Taming The Villainesses-Chapter 370: Peeling Off the Wrapping (4)

When I said “Ayra,” when I called her name, she corrected me to “Lady Ayra.” To add an honorific after being addressed by name in front of others—what a telling move.

“Lady Ayra.”

“That’s right.”

Slightly embarrassed, I flushed red.

If my face weren’t covered in bandages, it probably would’ve looked like a bright red tomato. Maybe everyone had already picked up on it.

Though no one said anything, the awkwardness instantly filled the tent. Everyone was too busy reading the room to know how to respond.

Still, it was an informative exchange. I’d just confirmed that Ayra had no desire to close the distance between us. To me, she was “Lady Ayra.” To her, I was still “Teo-ya.”

Truthfully, I’d been hoping for more.

We were legally married now, after all. And we’d shared so many honest, heartfelt conversations through everything we’d been through together.

I wasn’t expecting her to call me something embarrassing like “darling” or “honey,” but I thought maybe—just maybe—she’d act a little more familiar.

But Ayra had drawn a firm line.

She said,

“Sit down. We were in the middle of a serious discussion. Depending on how things go, I might need both of your insight. Erganes is the field commander, and you’re the court mage.”

Court mage, huh.

Right—formally, I did hold that title.

Some people had complained I was just a parachute appointee. But now, no one questioned my post.

Because I’d proven my strength.

Even if there’d been a bit of luck involved, I was still someone who’d defeated Ayra. No one had any room to question my qualifications now.

Shfft.

I pulled out a chair and sat down, glancing around.

Inside Ayra’s command tent, about ten people were seated around a large round table. They were clearly military experts, each with deep knowledge of strategy and war.

Though most were unfamiliar to me, I recognized one face. Over in the far left corner sat a blonde woman, arms crossed, face full of irritation.

“Erganes.”

“Aslan.”

The two women—clearly cut from the same cloth—locked eyes briefly. There was a visible spark, like static snapping between them. And it wasn’t just my imagination.

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I didn’t know the details, but I could guess that there was some unresolved tension between them.

This time, it was Elga who broke the ice.

“So, what were you all discussing?”

To that, Aslan—reportedly called the “Knight Princess” of the western city Orléans—snorted.

“Can’t you tell by looking? We were discussing tomorrow’s assault on Gargarta. Just one glance at the unit placements on the map should be enough to clue you in.”

Aslan had a rather abrasive personality. Was she like this the last time we met? I remembered her as a model knight—righteous and noble, always standing for justice.

“Maybe you’ve gotten dull after spending time in the capital or Ark instead of on the front lines, Erganes.”

Perhaps she saw Elga as a rival.

Of course, Elga responded coolly.

“With such a ridiculous deployment, I didn’t think it could possibly be about an actual assault. What’s with all these cavalry units? Looks like a charge-only strategy someone brainless drew up.”

“D-Don’t you mock cavalry!”

“I’m not mocking them. I’m saying—will they even be effective in terrain like this, full of trees and vines? ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) If it were me, I’d place adventurers familiar with the landscape up front as scouts, then...”

Slide, slide.

Elga reached out and moved the markers across the map like it was a game of chess. She seemed to be enjoying herself.

I guess the smell of a real battlefield had stirred something in her. The group spent a good while debating various formations and tactics.

Of course, as someone completely clueless about military matters, I just sat there blinking like a schoolkid on a field trip, quietly watching the conversation unfold.

Then someone addressed me.

“What do you think, Sir Teo? As court mage, we’d like to hear your opinion.”

I didn’t even know who was speaking. But it could’ve been anyone—after all, a court mage was both a royal advisor and, in wartime, a walking tactical weapon.

But since I hadn’t followed the earlier conversation, all I could do was mumble, “Um...” under my breath. Aslan picked up the thread and spoke.

“You’re impressive, aren’t you. I mean, you defeated the queen, didn’t you? And you’re Solomon’s grandson, right? Then surely you’ve got at least one spell to break through Gargarta’s gate.”

“That’s...”

Before I could respond, Elga cut in.

“Sure, he could blow up a castle gate. But not right now. Teo’s in no condition for that. Firing an unmaintained cannon only leads to disaster, you know?”

“Erganes, you’re not usually this soft. Just push through it with grit and guts! This is wartime—we’re at war. What do you think the tax breaks for archmages are for...?”

Their voices began to rise.

This was typical when big-name people gathered.

They were all used to being the protagonist of their own lives, full of self-assuredness that their view was the right one.

Clap.

Then Ayra clapped her hands.

“We’ll recess for an hour.”

***

Everyone filed out of the tent. Once all the noise was gone, the place felt like an entirely different world—quiet, almost eerily so.

Crackle, crackle.

It had grown so quiet that I could hear the campfire. I hadn’t even realized there was a fire inside the tent.

Along with the fire, the nearby cot made it clear that this command tent also served as Ayra’s sleeping quarters.

“......”

“......”

Ayra and I didn’t speak. She wasn’t the chatty type, so silent lulls were nothing new—but today, something about it felt especially strange.

Awkward might be the word.

It felt like I should say something—anything.

Maybe this was what arranged marriage introductions felt like? I wouldn’t know. I’d never been to one.

In any case, a seon meeting was when a man and woman meet with the intention of marriage—talk, eat together, feel each other out. But Ayra and I had skipped all that. We were already legally married.

And yet.

It didn’t really feel like we were.

So I let my uneasy gaze drift, eventually settling on Ayra. Her outfit—light armor over her usual attire—was quite different from what she normally wore. Atop her head sat the crown I once held in my hands.

Then Ayra spoke.

“I’m going to remove my armor. Help me.”

It was neither commanding nor submissive, neither cold nor warm—just a perfectly even tone. So perfectly balanced it was almost impressive.

I approached her and undid the knots at her waist, loosened the pauldrons on her shoulders. It was heavier than I expected.

Suddenly—

The fact that we were alone in this tent, and I was helping undress Ayra, gave rise to a strange, tingling feeling. Was this how grooms felt when they lifted the bridal headpiece on their wedding night?

Of course, I was only removing the armor that lay over her clothes. I carefully hung it on the wall, then awkwardly stepped back.

Ayra said,

“Sit wherever you like.”

Something about her words gave me courage. I opened my lips to speak.

“Um. I heard that I’m now legally married to Lady Ayra. We haven’t had a wedding ceremony, but I was told the paperwork is official.”

“That’s right.”

Flip.

Ayra turned a page in the book before her. I peeked—it looked like a map of the surrounding terrain, detailed and colorful.

Staring at the map, I asked again.

“Then, does that mean Lady Ayra and I... are now family?”

“For now.”

She replied calmly, without a hint of hesitation. A human would normally show at least a flicker of emotion in such moments—but she was utterly still.

To Ayra, becoming my wife was apparently as routine as eating breakfast in the morning, or lunch at noon.

It felt so characteristically her—and yet it also left me with a strange feeling.

So I thought: of course you can’t become a real family overnight just because the paperwork says so. I was trying to reason it out when—

Suddenly.

A different thought struck me like lightning.

Was this really enough for me?

Had I gone through all that suffering, risked my life, accepted the help of so many ladies—just for some fake, showcase of a marriage? No. That wasn’t it.

So I slowly stood from my chair and approached Ayra.

Strangely, it was more nerve-wracking than when I joined the tournament hoping to win.

“......”

Ayra sat still, gazing down at her map as if she didn’t care what I was doing.

I asked,

“Lady Ayra, may I touch your lips?”

“...Why?”

Why?

“Well, we’re family. And if we’re family, we can at least touch lips. I mean, couples do more than that...”

Even as I said it, I knew I was rambling. My mind felt tangled, like I had a cramp in my brain. How could I explain this?

A childhood memory would probably do the trick.

One Christmas morning, when I was just a kid—

I woke up to find an enormous present by my bedside. I was stunned. A surprisingly generous sponsor had gifted the boys with a popular build-it-yourself robot.

I couldn’t believe the gift was really for me.

It felt like some kind of prank. I was terrified that the moment I unwrapped it, someone would jump out and say, “Actually, this isn’t yours. Yours is this box of crayons,” and take it away.

So I couldn’t bring myself to open it for days.

Right now—I was exactly like that.

Ayra, known as the most beautiful woman in all of Angmar, had become my wife.

It didn’t feel real. I kept expecting someone to jump out and say, “Ta-da! This was all a play,” and start clearing the props and stage.

Then Elga, Mirna-Narmee, Stella—everyone—would smile and say, “Thanks for your hard work,” and go home, leaving only me behind on stage.

It was far easier to imagine being left alone in a quiet, empty reality than to imagine myself joyfully clutching my gift with a smile.

“......”

With those thoughts in my head, my hand, which had been reaching for Ayra’s lips, froze in midair.

If she disappeared like a soap bubble the moment I touched her—if that might happen—then I’d rather leave the wrapping untouched.

Shfft. Just then, Ayra met my gaze.

She closed the map she’d been reading and looked at me directly, fully focused.

“Now I understand. Teo, you’re just a child.”

“...With all due respect, I’m older than Your Majesty.”

“That’s not what I mean. You’re a child who, even after receiving a huge gift, is afraid to open it—scared that what’s inside might be a disappointing lie.”

“......”

“Rather than be disappointed by what’s inside, you choose to stand alone, imagining what could be. Because that feels safer to you.”

Shfft.

Ayra’s fingers touched my hand.

“But until you open it and see for yourself, you haven’t really received it. See with your own eyes what it looks like—how soft and warm it is.”

Finally, guided by Ayra’s hand, my fingertips touched her lips.

“How is it? What’s it like, unwrapping the package?”

It was softer and warmer than I ever imagined.

“...It feels unreal.”