ERC Ch 2

[Lirian’s Midnight Escape Plan – D-39]

“Does that taste good?”

Lirian asked with a sullen look on her face. Carlyle winced at the sweetness lingering in his mouth.

He hated strong flavors—including anything sweet.

“Not at all. It’s awful.”

To him, strong tastes felt like pain on his tongue.

Honestly, he thought water was the most delicious thing in the world.

Still, even while thinking that, he forced himself to chew and swallow the chocolate.

“Then don’t eat it. You make me feel guilty every time I have sweets,” Lirian huffed.

“No. What if there’s something in it? I’m not letting you eat it alone.”

“They already inspect everything thoroughly from the moment it’s made. You used to eat random weeds off the ground—why are you so picky now?”

Back when they had nothing to eat, they’d both nibbled on any plant they could find, nearly ending up in heaven together.

But Lirian spoke now as if she’d completely forgotten those days.

“How are you going to survive being this paranoid all the time? Are you going to be like this with our kids too?”

“No. Why would I?”

“…Then why are you like this with me?”

Lirian looked at him with a puzzled expression.

“How can a wife and a child be the same? You only get one wife, but you can have several children.”

“If you say it like that, you could have more than one wife too. A bunch of my maids have remarried after losing their husbands. I’m sure some of your Winter Knights are the same.”

Lirian replied with a distinctly unimpressed look.

In the harsh North, death was never far away, so compared to the conservative capital, remarriage was much more common and accepted.

Even among the upper class—those considered the elites—it wasn’t rare to lose a spouse and marry again.

“Still, you’re my only one, Liri.”

Carlyle couldn’t even imagine another woman being his wife.

Ever since he had developed any concept of romantic feelings, Lirian had been the wife to him.

It was as natural and unquestionable as saying people breathe air.

“I just can’t picture anyone else but you.”

He said it in his usual calm, matter-of-fact tone, then handed Lirian the piece of chocolate.

With a sigh, she opened her mouth.

“That’s just because you’ve looked at me for too long.”

“Probably. But that’s not a bad thing, is it? Why would I need to think about anyone else when I already have you?”

Now in their twelfth year of marriage, Carlyle had no reason to change the happiness he had once only dreamed about as a child.

He now had the power to enjoy a life of abundance, and beside him was the family to share it with.

If there was one more thing he could wish for, it was just to have a bigger family.

Up until last year, the two of them had barely been sane, trying to recover from the chaos of war with the monsters.

And Lirian had firmly insisted she wouldn’t even consider having a child until things were truly stable—so firmly, in fact, they hadn’t even spent their wedding night together.

But now… maybe things were okay.

He wanted a child who looked like Lirian.

If it weren’t for the fact that Carlyle absolutely obeyed Lirian’s every word, there would’ve been several incidents by now.

But instead of crossing into Lirian’s room on sleepless nights, he would take his frustrations out by smashing things in the training yard.

If it wasn’t Lirian’s will, then it simply wasn’t meant to be.

Lirian was always right.

Still, he wanted a child.

No—truthfully, he wasn’t even sure if it was really about having a child.

He just didn’t want to sleep alone every night.

When he was young, during the harsh winters, Lirian would always wrap him up tightly at night and fall asleep beside him.
But once they began living in a real house, Carlyle had to start sleeping alone—and he spent nearly every night for months in tears.

When he was still small, Lirian would sometimes give in if he pleaded with tears.
But after he grew taller, that no longer worked at all.

At one point, he had even skipped meals on purpose so he wouldn’t grow taller, trying to stay small—until Lirian caught him and absolutely blew up.

“It’s just… we’ve been together for so long since we were kids that we’re used to each other. One day, someone might show up who stirs a real romantic feeling in you. You’re still in your prime, Carl.”

“Liri, we’re only three years apart.”

“Still.”

“I can’t betray you.”

Carlyle didn’t love Lirian—because Lirian had said so.

She told him that what they had was deep affection built from all the hardships they endured together. And as always, Carlyle believed her. Because she was always right.

Lirian described romantic love with such wistful idealism.

She said it was the kind of thing that could turn someone who couldn’t even kill an ant… into a murderer.

That maybe one day, he’d experience that kind of love too.

Carlyle once said he could become a killer for Lirian.

But she firmly told him that wasn’t the same kind of feeling.

He didn’t understand the difference at all—but since Lirian said it was different, then it must be.

“I could never throw away the twelve years we’ve built together just for something called ‘love.’”

“Well, you never know. Love—”

“—drives people insane?”

Carlyle cut her off with a phrase he’d long since memorized—Lirian’s go-to line.

She tapped the plate stacked with chocolates with a mischievous look on her face.

Despite grimacing, Carlyle bit into another piece of chocolate.

“Just trust me a little, Liri. Even if I do go crazy… I’d never betray you.”

Lirian opened her mouth as if she had something to say— But in the end, she said nothing and just sighed.

Carlyle knew she’d been sighing a lot more than usual this year.

He gently placed half a piece of chocolate into her mouth and lightly brushed her lips with his fingertip.

“So let’s not talk about stuff that doesn’t make sense. Let’s talk about something else, Liri. You heard, right? My brother and his wife are expecting again. Maybe we could—”

“—We’ve got work to do. Hurry back and get it done.”

With a movement as smooth as water, Lirian slipped free from Carlyle’s hand and quickly stood up.

Carlyle sighed but didn’t argue.

Obeying Lirian was second nature to him.

“Alright. I’ll see you at dinner. If there’s anything else you want to eat, just pull the cord.”

As he leaned in to kiss her cheek, he failed to notice it—the hollow expression of someone facing a problem far beyond any hope of resolution.

⛧ · · ─────── ·☽◯☾· ─────── · · ⛧

[Lirian’s Midnight Escape D-38]

‘There’s no reason to leave him. Seriously.’

Up until last year, when they were still dancing on the edge of death every other day, she couldn’t even consider it.

There hadn’t been time to think about how to part ways before the female protagonist, Yuria, arrived.

She hadn’t expected Carlyle to grow into such a devoted husband in the first place.

But she had to leave him.

Because if she didn’t, her devoted husband wouldn’t so much as glance at another woman, and there would be no chance of Carlyle and Yuria ending up together.

Then Yuria would die.

And so would she.

The truth was, Carlyle and Yuria falling in love wasn’t a coincidence. It was a carefully orchestrated encounter.

And if the villain—the so-called “hidden boss” of this damn novel—ever found out the reason that encounter failed…

A chill ran down her spine.

No. Don’t think about it. That’s not going to happen.

Stay positive.

No matter how their first meeting goes, Carlyle falls in love with Yuria in the original story. He will this time too. They’ll be happy.

She’d be able to save Yuria’s life, her own, and Carlyle’s love all in one go.

The problem was… for them to fall in love, she had to disappear first.

Lirian chewed at her fingernails and paced in frantic circles around the room.

What do I do? How do you leave a man you’ve lived with for twelve years without ending up as the villainous wife who cruelly abandoned her husband?

Wait, can I even leave?

Carlyle was endlessly faithful to her.

There wasn’t even a speck of “breakup” in his vocabulary.

Of course not! Who do you think raised him?
I raised that boy to be sweet and loyal! Of course he treats his wife well! Damn it…

What do I do, what do I do. Yuria’s arriving in the summer, and it’s already spring. What do I do.
It’s still freezing, but technically spring!

“…Should I tell Sir Fabian to come another day?”

Cynthia asked in a reluctant voice as she watched Lirian nearly rip her hair out in panic.

Lirian groaned but shook her head.

Cynthia stepped out and quietly informed the grey-haired knight standing outside the door that Lirian was in no shape to receive visitors.

Those who stayed close to Lirian had long since grown accustomed to her inexplicable behavior.

“Your Grace.”

The knight with a long scar running beneath his chin knelt and pressed his lips to the ring on Lirian’s fourth finger.

The ring, thick and clunky enough to cover half her knuckle, was forged from neither gold nor silver but plain iron. The diamond set in its center was split in a distinctive cross pattern.

It was the insignia of the Northern Archduke, bestowed by the Emperor himself.

A symbol proving the identity of the Empire’s sole archduke—once the only possession of an abandoned bastard child.
Only now, it no longer adorned Carlyle’s finger, but Lirian’s.

The ring had originally been crafted by those who were certain Carlyle would die in the North. At the time, it fit snugly on the hand of a nine-year-old boy.

When Carlyle grew too big for the ring to slip past his knuckle, he handed it to Lirian.

That had been seven years ago.

The tale of a boy chased out with empty hands, and the girl who remained by his side, had spread like folklore across the North.

The people who had watched over them from the beginning felt deep sympathy for the pain the young couple had endured, and now they celebrated the glory they had achieved.

This land was not something tossed to a bastard child by the Emperor anymore.

It was the land ruled by the sovereign of the frozen frontier.

The true ruler of the North was not the distant Emperor in the capital, but the master of Winter Keep.

When she was fifteen, Lirian had led a band of refugees over two mountains in a single night with an arrow lodged deep in her shoulder.

Back then, when Carlyle fought off monsters to buy time for the refugees to escape, he was only twelve years old.

The North owed both Carlyle and Lirian a great debt.

Fabian, the grey-haired knight, knew this better than anyone.

The mercenary who had fled, leaving a twelve-year-old boy to cover their retreat, was consumed with guilt. He returned two days later, intending to retrieve at least the boy’s corpse out of shallow pity—but what he found instead was the boy, still standing, blood-soaked and defiant.

Without hesitation, Fabian had carried the boy on his back and run to find Lirian.

The boy, whose breath came in ragged, blood-choked gasps, looked ready to die at any moment—but he never once closed his eyes.

Not until a girl, pale as death and staggering forward from the crowd of refugees, collapsed into him with a sob.

The girl, her hands red and blistered from frostbite, stroked the boy’s blood-crusted back.

She smiled with cheeks sunken from hunger.

She cried with eyes that had gone black, like a corpse’s.

“See? We made it back. We’re going to win in the end.”

Cradling a boy who looked moments from death, that fifteen-year-old girl had spoken of hope.

“We’re going to survive…”

And people believed her.

Fabian had pledged his loyalty to that small girl on that very day.

And in the end, she had been right.

Just as she said, they had won. The brutal winter of the North had finally come to an end.

The monsters had been pushed back beyond the forest walls of winter, and the barren land had gained a sovereign at last.

The ring, once forged in ridicule and slipped onto the finger of a bastard child, had at last fulfilled its intended role after many long years.

Fabian offered a faint smile toward his naïve liege, who still believed that his loyalty stemmed solely from the duty of a salaried knight.

Lirian, about to scold him for the excessive formality, merely pouted instead at the sight of Fabian’s gentle expression.

“Did the food distribution go smoothly?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“There weren’t any shortages, right? I tried to be thorough with the calculations. What about the newly settled migrants—are they doing okay?”

“They’ve settled in a warmer area, so many have already begun farming. Everything is going well.”

“That’s a relief…”

Although the war with the monsters was over, the North still suffered from food shortages.

While Carlyle and his knights were working tirelessly to maintain order, Lirian had been the one keeping the North fed.

She’d sold monster by-products to purchase food and distributed it across the villages.

All those sleepless nights crunching numbers had paid off, and she felt a quiet satisfaction.

Yuria must be good at math too, coming from the 21st century. It’s supposed to be her role anyway.

“I’m planning to send another round of supplies during summer. Can you compile a report for each village—security status, food reserves, all that?”

“Of course, but… may I ask why Your Grace won’t be doing it yourself?”

Normally, Lirian oversaw everything herself, holding meetings and consolidating multiple reports into a draft for the next round of distributions.

She glanced at the stoic knight beside her and replied nonchalantly, as if it were nothing.

“I might not be here this summer. It’s better to have someone else prepared to handle it.”

“Are you planning another visit to Count Batzwick’s estate like last year?”

The Count, whose family had suffered political fallout due to his young daughter’s impulsive actions, had only recently mended ties with Lirian and Carlyle after the latter secured his authority in the North.

Last year, the couple had managed a brief visit to the Batzwick territory.

“No, it’s more like… hmm. What if someone else becomes the Grand Duchess instead of me—”