How the Villainous Consort Avoids His Death Ending - Chapter 92.2
As the peaceful and calm days continued, the unease settled in my mind grew stronger. I glanced at Tristan once more before turning my gaze to the distant sky and letting out a small sigh.
The problem, I realized, was that knowing too much can be a curse. The parts of the original story I had skimmed and dismissed were now surfacing in my memory in unnecessarily vivid detail.
‘This guy… he is fidgeting beside me now, but later, when the “real Grand Consort” appears, he isn’t going to say something completely different, is he?’
When there is nothing to do, the mind conjures unnecessary thoughts. While lying in bed, unable to rise and groaning in discomfort, I found my thoughts repeatedly returning to Tristan’s canonical spouse in the original Chronicles of the Sword, Valerian Oberfin von Hezekia. The fact that the formal title included “von Hezekia” added to my irritation.
By now, Tristan and I had come this far. Even if Valerian appeared, I could not simply step aside, say, “Ah, Tristan’s true destined partner. I will leave you both in happiness,” and vanish. That had originally been my goal, but life tends to change one’s objectives.
Of course, confirming Tristan’s feelings came first.
After the last incident Tristan and I had shared, we had never truly sat down to discuss our feelings or future plans, including family matters. I had been too unwell, constantly lying down or losing consciousness.
Yet some things did not need to be said aloud. Tristan clearly liked me, probably.
“Ruellin, what are you thinking about? Focusing too hard might give you a headache. Let’s walk a bit and get some fresh air. Or rather, it may be better if I carry you.”
“People will see us…”
“Who would say anything when you are so weak?”
“Embarrassment always falls to me,” I muttered, placing my hand over Tristan’s as he reached out. Being carried was slightly embarrassing, but a little support was understandable. After all, I was officially Tristan’s consort of the Hezekia line.
Yes, I was Tristan’s spouse now, not Valerian Oberfin. There was no reason to worry about the “real Grand Consort” just yet. I reminded myself of the conclusion I had reached dozens of times before and resolved to focus on the present. The events concerning the “real Grand Consort” were still ten or so years away.
Ten years is enough for the world to change. By then, Tristan and I might already have three children. If I hid the fairy cloak and had three children, Tristan would not leave. If he truly tried to chase a fated love with the “real Grand Consort”…
Then there would be no choice. I would simply knock some sense into him. A married man with three children should not be looking elsewhere.
As I reconciled these thoughts alone, the bow of the ship came into view. The salty sea breeze scattered my bangs across my forehead.
Several days passed again. The fleet continued northward over calm waters. In three days, the coastline of the Rubyere Empire would be visible, and a day or two later, we would reach Hezekia. Even the sea breeze brushing gently across my cheeks had begun to feel familiar.
“Hezekia is just ahead. The day we drop anchor is near.”
A sailor scanning the horizon whistled and spoke, drawing light laughter from crews across the deck. The voyage had always been difficult, but surviving the deadly stretch of sea made the relief and joy of returning safely all the greater.
Yet misfortune seemed always to find its opportunity.
“…The sky is strange. The weather does not look good.”
Someone muttered nervously while staring at the empty horizon. The crew’s faces showed growing concern and unease.
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