On Rational Marital Life - Chapter 29

“A friend is someone who helps in difficult times and shares joy in happy moments, isn’t that so? When they make mistakes, a friend reprimands them, and when they are falsely accused, a friend takes their side. But if they truly do wrong, a friend scolds them.”

Blake sneered as he looked at Erica.

“But someone who clings to you when times are good to reap the benefits, only to turn around and gossip when things go south—such a person is not a friend, but a sycophant. If they change their attitude whenever the situation turns unfavorable, they have no loyalty or integrity. How could anyone trust such a person?”

Duncan’s hand, which had been resting on Erica’s shoulder, fell away. She had worked so hard to play the victim and draw out sympathy, but Blake was tearing it all apart. Yet she couldn’t protest.

Blake’s eyes were burning with intensity—the gaze of a warrior who had walked the line between life and death. Erica’s body stiffened under his stare.

“But aside from that,” Blake continued, “you referred to my wife as ‘Lady Burman.’ You understand the full meaning of that, don’t you?”

Erica felt as if all the blood had drained from her body. A tremor ran through her.

“W-what do you mean? It’s just a name… I was only stating the truth—”

“Layla Burman is my wife. The person you slandered is my wife. An insult to her is an insult to me, Blake Burman.”

Frantically, Erica looked around for the people who had brought her here.

All she had wanted was to paint herself as Layla’s victim. To gain sympathy, to attract attention.

But that had only worked because she hadn’t realized Blake Burman was present.

He had twisted the situation in an instant—completely against her.

“I, Blake Burman, as a representative of Strover, will formally lodge a complaint about this matter to the Greymers royal family. Because of my background, I have tolerated being called a barbarian, thinking that was merely the level of etiquette in Greymers. But my wife is a different matter. You have insulted my family, my house.”

Erica turned deathly pale.

“N-no, wait! That’s too much of a leap—Layla really did wrong! She admitted to embezzlement! I was only stating the facts, so why is Strover—”

“Because I represent Strover. If you attack the family of an envoy sent under a truce agreement, you should have been prepared for the consequences. Unless, of course, you intend to start a war.”

Greymers and Strover had fought a long, devastating war before reaching a ceasefire. Both nations had suffered immense losses, and countless lives had been lost. While many in Greymers still harbored resentment toward Strover, most welcomed the peace.

Although discrimination against Blake and veiled insults persisted, the prevailing sentiment was to avoid worsening tensions between the two nations.

As the atmosphere shifted, Duncan, who had been standing protectively beside Erica, quietly distanced himself. The people who had previously agreed with her turned away as well.

“This is a bit much…”

“Miss Erica went too far. She should have been more mindful of the situation and the people present.”

“With Lord Burman here, no less…”

Erica hastily looked around at the crowd.

“No, you’re wrong! That’s not what I meant! I’m the one being wronged here!”

“If anyone has objections, step forward,” Blake’s voice echoed through the salon. “I will make sure your name is clearly recorded in the official letter of protest.”

The weight of his words silenced the entire room.

Blake had achieved remarkable success in war not only because of his superior physique and natural combat abilities.

Though he did not engage in politics, he was just as skilled at reading his enemies’ minds as any politician. He could assess their weaknesses and strike with perfect tactics, ensuring their complete defeat.

That was Blake Burman’s true power.

While social circles involved strategic maneuvering, they were no match for the battlefield experience of a man who had faced death every day.

The salon guests froze under Blake’s overwhelming presence. In their minds, they quickly recalled the infamous titles and rumors they had read about him in the newspapers.

Erica collapsed to the ground, completely pale.

The murmurs in the room now placed the blame squarely on her.

“We barely secured a truce, and if this incident reaches the royal court…”

“She dared to provoke Strover’s envoy…”

“What was her name again?”

“Erica Rowan. Let me know in advance if she’s attending any gatherings. I’ll be sure to avoid them.”

Erica heard the whispers. Her body trembled.

This wasn’t just about losing her honor and being unable to marry. It was something far worse.

Her family’s noble title could be revoked.

If her relatives heard of this incident, they might exile her to a distant rural estate, never to set foot in the capital again.

“A-ah…”

Tears streamed down Erica’s face as she sat frozen on the floor.

No one stepped forward to help her.

* * *

Blake ordered Weiler to write a letter of protest to the royal family. Since Weiler needed to understand the situation, Blake explained what had happened at the salon.

Weiler rolled his eyes and cautiously asked, “So, you’re really going to send it?”

“Have you ever seen me say something twice? They insulted my wife.”

“…But insults directed at you are fine?”

“Hearing it once or twice makes no difference.”

Blake scoffed. He had heard those insults so many times, in both his past and present life, that they no longer fazed him. There was even a time when he had engaged in duels over them, though that had not happened in this life.

Weiler’s eyes widened.

Before he got married, Blake had been like a starving bison. If anyone called him a barbarian or mocked him for being from Strover, he would glare and charge at them.

“You used to rage about it all the time… You’ve changed a lot.”

“The nobility keeps shutting us out of business, refusing to let us in. This is the perfect opportunity to publicly criticize Greymers’s aristocrats.”

“This kind of protest is something nobles do… I can’t believe you’re showing this level of political sense. Is it because of marriage? Does marriage make you smarter? Ah, but isn’t it a bit much to involve your wife? The public opinion about her isn’t great, and if her name starts getting mentioned in this, it might get worse.”

“What does Layla have to do with this?”

“What?”

The conversation briefly halted. Weiler blinked in confusion.

“You’re sending a letter of protest,” Weiler said.

“Yes. We’ve been talking about it this whole time.”

“And the letter is about your wife, right? You’re mentioning the Lady Rowan insulted her, so how is she not involved?”

Blake looked at him as if explaining something obvious.

“I’m not sending the letter because my wife was insulted—I need to make sure the reason is something worthy of a formal protest. But just the fact that ‘Blake Burman sent a letter of protest to the royal family’ will make that woman anxious. She’ll keep worrying about when she might be summoned by the palace. The rumors will spread just enough, and that will be enough. If I send an official complaint over something so trivial, the royal family will think I’m a lightweight fool.”

“Hah, you’ve thought that far ahead? Our commander really has picked up some of Greymers’s ways. You’re actually thinking now.”

Blake waved his hand dismissively.

“Now, go write it. Make sure to thoroughly put those nobles in their place.”

“Got it. Carson and I will put our heads together and draft a letter that’ll make them break into a cold sweat.”

Weiler grinned confidently.

Threatening and intimidating Erica in the salon wasn’t enough. Some people only truly feel remorse when they face real consequences.

“Layla is too soft.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Just go.”

Weiler, who had been about to leave, turned back at Blake’s muttering. But when Blake waved him off, he shrugged and exited the office.

Blake had long since stopped caring about being called a barbarian. He had heard it so many times that it no longer bothered him. In his past life, he had rebelled against it, thinking, If they call me a barbarian, then I’ll act like one. But compared to before, as Weiler had pointed out, he had indeed become calmer and more refined.

Though others wouldn’t see it that way.

Still, that woman’s words had gotten under his skin.

“She should be grateful the king allowed her to stay in the capital, yet instead of keeping quiet, she’s grown arrogant again just because she married that Strover savage.”

To Blake, protecting his wife and family wasn’t some calculated political move—it was simply the natural duty of a husband.

He hadn’t defended Layla today because he planned to file a complaint with the royal family. That wasn’t the reason at all.

“I only spoke the truth. I watched Lady Burman commit her crimes…”

It irritated him.

Blake had every right to punish and take revenge on Layla. He wanted to see her hurt.

But only he had the right to wound her.

‘How dare they circle around my prey.’

Layla belonged to him. He had no intention of giving her to anyone else.

That was all.

* * *

Blake had heard that Layla had gone to see Jerry, but Jerry’s room was empty. So he opened the adjacent room used for lessons, but no one was there either.

Blake’s face twisted in frustration.

‘Where did she go?’

Had she run away because she didn’t want to live with him?

Or did she hate being married to a “barbarian” so much that she wanted to die?

A flood of negative thoughts surged through his mind.

She had disappeared without warning before—she used to return to her family estate in Edgestone without saying a word.

The Earl and Countess of Edgestone had always looked at Blake with disdain, though they had accepted the gifts he brought.

‘Even in this life, again?’

Just as he was about to head out to look for Layla, he sensed a presence.

Soon, hushed voices tickled his ears.

“Jerry, how was your lesson?”