The Daily Life of an Ordinary Couple (3)
The magic conference in the Kingdom of Silin was a lively affair.
Bottles of wine lined every corner, and as evening fell, fireworks burst into the sky, transforming the event into something akin to a festival.
Among the attending mages, Aracila drew the most explosive attention.
It was unheard of for a young woman to rise as the master of the ancient imperial mage tower, and her presence sent ripples through the crowd.
Some regarded her with curiosity, others with intrigue.
There were those who greeted her warmly, but just as many who looked down on her with thinly veiled disdain.
Aracila met this patchwork of reactions with a flexible grace.
She responded kindly to those who approached with goodwill, but when faced with mockery or provocation, she struck back with sharp wit, humbling their arrogance.
As a result, within just a few days of the conference’s start, whispers spread that the new mage tower master was not one to be trifled with.
Aracila, however, didn’t dwell on it. Being seen as formidable was far preferable to being underestimated.
She spent her time mingling with the mages who had been kind to her from the start.
By the midpoint of the conference, the naysayers had quieted, leaving her to navigate the event with newfound ease.
“So, I heard that Master Aracila is still unmarried?”
“No, I’m married.”
When someone tossed out the question, Aracila held up her left hand, flashing the ring on her finger with a calm smile.
The asker chuckled, a touch embarrassed.
“Oh, my apologies. You’re so young, I just assumed…”
“It’s alright. It’s an easy mistake to make.”
“What’s your husband like? Is he a mage too?”
The question came from someone unfamiliar with Aracila’s life, likely from outside the empire.
Without hesitation, she answered.
“My husband is a knight. And he’s incredibly kind and… well, adorable.”
“Ha, just hearing that, you can tell you two have a wonderful marriage.”
“Adorable, you say? He must have a gentle look about him. They say people are drawn to those who are their opposite in appearance, don’t they?”
Aracila tilted her head thoughtfully but didn’t disagree.
She and Damian had often been told they looked alike, but it was true that his demeanor was soft.
And yes, he was adorable.
Of course, to others, Damian’s striking features might seem handsome but intimidating, his sharp beauty carrying an edge.
Yet in Aracila’s mind, he was forever the man with the warm, gentle smile, making it impossible for her to see him objectively.
So she simply laughed and nodded along, unaware that years later, those same people would stumble across a portrait of Damian in a newspaper—a cold, intense figure with piercing eyes—and startle in disbelief.
After a long stretch of chatter with the others, Aracila slipped away to the balcony for a moment alone.
The sky had darkened, and as always, the conference organizers were setting off fireworks, painting the night with bursts of light.
Gazing at the dazzling display embroidered across the heavens, Aracila’s thoughts turned to Damian.
If only he were here to see this with me.
If he were by her side right now, he’d surely offer his broad shoulders for her to lean into, wrapping her in a warm embrace.
She’d rest against him, their hands entwined, watching the fireworks together in quiet contentment.
—Oh, I miss Damian so much.
The thought struck her suddenly, a pang of longing tightening her chest.
She’d been so busy lately that even before leaving for this trip, she hadn’t had much time with him.
Still, once the conference was over, her schedule would lighten.
They’d finally have a chance to share some tender, uninterrupted moments as husband and wife.
No way—I’m not letting him off easy when I get back.
Aracila clenched her fist quietly, a determined glint in her eye.
After months buried in work, she’d make sure to carve out personal time when she returned home.
To her, being the master of the mage tower was as vital as her life with Damian—equally precious, equally indispensable.
***
By the time the magic conference ended and Aracila returned to the Setron Empire from the Kingdom of Silin, the sun had already set.
The carriage rolled through a world dyed red by the fading glow of dusk, and as night fell, Aracila arrived at their estate, her heart lifting with the hope of seeing Damian waiting to greet her.
“Welcome back, my lady.”
“Come in, my lady!”
But only the servants welcomed her with cheerful smiles—there was no sign of her husband, not even his shadow. A wave of disappointment settled over Aracila as she glanced around and turned to Audrey.
“Where’s Damian?”
“Hmm, I’m not quite sure,” Audrey replied, her lips curling into an enigmatic smile.
She tried to suppress it, but the corners of her mouth twitched despite her efforts.
Too caught up in thoughts of Damian, Aracila didn’t notice and began climbing the stairs.
Was he still at work? If Audrey didn’t know his whereabouts, it was likely he hadn’t returned yet.
Had he forgotten she was coming home today, or was he caught up in some unavoidable overtime?
“Please, go on in, my lady.”
“Oh, right.”
Normally, Audrey would have followed her into the room to attend to her, but this time she only opened the door slightly and stepped back.
Lost in her thoughts about Damian, Aracila didn’t register the oddity and nodded absently, her expression serious.
Her mind was still on him. Should she send someone to the Crimson Hawk Knights to check on him?
She decided to change her clothes and dispatch a messenger. But the moment she stepped into the room—
Pop!
A small firecracker burst above her head.
“……?”
Aracila blinked, staring up at the scattering confetti and flower petals drifting down. Then her gaze shifted forward.
There, in the center of the bedroom, stood her husband—the very one who hadn’t shown so much as a glimpse when she arrived.
Her blue eyes widened as they swept over the room.
The space, which had been perfectly ordinary when she’d left, was now adorned with vibrant purple tulips—her birth flower—interwoven with delicate white blossoms.
It was breathtakingly beautiful, as if a small, intimate party had been prepared just for her.
“Damian… what’s all this?”
Aracila asked, still dazed, as Damian, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, tilted his head to beckon her closer.
She strode toward him, closing the distance.
As she drew near, Damian revealed the bouquet he’d been hiding behind his back. Aracila’s already wide eyes grew even rounder.
A bundle of vivid, fresh red roses—at least a hundred, by her estimation—glowed in his hands. Still reeling, she looked up at her husband as he spoke in a low, warm voice.
“Happy birthday, Aracila.”
“……Oh.”
Only then did Aracila recall her birthday, letting out a soft gasp. Clutching the bouquet of flowers, she covered her mouth, flustered and at a loss.
“Oh, right, it’s my birthday… I completely forgot.”
“I figured as much. Haven’t you been terribly busy since becoming the Master of the Mage Tower?”
Damian chuckled, spreading his arms wide to envelop her in a warm embrace. Feeling the gentle pat of his hand on her back, Aracila’s lips softened into a relaxed smile.
“Thank you for not forgetting.”
“How could I? No man forgets the birthday of the woman he loves.”
Damian drew back slightly, cradling Aracila’s face and studying it closely. His gaze, brimming with deep affection, and his tender touch felt so good that Aracila stayed still, letting him look.
Finding nothing amiss, Damian brushed his thumb gently across her cheek and asked, “How was it out there? Not too hard on you, I hope?”
“Not at all. Missing you was the hardest part, but everything else was fine.”
Aracila leaned her face deliberately into his large hand, her voice soft. The warmth of his palm and the steady, grounding feel of it brought her comfort.
“Take care not to wear yourself out, my love. You’ve seemed so busy lately—I worry.”
“But it’s fulfilling, too. It feels like I’m truly living, you know?”
Damian let out a small, amused laugh, as if to say he couldn’t stop her. Since she’d become the Master of the Mage Tower, a new spark of vitality and sharpness gleamed in Aracila’s eyes. Knowing this, Damian worried but never tried to hold her back.
Still, seeing her entrust her face so easily to his hands, smiling so brightly, he couldn’t help the playful surge of mischief that bubbled up.
“Is it better than living as my wife?”
Unable to resist, Damian tossed out the childish question. Aracila, who had been half-closing her eyes, looked up at him steadily and answered.
“No, being with you makes me far happier.”
The role of Master of the Mage Tower and her life with Damian fulfilled her in distinctly different ways.
The former fed her sense of achievement and self-worth, while the latter made her life richer, more vibrant, more beautiful. That was something only Damian could give her.
His love and stability made Aracila stronger, broadening her life in ways that were undeniable, an unassailable truth.
“Is that so?”
His heart immediately softened, and Damian took her hand, leading her to the table. On it sat a large box and a smaller one.
He slid the larger box toward her first. Aracila carefully untied the ribbon and opened it.
Inside was a fruit cake, its top adorned with swirls of purple frosting. Happy Birthday was written neatly in syrup, and Aracila gasped in delight.
“Wow, it’s gorgeous. Did the chef make this? Or did you buy it?”
“I made it.”
Damian answered proudly, watching her with satisfaction as she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the cake. Aracila whipped her head around, stunned.
“Really? You made this yourself?”
“Yes. You made one for me before, didn’t you? This time, I wanted to do it for you.”
“Damian, your skill is incredible.”
Aracila gave him an earnest thumbs-up. The chef had reacted much the same way. He’d been tense, expecting a mess from the lord of the house, but when Damian revealed a cake so flawless it rivaled professional work, the chef had been moved to tears.
“Better than the lady’s efforts! Sob, to think you’d make such a perfect, impeccable cake…”
Damian, choosing to ignore the chef’s slip of the tongue in his excitement, smiled and placed candles on the cake, lighting them.
“Make a wish.”
“Oh, right.”
Aracila quickly closed her eyes and made her wish: May our family always be this happy. Then she blew out the candles.
Damian moved the cake aside and picked up the smaller box.
“This is my birthday gift for you. I thought it was something you’d need.”
“Really? I’m curious.”
Her eyes sparkled with anticipation as she opened the box. Inside was an elegant gold-plated fountain pen, its sleek body engraved clearly with her name, Aracila. She ran her fingers gently over the lettering, her lips curving into a soft smile.
“As the Master of the Mage Tower, you’ll be signing things left and right, using a pen constantly. I thought you should have one that carries my heart.”
“Thank you, Damian. I’ll use this forever—until the day I die. I absolutely love it.”
Seeing his wife’s joy, Damian felt a deep sense of satisfaction. Though the birthday celebration wasn’t grand, the care he’d put into it clearly touched Aracila’s heart.
Heartened by her reaction, Damian ran his fingers through her fine hair and spoke.
“Shall we wash up and enjoy the cake together?”
“Oh, yes, that sounds lovely.”
Aracila carefully placed the fountain pen back in its box and stood. Damian rose as well, ready to clear the table and prepare some wine while she washed up.
But just as Aracila seemed to head toward the bathroom, she suddenly turned back to him.
“Damian.”
Her fingers lightly tugged at the hem of his shirt as she whispered.
“Want to wash up together?”
Damian, who had been gazing down at her curiously, froze. His calm ears flushed bright red in an instant.
Holding her shoulders, he tried not to grip too tightly as he asked, “You… won’t regret this?”
“Why? Don’t tell me I’m the only one who’s missed you so much I can’t bear to be apart even for a moment?”
“I’d say I’ve missed you more.”
Damian leaned down, playfully tapping his forehead against hers with a sigh-like murmur. Aracila grinned.
The two of them stepped into the bathroom together. What happened behind that firmly closed door remained a secret known only to the couple.
