Chapter 4
Elric had a dream.
It was a dream of cutting down soldiers on a muddy ground soaked with blood.
The stench of blood and the rot of corpses mixed together, paralyzing his sense of smell. His ears went deaf from the screams of soldiers. His vision was in black and white.
He swung his sword like a madman, barely pushing forward, only for the flames of mages and the simultaneous volleys from archer units and matchlock squads to dye his vision pitch black.
It looked like a massive monster opening its maw wide.
Elric stared blankly at the sight, and only at the very end…
“Hah…!”
He woke from the dream.
Bolting upright in bed, Elric looked around.
A desk, a bed, a set of knight’s armor, and model swords hanging on the wall painted a picture of tranquility.
It wasn’t a battlefield. It was a quiet room where not a hint of the West’s tumult could be felt. It was his childhood room, exactly as he remembered it.
‘…Right, I came back home.’
Elric reached out, fumbling.
Even though he knew there were no enemies here, his tension wouldn’t ease.
His body was drenched in cold sweat. His heart was thumping wildly, and his razor-sharp senses were picking up everything, even the sound of birds outside the window.
‘Sword, my sword….’
It was a sickness of the mind.
Having grown up on the battlefield and become saturated with its maddening atmosphere, Elric suffered from an affliction where he couldn’t let a sword leave his side for even a moment.
With a clatter, he found a dagger on top of the nightstand beside the bed.
Elric clutched the dagger to his chest and took a deep breath.
Only then did his heartbeat begin to return to normal.
It was at that moment.
“Young Master, are you awake?”
Aldio spoke from outside the door.
At the sound of his voice, Elric fully regained his sense of reality.
“…Yes, I just woke up.”
The light chirping of birds echoed softly.
It was an underserved luxury.
Having arrived late the previous night and gone straight to the bedroom, Elric felt a sense of awkwardness in the morning at the manor.
When he mentioned he wanted to wash with cold water, a basin full of it was brought immediately.
When he finished washing, clothes were prepared for him; the fabric was so soft he could barely feel them against his skin. On the battlefield, clothes were things to be torn apart, and he had worn nothing but rags, so the contrast was jarring.
Elric buttoned his shirt and tightened his necktie.
Looking in the mirror, not a trace of the Sword Demon Kasha remained.
Finding it strangely alien, Elric tried to smile.
‘It doesn’t suit me.’
He remembered being told often as a child that he had a beautiful smile, but looking at it now, it felt too contrived. It was likely because there had been no reason to smile on the battlefield.
His expressions had all stiffened.
Elric looked away from the mirror and took up his cane.
Aldio was waiting for him outside the room.
“Please have your meal first.”
“Lead the way.”
Aldio moved forward with a faint smile.
The question came immediately after.
“By the way, how did your leg end up like that?”
He had been staring at Elric’s knee since yesterday, and it seemed he was only now asking.
Elric glossed over it.
“I rolled down a steep hill and hit a rock. I was careless.”
How could he say that a bullet had lodged itself in his knee on the battlefield?
It would take time, but it was a wound that would eventually heal.
He didn’t want to cause unnecessary worry.
“Oh dear… You are still a troublemaker, I see.”
“Please stop calling me a troublemaker. It makes me feel like a child.”
They exchanged jokes with light chuckles, and before they knew it, they reached the dining room.
The moment the door clicked open, Elric’s steps halted.
“Are you awake?”
There was already a guest in the modest dining room.
A woman with hair reminiscent of golden wheat, drooping eyes, and red lips that stood out vividly against her pale skin.
Elric belatedly remembered that Tiria was living here.
To think he had forgotten even after seeing her yesterday—he was truly out of his wits.
“Good morning.”
Elric offered an awkward greeting and headed toward the table.
Perhaps because he had just woken up, his knee was particularly throbbing. Even though he tried to compose his expression, it didn’t go as he wished.
It was the moment he barely pulled out his chair and sat down with difficulty.
Elric realized her gaze was fixed on his knee.
“Ah, don’t mind it. It’s not a serious injury.”
How pathetic would it be to return as an invalid and then whimper like a child?
Elric covered his knee with his hand, brushing off her gaze.
“…Is that so.”
Tiria took her seat.
Soon, the meal was served.
Eggs, soft bread, and three slices of bacon.
It was a nostalgic meal. It was a simple, easy-to-digest menu tailored strictly to his father’s tastes.
It was just ironic that the owner who created such a menu was no longer in this seat.
With a clatter, Elric picked up his fork and knife.
Only then did Tiria pick up her utensils.
Elric watched her movements as he continued his meal.
She was surprisingly quiet. Despite using glass plates and metal utensils, there wasn’t a single clatter, and her movements as she sliced and moved food to her mouth were elegant.
She opened her mouth slightly and chewed so quietly it made no sound before swallowing, which was also in stark contrast to Elric.
Having developed the habit of scarfing down dirt-covered emergency rations on the battlefield, Elric had forgotten all the table manners he had once learned.
Suddenly, his eyes met Tiria’s.
Elric flinched and turned his head back to his plate.
Then, thinking, ‘Why am I avoiding her eyes?’ he cleared his throat and looked up.
She was still staring intently at him.
Elric put on that characteristic, contrived smile.
“Is something the matter?”
“…No. Nothing.”
Her gaze turned downward again.
It was an incredibly uncomfortable meal.
Still, since they were sitting at the same table, he thought it might be too cold to stay silent, so Elric cautiously opened his mouth.
“Are you going to look over the wheat fields today as well?”
“…Yes.”
“Mm, I see.”
Tiria’s index finger curled slightly.
Was she annoyed? Elric regretted opening his mouth.
‘You dullard.’
He had opened his mouth for no reason and made the same mistake again.
His stomach felt bloated. If he sat there any longer, he felt he would get indigestion from everything he’d eaten.
Elric stabbed the remaining half of the bread, a slice of bacon, and a fried egg all at once, opened his mouth wide, and shoved it in.
He wiped his mouth roughly with a napkin and stood up.
“I’ll be going now. Enjoy your meal.”
It was the most mundane greeting he could manage.
He didn’t know if the meaning got across. He didn’t have the luxury to think about that.
Elric leaned on his cane and hurried out of the room.
Only after the door clicked shut did Tiria speak.
“…Yes, have a good day.”
It was a very small voice.
A faint smile, so slight it would be missed unless one looked closely, appeared on her lips before vanishing without a trace.
After the meal, the manor was bustling.
Guided by Aldio, Elric exchanged greetings with the servants.
Among them were those who existed in Elric’s memories, and those who had been replaced by others in the meantime.
Those he met after a long time welcomed Elric warmly.
For Elric, it was something he was deeply grateful for.
To think they would so hospitably welcome a shameless, unfilial son who had left without a word and hadn’t even come to his father’s funeral—how broad-minded they were.
Whenever he shared an embrace, without exception, they expressed worry about his knee.
Elric reassured them, saying, “It will heal soon,” but no one seemed to believe him.
‘Was I really such an unreliable child…?’
Recalling the past, Elric soon had to admit it.
After all, if one were to pick the biggest troublemaker in Wibin, the name Elric Portman would come up ten times out of ten, so he had no choice but to accept this part of himself.
The head maid, chuckling at Elric’s inability to answer, followed up with a question.
“Oh my… So, Young Master! You’ve returned for good then, haven’t you?”
“Haha….”
Elric laughed awkwardly.
It was because he hadn’t yet firmly decided on a course of action.
With his knee injury, he would be here for a while, but well… with what face could he act as the master of this place now?
Coming to Wibin was purely an accident, a result of homesickness and several circumstances aligning subtly.
To think he had found out about his father’s passing at a bar he stopped at on the day he left the battlefield due to his knee injury—who would believe it even if he told them?
This place was running fine without him, and he didn’t want to wedge himself in and cause a stir for no reason.
There was a high probability he would return.
“Young Master?”
“Mm, we’ll talk about that later. There’s somewhere I need to go.”
“Oh, of course. Yes, the important thing is that you’re here. Hoho! I’ll have to prepare a grand dinner for tonight.”
Leaving the hearty laughter of the head maid behind, Elric spoke to Aldio.
“Then, let’s head out.”
“Yes, please get into the carriage.”
Before him was a carriage of a size suitable for one person.
Elric fiddled with the dagger in his pocket.
It was an action he did out of habit whenever his mind wasn’t at peace.
Soon, with a thud, he leaned on the ground and limped toward the carriage.
His destination was his father’s grave.
The Wife Waited in the Wheat Field (Serial)
