Chapter 03
But Blake’s attitude was utterly calm.
He stared at me blankly for a moment, then closed his eyes again.
And it seemed like he was falling back asleep…
“Excuse me?”
I was dumbfounded, but his demeanor was so natural that it felt awkward to wake someone who had gone back to sleep.
Still, it was embarrassing to be in his arms as if we were some lovey-dovey couple.
I hesitated, glanced at him, then ended up closing my mouth.
Seeing my husband sleeping peacefully like an angel, I sighed inwardly and decided to put everything off until later.
Fine, sleep then…
I give up.
So, resigned, I decided to take this chance to observe the handsome protagonist—it had been a while.
Technically, he was my husband, but we’d hardly ever seen each other.
From the very first night of our marriage, I’d been rejected. We slept in separate rooms.
Meals? Always taken alone.
At public events, either one of us would attend, or neither of us.
We’d hardly crossed paths, so we were worse than strangers.
That’s why this whole situation was unbearably awkward.
But still…
Was it true, what he said—that his heart didn’t beat?
If so, shouldn’t he be unable to sleep?
I mean, in movies, zombies don’t exactly lie down and sleep soundly.
Carefully, I reached out toward Blake’s exposed neck and pressed for a pulse.
But at my fingertips, there was no trace of any rhythm, only still and silent skin.
Thinking maybe I’d placed my hand wrong, I tried here and there—but the result was the same.
“…Ha.”
And as if my touch annoyed him, Blake finally let out a long sigh.
He grabbed my hand that had been probing his neck and slowly opened his eyes.
There was a faint trace of irritation on his face.
His blue eyes glared at me for a long moment, full of displeasure at being disturbed.
“…”
Unable to withstand that gaze, my eyes darted away.
Then, as if deciding to wake up for real, Blake pushed himself halfway up and sat.
Looking down at me, his face seemed pale, making him look even more exhausted.
And when he spoke, his voice—deep, husky, almost decadent—was like a growl.
“Did you hate sleeping next to me that much? Why were you pawing at my neck?”
“Uh? No, I just… I really wanted to see if your pulse wasn’t beating.”
Ah, I’d been so captivated by his face and voice that I’d missed my chance to get mad first.
But then I scrambled up, hesitated, and burst out at him belatedly.
“Then why are you here, sleeping in my bed? And holding me, no less…”
“Holding you?”
“Yes, th-that!”
The teasing curve of his lips made my face heat up with embarrassment.
He looked like he was in another world, lost in thought, until he suddenly frowned as if something displeased him.
“So what, I can’t sleep with my own wife? You’ve got a problem with that?”
“No, it’s just… You’ve never done this before.”
Strangely, my words made his frown disappear.
Instead, with a suspiciously pleasant smile, he said:
“You know, I’ve been asleep for three days straight since you brought me back.”
“What? Three days already?”
Well, I had expected as much, considering how I’d dug him up from under all that wet mud in the pouring rain.
Still, the muscle aches wracking my body were proof enough of what I’d been through.
But before I could think further, his next words cut me off.
“During that time, I couldn’t sleep at all.”
“Why?”
“Just what I said. Maybe because this body was resurrected, but I didn’t even feel sleepy.”
He kept a cynical expression—his voice low, his tone sharp with sarcasm, though his face wore an odd smile.
“So I got pissed off and came here. Wanted to see if the one who revived me could actually sleep well after doing this to me.”
“…”
“But strangely, when I came close, I did feel sleepy. When our bodies touched, I could feel warmth. So I hugged you and fell asleep.”
In short, it seemed that beside me—the necromancer who revived him—his body functioned properly.
With a serious look, he drove the point home to me as I sat in troubled silence.
“Must be a side effect. I didn’t expect this body of mine to be perfect.”
“…”
“So my dear wife will have to cooperate.”
That mischievous smile of his really ticked me off.
If his body could function without sleep, why bother at all?
But of course, Blake, as if reading my mind, went on lazily:
“Oh, I did feel fatigue. My body grew heavier and heavier without rest.”
I let out a resigned sigh and nodded.
Exactly the surrender he’d been waiting for.
If it was only about sleeping together… it should be fine, right?
I couldn’t think of a single excuse to refuse.
But at the same time, I couldn’t help but wonder—why had things turned out this way?
Everything had been progressing according to the original story, and then suddenly he died?
And I didn’t even know how he died.
After a long hesitation, I finally gained some courage from Blake’s seemingly good mood and asked cautiously:
“Do you… remember how you died?”
His lips pressed tightly together.
The cheerful expression from moments ago vanished so suddenly it made me uneasy.
But since I’d asked, I had to see it through.
“You called it a pitiful death… I think that’s what you said. Doesn’t that mean you know something?”
I still remembered the sting of how mercilessly he’d judged his own death.
But now, even at my question, Blake seemed unwilling to answer.
He just fell silent, thinking deeply, glancing at me, then away again.
He repeated this strange back-and-forth, then slowly rose and stepped out of bed.
Clearly, he had decided not to tell me.
I bit back the urge to grab his collar and scream, Why the hell did you suddenly die?!
Instead, I just glared daggers at his back as he moved away.
Maybe he felt my piercing stare.
He turned his head slightly, let out a faint sigh, and muttered something cryptic.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“What?”
“Go back to sleep.”
Really? Leaving me in suspense like this and then telling me to sleep?
After calling me a pig who slept for three days straight?
This damn husband made it perfectly clear he had no intention of saying more, then left my room.
It seemed Blake hadn’t just come back with a strange body—his head was messed up too.
He was doing things he’d never done before, joking, teasing me.
All of this was so far removed from the Blake of the original novel that I couldn’t make sense of it.
“…Ha.”
Letting out a frustrated sigh, I forced my aching, sore muscles to get me out of bed.
Outside, dawn had just broken—the sky still dim.
Maybe that’s why Blake told me to go back to sleep.
As I carefully stretched, a knock came at the door.
I answered briefly, and the door flew open, startling me.
Standing there was none other than my maid, Lillie Benens.
She was the only one who volunteered to serve me, the crown princess—unlike the other nobles, who disdained a commoner who had bought her title.
“I don’t care about all that noble pride stuff,” she had once said. “I’m the daughter of a ruined baron. I just want to live without worrying about money.”
A very practical girl.
Anyway, that same peculiar young lady now glanced at my messy bedclothes and whispered conspiratorially:
“Did you perhaps… do it?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Well, His Highness isn’t the type to ravage his fainted wife like a beast, that’s true.”
“Lillie, please.”
Honestly, I thought I had more noble speech than her sometimes.
She could be far too bold. Honestly, she’d be better off born in modern-day Earth.
“Anyway, I’ve got shocking news for you.”
“More shocking than the fact my husband died and came back to life?”
“Well, that’s certainly shocking. But it was His Highness himself who carried you back unconscious, wasn’t it?”
“…”
“Didn’t you already know?”
From her calm expression, it seemed no one suspected anything odd about Blake’s resurrection.
Maybe because of the prophecy?
When I nodded, Lillie’s eyes lit up like a reporter who’d landed a scoop. She leaned close, lowering her voice even though we were the only two in the room.
“Saint Seira has gone missing.”
“What?!”
“See? I told you you’d be shocked.”
Of course I was.
Because Saint Seira was…
…the female lead of this story, the one destined to be with my husband, Blake!
