I Healed my Husband, the Leader of the Underworld

The weather was chilly, as winter had not yet fully washed away. Still, the lively energy in the streets made it feel almost like spring.

 

For the first time since waking up here, I could let go of my worries and take in the view, and it was beautiful.

 

Will I ever be able to live like that?

 

To spend a day without worries, sharing warm smiles with others—those people seemed genuinely happy.

 

I looked at Franz’s back as he walked ahead of me. He paused for a moment, offering a friendly smile as he exchanged words with a passerby. People glanced at his expensive shoes peeking out from under his robe, but reassured by his approachable voice, they warmly gave him directions.

 

As their glances toward him grew more frequent, he took a potion out of his jacket pocket and downed it in one gulp. It must have been quite bitter, as he frowned and picked up an apple from a nearby vendor’s stall.

 

“Hey!”

 

When a disgruntled voice called out, Franz pulled a silver coin from his pants pocket under his robe and flipped it over to them.

 

“Come again!” The same voice said.

 

Startled by how suddenly their tone had turned warm, I glanced back briefly.

 

…Ah, the reach of capitalism.

 

Meanwhile, Franz—who seemed like the type to eat even a slice of apple with a fork and knife—bit into the apple without a moment’s hesitation. As he did, his hair darkened, and his sky-colored eyes took on a deeper hue.

 

It felt as though the midday sky had turned to night.

 

Though my brother appeared to be every inch a nobleman, there was something intriguingly unexpected about him. I quietly pulled my robe tighter as I stole a glance at his profile, noting the cleverness and street-savvy charm that seeped into his words.

 

His specialty was dealing with obviously suspicious people—those who, with empty pockets, were less wary and easily coaxed into sharing information if treated in a friendly manner. That was his philosophy.

 

“By the way,” the rough-looking man said.

 

I glanced at the horizontally long scar slashed across the corner of his mouth.

 

“This girl here doesn’t seem to give off the same scent as us,” He continued, his murky brown eyes fixed on my wrist.

 

Then, the hairy man took a deep breath and asked in a low, gravelly voice.

 

“Looks like you’re carrying something precious, huh?”

 

His lips twisting into a vulgar grin.

 

Yet, despite the man’s probing, Franz merely grinned shamelessly as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

 

“This one?”

 

I felt suffocated, nearly pressed into his chest. He ruffled my hair so roughly outside my robe that the golden strands beneath were completely tousled.

 

“He’s got an absolutely terrible habit of stealing,” Franz said. “He looks like a girl and has a peculiar fondness for shiny things. Last time, he had the audacity to sneak into Lord Roam’s ball and steal the lady’s perfume!”

 

“…And he’s still alive after that?”

 

There was a hint of curiosity and admiration in the man’s voice.

 

And Franz, clearly enjoying himself, continued with enthusiasm.

 

“Don’t even get me started. They say he calmed the startled Duchess of Roam and even stole a kiss from her!”

 

Angry, I stomped on his foot. A kiss? From me, to me? Did he always have to make up stories like that? I glared up at him, and he roared with laughter, patting me on the back.

 

“He’s rather shy about his own achievements. A true master thief, isn’t he?”

 

“He looks more like a braggart to me,” the hairy man said with a derisive snort, as if finding the whole thing hard to believe. “Anyway, the road is over there. The Artists’ Square is crowded, so it’s best to be careful.”

 

“Thank you, sir.”

 

Franz politely bowed and tightly held my hand. As we walked, I stared at his back.

 

Right now, we were no longer the noble daughter and son of the Rochester family, but two street pickpockets.

 

It felt new.

 

In this place full of people who didn’t know me, I was walking as someone other than Lady Roam.

 

“I think we’re almost there.”

 

From his back, draped in the robe, a quiet warmth seemed to radiate. That’s why although Milena’s lingering instincts made me fear him, I couldn’t help but think he seemed like a good person somehow.

 

And the reason we were heading to the artist’s square instead of the port or the train station was due to this series of events.

 

[…Are you crazy?]

 

I asked Franz, reaching out to him. He replied indifferently,

 

[What now?]

 

[How am I supposed to explain to my husband—no, to Siegfried—what happened?]

 

[Who knows? Something like, ‘Thanks for taking care of Rochester’s troublemaker for two years, but I’m taking my problematic sister back now.’ If you understand, get up quickly. We have a long way to go.]

 

And so….

 

[Hurry up.]

 

Franz grabbed my hand and tugged, forcing me to pick up my pace. It seemed I had spent too long holed up in the mansion; my legs didn’t move as well as I’d hoped, and I was out of breath.

 

But I didn’t mind.

 

The vibrant energy of the people packed into these alleyways was strangely comforting. I liked walking here. It reminded me of my travels in Europe–the memory of those vibrant streets made me think that perhaps, hundreds of years ago, they might have looked like this one.

 

My eyes wandered to a corner of the alley where a band was performing. People were clapping and tossing coins into a hat. A moment later, I turned my eyes to a street vendor selling shoes laid out on the ground.

 

I looked at the pretty flats with eyes full of longing, but Franz wasn’t sharp enough to pick up on it.

 

‘Aren’t your feet hurting?’

 

Suddenly, Siegfried’s gentle voice echoed in my mind, and I instinctively shook my head.

 

‘The cobblestones are hard,’ his voice echoed again, but now was not the time to dwell on my husband’s tenderness.

 

I was out here, after all. And I was going back to Roam anyway; I had already told Franz that I wouldn’t be going to Rochester.

 

When I told my brother I had something I wanted to do before returning to Roam, he let out a hollow, self-mocking laugh, as if he understood. As if he realized he ad made a fool of himself. As if he knew all too well about my stubbornness.

 

[Suit yourself.]

 

He didn’t ask for an explanation, just ran a hand through his hair, looking almost defeated. There was an unmistakable hint of disheartenment in his expression—he had gone to such trouble to rescue me, only for me to insist on returning to Siegfried Roam’s side.

 

Even so, he still led me toward the Artists’ Square.

 

As I had lost myself in the beautiful scenery, turning my gaze in quiet wonder, he finally spoke, bringing me back to the present.

 

“You…”

 

His ocean-colored eyes met mine, deepening to an even darker navy under the sunlight.

 

“Never mind.”

 

He turned his head away, wearing an expression that said he regretted asking anything at all. The small glimmer of hope that had flickered on his face crumbled, as though he were convincing himself it couldn’t possibly be true.

 

Still, although he hadn’t asked the question, I knew what he wanted to say.

 

Was I refusing to leave Roam for Rochester’s sake?

 

“Yes.”

 

At my response, Franz’s shoulders flinched slightly, and a rare flicker of unease crossed his face.

 

“Like you said, brother, I suppose I should consider Rochester’s wellbeing at least once. …And also.”

 

I deliberately paused, noticing the hesitation in his steps. It was strangely gratifying to know he was listening.

 

“I made a promise.”

 

For a moment, an expression that seemed to mock my naivety flitted across his face before vanishing just as quickly.

 

“That I wouldn’t leave,” I added resolutely.

 

And as if he had been waiting for it, Franz’s sarcastic remark quickly followed.

 

“Looks like you’re really a fool for that man…”

 

“To his sister,” I cut in.

 

I recalled the promise I had made to Jane after lunch today—that I wouldn’t leave. In exchange, I asked her for just one favor.

 

At that moment, I remembered the tears Jane had shown. Franz sharply turned his head, dismissing my actions as unnecessary sympathy. To be precise, his words were, “Your head’s really a flower field( he means she is dumb, loll),” but… I chose to take it kindly.

 

When I looked at him with a small smile, he shot back a displeased glare. I found even that amusing and just laughed.

 

Still, the fact that he’d come all this way to get me made me feel like we were family after all. His way of expressing himself was just a bit rough, that’s all.

 

As I briefly let my guard down, my eyes caught sight of the growing number of black-uniformed figures filling the streets.

 

My heart pounded as I recognized who they were—Roam’s men.

 

But just as their eyes seemed about to turn our way…

 

Franz wrapped his arm around my shoulders again, steering me toward a market stall. My view shifted dramatically, from the blazing sunlight to the cool shade under the stall’s canopy.

 

His tone was amiable as he haggled with the vendor, but his sharp gaze still swept over the men in black around us from time to time.

 

Then, once he was sure they had passed us by, he gave the shopkeeper a courteous farewell and moved on. Without a word, he tossed me a small hairpin and kept walking.

 

“…Thank you.”

 

“They’re probably not here looking for you, anyway.” He said, motioning toward the black knights, as if there was nothing to worry about.

 

His eyes briefly scanned my anxious face.

 

“Let’s look at this rationally.”

 

“…”

 

“Do you honestly think your husband is some madman who’d send people scouring the streets for you? That he’d actually chase after you? Of course not. He’s probably relieved it’s you I’ve taken, not his precious little sister, Jane Roam.”

 

He spoke with the air of someone utterly convinced his reasoning was infallible.

 

As I stared intently into his eyes, Franz only grew more smug.

 

“That’s……”

 

“You need to snap out of this delusion that the world revolves around you.”

 

He resumed walking, his tone firm.

 

“So, quit spouting nonsense. When you’re done with whatever it is you want to do, go home. Don’t let your pride get in the way.”

 

The beautiful, sunlit square was drawing closer. He avoided my gaze, furrowing his brow as if uncomfortable with my persistent staring.

 

“Franz.”

 

As I reached out to grab his hand to explain, and he turned to look at me, a sudden flash seared through my mind.

 

His dark eyes overlapped with the memory of piercing, icy blue ones.

 

“What happens when you’re not happy, huh?”

 

It was a gaze far colder and laden with an cruel intensity, far surpassing the one he had now.

 

“Will you, as you always have, cry and ask Rochester for help?”

 

“Do you think I can’t manage?” I shot back.

 

“I just want you to know the world doesn’t bend to your every whim, foolish sister. If this was Rochester, things might have gone as you wished. Damn it all, everything always did.”

 

I bit my lower lip, and Franz’s face flickered with the expression of someone itching to hurt me with his words.

 

“Just give up and go to father…”

 

“No.”

 

“You really…”

 

At a loss for words, he closed his mouth. Eventually, his lips thinned into a smile that sent a shiver through me, making my shoulders flinch.

 

Seeing my expression, he sneered grew larger. Then….

 

“Look, what I said about you devouring mother, and trying to ruin the entire family, I regret it.”

 

A storm stirred in my heart at his words—words that Milena, the real one, had never heard. She’d died before ever having such a conversation.

 

“I know that your husband canceling the Empress’s ball for your sake, you supposedly adjusting so well to life in Roam is all lies. I know that.”

 

“That really was…” I tried to speak again.

 

“As it is, the damage Rochester will take from your divorce is likely less than you think.”

 

He spoke in a much more conciliatory tone.

 

“So there’s no need for you to act like such an idiot. To me, you’re still just a child.”

 

After dropping these last words, he walked ahead as I stood there, staring blankly at his retreating back.