My Wife Waited in the Wheat Fields

PR: Badman

[Disclaimer: Young Noble]

[TL/N: I really, really fucking hate the young/bratty noble trope, and so, as a reader, I’d recommend you skip the next two chapters if you don’t want to start hating this series. I’ll put a little summary at the top of Chapter 47 for those that do skip so that you understand all there is to move on.]

The Madame’s hands trembled as she took the measurements.

It was a natural reaction, but he was still bitter.

The scars had been carved into his body when he had still been a novice with the sword.

And it wasn’t just sword wounds.

There were burns and gunshot wounds that had crushed his skin and made it lose its original shape, so the scars on his body were quite gruesome, even across the ones Elric himself had seen.

A thought naturally occurred to him.

‘I’ll never be able to show this to my wife.’

Elric was taken aback as he remembered the look of surprise on her face.

A hollow, bitter laugh escaped him.

‘What the hell are you even thinking about…’

There would be nothing that he would show her.

Elric quickly shook the thought out of his head, as if it were just an unnecessary distraction.

“I-I’m done!”

Madame beamed as she finished noting down his dimensions.

A pro is still a pro, after all.

Elric smiled and pulled back on his shirt.

“Thank you. Now what else do I need to do?”

“Let’s go see the fabrics and designs! After all, clothes are only as good as the wearer, right?”

“That is true indeed. Let’s go.”

He left the workshop and found Tyria sitting on the couch, looking through a catalog.

He feigned interest in it as she looked up.

“Are you finished?”

“Yes. Now, let’s look at the fabrics and designs.”

“Yes, I was already looking at them.”

Without consulting me?

Those words almost came out, but Elric remembered what had happened the day before and just nodded.

Elric’s attire for the party was entirely determined by Tyria’s choice

Elric smiled awkwardly at her glance and replied.

“…Your wife seems to have a much better eye for clothes than you. It seems you should talk with her about it.”

“Oh, you’re so kind!”

Clap!

He clapped his hands as he was grateful for her immediate understanding of the situation.

Tyria’s expression wavered for a moment, but it was too brief for Elric to see what it was about.

“So, Milady, what did you like?”

“…This one, for starters.”

Tyria and the Madame quickly fell into conversation.

It basically consisted of Tyria choosing the fabric with the Madame commenting on what colors would look good with it and what type of suit would best suit his size and build, but to Elric, it was all just one headache.

So, he pawed at the refreshments on the tea table and sipped at his black tea to kill time, but there was no end to it in sight.

How long would this go on for?

Boredom dawned on Elric.

Click–

The tailor’s door opened.

To the new customer, the Madame poked her head out and greeted him with a beaming face,

“Welcome…”

Everyone stiffened.

It wasn’t just the Madame.

Tyria’s brows had narrowed slightly.

If she was generally someone who didn’t show her discomfort, then who could she have seen to react this way?

Elric looked towards the entrance out of curiosity.

“…Oh my, isn’t it Lady Wyvern?”

There was a blonde young man with a somewhat squarish jaw standing there.

He appeared to be from a fairly prestigious family based on the luxurious clothes he was wearing.

“Milady, do you know this person?”

The man’s gaze snapped to Elric.

Elric could sense the faintest trace of hostility in it.

Then it was gone.

“Ah, Baron Portman? I’ve heard the news….”

His gaze swept over Elric, then to the staff in his hand.

A crooked smile, from his retracted jaw, emerged.

“…My, I see you’ve had some wanderings, haven’t you?”

Elric was no fool.

Or, to be more precise, he was quicker than most to recognize some of the emotions the man was experiencing.

‘Jealousy.’

Enmity, wariness, and a sense of superiority and relief.

Unlike the man, he was only slightly angered by the sarcasm in his tone.

And his glare was pretty nasty.

There was also a hint of irritation.

‘What is this…’

He was actually more dumbfounded than offended that the man would make such a face at first.

Should he get angry?

No, this man was too insignificant of a being for that.

‘One blow and his head would explode.’

As a noble, it was understandable for him to have not trained in mana, but he was still too weak.

Elric glanced at his body and saw that his muscle mass was just terrible. His outward physique was in good shape, but he was carrying too much fat in his gut and his metabolism was in dire shape.

‘A diet problem? No, this guy just has a bad lifestyle.’

His body was a total mess.

And one of the most prominent signs was the number of STDs.

It looked like he had had a very promiscuous sex life.

It was obvious that he would die if he left it like that.

“…Milord, this is Aman Nimrud, Heir to Count Nimrud.”

Tyria stepped forward and introduced the man.

Elric let out an exclamation.

He remembered hearing that name before he came here.

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

He had heard the nobleman’s name, the young master’s to be precise, as the nobles discussing him and his father had passed by just before on the street.

He was from a powerful family, as expected.

No wonder he had such a high nose. There was no need for pretense, so Elric stood up on his cane and bowed properly.

“I am Elric Portman, but you don’t have to call me Baron, I haven’t yet completed the succession process.”

He smiled genially and offered his hand to shake, but the response was cold.

The man’s gaze was fixed on Tyria.

He said,

“You have never been more beautiful.”

Hearing this, something stirred within Elric, an unpleasantness.

“…You are too kind.”

“How have you been? I was worried because the last I heard from you was about the Baron’s return.”

He looked at Elric, smiling wryly.

Elric thought for a moment.

‘Should I just kill him?’

No, he had to calm down, he couldn’t

This was the Eastern city of Ferdinand, not the West, and this man was the heir to a Count and still seemed to be in the line of succession.

If he took things personally, it would be a pain in the ass.

Besides, there was no Elvus Grayman to clean up the mess.

Elric smirked, suddenly longing for his presence whilst knowing he couldn’t ask for help in a place like this.

“I’m fine….”

“But why are you going to the tailor’s? Ah, is it to fit the Baron’s attire?”

“…Yes.”

“Hmph, I see, you two don’t get along too badly.”

Elric’s smile quickly faded.

The Nimrud’s gaze was irritating.

More precisely, the way his eyes swept over Tyria was so disgusting that he wanted to punch him in the face.

Beyond that, he felt like punching him in the face every time he dared call her his “lady”.

Elric was surprised at himself for letting the thought cross his mind.

How could he be so angry when he hadn’t thought about her since he was twenty?

There was something bubbling up inside him.

And the end result was clear.

Elric hated to see the young master so close to Tyria.

“Young Master, if you don’t mind me asking, may I take care of business with my lord first?”

“Hmm?”

“I was picking out the fabric for his attire.”

Aman Nimrud didn’t budge, even as Tyria spoke with blatant discomfort.

Elric’s grip on his cane tightened.

What kind of atmosphere was this?

“If that’s the case, I can help you.”

Aman Nimrud said, smirking.

“A man’s clothing is a man’s business, and thus I want to share my experience with the Baron. I will help him myself.”

Elric smirked as the topic of the conversation returned to him.

Aman Nimrud pulled some money out of his purse and handed it to the Madame.

“Look, Madame, I suggest you go to a nearby dessert cafe for a while. I’d like to have a long talk with this baron.”

He wondered what it was about himself that made him want to have an alone talk with him.

Well no, he didn’t even have to think about it. His intentions were pretty clear.

“T-That….”

The Madame looked at Elric.

Elric hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

As always, the hotter his heart, the colder his head.

“It’s just my good fortune. I had some concerns about how to interact with the nobles of this kingdom at the banquet, as I have no prior acquaintances, but this is just perfect.”

Worry flickered over Tyria’s face.

Ah, that was a little reassuring.

‘Am I going crazy?’

In reality, her expression wasn’t much different from usual, but it felt like she was worried, and on top of that, this feeling of happiness alone made his anger subside, so it did seem like he might be going crazy when he thought about it.

“Milady, please leave for a while.”

“To leave…”

“It’s fine.”

Elric smirked.

Tyria pursed her lips, but then let out a long sigh as she followed the Madame out the door.

He was now alone with Aman Nimrud in the tailor’s shop.

Elric looked at Aman Nimrud, his smile deepening.

‘I should smile.’

Wasn’t there such a saying?

That smiles bring about peace?

To send away this clueless man in one piece, he needed to keep his composure…

“Lady Wyvern was still the same…”

“The Baroness.”

…Calmness, his foot.

Elric interrupted Aman Nimrud and took a step toward him.

There was a head’s worth of height difference between them.

Aman Nimrud took a hesitant step back.

Elric looked down at him and spoke again.

“Baroness, Baroness Portman.”

Embarrassment, and then shame, flashed across Aman Nimrud’s face.

Of course, it was none of Elric’s business.

The feeling of blood rushing to his head was too strange to think of anything but the thought of trying to calm himself down.

“Look. Young Master.”

It was a shame.

If this had been the West, he would have torn him limb from limb and thrown him in pieces to his parents.

But it was okay.

As always, there was a way.

“Now that she is married, you shall know her as my wife. Tyria Portman is my wife.”

Aman Nimrud’s mood turned grim.

Elric felt quite pleased.

It reminded him of the “Psychology of Nobility” lesson he’d once heard from Elvus Grayman.

-”A nobleman lives for a cause and dies for a cause. So, in an aristocratic dispute, even if you attempt to kill your opponent first, as long as there is justification, it’ll be accepted​. To put it nobly, that’s the case, but if you want to put it a bit more bluntly…”

-“Put it more bluntly?”

-”…when they want to fight, they’ll scratch their opponents to death in an extremely dirty fight. Nobles are a nastier race than you might think.”

Elric hoped desperately…

“She is the one who will receive the baronetcy, and thus she should be addressed as “Baroness”, but I’m afraid it seems that you lack education in that regard.”

…please, bark a little more…

…give me a reason to create a fuss.

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