My Wife Waited in the Wheat Fields

The madness that came from the battlefield was terrible.

Seeing the cold corpses of those you had dined with face to face only a day after you had laughed merrily with them, the hail of blades and arrows crashing down on you from all sides, and the days and nights of honing one’s sword were enough to make you feel the cruelty of it.

The illusion that you alone could escape the death that surrounded the battlefield was shattered in your first battle.

The uncertainty of not knowing when one would die was a source of constant anxiety that would not disappear for a lifetime, even after one left the battlefield.

It was impossible that Elric’s sanity could still be intact after ten years of fighting in such a place.

And, since he wielded his sword to die, it was only natural that he would be many times worse off than those who wielded their swords to live.

Still, there was only one reason why Elric was still alive.

It was because the toughness of his physical body had overcome the exhaustion of his mind.

He would charge into enemy lines as if he were to die, becoming a beast that didn’t stop cutting until nothing living remained in front of him.

The stories of Sword Demon Kasha were extremely gruesome, and the soldiers’ reverence for him was akin to a form of worship.

But, in truth, his legend was born of brute force and luck grounded by recklessness.

For all those who had experienced the war for supremacy in the western part of the continent that had already lasted for over 20 years, they called the Sword Demon Kasha an evil spirit that would not disappear until the end of the war. But, to Elric, this was just a silly story.

Thud–!

No matter how strong one was, as long as you were alive, you would break one day.

And so it was with Elric, being no exception to this rule.

‘I’m injured.’

He was in a dire situation where he had been told to hold off a thousand soldiers alone in the middle of the battlefield, right on the front lines.

He’d won the battle, as always, but he’d shredded his right knee in the process.

It wasn’t an irreparable wound, but it wasn’t a superficial wound that would allow him to immediately return to battle either.

Actually, it wouldn’t even be possible for him to perform everyday tasks with this injury.

For a while, he would have to live as a cripple.

The essence of a mercenary was being a replaceable troop that could be hired for money.

Of course, while Elric’s military power was irreplaceable, in a situation where he couldn’t use his abilities properly, he would be treated like any other mercenary.

How could he wreak havoc on the battlefield if no one was willing to hire him?

For that reason, after about 4 years of constant fighting, Elric withdrew from the front lines.

He was still in a war zone, that was a fact, but the rear was much more relaxed, where one could sit in a bar and read a newspaper on a daily basis.

And now, after 4 years of living by his sword, he encountered texts that weren’t military codes for the first time.

“A newspaper from the East. Are you from there?”

Elric ignored the bartender’s words.

It wasn’t because he didn’t think that the bartender had asked a question that was worth answering, but simply because he had just been too engrossed in the paper.

After all, the eastern part of the continent was his home, where he had been born and raised.

Despite the long time that had passed, there was a nostalgia that wouldn’t go away, a haunting image to chase after, after such a bitter parting.

They were the memories of his childhood, spent wandering through the golden wheat fields of Wiven. [1]

It was in human nature to dwell on memories of the past as death drew near, and Elric, who had always been standing by death’s side, was haunted by visions of those old days.

[Princess Eclesia’s Tea Party.]

The newspaper featured the photo of a smiling princess and the young nobles gathered around her to be graced by her presence, and below that were brief introductions and interviews about each member of the tea party.

‘I wonder if there’s any news on Wiven.’

Elric let out a small laugh as he flipped through the paper in thought.

As if that were a possibility. Wiven was a most unremarkable wheatfield town, even in the entirety of the Eastern Ferdinand Kingdom.

Elric shook his head, wondering what the hell he was thinking.

Then he turned the page.

[The first anniversary of the death of Hoven Portman.]

Elric’s body stiffened.

His eyes widened as if they were about to burst, and his breathing was interrupted as if someone was strangling him.

His mind also came to a sudden halt, screaming in order to process the unexpected information.

The unforgettable face of the man was printed in a small space at the end of the newspaper.

It was black and white and more wrinkled than he remembered, but Elric recognized him at once.

His father, so cold, so hateful, was there.

In a way he never could have imagined.

…

Looking back, he held an old grudge against his father.

Even when he had first ran away from home, young Elric had harbored a glimmer of hope that his father would come looking for him, and had, thus, waited for him.

No matter how much he changed his name, no matter how many borders he crossed, he had thought that such difficulties could be easily solved if he thought of the wealth his father had accumulated.

Now, he knew that he had been really immature, but back then, he had been too young to understand.

In addition, it was a time when his mind had not been fully intact, swept away by the atmosphere of the battlefield, so it had been inevitable that his emotions would bounce in strange directions.

Anyway, these misguided feelings had kept him going, he had persevered and before he knew it, years had passed. By then, he was so ashamed of himself that he couldn’t bring himself to go back to Wiven.

Even after his feelings about his father had hardened, he had delayed his return home, thinking, “I’ll go back someday.”

That was how he had ended up in this state.

Emotions like regret or sorrow had risen up, but soon, they slowly dissipated.

‘I don’t deserve it.’

Self-reproach.

Although, what was truly amazing, amidst it all, was that the emotion that came to his mind with the news of his father’s death was only a shallow sense of regret, even though his father was once someone he truly despised.

Was there sadness? He wasn’t sure. But one thing was certain.

He now had a reason to go back to Wiven.

It might seem shameless to others for him to show up only now, a year after his father’s death, but it was an inevitable task that he could not avoid.

Choo! Choo–!

Elric stepped onto the train.

It was a steam locomotive that would take him to the Eastern Country in a week.

Also, he could afford to travel first class, since he hadn’t spent much money traveling throughout the battlefield.

The pain in his right knee joint eased as he sat down.

He let out a long breath.

The landscape outside the window was quite red.

Autumn.

In his hometown of Wiven, the most beautiful harvest season had arrived.

He felt nostalgic.

Chugga Chugga!

The train departed with a loud noise.

One week later:

He had spent a week just sitting in a seat, watching out the window as the scenery passed by.

His body, which had been trudging through the battlefield for the past 4 years without a day’s rest, couldn’t adapt to the peacefulness of the situation and had screamed at him the whole time.

Unable to find a way to calm it down, he had twisted and turned, but the pain in his knee would always bring him back to a resting position.

The good news was that time only crawled forward.

Somehow, he managed to hang on, and the end of the train track soon came into his view.

“Thank you for riding with us!”

The employee who had been serving him for the duration of the trip, lowered his head deeply.

Elric waved a hand as a sign of thanks and ran out of the station.

‘Wiven.’

The scenery of Wiven unfolded before him.

It hadn’t changed one bit since he had left 10 years ago.

The streets, dyed red by autumn leaves, were serene, and the people walking underneath were surrounded by a tranquility unique to the countryside.

There was not even the slightest hint of battle here.

Looking a little further, he could see golden wheat fields that stretched out in endless directions.

Viewing the scenery, smelling the air, observing the people and the atmosphere, Ellic felt his nose twitch.

Elric immediately led with his limping leg and walked forward, carrying the weight of his body with his cane.

Despite the tearing pain, he didn’t slow down.

With each step, memories of his past life here flashed across his retinas.

As he walked, he unconsciously followed the straight path to the Portman Mansion.

He could see it already.

The Portman Mansion would be standing alone, tucked away in the fields, a little away from the village, a quaint appearance enveloping the heart of the place.

Thump–

The cane took the place of his aching leg and steadied his center.

Elric began to walk slowly in the midst of the wheat fields.

His memories started coming to life.

Playing hide and seek with the village kids in these fields.

Getting scolded by the maids for getting his clothes dirty.

How the butler would announce mealtime at sunset, taking the place of his father, and how he would hide in the wheat fields and wait for his father to come looking for him.

Everything was so vivid, as if he could reach out and touch it all.

Eventually, Elric’s thoughts drifted beyond those memories and onto the face of a certain girl.

‘I wonder how Tyria is doing.’

He obviously couldn’t have heard news about her being in the western battlefield all this time.

He was at least sure that she was not dead.

She was such a beautiful woman, someone must have taken her away to a happier life by now.

As he thought this, he moved to a point where he could see the mansion in the distance.

Rustle–!

The sound came from the fields, behind him and to the right.

A shiver ran down Elric’s spine.

His head whipped around to face the source of the sound.

Right afterwards,

“Ah…”

A sigh escaped from someone’s mouth.

It wasn’t Elric’s.

It was the voice of the woman who had emerged out of the wheat fields.

Despite the fluctuating pitch, her voice was distinct and had a definite tone.

He knew this characteristic, the voice of the person who had shaken Elric’s heart as a young boy.

He had immediately known.

The girl had become a woman.

The mysterious, graceful aura was still there, but the faint energy of youth had completely disappeared, she no longer seemed so fragile, as if all the frailty of the memory had been swept away.

An even more breathtaking beauty than he had remembered had settled in and enveloped his memory of her.

Even though her eyes were wide open, the ends were drooping and captivating for no apparent reason.

Without realizing it, Ellic was moving his lips absentmindedly and asked,

“Why…?”

Why are you still here?

The woman, Tyria Wyvern, pursed her lips for a moment, letting out a long breath to compose her expression.

Her gaze lowered.

Then, she finally spoke.

“I am your wife, so I will always be here.”

She was still Elric’s wife.

Contrary to his assumptions.

[1. Wiven is the name of the town he grew up in.]

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