Third-Rate Villain Of Fantasy Novel-Chapter 42: Reed In The Wind [2]

She opened her mouth, closed it, then exhaled slowly.

"...You’re unbelievable."

Despite herself, her lips curved upward, the faintest smile betraying the swirl of emotions she was trying to suppress.

She had always known this day would come—had imagined it countless times. One day, she would live here. One day, this place would belong to her. In those imagined futures, she stood beside him, confident and prepared.

But reality had arrived far too suddenly.

Becoming the owner in such an abrupt way left her disoriented. Happiness bloomed in her chest, undeniable and warm, yet her thoughts lagged behind, unable to catch up with the rapidly changing circumstances.

"Elena," he said calmly, as if sensing her confusion. "You were the one who said it. We’re ’family.’"

She looked at him.

"I already finished talking to my father last night," he continued. "And when you think about it, we have about a year left before entering the academy. It’s not too early to prepare. We should pick out some clothes while we’re at it."

She blinked, then let out a small laugh.

"...Come to think of it, you’re right."

Her shoulders relaxed, the tension easing from her posture. "Let’s go to the clothing store right after we choose the furniture."

"That was my plan."

Ironically, his matter-of-fact tone cleared her mind. What had felt overwhelming moments ago suddenly became manageable, even simple.

’Come to think of it... weren’t all these things exactly what I wanted?’

There was no reason to complain. Not when this was the future she had longed for.

"Ah."

Just as she was about to step into the workshop, her foot hovering over the threshold, a jolt ran through her like a lightning bolt striking her head.

Her smile vanished.

"I didn’t contact... Father."

He paused.

"Yes?"

"I forgot to contact my father..." she repeated, her voice trailing off.

The realization hit her fully now. She had been so engrossed in meeting him again—so wrapped up in the emotions of reunion and change—that she had completely forgotten the rule she was never allowed to break.

She had to contact her father at least once every two days.

In her previous life, she had returned to the duke’s castle without ever becoming engaged. Because of that, the details blurred together, and she couldn’t recall his exact words from that time.

But this memory was different.

If she hadn’t remembered being monitored while staying at the Marquis’s mansion before entering the academy, she might have forgotten it entirely.

Her fingers curled unconsciously at her side.

"The night I returned to the duke’s house..." she murmured.

It had felt unreal. Like waking from a dream that refused to fade.

The only thing she remembered clearly was her father’s voice—steady, distant, and impossible to ignore—coming through Count Kraus’s communication device.

Telling her to return.

To come back to the duke’s castle at once.

"...I should contact him now," she said finally, lifting her head. "Before he contacts me first." 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

He studied her expression for a moment, then nodded.

"Do that," he said. "It’ll save you a headache later."

She shot him a look. "You say that like you’ve experienced it."

"I have," he replied smoothly. "And I don’t recommend finding out what happens when you’re late."

"...That bad?"

He gave a small shrug. "Let’s just say my father’s lectures are very thorough."

Elena sighed, rubbing her temple. "Great. I can already imagine it."

"Relax," he added, glancing toward the workshop door. "You didn’t miss the deadline yet. And if anything happens, I’ll take responsibility."

She paused. "You?"

"You were with me," he said simply. "That’s reason enough."

For a moment, she just stared at him, startled by how casually he said it—like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"...You really don’t hesitate, do you?"

He smiled faintly. "Only when it matters."

That answer made her chest feel strangely warm.

She exhaled, the tension she hadn’t realized she was holding finally easing away. "Fine. I’ll contact him once we’re back."

"Good." He gestured ahead. "Then let’s finish what we came here to do."

She hesitated for a heartbeat, then nodded and stepped forward.

As they walked, her gaze drifted toward the outbuilding in the distance—the place that was suddenly hers. The walls looked older than she remembered, the windows catching the light just right.

"I still can’t believe it," she murmured.

"Believe it," he replied. "You’ll be living there soon."

"...Living there," she repeated quietly.

This time, the words didn’t feel overwhelming.

They felt real.

The workshop door creaked open as they stepped inside, the scent of polished wood and metal greeting them at once.

Rows of unfinished furniture lined the walls—chairs with bare frames, half-carved tables, cabinets waiting for their doors. Sunlight spilled in through the tall windows, dust motes drifting lazily in the air.

Elena slowed without realizing it.

"So this is where everything starts," she said softly.

He watched her take it in, her eyes moving from one piece to another. "You don’t have to decide everything today."

"I know." She nodded, then added quietly, "But I want to."

He raised an eyebrow. "Already settling into your role as the owner?"

She shot him a look. "Don’t tease me."

"I’m serious," he said, amused. "Most people would still be panicking."

She considered that for a moment. "Maybe I am panicking."

Then she took a breath and straightened. "But if I keep standing still, nothing will change."

His gaze softened. "That’s very like you."

Her fingers brushed over the smooth surface of a table. "I’ll need a desk. Something sturdy."

"For studying?"

"For writing letters," she replied after a pause.

He didn’t miss the implication. "To your father."

"...Among others."

He nodded. "I’ll make sure it’s placed near a window."

She looked up. "You remembered?"

"You always liked natural light," he said simply.

Her heart skipped, just a little.

They moved deeper into the workshop, discussing details—storage space, shelves for books, a bed frame that wouldn’t creak too loudly. The conversation flowed easily, almost domestic.