Chapter 3: The Toxic Wife Holds Hands with Her Favorite.

Three days have passed since then.

I’m astonished at how much things have changed in such a short time.

Lord Cedric’s fever subsided in three days.

Of course, thanks to my devoted nursing!
…Well, maybe half of it was due to the new servant who joined us.

Carrying buckets, changing cold cloths through the night—there’s no way I could’ve managed alone.
But I was the one who noticed first, who held him, put him to bed, and started nursing him.
That beginning was all me.

Let me hold my head high for that.
And during those three days, I feel like the distance between us shrank significantly.

Until that day, we barely saw each other except at dinner.
Now, we spend time together in the library.

In a corner of the spacious library, afternoon light streams through the window, dust motes dancing golden in the air.
The sound of turning pages overlaps in the silence.

This is otaku bliss.
Sharing the same space, the same time, with my favorite character!

And the profile of the still-youthful Cedric is a feast for the eyes…!

“Lady Amelia, do you read often?”

His sudden question makes my hand freeze on the page.
My heartbeat thuds loudly in my ears.

“Y-Yes! Well, sometimes…”

In my previous life, it was all light novels and romance stories, but the history books and magic tomes of this world have their own challenges.
Still, I’m reading, so, yeah.

“I see.”

A calm acknowledgment.
But even that feels like a reward.

“What kind of books do you like, Lord Cedric?”
“I prefer structured texts over stories.”
“I see… like magic books?”
“Yes. Magical theory or applied research papers.”
“Papers…”

Fifteen and already reading papers. A genius, as expected.
My favorite is too perfect. Too perfect.

Such conversations, just a few words at a time.
Yet they feel like miracles.

Before, it was just “I’m fine” and done.

But there’s still a wall.
Not in words, but in distance.
He never sits close to me.

Even when we spread books on the library table, he keeps a space where our shoulders won’t touch.

If I casually shift my chair closer, he subtly moves away.
With a sad expression on his face.

…That look is the hardest to bear.

It’s not that he dislikes me—it’s the face of someone who thinks, ‘I mustn’t get close.’

I know why.
The original story explained it.

There was a young servant who used to work in this annex.
Someone who talked to Cedric, read with him, made him laugh.

But one day, Cedric’s magic went out of control.

At ten, tormented daily by his stepmother and brother, his mind unstable.
That servant got caught in the outburst.

They were gravely injured, healed by magic, but left the mansion in fear.

…Since then.
He stopped getting close to people. Physically.

He’s afraid of hurting someone by touching them.

That’s why he’s like this with me, too.
Not because he hates me, but because he wants to protect me.

Realizing that… does it mean he cares about me?
I could optimistically interpret it that way.

But it’s not that simple.
Because he’s the one hurting the most.
He looks sad when I try to get closer.

I don’t want to see that face. That’s all.

I want to help unravel this trauma somehow.

In the original story… what happened?

I recall. Yes, that famous scene.
The heroine trips in a hallway, about to fall, and Cedric instinctively catches her.

But right after, his face changes, and he pulls away.
Memories of the past resurface.

The heroine asks,
‘Why did you pull away?’

Cedric confesses,
‘I once lost control of my magic and hurt someone important.’

And the heroine responds,
‘I have healing magic, so it’s fine. Besides, I don’t mind being close to you, Cedric.’

…A love-accelerating event.

I remember.
I remember, but…

“I can’t use healing magic…”

The words slip out as a mutter.
I can’t say the same lines. They’d lack conviction.

If I got hurt by touching him, I couldn’t heal myself.

Plus, I’m not a delicate girl like the original heroine.
I’m twenty. And right now, bigger than the fifteen-year-old him.

With him still frail, he couldn’t catch me.
If I tripped and he tried, we’d both fall and get hurt.

…No good. The original story’s approach won’t work.

What should I do?
How can I ease his trauma, even a little?

That evening’s dinner is elegant, but his portion is, as expected, small.
My plate is decently filled.

“You need to eat more, Lord Cedric.”

Without breaking his posture, he sips his soup and shakes his head slightly.

“I’m not very hungry.”
“Even so, little by little. Eat well, exercise, sleep. You won’t grow otherwise.”
“Grow…?”
“Yes. Bones, muscles, even clothes will fit better. It’s an investment in your future.”

I state firmly, and he sets his spoon on the plate’s edge, looking straight at me.

His blue eyes, clear as a lake, aren’t as cold as before.

“That’s how you think, Lady Amelia.”
“Yes… wait?”

I realize something.
Since coming here, I’ve never seen him outside.

Hallways, library, his room, dining hall. His activities are all indoors.

“Do you ever go outside, Lord Cedric?”
“Rarely.”

As expected.
His reply is brief, shadowed by hesitation.

“Staying inside all the time, you can’t exercise and get gloomy.”
“I don’t mind staying in…”
“Let’s go out for a bit.”

I brighten my tone.

“Tonight, how about a walk? The garden’s private, and the cool air will clear your head.”

He lowers his eyes slightly, tracing the tablecloth’s edge with his gaze.

His habit when thinking.
Three beats later, he looks up.

“…Just for a bit.”
“Deal!”

After dinner, I drape a thick shawl over my shoulders.

The annex at night is quiet, the distant main house’s lights twinkling like stars.
Opening the garden door, cool air brushes my cheeks.

The flowerbeds are well-tended, white blossoms glowing like small lamps.
The fountain is still, but dew dots its stone edge like gems.

Cedric and I walk side by side.
Though there’s a precise one-step gap between us.

His strides are slightly smaller, his footsteps nearly silent.
It’s not an uncomfortable silence.

“…The stars are clear tonight.”

I look up, and he tilts his chin slightly.

“The annex is far from city lights. They’re even clearer in winter.”
“Let’s watch them together then, too.”

I reply instantly, my cheeks warming.
Was it too bold to book the future?

But momentum matters here.

“…Yes, let’s.”

Before, it would’ve been “No need.”
This is huge progress.

Still, the distance bothers me.

To erase that trauma… I have to say it.
I take a deep breath inwardly.

“Lord Cedric.”
“Yes.”

I stop and look at his profile.

“As… your fiancée, could you, um, escort me by… holding my hand?”

My voice jumps on the last word.
This isn’t some impure desire to hold my favorite’s hand.

It’s healing. Emotional care. Yes, medicine for the heart.

But his expression hardens.
His blue eyes waver, his throat bobbing slightly.

He looks down, his gaze darting between my hand and his.

“…I’m sorry.”

A strained voice, a rejection.
It’s like cold ice dropped into my chest.

Yeah, I knew it wouldn’t be easy.
I knew, but it still stings.

My fingers start to lose strength—then I notice his face looks far more pained than mine.
His lips tremble slightly, guilt piling on his shoulders.

No, this isn’t my moment to hurt.

He’s been in pain far longer.

I take a breath and step forward.
Gently, I touch my fingers to his.

His lashes flutter in surprise.

“P-Please, let go…!”

He tries to pull away reflexively, but I don’t let go.

Not tightly, but firmly.
Holding so we won’t part.

“I won’t let go, Lord Cedric.”

I confirm his gaze is fixed on our hands before continuing.

“You don’t have to worry about touching someone anymore.”

My words make his shoulders twitch.

“…How…”

A hoarse question, thinner than the night air.

“You won’t lose control of your magic anymore.”

I speak slowly, with conviction.

“It happened because you hadn’t learned magic and were mentally cornered. Just that one time, right?”

The original story’s details flip through my mind.
Factually, he lost control only once.

Since then, out of fear, he trained in control far longer than others.
From that day until now.

“I know. Every morning, every night, you carefully practice controlling your magic.”

His eyes widen, showing surprise and a hint of confusion.

“You’ve worked hard. I know. So it’s okay to touch.”

My voice softens on its own.
I wish, just a little, to be a cloth wrapping him gently.

He catches his breath, looking at our joined hands.
The resistance fades, leaving only hesitation in his fingers.

Eventually, that hesitation fades, too.

“…Aren’t you scared to touch me?”
“Not at all.”

An instant reply.
Because there’s no way I’d be scared.

Finding any emotion besides joy would be harder.

“I… see…”

Relief spreads faintly across his face.
He stares at our hands, then slowly grips back.

His fingers are slightly shorter but bony.

“Your hand is warm.”
“I-Is it?”
“Yes. And… a bit damp.”
“What!?”

My heart leaps.
Of all times, sweaty hands.

I get that I’m nervous holding my favorite’s hand, but still.

I try to pull away.

“S-Sorry! I’ll just—”

But he tightens his grip.
Now he’s the one not letting go.

“No, I won’t let go.”

Moonlight catches his eyes, tiny lights sparkling.

“You said it’s okay to hold.”

That’s unfair. That line is unfair.
Fireworks of “Too perfect!” burst in my heart.

I try to cool my burning face with the night breeze, barely managing to speak.

“I-It’s dirty.”
“It’s not dirty. It’s a beautiful hand.”
“Ugh…”

His words hit hard.

I pull the shawl’s edge to my mouth, hiding my reaction.

He lifts the corner of his mouth slightly.

He smiled. So cute…

We walk slowly along the garden path.
The warmth of our joined hands settles with time.

I steady my breath, softening the air with a light scolding.

“Lord Cedric, you shouldn’t tell a lady her hand is damp. It’s terribly embarrassing.”
“…Sorry. I’ll be careful.”
“Yes, never say it to other women.”

My mouth instinctively protects the future heroine.
If he said that to her and she disliked him, I’d be sad, too.

“Other… women?”

He repeats softly, more like he’s savoring the words.

I tilt my head.

“What’s wrong?”
“…Nothing.”

It’s not a “nothing” face.
But pressing him feels wrong.

He looks down, glancing at our joined hands again.

If this eases his trauma even a little, I’m glad.