Chapter 95: Another Prophetic Dream
After the Magic Tower event, Damian found himself deep in thought.
He had resolved to start treating Aracila as a true wife, to lessen the burdens their marriage had placed on her. The trouble was, he wasn’t sure how to go about it. When they’d treated their marriage as a contract, putting on a show for others, it had been easy enough—no deep thought required. But now, faced with the prospect of genuinely caring for her, he felt at a loss for where to begin.
Maybe I should start by getting to know her better, since I barely know anything about her.
Lost in thought, Damian gazed out the carriage window. His eyes caught a long line of people stretching along the street.
Why are they all standing there?
Curious, he shifted his gaze and spotted a confectionery shop, its exterior adorned in vibrant pink. A sign out front read:
“Gift a special chocolate to your beloved girlfriend or wife!”
Looking closer, he noticed that most of the people in line were men. Just then, the coachman announced they’d need to stop briefly due to traffic. As Damian peered out to assess the situation, his attention kept drifting back to the shop.
Is that the kind of thing wives like?
His eyes flicked to a couple passing by the carriage. The woman, holding a box of chocolates her partner had given her, looked radiant with happiness.
The sight made him think of Aracila. Would she smile like that if he gave her a special box of chocolates?
The thought wasn’t unpleasant, and before he could second-guess himself, Damian opened the carriage door and stepped out. Ignoring the coachman’s startled protest, he instructed him to wait and headed toward the bustling shop.
After some time, he emerged with a box wrapped in red ribbon clutched in his hand.
It wasn’t until he was nearly home that a sudden doubt hit him. Wait… does Aracila even like chocolate?
Though they often shared meals, they rarely spent time together over desserts or went on dates, so he had no idea about her preferences in sweets. The possibility that she might not even like chocolate made him hesitate to step out of the carriage, the box feeling heavier in his hand.
A twinge of embarrassment crept in at the thought of giving her such an impulsive gift.
When they arrived home, he lingered in the carriage, unmoving, for several minutes. The butler and servants gathered outside, murmuring with concern. The butler cautiously knocked on the carriage door.
“Master? Is something wrong?”
“…No, I’m coming out,” Damian replied, realizing he couldn’t stay there forever.
Tucking the chocolate box under his uniform cloak, he stepped out and hurried up the steps—only to come face-to-face with Aracila descending the staircase. He flinched, as if caught committing a crime.
“You’re back, Damian?” she greeted, her smile warm and bright.
Her eyes crinkled at the corners, and Damian instinctively tightened his grip on the hidden box. Would she smile like that if I gave her this?
Nervous, he licked his dry lips.
“Are we eating dinner soon?” she asked.
“Uh, yes,” he managed.
“Alright, I’ll head to the dining hall then.”
As she moved to pass him, a pang of reluctance hit him. He’d gone through the trouble of buying it for her—letting the moment slip felt wrong.
Without thinking, he grabbed her arm and blurted, “Do you like chocolate?”
Aracila’s eyes widened at the sudden question. “What? Well, I suppose I do.”
“Then take this.”
Trying to sound as casual as possible, as if he’d simply stumbled upon it, Damian thrust the chocolate box toward her.
Aracila blinked, bemused, as she took the slightly crumpled box—its corners dented from his tight grip—and opened it. “Oh, chocolates?”
To his relief, the chocolates inside were unharmed, their delicate shapes intact. Aracila’s face lit up with delight as she picked one and popped it into her mouth.
Damian, despite not having made the chocolates himself, watched her anxiously, waiting for her reaction.
“Mmm, these are delicious,” she said, savoring the sweetness as her smile widened, her eyes curving into soft crescents.
Seeing her expression, Damian’s tension eased, his own face softening. Emboldened by the success of his spontaneous gift, he stepped closer and asked, “What else do you like?”
“Why do you want to know?” she replied, tilting her head.
“I’m curious.”
To be good to her, he needed to know what she liked.
Aracila studied his earnest expression, then said with a playful lilt, “Well, you’re putting me on the spot, so I can’t think of anything right now…”
“Really? Then tell me when you do. You can write it down if you want.”
“What, so you can carry the list around and memorize it?” she teased.
“Yes.”
Aracila, caught off guard by Damian’s earnest response to her teasing, blinked in surprise.
“I need to know you well to support you properly, don’t I?”
A faint smile curved his lips. Aracila’s eyes flickered, her mind racing. Is he joking?
The thought crossed her mind briefly, but the very next day, she realized he was serious. Damian returned home with yet another dessert in hand.
“Isaac mentioned these financiers are all the rage among noble ladies these days,” he said, holding out a box.
“You got these for me?” Aracila asked, bemused.
“Yes. Try them.”
Still a bit dazed, she accepted the box of financiers. When she tasted one and smiled, declaring it delicious, Damian’s face lit up with quiet pride.
This peculiar behavior continued for days. As a result, Aracila found herself sampling an array of desserts—tarts, soufflés, madeleines, pound cakes. Her casual comment that she didn’t have a particular favorite and enjoyed them all had clearly spurred him on.
Well, it’s kind of nice that he’s thinking of me.
Her independent nature didn’t make her immune to appreciating someone’s thoughtfulness. Each time Damian brought home a new treat, the corners of her mouth twitched upward, a subtle smile lingering on her face.
She took the leftovers to work as snacks. Today, it was macarons. When she pulled them out during lunch, Sally and Rudy gasped in awe.
“Wow, aren’t those from Mimi’s Dessert House? They’re limited edition—impossible to get!” Sally exclaimed.
“Rudy’s been whining about wanting them forever, but they’re always sold out by the time we get there after work,” Sally added.
“Really? But didn’t you leave at the same time as us yesterday, Senior?” Rudy asked, puzzled.
Aracila wordlessly took the macarons from the box and set them on a plate. Sally and Rudy exchanged glances, then gasped in realization.
“No way! Your husband got these for you, didn’t he?” Sally said, eyes wide.
“Wow, Commander Vandemir looks all stoic and intimidating, but he’s super thoughtful, isn’t he?” Rudy added.
“I’m so jealous. I wish I had someone as sweet as that around—besides Rudy, I mean,” Sally teased.
Their comments quietly pleased Aracila, a soft smile spreading across her face. She felt an unexpected swell of pride.
The three of them paired the sweet macarons with slightly bitter tea, the combination divine. Aracila savored the last macaron with deep satisfaction, popping it into her mouth.
A wave of drowsiness washed over her, and her eyes fluttered shut.
After work, Aracila changed out of her uniform into comfortable loungewear, ate dinner alone, and settled onto the sofa with a book. The patter of a nighttime shower tapped against the windows like piano keys. She adjusted her non-prescription glasses now and then, engrossed in her reading, when Audrey’s voice broke the quiet.
“Milady, Sir Wind from the Red Hawk Knights is here to see you.”
Puzzled, Aracila descended the stairs to find Isaac standing at the door, his thick armor draped with a robe, dripping rainwater onto the floor. He looked like a grim reaper come to claim a soul.
His face, shadowed with an uncharacteristic gloom, made her approach cautiously.
“Greetings, Lady Vandemir,” he said formally.
“Hello, Sir Wind. What brings you here? Has the western beast subjugation ended already?”
Isaac shook his head, his expression darkening further.
If the subjugation wasn’t over, there was even less reason for the Red Hawk Knights’ deputy commander to be here. Confusion clouded Aracila’s mind. “Then why are you here?”
“Lady Vandemir… please, don’t be alarmed,” he began, hesitating.
“What is it?” she pressed.
He took a deep breath but faltered, unable to speak. Her clear, glassy eyes seemed to paralyze him. Gesturing to Audrey, who stood behind her, he said, “Stay by her side, just in case.”
“Sir Wind, what’s going on? Tell me,” Aracila demanded, her voice tinged with frustration.
Swallowing hard, Isaac forced the words out, his lips trembling. “Lady Vandemir… the Commander… he was killed in action.”
“What?”
Had she misheard? Aracila stared at him, her face blank.
Isaac lowered his gaze, avoiding her eyes, his expression on the verge of tears.
“Sir Wind, what are you saying? Damian… Damian’s dead?”
“I’m so sorry, my lady,” he murmured.
“I don’t want an apology,” she snapped. “I want an answer.”
With a heavy nod, Isaac confirmed, “Yes… the Commander has passed.”
“No… that’s impossible…”
Aracila stumbled back, shaking her head, unable to process the sudden news.
“I’m sorry to bring you such news,” Isaac said, bowing deeply, as if his apology cemented the truth.
Her legs gave way, and Audrey quickly steadied her. Breathing heavily, Aracila fixed Isaac with a low, piercing gaze. “Why… how did Damian die? Who killed him?”
“We’re still investigating the details,” he replied.
“You can at least tell me what happened,” she insisted, gripping his robe tightly.
Isaac, sensing her resolve, began slowly, “The Commander went to the mountains for the beast subjugation, and…”
“Senior!”
A firm shake of her shoulder and a loud cry jolted Aracila awake. She gasped, bolting upright, her breath ragged.
Blinking rapidly, she took in the familiar sight of her research lab and the concerned faces of Sally and Rudy.
“Are you okay, Senior?” Sally asked, worry etched across her face.
“Sally… what just happened?”
Moments ago, she’d been face-to-face with Isaac, hearing about Damian’s death. Why was she now in her lab with her juniors?
Confusion swirled in her mind as she ran a hand through her hair, looking at Sally. Hesitantly, Sally explained, “You were eating macarons and said you were sleepy, so you dozed off for a bit. But you kept groaning, so we got worried and woke you.”
“…Oh.”
The realization hit her—she’d fallen asleep in the lab while snacking with her juniors. Her face hardened as the pieces came together.
That encounter with Sir Wind was a dream.
She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, where her mana surged more fiercely than ever. Closing her eyes tightly, she understood.
There was only one reason her mana would react so violently after a dream.
It was a prophetic dream.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
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