Woke Up And I'm A Married Woman (17 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 16

“Diana is coming to visit?”

What could that girl possibly want to say to me?

“She’ll probably try to take me to her house by any means necessary. If she intends to kill me, it has to be somewhere she can easily destroy the evidence herself.”

Or perhaps she’ll bring poison with her the moment she arrives.

If I die at Cedar’s house, she’ll have a solid alibi—she must have calculated that.

“Either way, she’ll try to kill me.”

I’ll remember Diana’s face forever, the one that mocked me as I lay dying.

And as long as I remember that face, the day I understand her feelings will never come.

“I don’t want to see her because I don’t want my heart to soften. Even if she comes, I’ll send her away and won’t open the door.”

Cedar’s eyes narrowed. As if trying to probe my thoughts, he asked again.

“Don’t you want to at least hear what her reasons might be?”

“Whatever her reasons, she’s already crossed the line. I don’t want to hear them. I’m not even curious.”

Besides, there probably aren’t any real reasons to begin with.

‘She outright said she’s after my inheritance.’

My firm reply seemed to pique Cedar’s interest instead.

The man who normally just nodded vaguely was unusually persistent today, pressing on about Diana.

“Still, she’s your family. Can you really cut ties so easily?”

“Let’s cut them, then. Otherwise, my life might be the one cut short.”

“You’re more shrewd than I thought.”

What does he take me for, exactly?

I wanted to retort that I’m not stupid enough to be fooled by my little sister, but since it’s true I nearly died once already, I just kept my mouth shut.

[This is the timeline separator]

After walking silently for a while, we arrived at the garden beside the main gate.

“So this is the garden. I expected it, but it’s still bleak!”

The gardener came once a week, so the garden was tidy—no weeds sprouting anywhere, and the trees neatly trimmed.

But that was all. Not a single flower was planted, and there was no sign of any effort or arrangement to cultivate the garden.

‘Exactly! With that man’s personality, he wouldn’t care about a garden at all. He probably just left it as it was because it existed.’

The Empire has several peculiar laws, one of them being the Garden Maintenance Act.

If you neglect to mow the grass in your garden, your neighbors can report you—and the fine is quite steep.

Even if it’s your own home garden, the law obliges the owner to keep it clean and well-maintained.

Thus, Cedar hiring a gardener to cut the grass once a week was merely fulfilling his legal duty.

‘Not a trace of affection—perfect, perfect.’

It’s far better than if the garden were filled with plants the owner actually cared about, which would have made negotiating with him more difficult.

As I happily grinned at the barren garden, a wrinkle formed on Cedar’s forehead.

“Why are you smiling so broadly?”

“The less this garden means to you, the more freely I can use it as I please.”

“You’re surprisingly sharp.”

He’s been using the phrase “surprisingly” repeatedly since earlier—if it keeps up, I might start questioning whether he has any eye for people at all.

I beamed sweetly and politely asked him,

“May I decorate this garden however I like, husband?”

I called him “husband” to gently remind him that he’s the master of this house and I require his permission, but Cedar’s face twisted into an even deeper frown than before.

Cedar grimaced and grumbled,

“I told you to drop that ridiculous title. Just call me Cedar.”

“But it’s embarrassing!”

“Why is your definition of embarrassment so strange?”

“Feelings are subjective—don’t force it.”

After all, some people feel shy just calling someone by their name, right? And more importantly, the exact form of address between us isn’t what matters.

I tugged at his sleeve and urged him,

“Just give me an answer already. Can I tend to the garden? Though I can’t promise it’ll be beautiful—some of the herbs I grow as a mage scream on their own or eat insects.”

As I spoke, a thought struck me.

Wouldn’t growing something like mandrake in a regular household get me reported? No, surely not…

‘And some poisonous herbs I might grow are probably prohibited for home cultivation.’

There’s a saying in this world: if you don’t get caught, it’s fine!

As long as I don’t get caught growing poisonous herbs or anything else, it shouldn’t be a problem.

It’s not like I’m growing them to kill anyone—I just want to make useful magical medicines for daily life.

‘But if someone makes an issue of it, then it becomes a problem, doesn’t it?’

And the first gatekeeper stood right before me. Cedar stood with his arms crossed, deep in thought about something.

He looked as if he were weighing whether my cultivation plans were legally acceptable, making my heart pound nervously.

‘It’s nothing. It can’t be. Don’t suspect me.’

I put on the most harmless expression I could muster.

It’s the typical look mages wear just before causing trouble—fellow mages instinctively grow wary when seeing this expression, but Cedar had no way of knowing that.

After a long silence lost in thought, Cedar tilted his head slightly.

I expected him to ask what herbs I planned to grow, but the question that slipped from his lips was utterly unexpected.

“Can’t you make a potion that lets you live a long time?”

“Huh?”

A longevity potion?

‘Swordmasters usually live up to 200 years.’

So just how long does the man before me want to live that he’s asking for a longevity potion? Is he aiming for immortality?

‘And swordmasters barely age anyway.’

Unable to understand why he’d want such a thing, I tilted my head in confusion too.

When our eyes met, Cedar’s face flushed red. He turned away and answered curtly,

“…You’re right. I have no interest in gardens anyway—do as you please. Gardening tools should be in that shed over there. If you need saplings, seeds, or anything else, just tell Hyle, and he’ll get them for you. Also, tell the gardener not to come anymore.”

Though the process had been odd, in the end, I got the answer I wanted. I beamed.

“Wow, thank you!”

Instead of replying, Cedar waved his hand and walked toward the mansion.

[This is the timeline separator]

A girl with golden, curly hair looked up at him, tightly clenching her small fist as she spoke.

[Hurry up and answer already. Can I tend to the garden?]

She tried to glare, pressing her plump lips together firmly—but it didn’t convey any intimidation at all.

Her light green eyes resembled fresh buds sprouting on trees in early spring.

The slender line from her delicate neck—narrow enough to fit in one hand—to her narrow shoulders was fragile yet graceful.

Cedar frowned.

‘Honestly, she irritates me.’

He’d never imagined having a wife. But it was clear he’d never even vaguely pictured a wife like the woman standing before him.

Even if he expanded the definition beyond “wife” to “friend” or “acquaintance,” someone like Nelly had never existed in Cedar’s circle.

Small, fragile—and yet convinced she was strong.

[Mages usually have short lifespans.]

She seems timid, yet she blurts out things like this with surprising ease.

Cedar bit his lower lip. He couldn’t explain it, but whenever she spoke about her own lifespan, a sudden wave of displeasure filled his heart.

The same happened whenever she talked about her family.

‘She’s incredibly annoying in every little way.’

His unusual habit of caring about someone else’s meals must be because of her oddness. Apart from mealtimes, she truly never stepped down from the second floor.

Even when Cedar stayed overnight at the mansion, she never came down to talk, not even once.

As if she had absolutely no interest in Cedar Grenit.

Now he was even confused about what he truly wanted.

He’d thought it best if she just stayed quiet—but now her indifference left him oddly disappointed.

Listening for footsteps between the first and second floors after returning home had become part of his daily routine.

Caring for a woman who seemed likely to skip meals if left alone now felt perfectly natural.

And now the garden too?

‘I don’t like the idea of her range of activity expanding.’

Could those slender arms even handle garden work? She probably couldn’t even lift pruning shears or a shovel.

Nelly’s green eyes sparkled with confident assurance that she absolutely could. Cedar swallowed a bitter smile inwardly.

‘All talk. She doesn’t even know what dreams she has every night.’

Even now, Cedar occasionally visited Nelly’s bedroom at night, just as he had when she’d fallen into a catatonic state before.

Back then, it had been because he simply didn’t want to be alone on certain nights and felt like talking to someone—anyone. Now, it was solely for her sake.

Nelly sometimes screamed or cried in her sleep, mostly about her younger sister.

[Diana.] [It’s not fair. Why do you want to kill me? I genuinely loved you.]

But whenever Cedar tightly held her hand, her breathing would calm as if the nightmare had vanished.

At first, Cedar had felt awkward sneaking into a sleeping woman’s room, but now he listened intently, ears perked, just for her.

‘Eliminating the source of her nightmares would probably be easier.’

Wouldn’t killing Diana Periway or exiling her to another country soothe Nelly’s heart more effectively than comforting her every night like this?

His earlier, almost petulant probing about Diana had been precisely in that context.

He’d wanted to understand what Nelly truly felt toward Diana.