Arc-4 Ch-02

My consciousness stirs.

No—I’m scared.

I don’t want to be thrown into another incomprehensible world, to endure that hell all over again.

I can endure pain if it’s my own.

But watching Angie cry… watching her die in front of me—

That’s something I can’t bear.

I want to shut my eyes and sleep forever.

Yet the more I resist, the clearer my mind becomes.

Half in despair, I cautiously cracked open one eye.

No scorched earth consumed by flames.

No arena surrounded by jeering spectators.

No royal palace where I supposedly resided.

Instead, I found myself staring at an entirely different scene—

Wood and metal structures draped in soft fabric.

I moved my hand slowly, touching whatever supported my back.

A gentle press revealed the familiar elasticity of a well-worn mattress.

A ceiling I recognized.

I was home.

Truly home.

Relief swept through me, and I exhaled every bit of air in my lungs.

What a horrifying dream.

So vivid… so disturbingly real.

A doctor Angie once summoned from the capital told me that dreams are the mind’s way of processing memories—or the unconscious spilling over during sleep.

If that’s true…

Does it mean I secretly want Angie to die? To pummel the prince?

To be surrounded by a harem of beautiful women?

No way. That’s insane.

Sure, I’ve got issues with His Highness Julius.

And yes, I get tongue-tied around pretty girls—who doesn’t?

But wish for Angie’s death?

Never. I’d stake my life on it.

Where else would you find a noble lady who’d marry someone like me, abandon a mansion in the capital to live in the countryside, and work tirelessly without complaint?

She even called a doctor for me, used her family’s connections to bring in a technician. Who does that?

And as if all that wasn’t enough…

This remarkable woman fell in love with me and bore my children.

I’m not just content—I’m grateful beyond words.

It’s probably because of that arranged marriage meeting earlier today… and the visit from the saintess and her entourage.

Lady Olivia, who’s my age, was undeniably cute.

Miss Deidere from before was a real beauty.

And Queen Mylene—seeing her up close—was breathtaking.

Too many encounters. Too much stimulation.

No wonder my head's a mess.

Let’s be honest: I’m not that popular.

Other than Angie, the only women who’ve approached me wanted my status and wealth.

In contrast, Lady Olivia serves the people selflessly, and Queen Mylene bears the weight of royal duty.

They probably just seemed radiant by comparison.

Getting carried away after some kindness from a beautiful woman…

That’s just the sad story of an unpopular man misreading the situation.

What a fool I am, despite having such a wonderful wife.

I turned to my side.

But Angie—who always sleeps beside me—was gone.

Panic gripped my chest.

Something felt wrong. Very wrong.

On the battlefield, you learn to trust your instincts—your gut can mean the difference between life and death.

A subtle shift in the air. A chill you can’t explain.

You feel the “wrongness” before you even understand it.

That dream where Angie died…

It was clinging to me like a bad omen.

I sprang out of bed and scanned the room. The lock was undone.

Our bedroom is connected to a private bathroom and toilet, so there’s no reason for her to leave.

That meant she’d gone outside.

I threw on a robe over my nightclothes and slipped out quietly.

The Bartfort household has a few live-in servants, but we don’t keep night watchmen.

They retire early unless the children are sick or crying.

But now the little ones sleep soundly through the night.

That phase has passed.

Guided by moonlight and starlight streaming through the windows, I moved silently through the halls, holding my breath.

The chill in the air bit at my skin, stealing away warmth.

Harvest season was ending—winter was close.

I checked the children’s room, the hall, guest room, kitchen—everywhere Angie might be.

Nothing.

Finally, I went to the back door. It was unlocked.

She had stepped outside.

Still wearing my indoor slippers, I ventured out.

There she was.

Sitting quietly on a garden bench in her nightgown, gazing up at the stars.

I approached softly and sat beside her. She didn’t flinch.

She simply accepted my presence.

When I took her hand gently, I was shocked by how cold her skin was.

Without hesitation, I wrapped my robe around her.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing really,” she said, eyes still on the sky. “Just felt like looking at the stars.”

“You can see them from our bedroom too.”

“No reason. I just… wanted to come out here.”

“I see.”

That was the end of it.

But something still felt wrong.

Is this truly my Angie?

Doubt crawled into my chest, fed by the remnants of the dream.

“Angie… how many children do we have?”

“Two,” she replied softly. “Three, if you count the one in my belly.”

“Their names?”

“Lionel and Ariel.”

“My title?”

“Viscount Bartfort. Soon to be Earl.”

Good.

That was definitely her.

A rush of relief and affection welled up inside me, and I pulled her into a tight embrace.

She didn’t resist.

I held her, savoring the warmth, the familiarity—her voice, her touch.

But that only deepened my unease.

Everything felt too identical to the dream.

Was that world really just a dream?

What if the real me is the one trapped in that other world?

What if this life—this countryside manor, this quiet happiness—is just a fleeting illusion?

If I wake up… will Angie, the children, everything… disappear?

That fear gripped me.

“What’s gotten into you?” she asked.

“I had a terrifying dream.”

“Another war nightmare?”

“No… something completely different.”

“What kind of dream?”

It was too vivid to brush off.

Too personal to ignore.

And somehow, I knew that unless I said it out loud, it would keep haunting me.

“I had all sorts of dreams. I was a king… girls were chasing me… I fought His Highness Julius in a duel. Some strange orb was guiding me, telling me what to do.”

“What kind of dream was that?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t get it either.”

“Maybe because of Queen Mylene?”

“Maybe. But the worst dream… I don’t want to tell you. You’ll be angry.”

“You can’t just say that and not explain.”

“No way. You’d definitely be pissed.”

“Worse than being chased by girls?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Then you have to tell me.”

Gods, I’m a coward.

I was baiting her. Piquing her curiosity so she’d insist.

“It felt so real,” I murmured. “I was piloting armor… dueling Julius. Olivia was comforting you while you cried. Marie was head over heels for His Highness.”

“Me, crying… with Olivia?”

“Seeing your tears… I lost it. Smashed his armor to bits. Think I killed him.”

“That actually sounds cathartic. I’d like to witness it.”

“You’ve made peace with him, haven’t you?”

“Peace isn’t the same as forgiveness.”

“Fair point.”

To my surprise, she took it well.

Still, I couldn’t help but wonder—if I had destroyed His Highness… would she have stayed with him instead of marrying me?

I couldn’t shake the thought.

“There was another dream,” I said. “I was king, you were my queen. We had lots of wives and children… but I was so swamped with duties I barely saw them.”

“Royal families often struggle with that. If they don’t make time for their wives and children, they lose touch.”

“Seriously? Then I quit. I resign as king.”

“You don’t want to be king?”

“In that dream, even you were too busy to be with me. A life where I can't spend time with my wife and kids? Count me out.”

“What a selfish king.”

I didn’t dare tell her that Olivia and Queen Mylene were among my wives in that dream.

Even in this peaceful moment, I wasn’t suicidal.

“Judging from the dream, does that mean I secretly want to beat up His Highness Julius and become king?”

“Isn’t that what you want?”

“Too much trouble. I’m just a country bumpkin who enjoys tending the fields. One wife is more than enough for me—unless you’re saying you want to be queen, Angie.”

“If you don’t want to be king, then my answer’s obvious.”

“And if I did say I wanted to be king?”

“If that’s your true desire, I wouldn’t stop you.”

What am I supposed to do with that?

My wife’s actually fine with becoming queen if I go all in. If I were the kind of man who could say “I’ll become king for your sake,” I might sound like a pretty cool husband. But the truth is, I’m a coward who knows his limits. I’m not confident I could run an entire kingdom.

“There’s still the worst dream.”

“Worse than that one? What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. It’s scarier than you getting mad.”

“It’s just a dream.”

“That’s why it’s terrifying.”

Saying it out loud makes it feel real—like the moment I speak it, it could actually come true. I could accept dying to protect my family, but the thought of them dying because of me? That’s unbearable.

“Come on, now I have to know.”

“You’ll regret it.”

“I won’t sleep until you tell me. So, out with it.”

“…The kingdom was destroyed. Everything was engulfed in flames. The ground was littered with broken armor and airships. It was worse than anything I’ve ever seen on a battlefield.”

“Sounds intense.”

“I was piloting some kind of lost item—looked like one of the royal family’s ships. That weird orb was controlling it.”

“The orb again?”

“No clue what it is. Just… an orb. But that ship was launching an all-out assault—on the kingdom’s fleet, then on the ducal family’s flagship.”

“…And that’s why you’re shaken.”

“Yeah. You were on that ship. You looked at me like I was a traitor, Angie. It scared me so badly I wanted to cry.”

The truth is, in that dream, I actually did cry. I clung to Angie and broke down in tears.

Even now, just thinking about it makes my body tremble—not from the cold, but from fear.

“I’ve got a bad feeling. If the royal family and the ducal house ever go to war, it could end up like that.”

“That’s what kept you up tonight?”

“The dream felt too real. And with the state the kingdom is in, something like that isn’t impossible.”

“We’re working to prevent it, aren’t we?”

“I know, but I still need to think about the worst-case scenario. If a conflict does break out, what happens to Bartfort territory?”

“You’re overthinking it. We knew from the start we were walking a tightrope.”

“I thought I’d accepted that. But after meeting Her Highness and the prince, I realized I’m terrified. What if I really end up fighting you, like in that dream?”

Even if I close my eyes and cling to Angie, the image won’t go away. That moment is burned into my memory.

The Bartforts are vassals of the ducal house. If a civil war breaks out, we’ll be expected to side with them. But behind the scenes, we’ve been working with the royal family to prevent that very outcome.

To the duke, that would be a betrayal. Plain and simple.

If he demands I divorce Angie, I might not have a choice.

“If it comes to that, I’ll cut ties with the ducal house. I’m not going back to a place that would make me abandon you and the children, Leon.”

“That’s sweet, but what if he sends an army?”

“Then I’ll go plead with him myself. I’ll beg for your life if I have to. You’re not bad at talking your way out of things either, right?”

“Not sure I could talk my way out of that.”

“You, who casually mouthed off to Queen Mylene? Please. Just put that silver tongue to work and fool my father.”

God, Angie is such a badass.

I guess that is my only option if it comes to that.

The future of the Holfort Kingdom is too heavy for a no-name noble like me to carry.

If it comes to it, I’ll grovel, I’ll beg—I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my family.

Honestly, getting this far is already a miracle. Even being made a viscount feels like more than I deserve.

And worst-case scenario? If I get stripped of my title and tossed back to commoner life, I’ll survive. That’s basically where I came from anyway.

As long as I can feed Angie and the kids, we’ll be okay.

“My amazing wife, I have a favor to ask.”

“What is it now?”

“I had a terrifying dream and can’t sleep alone. Will you stay with me tonight?”

“Are you a child?”

I’m scared, alright?

Too scared to sleep alone. I need Angie—her warmth, her presence—to feel safe.

Also, it’s not good for her to stay out in this cold.

“Just don’t show this pathetic side to Lionel and Ariel. It’s bad for their development.”

“You’re the one who turned me into this!”

“All I did was comfort a Leon haunted by battlefield trauma. I didn’t make you into a big baby who can’t sleep without his wife.”

“That’s cold.”

“Want me to toughen you up? I could move to a separate bedroom and sleep with the kids instead.”

“No, no, I’m sorry! I love you! Please stay with me!”

After some desperate groveling, I managed to convince her to come back to bed. That night, I didn’t have a single nightmare.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

“Angie is being distant.”

“Not my problem.”

“Great, meeting adjourned.”

“Come on, at least listen to me.”

“Let’s talk this out properly,” Colin cut in, trying to keep the peace.

You’re such a good kid, Colin. Are we sure you share the same genes as these other siblings?

“Alright! Let’s begin the Bartfort Family Meeting!” Colin declared.

The Bartfort Family Meeting is a regular post-lunch gathering in the dining room, where we discuss current events, rumors from other territories, what’s trending locally, and personal updates. It happens maybe three or four times a month.

Attendance varies—Big Bro and I usually show up, Dad and Colin skip if they’re busy, and Mom, Big Sis, and Finley are more hit-or-miss. Angie, being our intelligence hub, never misses it unless work pulls her away.

The chair shifts between Dad, Big Bro, and me. Colin rarely takes the lead, so he’s clearly overexcited today—his energy’s a bit out of control.

Today’s agenda? “Angie is being distant with Leon” and “Big Bro’s romantic progress with Dorothea.”

“Don’t act like this isn’t serious! Do you even get how huge this is?”

“It’s your marriage—handle it yourself,” Big Sis snapped.

“Maybe Angelica-san finally had enough of you,” Finley added.

“You picking a fight? This is too deep for you single folks who can’t even get engaged.”

“Excuse me?! You’ve failed tons of marriage interviews!” Big Sis shot back.

“Yeah, but I still married Angie. Huge win for me! Get married yourselves if you’re so jealous!”

“Ugh! You’re the worst! So smug!” Finley yelled.

“Alright, enough. Leon, stop provoking them. And you two—quit taking the bait,” Colin intervened again, trying to keep things civil.

Let me go a bit longer, Colin—I was just warming up.

“Brother Leon, your opening statement, please.”

“Yes, Colin?”

“What would happen if you and Angelica-san really grew apart?”

“Excellent question.”

I reached out and pulled the dessert plates away from Big Sis and Finley.

“Hey!”

“What the hell, Leon?!” they protested in unison.

“If things keep going like this, you two might have to kiss your desserts goodbye. And no, I’m not talking about cake. The ducal house could demand immediate repayment of our loans. We wouldn’t have the funds, and they’d start seizing assets left and right.”

Maybe they wouldn’t go that far—but the reality is, Bartfort territory depends heavily on financial support from House Redgrave. We intended to repay the debt gradually by developing the land over time, but the war with the Fanoss Duchy derailed everything. War costs pushed back our schedule by over five years, and we had to take on even more debt just to keep things running. Right now, defying the duke’s house isn’t an option.

Ideally, I’d like to clear the debt before I retire—typical parent instinct, I guess. No one wants to leave behind debt for their kids to inherit.

“Go apologize to Angelica-san already,” Finley demanded, frowning.

“This whole mess is clearly your fault. And isn’t this cake a gift from Dorothea-san?” Big Sis added, eyeing her reclaimed dessert.

They were acting like they ran the place.

Are these two even noblewomen? No wonder they keep failing to land engagement offers. According to Angie, there are plenty of nobles who would jump at the chance to marry into the Bartfort family, but the duke is quietly pulling strings to block them. Normally I’d call that paranoia, but considering Big Bro’s forced engagement with Dorothea, it’s no laughing matter.

Honestly, I don’t care whether their partners are from the royalist camp or the duke’s faction—as long as they treat my sisters well and get along, that’s good enough for me.

“So, to protect the Bartfort territory, step one is making up with Angie as soon as possible.”

“But that’s not the only reason, is it?” Colin interjected.

“Right. More than that, I want to get back to being lovey-dovey with her. But when Angie’s feeling down, she shuts me out—and rejection from her really stings. So I’m asking for your help, all of you.”

My siblings exchanged looks, faces twisted in visible annoyance.

Come on, what else am I supposed to do? Ever since that night of the marriage meeting, Angie’s been out of it. Her responses have been minimal—just “Yeah,” “Mm-hmm,” or “Sure,” like she’s not even really listening. This morning, she even said, “Sorry, I’m resting today,” and stayed in bed.

I panicked and called the doctor, but they found no physical issues. They said it was likely mental fatigue. Still, it’s hard not to worry. On top of that, with Angie being pregnant and emotionally withdrawn, we haven’t been intimate in nearly half a month. I know she’d let me if I insisted, but pressing my advances on a wife clearly struggling doesn’t sit right.

“She’s just tired of your nonsense,” Finley snapped.

“Don’t mess with me—we’re usually super lovey-dovey!”

“Women aren’t men. We go through emotional shifts. She’s pregnant—give her space,” Big Sis said sternly.

“If it’s just physical fatigue, fine. But I think the real problem’s in her heart. That’s why I’m turning to you girls—I don’t get it.”

“Let her rest for a few days. She’s probably just burnt out,” Big Sis offered.

“If that’s all it is, great. But something still feels off…”

“…”

“You listening, Big Bro?”

“…Yeah, sorry. I was thinking,” he muttered, eyes distant.

I’m worried about Angie—but Big Bro’s also on today’s agenda. He’s been acting odd since returning from his marriage meeting in the Roseblade territory. Not sad, exactly—just… distracted.

“You actually fell for Dorothea, didn’t you?” I asked.

“No way a classy girl like that would fall for someone as plain as him,” Finley scoffed.

“Cut it out—he’s clearly the one most confused right now,” I said.

“She doesn’t seem like a bad person,” Colin added.

Since their engagement was arranged, Dorothea’s been visiting the Bartfort estate every two or three days. She arrives early with gifts, helps out with tasks or strategy meetings during the day, eats dinner with us, and returns home at night. Today’s dessert? A gift from a well-known pâtissier in her territory.

She’s lively, thoughtful, and—frankly—more helpful than Big Sis or Finley. She might not be on the same level as Angie, who trained for years to become queen, but that’s an unfair comparison. Dorothea will grow into her role with time.

Honestly, if Big Bro does marry her, I’d seriously consider handing over the barony to him.

“Something happen?” I asked.

“Not exactly… but…” he trailed off.

“But?”

“It’s just… a lot,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper, eyes cast downward.

Sure, Dorothea-san’s clingy, but isn’t that typical of a fresh engagement? He pulled a pendant from beneath his shirt—it was the one she gave him. Angie had complimented the craftsmanship, saying it clearly showed how much Dorothea-san cared.

“Nice pendant,” I commented.

“If a guy gave me something that thoughtful, I’d consider getting engaged,” Big Sis added.

“There’s a tracker in the base,” Big Bro revealed.

“…What?”

“She says she wants to feel me always. She has one too—and she gave me the receiver.”

“Why would she even—”

“She wants me to know where she is at all times… and wants to know where I am. And the thing is… we’re not even officially engaged yet.”

“…”

Yeah, that’s intense.

“Is she interfering with your duties?” Colin asked.

“That’s the scary part. She helps with my duties—and somehow befriends everyone before I even realize it.”

“That sounds normal,” I said.

“She makes me homemade lunches now. And she’s learning to cook scary fast. She even includes my favorite dishes—things I never told her.”

“That’s seriously creepy,” Finley muttered.

“Apparently, she asked Mom and Dad behind my back. She’s with me all the time—so when does she even have the opportunity to ask?”

That’s… a little much.

“And when we’re alone, she keeps trying to get me to wear a collar. Not just me—she wants one too. It’s not some pet-play thing either. She wants us to literally bind each other.”

“…”

“Say something, damn it!” Big Bro finally shouted, overwhelmed.

What do you even say to that?

It’s too intense for any of us to judge properly. In the end, he’ll either take control of the relationship—or let Dorothea take the reins. No middle ground.

“Just… take your suppressant,” I muttered.

“She’s lightening the load, so if she marries in, I’m fine with it,” Big Sis added.

“It’s… a kind of love, I guess,” Finley offered weakly.

“Sounds very devoted,” Colin chimed in.

“You’re all acting like this isn’t your problem!” Big Bro groaned, clutching his head.

Honestly, I want Dorothea-san to marry into the family—if only to lighten Angie’s burden.

Big Bro… your noble sacrifice will not be forgotten.

Sorry, man. You ended up with a wife who’ll probably have you wrapped around her finger, and it’s all because I climbed the social ladder first.

I’ll find a way to repay you someday, so hang in there.

“For now, Leon, make up with Angelica-san. And Nicks, try to get along with Dorothea-san,” Colin said firmly.

“Don’t just gloss over everything like that—give us some actual help!” Big Bro protested.

“No way. I’m not getting involved,” Big Sis replied flatly.

“It’s your fault for asking a bunch of unmarried siblings in the first place,” Finley added, shrugging.

Unlike Big Sis, who was clearly trying to wash her hands of the matter, Finley pointed toward the ceiling.

“If you want real relationship advice, ask the most lovey-dovey couple in this house—they’re upstairs.”

We’re all children of that couple, after all.

But if you ask me, all they do is flaunt their affection in public. Not exactly helpful.

“You really think those forever newlyweds will give practical advice? They’ll just start gushing about each other and call it love,” I scoffed.

…Why are you all looking at me like that?

Stop staring like I’m some kind of tragic case.

“Talk about lacking self-awareness,” Big Sis muttered.

“Maybe try looking in a mirror,” Finley quipped.

“I’m done here,” Big Sis said, setting down her fork.

“Leon, are you being serious right now?” Colin asked.

Apparently, the rest of them think Angie and I qualify as a lovey-dovey couple, too.

Rude. I keep things dignified in public, thank you very much.

It’s just… for the past half-month, she’s been so distant, even in private. I’m starved for affection.

Still, I have to admit—our parents have been through a lot and somehow kept their bond strong all these years.

Maybe they really do know the secret to a happy marriage.

“With that, the Bartfort family meeting is adjourned,” Colin declared.

With his closing words, today’s gathering came to an end.

Big Sis and Finley stayed behind to finish their dessert. Big Bro left for work, and Colin went off to a meeting.

And me?

Most of my work is done for the day.

I was supposed to spend the afternoon with Angie and the kids, but with the way she’s been lately, that’s not happening.

Looks like I’ll have to seek wisdom from our eternal lovebirds upstairs.

Finishing the last bite of Dorothea-san’s delicious dessert, I stood up.

Here’s hoping those “perpetual newlyweds” actually have some practical advice for keeping a marriage strong.

┳⁠━━━━⁠━⁠⁠━⁠━⁠━━━⁠┳⁠

Authors Note

┻━⁠━━━━⁠━━⁠━━━⁠┻

The secret to a happy marriage is different for every couple. So even if they decide to wear collars for each other—as long as both sides are happy, who are we to judge? (Hey, now!)

Starting in Part 4, the Bartfort family members will take on more prominent roles, and their screen time will increase accordingly. We also plan to introduce new original characters moving forward. The next chapter will include some adult content, so there will be a short delay. The upcoming update is scheduled for December. Several commissioned illustrations will also be featured as inserts.

Addendum: Per client request, the following illustrators contributed to this release:

LoliFreak: Pixiv

Sarukana: Pixiv

MOB: Skeb

Goma: Skeb – Skeb

I’d love to hear your thoughts and feedback! Your comments are what keep us motivated!