Chapter 38: The Unwanted Counsel

“You mean, how to become an excellent wife? Oh dear…”

Bored by the bland, flavorless meal, Lamia Talia struck up a conversation with the old maid waiting nearby.

She hoped to find some engaging topics to accompany her food, which was certainly better than enduring the tasteless fare in silence.

Previously, she had sought advice from the great succubus Lilith on how to interact with human males, or rather, with her “husband.”

Lilith’s counsel had been entirely from the demonic side, but now, Lamia wished to understand the human viewpoint.

“Hmm, I suppose if I were a little better, my husband would return sooner.”

Lamia offered this somewhat plausible explanation casually, then cheerfully popped a piece of the bland steak into her mouth.

“Hmm… I see. If one desires to become an excellent wife—”

“—Did she serve you meals, bathe you, and help you dress? Oh, we’re all men here, I understand. Isn’t that precisely what one marries a wife for?”

Meanwhile, a rather boisterous individual sat beside Wade Nairt.

Wade recognized the man: the eldest son of Marquis Zelin, the future Young Marquis who would inherit the title.

He was a notorious playboy, always found amidst a throng of women whenever the Knight Order conducted its routine inspections in the Black Realm.

However, due to his noble status, they never interfered, merely sweeping past him.

Wade, having led patrols himself, had encountered this young master on several occasions.

Though the man typically held knights in low regard, he would offer polite greetings whenever Wade appeared, understanding that Wade, as an official, was someone worth cultivating a relationship with.

More often than not, however, his cordiality towards Wade served a singular purpose: to leverage their “acquaintance” and ensure his father remained ignorant of his escapades in the Black Realm.

“…”

Rather than endure a conversation with such a tiresome fellow, Wade yearned to catch up on sleep while the Pope droned on with his tedious doctrines.

Meetings convened by the Pope rarely involved matters of great import.

This was especially true for gatherings that brought together various noble families; such events typically served no grander purpose than to disseminate his latest doctrines.

Heaven knew what new revelation he had stumbled upon now, compelling him to pontificate endlessly.

Wade, for his part, found it utterly unlistenable and profoundly dull.

He had even deliberately chosen a seat in the very last row, nestled between the back door and a window, preparing for his immediate exit once the Pope concluded.

If the door was locked, he was ready to use the window, having made contingency plans.

His grandfather, the former Pope, had been forced to abdicate, deemed too old and his views too antiquated.

They had replaced him with a middle-aged man, seemingly around forty, who certainly appeared “younger” compared to his white-haired grandfather.

In theory, his views ought to be more progressive.

However, whether his views were truly progressive was debatable; they were certainly radical.

Judging by the current smug demeanor of the nobles, it was clear this Pope placed immense importance on hierarchy.

Furthermore, regarding the conflict between demons and humans, he was unequivocally of the “humanity is justice” faction, prioritizing human interests above all, with royalty and nobility taking precedence within human society.

It wasn’t that commoners were entirely disregarded, but rather that bloodline still held a distinct priority.

For instance, if the world were ending, and only one large ship remained, capable of evacuating only a select few, he would undoubtedly prioritize nobles.

His reasoning would be that, compared to commoners or even the impoverished, well-educated nobles were the most deserving of survival, as their existence would ensure the continuation of human wisdom and civilization.

Wade had contemplated these very notions before, recognizing the inherent logic.

Yet, he also felt that the reality of such situations would be far more intricate.

As the White Knight, he naturally had to consider such matters.

He had even encountered his own version of the “trolley problem”: when an unmanned carriage was inevitably going to strike someone, should he save several good commoners, or a single erudite noble scholar?

—Wade’s choice was to collide with the carriage himself.

With a million horsepower of pure force, he would send that carriage flying!

Of course, Wade didn’t truly possess the ability to send a runaway carriage soaring through the air; if he did, he would simply charge the Demon King’s fortress walls head-first.

However, diverting the carriage from its collision course was well within his capabilities.

The commoners were spared, the scholar remained unharmed, and everyone involved merely suffered varying degrees of fright.

Wade, for his part, simply took a day off to rest at home and recovered completely—a truly joyous outcome!

Even now, recalling the events of that day, a phantom ache lingered in his lower back.

Had it not been for the White Knight’s armor absorbing the brunt of the impact, his injuries would have undoubtedly been far more severe than a mere backache.

Yet, precisely because the White Knight’s armor could withstand such immense force, he felt an even greater imperative to protect more lives!

“Asleep? What’s the matter, too exhausted from last night with your new wife? I get it, I get it. I know that can be quite the demanding activity.

Perhaps I could recommend a few doctors who sell invigorating tonics?”

Wade’s consciousness had been on the verge of scattering, drifting in fragmented thoughts, when the garrulous Young Master Zelin abruptly reeled it back in.

Though profoundly irritated, Wade held his tongue, unwilling to provoke any noble, let alone one so clearly troublesome.

He simply leaned against the window, head bowed, eyes closed, doing his utmost to convey, without words, ‘I’m already asleep, please be quiet.’

“Oh dear, a man can’t be like this! Look at me—I entertain five or six women a day without issue.

As a knight, your physique should be even superior, shouldn’t it? Could it be that your new wife possesses some special talent that led to such a hasty, impulsive marriage?

Hey, hey, introduce her to me, won’t you? I reckon the two of you surely got together for carnal pleasures, so—”

“…”

At last, hearing those words, Wade’s brows furrowed, and he cast a sharp glance at Young Master Zelin beside him.

“Hmph, what’s wrong, are you upset? There’s no shame in this. Why don’t you tell me how the two of you met?”

“We met through an arranged meeting, found it suitable, and got together. It’s that simple.”

Utterly unwilling to endure the man’s continued babbling, Wade offered this terse reply, his tone edged with impatience.

“That simple? Ha, I knew it. You just married her for fun, didn’t you? Women, you know, their bloom only lasts so long; after two or three years, the novelty wears off.

You’d be better off following my example: don’t marry at all. Just find four or five different women every day, keep them for a couple of days if you fancy them, or pay them off and part ways amicably if you don’t.

Trust me on this; I’m an old hand, highly experienced.”

“Uh-huh, yes, yes… I understand.”

Too weary to argue, Wade simply nodded in agreement, fervently hoping the man would swiftly drop the subject.

“You know? You seem rather distracted. Do you honestly remember anything I just said? I’m truly doing this for your own good, you know.”

“Ah, ah—I know! It’s just about changing wives every two or three years, right? Ha, who’s like—”

Wade, at the end of his patience, had intended to retort sarcastically, “Who’s like you? You’re indecent, but I’m a proper man,” or something to that effect.

Yet, before he could finish his sentence, a familiar voice suddenly echoed in his ear.

[Change wives every two or three years? Is this White Knight planning to take another one?]

“—😨?!”

In an instant, that familiar voice abruptly startled Wade’s half-asleep consciousness wide awake.

With a look of utter disbelief, he spun his head to gaze behind him.

There, he saw the back door, now slightly ajar, and Lamia Talia, secretly crouched behind his chair.

Had he looked closely, he would have also spotted his grandfather, the old man, waving at him through the crack in the back door.

—That old man!

Why had he brought Lamia here?!

“Wade.”

Just as Wade’s panic began to mount, Lamia quietly rose from her crouch, her head emerging from behind the chair back to rest beside Wade’s cheek.

“Did you just say… you intend to change wives every two or three years?”