Adrian clenched his immaculate hand into a fist, crushing the ring to powder.
Crack.
Even the sensation of it crumbling felt trivial.
He had clearly disposed of the ring, and yet the unease didn’t subside.
That was the only noticeable object, and still, the strange power surrounding Ione had not disappeared.
What is this?
Thump, thump.
Her heartbeat began to rise alarmingly.
He could feel the fear radiating from the woman in his grasp, and he knew he should let go.
But his hand wouldn’t obey.
“You're late. You should get some sleep.”
“Ah, yes. It is late, isn’t it? You too, Your Grace—may you have sweet dreams.”
That wasn’t the only thing that felt off.
It was as if Ione had suddenly decided to drop the act and reveal her true nature.
The refined façade she’d clung to earlier had vanished.
She spoke casually, naturally—things she never would’ve said before.
Is that face real?
A mischievous thought crept in.
“Where am I supposed to go back to?”
“…Pardon?”
Startled, the heartbeat pounding against his palm threatened to burst through.
Thump. Thump.
A sound full of honesty and life.
“Um… I mean…”
“Where exactly should I return to?”
Thump-thump-thump
.
It wasn’t just in his hand anymore—it echoed directly in his ears.
That bright-red face…
Maybe it was time to let her off the hook for today.
Watching her look like she might cry, Adrian finally loosened his fingers and straightened up.
The woman who’d been inches from his face now sat at a safer distance.
And though she looked visibly relieved by the space, something twisted in his chest.
Adrian swallowed that feeling like he always did.
“Sleep well.”
“W-what? Oh—yes, Your Grace. You too—sweet dreams.”
The way she hurried through her goodbye, afraid he might say more, was almost laughable.
He had no desire to tease her further.
Too much tension in her eyes.
Adrian turned away, gently brushing the powdered remnants of the ring from his palm.
Behind him, a breath of relief escaped her lips.
Pitiful.
He clicked his tongue quietly and had just taken a step when—
“Ah.”
“Yes?”
“So… where exactly did you say you went?”
“…What?”
Her expression practically screamed
not again
, and he nearly burst out laughing.
Still, Adrian kept a straight face.
“The marketplace…”
“Which part of the market?”
“The… magic goods shop.”
A quick glance.
That sleep-dazed face under interrogation looked pitiful.
But this wasn’t the time to be soft.
If Penelope planned to keep pulling stunts, it was best to cut her off now.
“Your Grace?”
Adrian slowly turned toward Orgen’s voice.
“It’s understandable that you’re deliberating over the mages’ placements, but it’s time to make a final decision.”
Orgen was a seasoned adjutant.
Realizing Adrian wasn’t listening, he gave a quick, concise summary and repeated his question.
No one else in the room noticed Adrian’s wandering thoughts.
“…Position them at the front for a scan.”
“A wide-area scan, sir?”
Everyone looked puzzled.
Scanning was a magical technique to detect ambient mana.
But they already knew where the monster nests were.
In this situation, a wide-area scan would just drain the mages’ energy without yielding useful data.
“But that’s—”
“Do it.”
Adrian beckoned Orgen and handed him a map.
“Mark everything.”
“…You want me to mark the whole region?”
“Yes.”
Adrian’s piercing blue eyes gleamed as he offered a serene smile.
After meeting Adrian, Seton wore a troubled expression as he broke the news.
“Your Grace, I’ve been summoned externally and won’t be able to see you for the next month.”
The unexpected announcement left Ione momentarily stunned.
But she swallowed the rising lump in her throat and gave Seton a gentle smile.
“Please take care of yourself.”
“I’ll take responsibility for removing Penelope.”
“…Removing her?”
“Shall I not?”
Ione flinched.
Penelope had bought her a ring and even helped sneak her outside—but still, there was something off.
Penelope had never caused real trouble, but there was an undeniable unease.
Turning down Seton’s offer to handle her would be foolish.
Ione nodded in agreement.
“Then I’ll take care of it soon. Until we meet again, Your Grace.”
Seton left looking entirely satisfied with her response.
It had only been a few days since they'd met as guard and charge, yet he was already leaving.
Ione chuckled softly to herself and called for Catherine.
The one who needed to leave had left. Now, it was time for those who remained to get to work.
And within this room, there was just one thing she could do.
“Catherine, could you call the head maid for me?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Tell her I want to see the garden and greenhouse operation records.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Catherine moved quickly and soon returned with the head maid.
The maid, Helena, brought all the requested documents.
“You mentioned you’d be reviewing them, so I only brought the important ones for now. The rest can be brought later by cart…”
“No.”
A cart? That was excessive.
All Ione needed was a list of plants growing in the garden.
Asking for it in winter would’ve seemed suspicious, so she included the greenhouse records as a cover.
“There’s quite a lot here.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
In
The Monster Duke’s Wife
, the heroine revitalizes the duchy shortly after arriving.
Adrian may have been powerful, but there were limits to what one man could do.
No matter how much land was cultivated or roads built, monsters would burst forth in winter and destroy everything.
It was like building sandcastles.
People were too discouraged to make use of the duchy’s vast, fertile lands.
So Preses’ main industry became mining.
The frozen northern ground, unlike the soft southern lands, was hard-packed.
Though excavation was difficult, it came with fewer mining accidents.
But what people didn’t realize was this:
Even solid ground can collapse in an instant.
Crack
.
One poorly aimed strike of the pickaxe, and the frozen earth fractured.
The crack spread like it had been waiting for that moment, collapsing violently.
The falling earth wasn’t the soil people were used to. It was like razor-sharp shards.
Despite the presence of Adrian and the mages, a catastrophic accident occurred—total fatalities.
People reflected.
If there had been trees to grip the soil, perhaps the damage could have been lessened.
The heroine agreed deeply.
But instead of planting trees, she had to focus on comforting a grieving Adrian and reorganizing the entire duchy.
Because Adrian, devastated, had shut down most of the mines.
In other words, this was a golden opportunity just waiting to be picked up.
But…
Where are the plant lists?
Ione was flipping through the towering stack of papers when Helena cautiously spoke up.
“Your Grace, if you tell me what you're looking for, I can help you find it.”
“I want to see what species are currently planted and cultivated…”
“Ah, then it’s right here.”
Before Ione could finish, Helena pulled out a specific document.
Ione quickly skimmed through it.
She didn’t really know what she was looking for, but that didn’t matter.
If a plant mentioned in the original story appeared, she’d recognize it immediately.
But after reviewing the whole thing—nothing stood out.
Huh? What’s going on?
Frowning, she scanned the documents again and finally found something.
“Bakran?”
“Oh, that’s a root-propagating shrub.”
Is this it…?
Her memory was hazy, so Ione decided to dig deeper.
“Shrubs that propagate by root… they grow in the north?”
“Yes, it’s a northern native. You probably haven’t seen it elsewhere. It propagates easily, has strong resistance to pests, and is low-maintenance.”
“For something like that… the number listed here seems awfully low.”
Ione noted the meager quantity of Bakran shrubs recorded.
“It’s because we got rid of most of them. The remaining roots sprouted again this year.”
“Why were they removed?”
“...Because they propagate too well.”
“Hmm?”
That didn’t quite make sense.
If they thrived in the harsh northern climate, they should be perfect for local cultivation.
“They grow
too
well, so they lost popularity. Commoners might plant them along fences. Just one root, and they spread everywhere…”
Ah, so they’re
too cheap-looking
for ornamental use.
Ione nodded at Helena’s explanation.
“So it’d be easy to gather them if I asked?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
“Good. I’d like you to gather a generous supply within a few days.”
“How much would you like?”
“That depends on how quickly they grow. What’s their growth rate?”
Ione asked about Bakran in meticulous detail.
“Ah, I see. Then…”
Helena looked surprised by Ione’s final request, but after a moment, she composed herself and bowed.
“As you wish, Your Grace.”
“I’ll use the personal allowance allocated for my dignity as Duchess.”
“Your personal funds?”
“This is entirely a personal matter.”
“Understood.”
Helena couldn’t quite understand why the Duchess was willing to spend money on a wild shrub like Bakran.
But recalling Ione’s background, it started to make sense.
A root-propagating shrub?
She must find it fascinating.
What the Duchess didn’t realize was this:
Bakran was a polar plant.
Unlike others, it died in warmer climates.
It was a shrub made for the north.
Too small and spindly to be used as timber.
And in the dense conifer forests, it was unsuitable as an ornamental plant.
That, more than anything, was why Bakran had been all but purged from noble gardens in the duchy—
Despite all its strengths.