Sikar Blake put down the needle and thread he was holding, looking embarrassed, and smiled awkwardly as he spoke.

“Grandmother said sewing isn’t necessarily a virtue exclusive to women, so I was trying it out.”

Grandmother tilted her head slightly, then quietly glared at Sikar Blake.

“Now I see—back then, I thought you were asleep, but you were only pretending to sleep.”

Sikar Blake, apparently not expecting Grandmother to guess so immediately, flinched and abruptly stood up from his seat.

“Grandmother, Yura Blake and I will step outside for a bit. We need to meet someone.”

Grandmother frowned, evidently displeased with Sikar Blake’s tone.

“Yura Blake?! Is that how you address your wife? Can’t you call her properly?!”

“I’m… not used to it yet…”

“Tsk. No excuses!”

At Grandmother’s sharp reprimand, Sikar Blake flinched slightly, then bowed his head and apologized.

“I’m sorry, Grandmother.”

This was the first time I’d ever seen Grandmother scold someone like that. Perhaps because of that, her sternness felt especially intimidating.

“Didn’t I tell you repeatedly? You’re now a husband and father responsible for a household. Be more careful from now on.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Grandmother.”

“Then go ahead. By the time you return, I’ll likely be at the chapel with Kian Blake—keep that in mind.”

“Yes. Then we’ll be off.”

“We’ll be off, Grandmother.”

We stepped outside and headed toward the second floor of the Sun Hall, as Jeremi Iker had directed. The bright sun had by now been obscured by buildings, and a chilly wind blew.

“Sikar Blake. I’ll handle the talking with Jeremi Iker.”

“That sly fellow will actually listen to you?”

“I guarantee he’ll listen to me better than to you.”

“Then if he doesn’t listen to you, I’ll speak.”

“No, I’ll do all the talking—you just take his measurements.”

“You might as well tell me to stand there like a scarecrow.”

“Well said. Just stand there like a scarecrow, then.”

Sikar Blake glanced at me as if questioning whether I was serious, but said nothing more. I’ll say it again—no matter how displeased he acts, Sikar Blake always listens to me.

Jeremi Iker feigned surprise at our visit.

“Oh? Isn’t that the Duke and Duchess?”

“We came because we have a request for you, Jeremi Iker.”

“Please, speak.”

“Soon, a coming-of-age festival will be held in the small village of Lepher.”

“Ah, I’ve heard of it.”

“We’d like you to install magical streetlamps in that village.”

Until now, Jeremi Iker had been listening to me indifferently, but he suddenly smiled brightly and flung the door wide open.

Because of that, Sikar Blake muttered from behind, “Should I just kill this vulgar bastard?”—forcing me to barely restrain him and usher us into Jeremi Iker’s room.

Once inside, I first placed on the table the gem Sikar Blake had given me. Both Jeremi Iker and even Sikar Blake stared wide-eyed at the gem on the table.

Of course Jeremi Iker reacted that way upon seeing the gem, but Sikar Blake’s eyes widened because he hadn’t expected me to use what he’d given me in this manner.

Just as I thought—he frowned at me, looking utterly bewildered.

“Madam, this is what I gave you—”

“Yes. It’s exactly the gem His Grace gave me, telling me to use it for something good.”

Sikar Blake made a dumbfounded expression but didn’t say anything further, since he’d told me to use it when needed.

He merely looked somewhat displeased that I was using it for Jeremi Iker.

“If you install magical streetlamps in the village, I’ll give you this gem. What do you say?”

Jeremi Iker nodded vigorously, as if any further words would be nagging.

“Of course, Duchess. This gem is ample compensation. I’ll gladly accept it.”

Jeremi Iker immediately reached for the gem pouch, so I grabbed it too. But Jeremi Iker also gripped the pouch and wouldn’t let go.

Thus, the table became a tug-of-war, with Jeremi Iker and I each pulling the pouch from opposite sides.

Then Sikar Blake swiftly snatched the pouch, tossed it up, and caught it again.

“Listen until my wife finishes speaking, Jeremi Iker. Otherwise, I’ll grind this gem to dust. I wonder if powdered gemstone will still hold such value.”

Even for someone of the Sitar clan, grinding a gem to powder would be difficult—but to me, it sounded exactly like a threat: if you don’t properly listen to my wife, I’ll grind you to dust.

Apparently Jeremi Iker heard it the same way—he immediately stopped his ingratiating smile and straightened his posture tensely.

“My apologies for my insolence. Please speak, Duchess.”

Now we might actually have a proper conversation.

“When installing the streetlamps, we ask that you wear the uniform we’ll provide.”

“Uniform?”

“Yes, Jeremi Iker.”

“I’m a mage—I don’t wear uniforms. As you can see, Duchess, even here I’m not made to wear ceremonial robes. A uniform, though…?”

“It’s a festival day. Installing streetlamps might disrupt the festive atmosphere, so we’d like you to wear the uniform as a special exception.”

“Then couldn’t the work be done the day before the festival?”

“We need to supervise, and that’s the only time we’re available.”

Jeremi Iker looked somewhat reluctant but nodded in agreement.

“I’ll follow your instructions, Duchess.”

Perhaps because Sikar Blake threatened to grind the gem to powder, Jeremi Iker became obedient again.

“Also, could you help us take your measurements?”

“Of course, Madam.”

Sikar Blake pulled out a measuring tape, stretched it taut sideways, and said,

“First, stand still and behave.”

Jeremi Iker seemed to understand belatedly—after a few seconds, he spoke with a dazed expression.

“What? Wait—surely… surely His Grace isn’t going to take my measurements himself?”

What should I do? He seemed completely tense at the thought of Sikar Blake measuring him.

“Fine, then I’ll do it. Should my stern wife do it?”

“Th-then I won’t do this job.”

Clearly, Jeremi Iker was extremely tense at the idea of Sikar Blake taking his measurements. Was it really that unpleasant, even though it was just measuring?

Sikar Blake reflexively touched his waist, confirmed his sword wasn’t there, and stepped toward Jeremi Iker.

“There’s no backing out, Jeremi Iker.”

Each time Sikar Blake stepped forward, Jeremi Iker stepped back.

“B-but surely His Grace can’t personally place the tape against my body to take measurements.”

“What absurd thought is that? Do you think I’d bother measuring every inch of your body? You measure yourself—I’ll only measure your full height, which you can’t do alone.”

“Th-then I can measure that myself too—better I do it, Your Grace.”

Sikar Blake tossed the measuring tape abruptly toward Jeremi Iker.

“Oh? Then go ahead and measure.”

At that moment, the tape Sikar Blake carelessly threw halted right in front of Jeremi Iker.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Jeremi Iker didn’t touch the tape at all—but the tape moved as if it had a will of its own, beginning to measure Jeremi Iker’s dimensions.

Ah, right—Jeremi Iker is a mage! I knew he was a mage, but I hadn’t considered this, so it felt wondrous.

Jeremi Iker handed the tape and a paper with the recorded measurements to Sikar Blake.

“I’ve finished measuring, Your Grace.”

“Good, it was simple.”

“Then we’ll take our leave. Rest well, Jeremi Iker.”

“Um… if it’s not impolite, Duchess, may I ask where your hometown is?”

I had no prepared answer for such a question, and was momentarily troubled over how to reply—when Sikar Blake’s expression hardened.

“If you wish to preserve your flesh, keep that mouth shut.”

“I—I only meant that the Duchess’s dark eyes are beautiful…”

“I told you to shut your mouth.”

Whenever Sikar Blake confronted someone with that murderous expression, even the air seemed to freeze cold.

Because of that, I became so tense I could barely breathe.

“I—I’m sorry, Your Grace. Please forgive me.”

“Never again speak so carelessly from that mouth, Jeremi Iker.”

Sikar Blake took my hand and carefully helped me stand. He seemed to think I was startled because I was nervous.

Even as we left, Jeremi Iker kept his head bowed.

The original story described him as very playful and cheerful, but even he seemed chilled to the bone before a villain.

As we walked down the corridor, Sikar Blake didn’t let go of my hand and said,

“So now we only have to make the uniforms? Truly, it’s nothing but annoying tasks.”

Tonight too, we had to eat the meal Sikar Blake brought from the dining hall. After dinner, we began making the uniforms.

Clearly, Sikar Blake had earlier worn an expression of dread at the thought of making uniforms, calling it unbearably tedious—but now he stitched carefully, stitch by stitch, as if he’d discovered a new hobby.

In the original story, it was said Sikar Blake focused with serious concentration only when sharpening his own sword—so seeing him focused on sewing felt wondrous.

When I tried to sew, Sikar Blake snatched the fabric away with a wary look, as if to prevent me from ruining his perfect work.

“I’ll handle the sewing—you just make the epaulets.”

“Won’t it be hard to do alone?”

I said this out of genuine concern, but Sikar Blake replied as if he wanted none of such worry.

“It’s fine. If you do it, the stitches will end up crooked like a sewing machine ran over them—I’ll do it alone.”

Then he resumed sewing with full passion and dedication.

‘He’s clearly found his new hobby.’

So I made the epaulets. It wasn’t easy either, but braiding thread seemed more suited to me than sewing.

“Is it manageable?”

“Yeah. More manageable than sewing.”

“No, not that.”

“Not that? What then?”

“Is being Kian Blake’s mother manageable?”

Of course, since Kian Blake required no trouble at all, it was very manageable—not just manageable, sometimes he felt so dear he might as well be my own child, filling my heart with warmth.

“Obviously. I think there’s no child like Kian Blake anywhere in the world.”

“Then, is being my wife manageable?”

He’d thrown out the question without even glancing my way, focused only on sewing—so I gave him a look of utter disbelief.

“Why are you asking that?”

Sikar Blake smiled, looked at me, and said,

“Because being your husband is manageable.”