On Rational Marital Life - Chapter 13

The dining table was laden with food, a feast fit for a banquet. Blake always preferred substantial meals, finding it irritating when people picked at their food.

After filling his stomach, he glanced up to see Jerry, his mouth glistening with grease, sitting with a satisfied expression. Unlike the previous day, Jerry hadn’t overindulged.

“Eat more,” Blake said.

“I’m full,” Jerry replied.

Blake watched him, chewing on a mouthful of meat. He had retrieved Jerry the day before, knowing exactly where to find him. When the chimney sweep tried to demand a higher price for the boy, Blake had calmly handled the situation. Despite witnessing the man’s fear, Jerry had followed Blake without hesitation.

Most children were intimidated by Blake’s imposing stature, but Jerry sat across from him, calmly eating. It was clear the boy was different.

“If you have something to say, go ahead,” Blake prompted, noticing Jerry’s quiet gaze.

“Why did you adopt me?” Jerry asked.

“You’re too calm for a kid,” Blake observed.

“That’s why people say I’m creepy,” Jerry mumbled, lowering his gaze. It was a reminder that a child’s innocence often depended on a loving environment—one Jerry had never experienced. When survival became the priority, playfulness was a luxury.

In his previous life, after his divorce, Blake had tried to find Jerry. One of the reasons he returned to Greymers was to see him. After Jerry’s father, Clack, died protecting Blake, he had provided the family with financial support, ensuring they had enough to live comfortably.

Busy with war and negotiations, Blake hadn’t been able to check on them for some time. By the time he did, the mother and child had vanished. Neighbors mentioned that the woman had left after sending the boy away.

Blake eventually discovered that Jerry had been sold to Greymers, where he was working as a chimney sweep, malnourished and overworked. He took Jerry to his mansion, considering it an act of kindness. But to his surprise, the boy later stabbed him—a clean strike to a vital point.

Recalling the incident, Blake felt a warmth in the spot where the knife would pierce him in the future. He wiped his lips and rinsed his mouth with wine.

“Your father was Clack,” Blake said.

“I know. My name is Jerry Clack,” the boy replied with a hint of pride.

“Clack was my father’s friend… and he died protecting me.”

“Yeah, Mom told me.”

The memory of Clack’s sacrifice was still vivid, even though it had happened years ago. Blake continued, “I gave your mother enough money—a home and funds to support you until you grew up. I thought you’d live well.”

He hadn’t expected that the son of his benefactor would end up sold like a slave.

“Damn that woman,” Blake muttered.

At that moment, Blake’s eyes met Jerry’s. He scoffed.

“No matter if she’s your mother, abandoning your child is something worth condemning.”

“You insulting my mom doesn’t bother me.”

There was a shift in Jerry’s gaze. Even after being sold, did he still have affection for his mother? Blake couldn’t understand it, but he continued speaking.

Why had this boy killed him? Oddly enough, he didn’t feel angry about it.

“Do you think Clack—your father—died because of me?”

Since Clack had died protecting him, it wouldn’t be surprising if Jerry blamed him for it. But before Jerry could answer, Blake spoke again.

“You’re right. He died because of me. He protected me and lost his life in the process.”

“So… is that why you adopted me?”

“That’s part of it. You also seem sharp enough to be a potential heir.”

Jerry didn’t believe Blake’s indifferent words. He had been through too much at a young age to trust in fairy-tale kindness without expecting something in return.

“You’re married now, so you’ll have a child eventually… Do you need someone to protect them?”

Despite his age, his eyes were sharp and perceptive. Clack had been loyal but frustratingly straightforward at times, so this cleverness must have come from his mother’s side.

“Stop overthinking and just accept it. There’s no hidden agenda. I’m not going to demand repayment later. I just want to return the favor.”

“…That favor is something my mom ran away with.”

“Your mom was a fool. She could’ve raised you properly while taking more from me, but she didn’t know how to play her cards. She sold off the goose that laid golden eggs.”

Jerry’s lips pouted slightly.

“It’s a goose, not a chicken. And raising a child alone is hard for a woman.”

“That’s not something you need to understand or justify.”

Being intelligent, Jerry accepted that statement without further argument. After a brief pause, he bowed his head slightly.

“Either way… thank you, Master.”

“Call me Blake. I’m not your master, but I’m not ready to be called ‘Father’ either.”

“…Then what should I call your wife?”

“Layla? Ah… Ask her yourself later. If you need anything, come to me, Whaler—the man you saw yesterday—or the guy with the monocle.”

Blake had never officially declared his bloodline, so the royal family had no authority to interfere in his choice of successor. He didn’t care what happened to his wealth after his death, but there was one thing he was certain of—he wouldn’t let it fall into the hands of either Layla or the royal family.

After finishing his meal with Jerry, Blake summoned his subordinates.

Since the Awyllan Sea, surrounded by various nations, was his base of operations, he had only brought a few men with him on this diplomatic mission. He had initially planned to stay in Strover for two years before divorcing and establishing himself there properly, which was why he hadn’t thought it necessary to bring too many people to Greymers.

But now, the king had broken their agreement.

Blake smirked savagely as he thought of the King of Strover.

“Our boss got married just the other day and already has a kid? That’s some talent!”

That was Surrak, a man who conveniently used being a foreigner as an excuse whenever things weren’t in his favor.

“Did we get a job request, Boss?”

That was Adrian, a former priest who became a mercenary out of sheer hunger.

“Who’s the target? Seeing you this amused, must be someone high-ranking.”

That was Carson, a skilled warrior always looking for a chance to take Blake’s position.

Finally, Whaler entered the room late, looking exhausted.

Blake scanned the four men with an easygoing but sharp gaze.

In his past life, when Blake left for Strover, his subordinates had stayed behind in Greymers. As promised to the princess, he told them to wait until he had secured a foothold in Strover, managing things in Greymers until he called for them.

But when he returned years later, their lives were in shambles.

Some had become gamblers, others alcoholics, and a few had fallen into addiction. Some were even fugitives with warrants issued against them. The money he had left them to establish themselves was squandered, leaving them all in miserable conditions.

On the battlefield, they were excellent warriors and valuable assets, but in peaceful society, they were nothing but trouble.

‘I won’t let that happen this time.’

These were the men who had risked their lives following his orders. As their leader, it was his responsibility to strategize and ensure they didn’t meet their end meaninglessly.

“Stop calling me ‘Boss.’ It’s ‘Colonel’ now. We’re no longer mercenaries—we’re official soldiers.”

He swept his gaze over them as he spoke.

“Oh, Lord.”

“What’s with the serious act? What are you planning to make us do? Did you catch some fatal disease?” Carson scoffed. “I heard from Whaler that you suddenly adopted a kid. Just hand me your position and die already.”

“If you’re dying, adopt me instead. Call me ‘Son,’” Adrian joked.

As usual, Blake’s one statement sparked ten more, making the room lively and loud. Their hierarchy was loose, but they were men who got their jobs done—except when it came to handling money.

“From now on, we’ll be staying in the capital of Greymers.”

“Yeah, we know. You said we’d be here for a year.”

“Huh? Wait… Are you saying we’re putting down roots here?”

“That’s right. So figure out what you’re going to do and how you’re going to live from now on.”

His men, who had been casually listening, suddenly widened their eyes. The atmosphere grew serious.

“Wait… You said we’d be going back to Strover.”

“We’re not. This is our home now.”

“Damn. You really lost yourself after marrying some noblewoman. Have you lost your mind? What the hell are we supposed to do here?”

“Oh, Lord, thank you! I approve. There are so many different desserts here.”

“Stay out of this, Priest! Are you insane? Women here scream if you so much as touch them! They cover themselves up so much, there’s nothing to even look at!”

“What the hell are we supposed to do here?”

Blake ignored their protests.

“That’s why you need to figure it out now. Whether you use your brains or your brawn, find work.”

With that, his business was finished. Blake stood up, but Surrak, the largest of the group, protested loudly.

“Boss! Meira is waiting for me back in Strover! The damn butcher next door is after her!”

“Then open a butcher shop here and bring her over. The capital of Greymers will look far more appealing than some backwater butcher shop. I’ll fund it.”

“Boss, you’re amazing! You’re covering the costs!”

The moment Blake mentioned funding a shop, the men immediately switched to agreement. The large-built warriors huddled together, whispering about how to squeeze more money out of him.

“And starting tomorrow, training resumes. Gather in the garden in the morning.”

“What?!”

“Boss! You told us to rest!”

The quickest way to get rid of their complacency was to push their bodies to the limit.

Whaler, horrified, hurried after Blake.

“Boss! A butcher shop? Where are you getting the money for that? We’re broke!”

“We’ll earn it from now on.”

“Not my money!”

“That money is mine.”

Whaler, who loved money and considered Blake’s wealth as his own, jumped in protest. But Blake had expected this reaction and responded casually.

As they stepped outside, a carriage was already waiting. Since Blake frequently left on sudden errands, a carriage was always on standby.

“Whaler, get in.”

“Me too?”

Whaler climbed in without hesitation, and the carriage set off toward the city.

“Sell off all my assets in Strover and transfer everything to the Greymers bank. Convert the hidden funds into tangible assets as well.”

“…All of it?”

“Yes, all of it.”

Whaler, now entirely serious, silently mouthed, “Wow.”

“Won’t the King of Strover find that suspicious?”

Through the window, Blake saw Layla in the garden, plucking flowers and placing them into a basket. His eyes narrowed as he watched her.

Layla, who had once despised him so much that she tried to kill herself, had clung to him in tears, desperately pleading. That moment had been satisfying, but only then.

Once out of his arms, she continued to keep her distance, wary of him.

Simply possessing her body wasn’t enough.

He needed a way to completely ruin Layla Edgestone.

When he first heard that she had committed suicide while carrying his child, when he realized just how much she had despised him—he wanted her to feel that exact same devastation.

“Tell them I want to buy a gift for the wife I fell for at first sight. Say that marriage has been expensive, so I need more funds. It’s a good excuse, isn’t it?”

“You think the King will believe that?”

“If rumors spread about the passionate ‘Burman couple,’ he will.”

“So… you’re telling me to spread those rumors? Understood.”

Imagining what expression Layla would make upon hearing the rumors, Blake smirked coldly.