My Wife Waited in the Wheat Fields

PR: Badman

There was an awkward silence at the breakfast table.

Elric glanced at Tyria with a frown on his face.

How could she be such a bad sleeper and not realize it.

It wasn’t fair of her to hold him responsible.

He tried to convey his intentions with his eyes, but apparently, they weren’t close enough yet.

Tyria wore her trademark expression of indifference and finished her meal leisurely… or rather, a little earlier than usual.

“I’ll be getting ready to go out, and I’m sure the Milord will be ready soon too.”

“…Understood.”

He didn’t see her again until about twenty minutes later, when she came out in a roughly tailored outfit.

He was slightly surprised.

“You’re so casually dressed.”

“Why overdo it?”

She wore a light coat over a gray evening dress and a furry cloak over it all.

It was an outfit appropriate for a winter’s outing, but one that didn’t reveal much in the way of aristocratic splendor.

Today’s destination was a tailor’s shop that specializes in banquet wear, even for the most opulent circles of the kingdom.

As far as he knew, whenever he visited such places, nobles would dress in extravagant attire, as if in competition to see who could be the most dazzling, and it was strange to see that she was different from the rest of the nobility in this regard.

“Ostentatiousness is reserved for banquets, and even then, it’s best to avoid anything too ostentatious, as it can come across as out of place.”

“You mean, like, taking beauty in moderation?”

“That’s the right phrase.”

Elric nodded, then scanned his surroundings for a moment.

He was looking for Aldio, but for some reason, he couldn’t see him.

“What are you looking for?”

“I haven’t seen Aldio, and I was going to tell him that we were going out.”

“Oh, I told him to go fix the bed. I even wrote a letter for him to deliver.”

Ah, yes.

Elric remembered how upset she had yesterday at the sight of the broken bed.

“…I understand, then. We’ll just have to go on our own.”

“Yes.”

With that, the two of them left the mansion.

In the royal city of Ferdinand, there was a separate district for nobility.

It was called “1st Avenue Château”, and it was a place where the mansions of prominent nobles were densely clustered. As a result, the commercial district here had also developed to cater to them.

In the middle of the boulevard were rows and rows of colorful carriages.

The sidewalks on either side of it were lined with people who appeared to be noblemen moving about with the help of servants, and somewhere in the middle of the street, people who appeared to be the managers of mansions were bustling about, taking care of business.

There was a certain liveliness to it.

And the awkwardness that came to Elric’s mind was due to the disparity between their lives and the lives of the Western nobility he knew.

‘Everyone’s so at peace.’

It was clear from their expressions that they were living a fairly relaxed life.

And if he strained his senses, he could hear the occasional sounds of their conversations.

-You are to dine with Count Nimrud at this banquet. I assume you’ve been researching his tastes?

-This is my daughter’s debutante, so there can be no mistake.

-I’ll be alone with Gillian at this banquet, so I need to get my dress in time.

These were the conversations of those in peacetime.

Not at all like in the West.

Everywhere you looked, there were grave voices discussing aspects of the war.

“Let’s go in here.”

“Ah, we’re already there?”

Amidst it all, Tyria led Elric to a dignified, high-class establishment that was tucked away in a corner.

“Oh, it’s got quite an atmosphere.”

The clothes on the mannequins in the window were neat.

Of course, Elric’s taste was for there to be all sorts of trinkets and chains, but it would be a mockery to wear such things to a banquet.

As far as aristocracy goes, the clothes in the window were definitely a pass.

“The shop specializes in men’s clothing, and it’s where the previous patriarch used to go when he attended banquets.”

He couldn’t help but cringe at the mention of his father.

He’d have to change that habit sometime soon.

Elric shrugged unnecessarily.

‘…At least their quality is guaranteed.’

Regardless of his feelings, if they were to his father’s taste, they would certainly be excellent.

Elric followed her into the tailor’s shop.

“Welcome… Ah, Baroness Portman!”

“Long time no see.”

A voluptuous madam greeted Tyria.

Then, she turned to Elric.

“This man…”

“Is the new lord.”

“Oh!”

Horror began to settle over her face.

Elric smiled awkwardly.

‘Well, it’s not like word hasn’t gotten out.’

Rumors of the Young Master Elric Portman, the runaway prodigal son, rather than Kasha, the swordswoman, must have been pretty widespread in Ferdinand.

Nobles, after all, were a gossipy bunch who liked to talk about other people.

And the tale of Portman’s late induction into the nobility must have amused them.

He felt ashamed, but he couldn’t show it.

Whatever it was, it was a judgment he’d brought upon himself, and he’d have to face it.

Elric held out his hand to shake hers.

“I’ve heard a lot about your skills. I came to buy clothes for the banquet today, and seeing the clothes at the entrance, it seems that I can trust your skill.”

The art of lifting someone’s spirits was something he’d learned from Elvus Grayman.

And, to her credit, the Madame seemed to take great pleasure in the compliment, and smiled.

“Oh, you’re welcome.”

He could hear her chuckle.

The Madame’s disposition was becoming quite clear.

“Let’s see…”

The Madame’s eyes swept Elric up and down.

As they did, however, a hint of embarrassment began to cross her face.

Tyria asked, puzzled.

“What’s the problem?”

“…You’re quite large.”

“Is that a problem?”

“I don’t think you’ll be able to fit into the clothes I’ve made for you.”

Elric broke out in a cold sweat.

It was a natural crisis.

His body was built for battle after all.

Furthermore, as he had mastered martial skills and developed his mana to the point of altering his skeletal structure, his physique was no longer the same as that of a peaceful Eastern nobleman’s.

In the streets of the city, he stood at least a head taller than everyone else.

Elric recalled the measurements he’d taken with the help of Elvus when he’d attended a previous Imperial Banquet.

“I recall that I was about six feet four inches tall. As for the rest of me…”

“No. No, please.”

“Hmm?”

“Well, I’ll have to measure your numbers again myself, because I’d hate for it to be different from what you remember.”

The Madame’s eyes lit up.

There was a strange passion in them.

The joy of craftsmanship, perhaps.

Elric looked at Tyria.

Tyria nodded and said.

“Take your time in measuring. This is the only thing on our morning schedule, so you can do it at your leisure.”

She sat down on a couch.

Elric was a little embarrassed.

‘Uhm…’

He didn’t like showing his body to others.

Or, more accurately.

‘I hope that this madam doesn’t have a loose mouth.’

It was extremely uncomfortable for Elric Portman to show this body to others.

Madame Seri, the tailor, stepped into the workroom and ushered Elric in.

“You may stand here. Oh, and would you mind taking off your top? It’ll be hard to take your measurements with it on.”

It was a bit of an excuse.

Seri’s real purpose was to satisfy her professional curiosity and enthusiasm.

‘He’s a beautiful specimen!’

And she didn’t mean his face.

The body of the prodigal son, Elric Portman, had taken on the form of the most idealized god in her mind.

Even through his clothes, she was left stunned.

She wanted to strip him down.

She couldn’t resist the urge to see the muscles etched into his body.

She couldn’t help but have a glazed look in her eyes.

Elric looked a little frightened of her, but she never noticed.

“About this…”

“Yes?”

“…Can you promise me one thing?”

The tailor’s head snapped up at that.

Elric gave her a wry smile, as if he were embarrassed.

“I wouldn’t want to hear any rumors about my body, and I have a feeling you wouldn’t be happy to talk about it to others anyway.”

She wondered what kind of embarrassing secret he was talking about.

If only she had known.

“My nature isn’t suited to being one who speaks and associates with the nobility. If it were, I probably couldn’t have been in this line of work for 30 years.”

Of course, he hadn’t been a nobleman long enough to know this.

As she spoke, Elric relaxed and slowly began to unbutton his top.

Gulp, a dry swallow ran down the back of his throat.

He felt unnecessarily hot as his overcoat disappeared and his tie came undone. When the buttons of his shirt began to loosen, there was a sensation of fireworks bursting inside his head.

And then,

“…Huh?”

Seri stiffened at the sight of his shirtless body.

“I’m going to have to ask you to keep this a secret again.”

A thought suddenly flashed through her mind.

‘Was he tortured…?’

Elric’s body was covered in horrific scars.

It was beyond her imagination how he could still be alive with such disfigurements.

She suddenly became afraid of him.

It was extremely clear that he had lived a life beyond the norm.

This was what her instincts spoke.

‘Ho, if this ever gets out…’

Would Elric Portman come to tear out her throat?

Seri’s fingertips began to tremble.

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