The World Mistakes Me for a Terminally Ill Patient – Chapter 010
Violet eyes opened slowly, like a flower blooming at its own unhurried pace.
For some reason, I couldn’t look away. I stared at him blankly, only realizing belatedly what he had said, and my eyes shot open.
“Who exactly ran away?”
I bluffed, then immediately hid my trembling left hand.
I must have injured it badly during the accident—whenever it rained, my left wrist throbbed.
He let out another low chuckle.
“It seemed as though my wife was simply leaving.”
His laughter felt as though it vibrated through the air itself.
I bit my lip before finally closing the door and stepping inside.
“You’re mistaken.”
Click, click. I headed straight for the window.
At once, I could feel a heavy gaze trailing behind me.
I shut the open window.
In an instant, the room fell silent.
I knew it was just stubborn pride, but I couldn’t help it. On days like this, when I grew weak, I didn’t want anyone to see that side of me.
“Why was the window open? Planning to catch a cold?”
“Ah.”
I masked myself again with bravado, and he lazily drew out his words.
“I thought someone might be crying again.”
“…What? What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
He smiled faintly.
Clicking my tongue at the nonsense, I hesitated briefly before heading toward the bed.
“Don’t cross over.”
I pointed to an invisible line in the center of the bed, issuing a firm warning.
Unlike the grand ducal residence, which I had completely remodeled, Shubel’s bed remained exactly as it had always been.
It was the result of my stubborn refusal to place ready-made furniture in the residence, combined with a craftsman’s pride in creating the finest bed, stitch by stitch.
Even though it wasn’t small, the presence of an unfamiliar ‘husband’ beside me made it feel cramped—so much so that even turning over felt uncomfortable.
I should have them make it bigger than I ordered. Big enough that no matter what happens, we won’t end up touching.
With a faint sense of tension and discomfort,
I steeled my resolve and turned away from Shubel, lying on the opposite side.
Rumble.
Thunder echoed dully, layered with someone’s faint breathing.
A sudden flash of light made me flinch—then a hand reached over and pulled the blanket up to my shoulders.
Strangely, it reassured me, and my taut nerves slowly began to ease.
“What if…”
That low voice, whispered softly—
“What would you do… if I wanted to cross that line?”
It felt distant, like a dream.
There was something mixed into his tone—interest, perhaps even amusement.
“My wife.”
My consciousness sank.
4. The Memory of Wheat Stalks
The morning after the rain had poured all night.
“Kai, Kai, Kai.”
[What now?!]
The sky was brilliantly clear.
I tapped the oath ring lightly.
Since the bratty baby dragon pretended not to hear whenever I called him “little one,” we had settled on the compromise of calling him “Kai.”
“Come on, hurry and remember. This is today’s assignment.”
[Ugh… What do you take me for?]
“A magnificent demonic dragon that can copy objects at will?”
[Hmph. I am rather magnificent.]
I had suspected it ever since he transformed into a ring—Kaiseus wasn’t just some copying item that could turn into anything with a flip… he was a demonic dragon.
‘By the way, can you turn into things other than a ring?’
[Of course. I am Kaiseus the Second.]
‘Then what about this?’
[Hah, something like that? Child’s play.]
‘And this?’
[Obviously—]
‘What about this? And this one? Can you do this too?’
After that, I kept pushing all sorts of things at him out of curiosity until he screeched in outrage and sulked. In the end, we agreed on one item per day.
[Why are we even doing this?]
“Who knows. Let’s just say everything has its use.”
At Kaiseus’s grumbling—asking if I was planning to go hunting or something—I simply smiled.
“I’d rather not use them either, but I’m just an ordinary person. I have to protect myself.”
I said that as I wiped down one of my collection pieces—a palm-sized magic bullet pistol—with a cloth.
Knock, knock.
A tapping sound came from the door.
“Young Madam, the head of the Elbanon Merchant Guild has arrived.”
“I’ll be right out.”
I had already dropped formal speech with all the servants, including the butler.
“What about Mother?”
“She said she would leave it in your hands, Young Madam.”
Leaving the room, I headed toward the reception room with Bikal.
The person I was meeting today was the head of the Elbanon Merchant Guild.
The northern region was not suited for growing grain, so it inevitably had to import supplies from other areas.
The Elbanon Guild had been responsible for supplying food to the Grand Duchy since the previous generation.
I recalled the ‘Northern Revival Project’ I had devised while reviewing territorial reports not long ago.
First—food.
Food was essential for any territory. Naturally, the more secured, the better.
But relying solely on imports risked losing food sovereignty.
To prevent that, it was necessary to develop and improve crop varieties suited to this region…
But seed development doesn’t happen in just a year or two.
Until then, there was no choice but to continue relying on the Elbanon Guild.
“Haha! What a lovely young lady—pleased to meet you! I am the head of the Elbanon Merchant Guild.”
“…Young lady?”
From the very first meeting, I curled my lips into a smile at the sight of the greasy, pig-like middle-aged man who was clearly looking down on me.
“Show me the ledger.”
“…Pardon?”
“Bikal, the transaction ledger.”
“Yes, Young Madam.”
“W-wait—!”
Bikal forcibly opened the merchant’s belongings and retrieved the ledger.
The guild master tried to stop him, but our slender-looking butler was, in fact, a former northern knight—said to be the strongest in the Empire. Subduing someone like him was effortless.
Bikal respectfully handed me the ledger. Crossing my legs, I flipped through it lazily.
And then—
…Ha. Would you look at that? He’s been skimming.
I found clear signs of fraud.
Although Bella also served as treasurer, she was originally a noble.
A spender, not an earner. If a professional deliberately manipulated the accounts, it wouldn’t be easy to notice.
And being the Grand Duchess is already overwhelming. She has to oversee this vast territory while mediating between vassals constantly clamoring for their own interests.
With my father-in-law, Grand Duke Runein, stationed at the border fortress, the Grand Duchess was effectively acting as the lord.
Even two bodies wouldn’t be enough to handle everything.
That was why a lord needed experts in each field to act on their behalf.
But the Grand Ducal House was declining—that was the problem.
In short, my mother-in-law had been taken advantage of by that pig all this time.
So, how should I deal with this?
I tapped the ledger lightly.
Compared to the far more complex and differently scaled accounts of Seton that I reviewed daily, the tricks used here were blatantly obvious.
Among the grains commonly exported from the South, there was B-grade “Hessen Wheat.” Most southern wheat on the market was of this type.
However, there was always lower-quality produce—this was C-grade “Hekail Wheat.”
The issue with Hekail Wheat was its inferior storage stability compared to Hessen Wheat.
Because of that, it was traded at only one-third the price.
But this is the North. The average temperature here is much lower than in the South. Because of that, even Hekail Wheat can last just as long here as Hessen Wheat. Which means it can easily be passed off as Hessen Wheat.
How did I know?
When I researched solutions to the North’s food problem, southern grains—due to their high production—were my top priority.
On top of that, I already had reports from Seton’s experts covering wheat trade from multiple perspectives.
[70% of the wheat imported into the North has been identified as ‘Hekail Wheat.’]
But this ledger lists 100% Hessen Wheat?
No matter how cleverly it was manipulated, numbers didn’t lie—there were discrepancies scattered throughout.
To someone who knew how to untangle the threads, the situation was almost laughable.
Leaning back, I opened my mouth leisurely—
ready to properly deal with the swindler before me.
