Chapter 10 | Has the Empire's Sword Who Married to the Countryside Fallen Today?

Breakfast was bread and fried eggs.

Klein brought the plates to the dining table and fetched two cups of hot tea from the kitchen.

The bread was leftover from before, sliced and fried in butter; the edges were slightly charred, but it was still edible. The fried eggs were well-made, with runny yolks and whites that had just set. As they wobbled on the plate, one could see the golden liquid surging beneath the white surface.

Ophelia sat at the dining table, looking at the plate before her.

She picked up her knife and fork and sliced into the bread. Her movements remained fluid, as if she were handling some precision instrument. The angle of the blade entering the bread was perfect, the cut was clean, and no crumbs fell.

Klein sat down opposite her, picked up his teacup, and took a sip.

The temperature of the tea was just right, carrying a faint bitterness. He watched the sunlight outside the window spill onto the hedges of the courtyard, the leaves rustling as the morning breeze blew through them.

"Your manor has maids and a steward, right?" Ophelia suddenly spoke.

Klein's hand stopped in mid-air. The teacup wobbled slightly between his fingertips, and the tea nearly spilled over the rim.

"Yes." He set the teacup down, the bottom of the cup making a soft sound against the table. "There are."

Ophelia looked up, her golden eyes fixed on him. The morning light shone through the window, creating tiny flecks of light in her eyes like burning flames.

"But where did they go?" she asked, her voice carrying a calm curiosity.

Klein remained silent for two seconds.

He looked at Ophelia; there was no accusation in those golden eyes, only pure confusion. Her expression was serious, as if she were contemplating a question worthy of research.

"They are on holiday," he said.

Ophelia's knife and fork stopped above her plate.

"On holiday?" she repeated, her tone filled with incomprehension. "The servants of a noble manor... all go on holiday at the same time?"

"Yes, on holiday." Klein repeated, picking up his teacup to take another sip. "I told them all to go home."

Ophelia stared at him for a few seconds before looking down to continue cutting her bread. But her movements were slower than before, as if she were thinking about something. The sound of the cutlery hitting the plate was exceptionally clear in the quiet dining room.

Klein picked up his teacup and took another sip. The tea was a bit hot, enough to make the tip of his tongue go numb. He could feel the heat spreading from his tongue to his throat, bringing a slight stinging sensation.

"Why?" Ophelia asked softly.

Klein set the teacup down. The moment the base touched the table, it made a crisp sound.

"Because..." Klein paused, looking at the shifting liquid in his cup. "One of the maids is getting married."

"Everyone gets along well, so I had the steward take the staff to help prepare for the wedding," he added, his tone as natural as possible.

Ophelia's knife and fork stopped on her plate. She looked up, a hint of surprise flashing in her golden eyes.

"Everyone?" she asked.

"Everyone," Klein nodded. "I can take care of myself alone anyway."

Klein had thought at the time that since he dealt with alchemy all day, living alone wouldn't be inconvenient. The laboratory in the manor was fully equipped and had enough materials; he could even go days without leaving the house.

He was on good terms with the owner of a nearby restaurant, so he wouldn't starve. Occasionally going to town for a meal and picking up some alchemical materials made for a comfortable enough life.

What he hadn't expected... was that before the wedding over there had even finished, he had already become the husband of a Knightess.

He had personally prepared Ophelia's room. Moving furniture from the basement, clearing dust, changing bedsheets and quilts, and preparing soothing incense.

It had taken quite a bit of time.

One could say... it was a twist of fate.

Ophelia looked up, her golden eyes staring at Klein for a long while. Her gaze lingered on his face, as if trying to read something from his expression.

Klein felt a bit uncomfortable being stared at, so he picked up his teacup and took a sip.

Then he realized the cup was empty.

Klein awkwardly placed the empty cup back on the table.

Just then, as if by coincidence, the sound of hoofbeats came from outside the courtyard, growing closer.

Klein's knife and fork stopped over his plate.

The sound of carriage wheels rolling over the gravel road was clear, exceptionally noticeable in the quiet morning. The frequency of the wheels turning gradually slowed, the neighing of a horse could be heard, and then everything fell into silence. The carriage had stopped in front of the manor.

Klein put down his cutlery and looked toward the door.

Ophelia also stopped her movements. Her gaze turned to Klein, her golden eyes carrying an inquiry.

Klein gave her a slight nod, signaling that everything was fine.

The courtyard gate was pushed open. The iron hinges made a slight creaking sound—the sound of old metal rubbing together, which sounded somewhat grating in the morning breeze. Footsteps stepped onto the gravel path, heading toward the main building. The pace was steady and the rhythm even; it was the gait of someone well-trained.

Klein straightened his collar and took a deep breath.

The footsteps stopped outside the door.

There were three knocks, rhythmic and regular. The force was moderate, neither impolite nor overbearing.

"Come in," Klein said.

The door was pushed open.

The newcomer wore a dark steward uniform. His hair was already graying, combed neatly without a single stray strand. The uniform was pressed crisp, the buttons fastened meticulously, and his white gloves were so clean they didn't have a single smudge.

He looked to be in his forties; the wrinkles on his face were shallow, though there were fine lines at the corners of his eyes. His back was held very straight, and as he stood at the door, his hands were naturally folded in front of him in a posture so standard it looked like a demonstration from a textbook.

The steward's gaze swept over the dining table, lingering on Ophelia for less than a second before landing on Klein.

In that second, his eyes flashed with something Klein was very familiar with—surprise, confusion, and professional scrutiny. But quickly, those emotions were suppressed, and his face returned to the calm expected of a steward.

"Master," he bowed slightly, his voice steady. "I have returned."

Looking at him, Klein suddenly felt like he had been caught doing something wrong.

"Is the wedding finished?" he asked, his tone as natural as possible.

"Not yet." Raymond looked up, looking at Klein. "Everyone hopes that you can attend. After all, it is Daisy's wedding, and she has been looking forward to your presence."

Klein fell silent for a moment.

Daisy was the oldest maid in the manor and had worked here for a long time. She had watched Klein grow up and, to some extent, was more like an older sister to him.

"Very well," Klein answered.

Raymond's gaze turned toward Ophelia again. This time it lingered longer, sweeping over the maid uniform she was wearing, then her golden eyes, and the sharpness she couldn't hide even while sitting.

His expression didn't change, but his eyes held a certain scrutiny—not the rude kind, but more like he was confirming something. It was as if he were evaluating a potential threat or judging a certain value.

Ophelia sat in her chair, still holding her knife and fork.

She looked up, meeting the steward's eyes.

Their gazes met in the air for only two seconds, but Klein could feel a subtle tension in the atmosphere.

Raymond looked away, focusing on Klein again.

"Master," he said, his voice still steady, but with a hint of probing in his tone, "is this lady a new maid you have recruited?"

Klein couldn't help but pick up his teacup again.

But the cup was, of course, still empty.

He awkwardly set the empty cup on the table, making a louder sound than intended.

"No," he said, his voice calmer than expected.

Raymond waited for him to continue. His hands remained folded in front of him, his posture standard, but Klein could feel the tension in him—the alertness characteristic of a professional steward, ready to respond to any emergency.

Klein glanced at Ophelia.

She put down her knife and fork and looked up at him. There was no panic or confusion in her golden eyes, only a calm wait.

Klein took a deep breath.

"She's my wife."

When he said this, his voice was as steady as if he were saying "the weather is nice today."

But he could feel his heart suddenly racing.

The dining room was silent for three seconds.

Three seconds felt exceptionally long at this moment.

The birdsong outside the window had vanished, leaving only the rustling of leaves in the morning breeze.

Raymond's fingers tightened slightly in front of him.

The movement was small, but Klein noticed it. The fingertips of the white gloves wrinkled slightly from the pressure before relaxing again.

He felt he might need to double-check if something was wrong with his ears.

Wife?

He had only been gone for a few days. Just a few days.

When he took the maids to the neighboring town to prepare for the wedding, the master was still that single noble who spent all day in the laboratory, staring blankly at jars and bottles. His greatest social activity each day was eating at a town restaurant and chatting about the latest developments in alchemy with an owner who didn't actually understand anything about it.

How was it that now...

Raymond's gaze uncontrollably turned back toward Ophelia.

He recognized that maid uniform; it was for Martha.

She sat at the dining table, holding her knife and fork, her golden eyes looking at him calmly.

Those eyes...

Raymond sighed internally.

She did not seem like an ordinary woman.

Raymond had seen all kinds of people.

Nobles, mercenaries, gladiators, assassins. Some people were born with a certain aura that couldn't be hidden. It was something forged through years of danger, seeping into their bones and showing through their eyes, posture, and even the rhythm of their breathing.

The lady before him had that very thing.

Her sitting posture, her gaze, the way she held her cutlery—none of it was how an ordinary person should look. While sitting in the chair, her back remained away from the backrest, maintaining a posture ready to stand at any moment. The hand holding the cutlery was steady, the force controlled perfectly, as if she were holding something far more dangerous.

And those golden eyes...

When Raymond worked in the imperial capital, he had seen people from the imperial knight order. Their eyes were just like this—calm, sharp, and always ready to respond to threats.

This lady carried the same aura.

Perhaps even stronger.

Raymond withdrew his gaze and looked back at Klein.

The master was holding an empty teacup, his expression calm, as if what he had just said was merely about the weather. But his fingers were lightly rubbing the rim of the cup—a habit he had when he was nervous.

Raymond sighed in his heart.

He had worked at this manor for over twenty years. He had been here since before Klein was born. He had watched the boy grow up, watched him go from a youth who knew nothing of alchemy to the young noble obsessed with jars and bottles he was now.

He thought he knew Klein well enough.

Apparently, he did not.

"Congratulations, Master," he said, no abnormality detectable in his voice, his tone as standard as if he were reciting a script. "This was my oversight, failing to prepare a wedding for you at the manor."

He bowed slightly, his movements standard, but his mind was already beginning to calculate what needed to be done.

The wedding ceremony, banquet arrangements, guest list, custom dresses...

Wait.

The maid uniform on this lady...

Raymond suddenly realized something.

Klein set down the empty teacup.

"I don't blame you," he said, his tone carrying a certain helplessness. "This matter... happened rather suddenly."

Raymond waited for him to continue.

Klein did not.

The dining room was quiet for a few seconds.

Raymond adjusted his stance. His hands were still folded in front of him, but his posture was a bit more relaxed than before.

"Then, Master, next..." He paused, his gaze moving between Klein and Ophelia. "Daisy's wedding is in three days. The preparations in town are basically complete, only waiting for you to arrive."

Klein glanced at Ophelia.

He had to go to the wedding.

Not only did he have to go, but Ophelia had to go as well.

But appearing before everyone with her looking like this...

Klein's gaze fell on that ill-fitting maid uniform. The cuffs were too short, the hem was wrong, and the waistline was awkward. Going to a wedding dressed like that would undoubtedly cause quite a stir.

"I need to go to town first," Klein said.

Raymond waited for him to continue, his eyes filled with professional focus.

Klein's gaze fell on Ophelia's hem and then moved away.

"To buy her some suitable clothes," he added, his tone as natural as possible. "I can't let her keep wearing this."

Raymond's expression remained calm, but a flash of understanding crossed his eyes.

"I understand," he said, his voice still steady. "I will go prepare the carriage immediately."

He paused and looked at Ophelia.

"Madam, do you have any preferences for the style of the dress?"

Ophelia put down her knife and fork and looked up at Raymond.

She was silent for two seconds.

"Something that is easy to move in," she said, her voice calm.

Raymond blinked.

Then he nodded.

"I understand."

He turned and walked toward the door, his pace still steady, but Klein could sense a certain helplessness coming from his back.

The moment the door closed, Klein heard a faint sigh.

It was very light, but it definitely existed.

Klein looked at Ophelia.

She picked up her knife and fork again and continued eating breakfast. There was nothing unusual in her golden eyes, as if nothing had happened just now.