The House in the Countryside

Chapter 27

“Noble daughters from the royal capital are utterly deplorable! I’ve finally come to see it clearly!”

“That’s the sixth time you’ve said that, bigbro,” I remarked, deliberately using the informal “bigbro” instead of “Brother” to needle him. It had no effect.

In the control room of the airship bound for the Bartfort Domain, my brother seethed with indignation. Still groggy from a mild hangover, I was quietly grateful he’d taken command. Yet, I dearly wished he’d spare me his tirade. He couldn’t vent at the crew piloting the ship, and berating idle subordinates would tarnish his reputation. So, naturally, he unloaded his frustrations on me—his younger brother. I respected him, of course, but as the head of House Bartfort, I was technically his superior. After being entangled in a fiasco with a duke, four fools, and now my brother’s complaints, I couldn’t help but wonder: what had I done to deserve this?

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

Unlike me, my brother had received a proper noble education, prepared for emergencies, and had even attended the academy. As the spare of a spare, I’d been free to join the military without objection from our family. But for my brother, poised to inherit the barony, such a path was forbidden. In exchange, he’d endured the worst of noble daughters. Until recently, lower-ranked noblemen suffered under the kingdom’s women-first policies, which left countless men humiliated and embittered.

The war against the principality changed everything. High-ranking nobles proved useless—pampered heirs spouting empty rhetoric. Privileged lower-ranked noblewomen fled at the first sign of danger, some even betraying the kingdom by aligning with the enemy. Only a handful of resolute lower-ranked noblemen, commoners, and steadfast nobles stood firm to defend the realm. When these true defenders were overlooked, the kingdom’s leaders panicked, realizing the nation would collapse in the next crisis. They hastily distributed titles and lands, but it did little to mend the rift.

Why would anyone serve those who had always scorned them, only to beg for help when danger loomed? Resentments lingered, and the kingdom found itself with a cadre of formidable men—strong, but loyal to neither crown nor state.

The Holfort Kingdom, founded by adventurers, had long revered them. Most nobles traced their lineage to such figures, and younger nobles took pride in that heritage. House Bartfort, having earned a barony through modest wartime contributions and profitable adventuring, was sneered at by other nobles. But the war upended these values. Adventuring thrived only in peacetime. When the kingdom faced peril, what had these nobles done?

“Your ancestor may have been a great adventurer, but what are you?” people began to ask. The kingdom’s men, raised to admire adventurers, were tougher than those of other nations. Yet they squandered their strength looting safe dungeons for gold, neglecting the kingdom and its people. What, then, was the purpose of nobility?

Now, proclaiming “I’m an adventurer!” in public drew mockery: *You didn’t protect the kingdom; you just chased treasure.* Conversely, men who survived the war as soldiers—regardless of adventuring pedigree—earned widespread respect. Our father and brother fought in the last war; this time, it was my brother and me. Consequently, House Bartfort gained significant standing among the nobility.

Thanks to this, my brother—soon to inherit Father’s title—now commanded respect in noble circles, no longer ignored at social gatherings. “I’ll never match Leon’s fame, but I can finally seek a worthy bride,” he said with a smile that eased my guilt. He’d contributed immensely to the war and the Bartfort Domain’s development, yet, in his mid-twenties, he remained unmarried. As head of the house, I felt responsible, especially since I’d married Angelica and had a child, yet failed to secure him a suitable fiancée.

His role as deputy commander in my unit, which suffered minimal losses, earned him widespread admiration. Many subordinates respected him more than me, with my scarred face and brusque demeanor. His approachable nature, however, took a toll; near the war’s end, he collapsed from exhaustion. I brought him to the capital to finalize his title succession and seek a match through military connections. Angelica approved, and I thought it would go smoothly.

Life, however, is rarely so kind.

“That woman had the audacity to say, ‘Shall I collar you and make you my pet?’ Can you believe it? An absolute lunatic! Even Zora and Merce never treated me like a dog!”

“I understand, just… try to calm down,” I urged.

“Are all noblewomen in the capital like that?” he demanded.

“No, there are decent ones—like Angelica.”

“Then I’d rather marry a kind commoner like Mother, as Father did! I’m never returning to the capital!”

“Well, if a royal decree summons you, you won’t have much choice…”

Those who rarely lose their temper erupt with startling intensity when they do. I’m quick to brawl and lose motivation, so I don’t bottle things up. But my brother, typically calm and courteous, was incandescent with rage. I couldn’t fathom what kind of woman could provoke him so.

Vile women exist everywhere. Even a war couldn’t instantly erase values ingrained from birth. My elder and younger sisters, still clinging to outdated ideals, had missed their chances at marriage. The war’s societal upheaval dramatically altered noble marriage dynamics. Where men once humbled themselves to propose, now women vied for favor.

The women-first policies for lower-ranked nobles had backfired, fostering corruption and disloyalty. Recently, the kingdom abolished them entirely. For self-made men who defended the nation, noblewomen with only pedigree to offer held no appeal. Beauty, kindness, and domestic skills became the new benchmarks. Arrogant noblewomen with poor character and no practical abilities were summarily dismissed.

With many men lost to the war, the kingdom now faced a surplus of women and a shortage of men. For noblewomen raised to believe suitors would flock to them regardless of merit, this was a crisis. Lacking skills or self-improvement, they were unfit even for common work. Their world had changed, and they were unprepared.

They lounge in their family homes without lifting a finger, yet spend money like it grows on trees. It’s no wonder some noble houses are going bankrupt just trying to support daughters like that.

There’s even a bizarre trend emerging in the brothels—more fallen noblewomen than commoner girls selling themselves. It’s so absurd, it’s not even funny.

You must’ve run into one of those types who just couldn’t adapt, huh, brother?

Moments like these make me realize again how lucky I am to have married Angie. I just want to get back to the Bartfort territory, bury my face in Angie’s soft, ample chest, and drift off to sleep with my hand resting on the belly carrying our third child.

“Are you even listening, Leon!?” “I am. Just... please stop yelling. I’m hungover and feel like death.” “You snuck off the ship in the middle of the night—what the hell were you doing? Chatting up girls at a bar?” “I’m loyal to Angie, alright? I just went out for a drink and got caught up with some shady characters.” “Plenty of rough types around lately, what with all these war vets climbing the ranks. You be careful.” “If only they were just war climbers...” “The royal capital’s a cesspool. Country life suits me better.” “Couldn’t agree more.”

We both ended up at the same conclusion and exchanged wry smiles. In the end, we’re just simple country folk. Not cut out to be earls or national heroes.

Why can’t they just leave me in peace?

Until I return to the Bartfort territory—where the people who truly understand me are waiting—I won’t get a proper rest, especially with my brother dragging me into his rants.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

Every land has its own scent.

The royal palace reeks of perfume, syrupy sweets, and luxurious fabrics.

The battlefield reeks of blood, mud, iron, and gunpowder.

And Bartfort territory smells of earth, grass, and hot springs.

It’s only been three years since I was granted this land, yet it already feels nostalgic.

Maybe it’s because I grew up practically half a farmer—any place with fields, streams, and woods feels like home.

Though I’ve been gone less than ten days—travel time excluded—it feels like I’ve been away for a whole month. This unfamiliar way of living is exhausting. Add a hangover and some lingering seasickness, and I just want to crash. As I stifled a yawn and stepped into the mansion, the servants bowed in greeting.

As expected of Angie—of course she knew the exact time I’d arrive.

“Chichiue~”

“Welcome home~”

A babyish voice called out, followed by a tiny figure wrapping around my legs.

Ahh, so cute. Why are my kids so unbelievably adorable? For their sake, this daddy’s even willing to deal with terrifying old men in the capital.

“I brought souvenirs too~”

My brother called out from behind, addressing Lionel and Ariel. The duke had given us a mountain of gifts.

It’s hard to imagine that gruff old man personally picking out presents for his grandkids.

Maybe he’s got a surprisingly soft spot for them?

I’ll be sure to thank him next time I’m in the capital.

“Yay!”

“Awesome~!”

...Hey, you two. Aren’t your reactions way too different from when it’s just me?

So Grandpa’s gifts are more exciting than your dad coming home after ten days, huh?

I could cry. I really could.

Guess I’ll have Angie comfort me.

Or so I thought—until I looked around and realized Angie wasn’t there.

Normally, she’s the first to greet me, front and center. That’s odd.

“Where’s Angie?”

“She’s working.”

“At work.”

Well, I suppose it can’t be helped. Whatever it is, it must be more urgent than greeting me.

Leaving things to my brother, I headed for the office.

Besides, it’s a bit embarrassing to openly flirt in front of the kids. It’s not great for their development.

I used to be annoyed watching Mom and Dad shamelessly flirt in front of us. Time to break that bad habit.

I paused at the office door, adjusted my appearance, took a deep breath, and knocked.

“Come in.”

Even though it’s technically my office, I still have to ask permission to enter. Something about that doesn’t feel right. But to be fair, Angie uses this room far more effectively than I ever have.

When I stepped inside, she was seated at the desk, reviewing documents and jotting down key points.

Efficient as always—my brilliant wife. But maybe she could spare a little sympathy for her emotionally wounded husband, just snubbed by their children?

If Angie turns cold too, I might never recover.

“I’m back.”

“Ah, welcome home.”

She finally looked up at me.

“How was the royal capital?”

“Not much has changed since the war ended. Honestly, the crops here show more progress than that place.”

“I see.”

I tried to lighten the mood with a joke, but Angie’s reaction was unusually muted.

No eyeroll, no sarcastic jab—nothing.

Something’s off.

“You look pale. Was it that bad in the capital?”

“You should be more concerned about your own health, Angie.”

She rose from her chair and gently touched my face, clearly worried.

“A lot happened. What about things here?”

“An old acquaintance caused some trouble. I need your advice.”

“If it’s about money, tell them we’re broke. If they want a promotion, tell them to go beg the duke directly.”

“It involves the duke himself—my father.”

“Ugh. I finally got out of the whole ‘bullied son-in-law’ mess, and now I’ve got to deal with him again?”

“Just read this.”

She pointed to a stack of documents on the desk. Reading paperwork with a hangover is pure torture.

“Can’t you just summarize it for me?”

“I’d prefer if you matured enough to figure things out on your own, you know.”

“It’s faster and clearer when you explain it.”

“You really are…”

She sighed and began preparing a summary.

Sorry for being such a hopeless excuse for a lord. But honestly, it’s more efficient—and less risky—to leave things to Angie, who knows what she’s doing.

My time in the military taught me that the best strategy is to give competent subordinates room to act freely, stepping in only when necessary.

That keeps morale high and prevents burnout.

But take them for granted, and they’ll abandon you without a second thought.

If Angie ever left me, Bartfort territory would fall apart. But I’m completely smitten with her, so I’d get on my knees and beg her to return.

Honestly, I don’t even know who the real lord is anymore. But th

is arrangement works, so I’m not complaining.

“This isn’t a pleasant matter.”

“I’ll be the judge of that after I hear it.”

I said as I sat down, ready to listen.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

"Seriously?"

"If I were joking, I wouldn’t bother telling you something this unfunny."

The moment Angie finished speaking, a sharp pain pierced my head, and I clutched it in frustration.

I hadn’t realized the relationship between the Duke’s house and the royal family had deteriorated this badly.

Duke, Gilbart-san—you could’ve at least clued me in. Hiding your true intentions and dancing around the truth—how is that fair?

Am I really that untrustworthy, or were you planning to drag me into this only once escape was no longer an option?

I’m not just annoyed—I’m downright furious.

"So, what are Her Majesty the Queen and the Saint planning to do?"

"If there’s any change in the situation, they’ll contact us. I’ve been told how they intend to reach out."

So in short, we wait. That’s the limit of what a powerless country lord like me can do.

"Then what exactly should I be doing?"

Even without the hangover, my head’s a mess. Honestly, I am still at a loss even if the Queen and the Saint personally showed up in this rural corner of the world to discuss the nation's future.

I’m just a countryside upstart, after all.

"I want you to decide, Leon. You're the highest authority in the Bartfort domain."

Angie pressed me for a decision, but this isn’t something I can just settle on lightly. Whichever side I support, the other will see me as a traitor.

And this isn't just any conflict—we’re talking about my liege and my own father-in-law.

"Then I guess I’ll side with whoever’s going to win."

"If the royal family triumphs, you’ll be executed as kin of traitors. If the Duke’s house prevails, they won’t tolerate a disloyal relative either. No matter which side you pick, you’ll end up as an example."

"And if I just play dumb and stay out of it?"

"That's an option—if you’re willing to be condemned by the victors afterward."

"Sounds like hell."

I’ve had enough of those capital types. If they want to fight, let them do it among themselves.

Don’t drag us into it.

"What do you want to do, Angie? I’ll go along with whatever keeps you and the kids safe and happy."

"I..."

She hesitated, biting her lower lip. Of course she would.

This isn’t a simple matter of choosing a side. Once you commit, there’s no turning back.

Betray either faction midway, and both will turn on you. We’re completely cornered. Normally, when Angie urges me to decide, it means she’s already made up her mind and just wants my approval.

But if she’s leaving the choice to me this much, she must truly be unsure. I might not know much about politics, but I know Angie.

"Sorry, that was a cruel question. Are you really prepared to fight your own father and brother?"

"If I can avoid it, I don't want to."

"And the royal family—do you still hate them?"

"It’d be a lie to say I don’t resent them. But even so, raising a blade against them still gives me pause. It’s not out of loyalty—it’s about what’s best for the Bartfort domain."

So both sides come with risks. Worst case, this could drag not only our family but our entire territory into chaos.

"The Duke and Gilbert-san are awful. They’re ready to rope us in without so much as a proper explanation."

"I’m sorry, Leon, for getting you caught up in this. Did they say anything at all?"

"They just said things like, ‘Be prepared for a promotion,’ or, ‘Think about taking a second wife.’ Not a single word about this mess."

"Do you want a second wife, Leon?"

"No, I don’t. Why does your Duke’s family always assume I’m some kind of womanizer?"

I don’t have the time, money, or energy to juggle multiple wives—not that I’d even want to. To be honest, I’m not even sure I can make just one wife and some kids happy.

"Will reading these help you reach a decision?"

I asked, picking up the stack of papers she had placed on the desk.

If Angie couldn’t find an answer in them, I probably won’t either—but it’s better than ignoring them.

"They're just for reference. I doubt Her Majesty would share anything truly critical."

Why do powerful people never give us the information we actually need, yet still expect us to act on their terms? Do sincerity and respect not exist in their world? I let out a deep sigh and gently patted Angie’s head.

"I’m tired. I’ll lie down and read in the bedroom."

"Want me to join you?"

"You will?"

"That’ll have to wait until tonight."

"Aww, that’s no help."

Grumbling, I headed to the bedroom. Even though I finally made it back home, I still can’t get a moment’s rest. Managing the domain is already more than enough—don’t saddle me with this nonsense too. Royal family, Duke’s house—maybe I should just wipe them both out. Once in the bedroom, I took off my coat, loosened my collar and belt, and sank into the bed.

I flipped through the papers, but nothing really stuck. No, I understood the contents—reports, diagrams, everything. But grasping noble power dynamics, tracing funding trails, or forecasting political outcomes?

Yeah, that’s beyond me.

Honestly, compared to this, figuring out how to win a battle is easy. Just wear the enemy down, then strike with everything you’ve got when they’re weakest. Thinking like that... maybe I’ve got a bit of a nasty streak. I really don’t get what Angie sees in me.

"Ugh, I’m done. I’m too tired."

Hangover, seasickness, politics, and paperwork—it’s no wonder I’m exhausted. Might as well nap until dinner. I’ll deal with everything afterward. If even Angie can’t figure it out, there’s no way I can.

With that fed-up thought, I sprawled out across the bed and yawned.

I came all the way home, and I can’t even enjoy a decent meal, bath, or nap?

Unbelievable.

I’m definitely taking tomorrow off.With that, I drifted off to sleep.

※　※　※　※　※

I felt something soft and warm against my face and slowly opened my eyes.

I knew this sensation all too well—it was the generous chest of my beloved wife.

“You're awake?”

“Yeah. What time is it?”

“The sun’s been down for a while. Dinner’s already over.”

“You could’ve woken me.”

Sharing dinner with my family is one of the few things I genuinely enjoy.

“You looked so peaceful—I didn’t want to wake you. Besides—”

“Besides?”

“I wanted you all to myself.”

“I see.”

“Exactly. So stop groping my chest in your sleep.”

“I didn’t realize. Forgive me.”

I sat up slowly and stretched.My joints cracked and popped all over—it felt amazing.

“Have you come to a decision?”

“If it were that simple, Angie wouldn’t be agonizing over it. For now, I’m going to wait and see.”

“Until one side makes a move, there's little we can do.”

“Business as usual for now. You should take it easy, especially for the baby’s sake.”

“That’s the wisest choice.”

If I can’t take action, I might as well live as I always have.

My life’s just being dragged along by the decisions of others.

Nothing I can do—lacking power and money means lacking leverage.

“What about you—want something to eat?”

“Nah, I’ll just bathe and go to bed.”

Our bedroom has a private bath and toilet.

Honestly, when we remodeled, I thought we could hole up here with enough food to last.

But now there are annoying rumors floating around, saying we did it just so we could flirt in private.

Unbuttoning my shirt, I headed for the bath.

I tossed my clothes in the laundry basket and turned the tap.

Being able to bathe whenever I want, without needing to chop wood or monitor water temperature—it’s pure bliss.

Modern amenities really are the best.

I soaked in the tub, letting the warm water loosen my limbs as I gently massaged them. Once I felt warm and relaxed enough, I’d get out and go straight to bed. Tomorrow, I planned to take the day off and lounge around with the kids.

Just as that pleasant thought crossed my mind, the bathroom door opened.

Well, only one person would enter without knocking under these circumstances.

“Something wrong?” I asked.

“I thought I’d join you,” came Angie’s reply.

“I’m fine. Just wait for me in bed.”

She ignored my words and began undressing.

Please don’t—this is seriously testing my self-control. Dangerous. Mostly for my sanity.

She stepped into the tub, each graceful movement wearing down my resistance. Water sloshed over the edge and gurgled down the drain.

“Why are you getting in?”

“Don’t want me here? Ten days apart and you’re already bored of me?”

“Of course not. But with everything going on… I might lose control.”

“You’re a father now, Leon. Learn to restrain yourself.”

“This is practically torture.”

Despite our back-and-forth, we bathed together.

Yeah… nothing compares to being home.

Just as I was thinking that, Angie suddenly grabbed my arm.

“What’s this?”

I followed her gaze to my left arm—where she’d spotted a purplish bruise.

The mark from where Greg had grabbed me yesterday.

Damn. I’d noticed it while changing after getting back to the airship, but between the motion sickness and the political mess, it slipped my mind.

“Ah… I kind of fell in the capital.”

“You don’t get bruises like this from a fall.”

Her voice had gone cold.

“And this?” she asked, brushing a finger along my right arm.

Another bluish bruise—the one from Chris hitting me with that branch.

“I think I… bumped into something?”

“You think that excuse is going to work on me?”

Uh-oh. That’s the voice of doom.

I opened my mouth to reply, but all that came out were a few silent gulps—like a goldfish gasping for air.

“Out of the bath. Now. You’re going to tell me exactly what happened in the capital.”

“…Yes, ma’am.”

“And don’t even think of running.”

“I’m not. I wouldn’t dare.”

Why is this happening?

Angie’s chest and curves were right there, but all the excitement had vanished.

Why did I have to get into a marital dispute the night I got home?

The capital really is a magnet for disasters.

Angie sat on the bed, her gaze colder than ice.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

I told her everything that happened in the capital.

Honestly, what else could I do?

If I were clever enough to deceive Angie, I’d be a far more successful man—and I wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with.

By the time I finished, her expression had gone completely blank.

That’s when I knew it was serious.

If she yells or glares, she’s not actually that mad—it’s just a show, either for me or the kids.

But when she’s truly furious, she goes stone-cold.

A queen-in-training taught to mask her emotions, Angie only grew quieter the more enraged she became.

And now?

Now she looked ready to raze everything.

She was going to obliterate them.

Combining the pride of nobility with the cold precision of a ruler, she’d crush her enemies without hesitation.

Just like when that crooked merchant tried to scam our family—she destroyed him. Then she rallied every noble he'd conned, trampled him together with them, and handed what remained to the kingdom.

He was never seen again.

The wrath of a woman once groomed to rule a nation is truly terrifying.

“……”

Angie stepped off the bed without a word and made for the door.

“Hey—where are you going?”

“To the capital.”

Her tone was flat. She didn’t even want to speak to me.

“What for?”

“To crush the Seberg, Arclight, Field, and Marmoria families. And maybe erase the royal family while I’m at it.”

Nope. She’s completely lost it.

She’s heading to the Duke’s estate to start a war—and she won’t stop until the capital is ashes.

“Calm down, Angie! I’m fine! I wasn’t even hurt!”

“I am calm, Leon. I’m simply going to reduce a few fools to cinders.”

She said it like she was stepping out to weed the garden.

Panicking, I wrapped my arms around her in a tight hug.

She hugged me back.

There’s no way I’m letting a war break out over me. That’s not how I want to go down in history.

Her eyes were dark and hollow.

I leaned in and kissed her—a deep, breath-stealing kiss, full of desperation. Our tongues tangled. She struggled at first, but I held her close, refusing to let go.

Slowly, the light returned to her eyes. Her arms relaxed, then wrapped around me.

I lifted her in my arms and gently carried her to the bed.

“…What do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

“You were about to burn down the kingdom. I wanted to calm you down.”

“So, when I get mad, you kiss me?”

“Words won’t reach you when you’re like that.”

“Honestly…”

Her voice was exasperated, but her expression had softened. She was back to her usual self.

“This is so ridiculous, I can’t even stay angry. I’ll postpone destroying the royal family—for now.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Don’t you dare try this with any other woman.”

“It’s only for you, Angie. I swear.”

She sighed and finally seemed at ease.

Tonight, I wasn’t letting her out of my sight. We’d fall asleep wrapped up in each other—no ulterior motives. None at all.

“This reminds me of the past,” she said softly.

“The past?”

“When my engagement was annulled. I was so angry back then, I couldn’t see straight. Seems I haven’t changed much.”

She sounded a little ashamed.

“If you hadn’t messed up back then, you wouldn’t be my wife now. So I’d say it all worked out.”

“You mean the woman who nearly razed the capital?”

“If you ever go off the rails again, I’ll stop you. So please, support me too, all right?”

“What a troublesome husband. That’s exactly why I support you.”

Her smile returned, and with it, my peace of mind.

Yeah… I just want the woman I love to be happy.

If that means standing up to the royal family or the nobility—so be it.

As I looked at her, she shifted, blushing faintly.

“By the way, I never got my proper welcome-home kiss.”

“Didn’t I just kiss you?”

“That was just to restrain me. There was no affection in it.”

“Such a demanding wife.”

“You don’t like demanding women?”

“I do—especially when it’s you.”

I cupped her cheek and kissed her again, gently this time.

Now it really felt like I was home in the Bartfort domain.

Tonight, we’d just sleep like this—together.

Holding her close, I lay down beside her.

┳⁠━━━━⁠━⁠⁠━⁠━⁠━━━⁠┳

Authors Note

┻━⁠━━━━⁠━━⁠━━━⁠┻

Original - Link

The Royal Capital Arc (Leon’s Perspective) has now come to a close.

From this point onward, the main couple will begin acting together.

In line with the recent poll results, the next chapter will focus on a more flirtatious and affectionate tone. (Please note: adult content will be posted separately here:

https://syosetu.org/novel/312750/)

As this update is effectively double the length of a regular chapter—and with ongoing work on other projects as well as story restructuring—the next update will be slightly delayed. It is currently scheduled for early September. Thank you for your continued patience and understanding.

Starting from the chapter after next, the narrative will also expand to include perspectives beyond just Angie and Leon. Additionally, 

a few original characters will make their debut. I hope you’ll look forward to these developments and continue to support the story.

P.S.: The illustration for this chapter was drawn by the talented Ponnu—my sincere thanks!

Check out Ponnu’s work here: Pixiv

Your thoughts and feedback are always appreciated. They truly motivate me to keep going—thank you!