beautiful, more radiant than my mother’s amethyst. When I looked at your eyes, I remembered that amethyst.”

I gulped and forgot how to breathe.

I suddenly came up as he was talking about his beautiful memories. What a shock.

Hey, wait, was I just praised? By my husband? By Edward? That Edward, who treated his late wife as a mere insect?

These eyes, that have been called nothing but sinister?

I remembered my breath and took it in.

My throat is trembling. The depths of my nose hurt. Must be because I stopped breathing.

“When I tried to come up with a present for you, I thought of that amethyst. However, I don’t think I can find anything like that. The merchant is gone too. So, in its place… Those flowers, they’re the same colour as your eyes too, and I…”

The picture drawn on the brooch is a violet. I wonder if this person knows the flower’s meaning? All of my knowledge comes from my previous life, so its meaning may be entirely different in this one. Still.

I wanted to believe. That this person’s words were truth.

Not flattery, nor deceit and lies.

I want to believe that he remembers the love of those closest to him when he looks into my eyes. I want to believe that he wanted to gift me something equal to the most beautiful thing that he had ever seen.

…The first person, ever, to compliment my eyes.

I want to believe that he will also think my child Alfred’s eyes are beautiful too.

I want to believe that when Alfred feels sorrow about his eyes, he will tell the same story to his son, as a parent this time.

As I wished that the flower brooch in my hand, which meant “sincerity” could be my proof, I sobbed aloud.

Please, please. Please let Alfred feel my joy, salvation, and inspiration.

It was the first time that I saw my husband so flustered he could not put on a blank expression.

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Chapter 7>