The Extra's Regressor Wives

Morning sunlight slipped through the gap in the curtains, casting a thin line across the floor.

Lathel woke to the faint sound of birds outside the window.

He didn’t open his eyes right away. His consciousness had only just returned and was still slightly hazy, and his body carried a strange lightness. For the first few seconds, Lathel even thought he was still lying in the familiar room at House Kirlinghalm.

Then he caught an unfamiliar scent.

Not the lingering smell of medicine that had seeped into Leviana’s room over the years, nor the familiar scent of old wood from the table he always used.

Lathel slowly opened his eyes.

The ceiling was higher.

White-blue curtains hung around the windows, the furniture was made of a light-colored wood, and carved into the wall was a silver eagle crest he had once seen on a House Avarenne carriage.

Lathel looked around for a while before the events before he lost consciousness came back to him.

The fire.

The second-floor window.

Leviana in his arms.

The pain when his left leg hit the ground.

Then Aldric.

The two fingers.

Lathel immediately looked down at his right hand.

The index and middle fingers still had faint red marks around the joints, but the splint had been removed. He tried bending them.

Once.

Then again.

No pain.

Lathel was slightly taken aback.

He clearly remembered the sound of bone snapping, and even at the moment he lost consciousness the sharp sting had still flared with every tiny movement. Yet now, aside from a bit of stiffness in the joints, both fingers had nearly returned to normal.

He quickly pulled the blanket up.

The left leg had no splint either.

Lathel sat still for a few seconds.

’How long was I asleep?’

He tried moving his ankle, then bending his knee. There was none of the agony of a broken bone, only a very faint discomfort like having lain in bed too long.

This was clearly not normal.

He was about to examine himself more closely when his gaze happened to drift to the side.

There was another bed in the room.

Leviana was lying there.

Her long silver hair was spread across the white pillow, both hands placed neatly over her stomach. Sunlight from the gap in the curtains fell across one side of her face, making skin that was already pale seem even lighter. Her breathing was very even, with no sign of discomfort.

Lathel looked at her for a few seconds.

The tension that had just risen inside him immediately eased.

She was fine.

That was all that mattered.

He was about to get out of bed when the door softly opened.

Mirelle stepped in with a maid.

In her hands she carried a small tray holding a water pitcher and medicinal fluid. At first Mirelle only glanced toward Leviana’s bed out of habit, but when she saw Lathel sitting up, her steps stopped at once.

"Lathel?"

He turned his head.

Mirelle nearly dropped the tray into the maid’s hands before hurrying over.

"You’re awake?"

Before Lathel could react, Mirelle had already sat down on the edge of his bed, pressed her hand to his forehead, and studied his complexion closely. Only after confirming his temperature was normal did the tension on her face ease.

"Does anything hurt? Are you dizzy? How’s the left leg? Are the two fingers still hard to move?"

Four questions in a row left Lathel slightly dazed.

He looked at the woman before him.

Mirelle didn’t look like someone politely checking on a patient.

Her eyes were genuinely examining him, and her hand had unconsciously closed around Lathel’s wrist as though afraid he might suddenly collapse again.

For a moment, Lathel didn’t know how to react.

At House Kirlinghalm, no one had ever asked him like this.

When he had a fever, he found medicine himself.

When he was hurt, if it wasn’t serious, he bandaged it himself.

If a healer had to be called, the first thing anyone asked was usually what he had done to get injured, or whether the treatment cost needed to come out of his stipend.

A smile like Mirelle’s right now was even more unfamiliar.

Seeing him only stare at her, Mirelle tilted her head slightly.

"Still not fully awake?"

Lathel shook his head at once.

He raised both hands by reflex, about to say he was fine.

His fingers had barely moved halfway through the first sign before he stopped.

Mirelle probably didn’t understand sign language.

Lathel lowered his hands and looked around the bedside table for paper and a pen.

Mirelle followed his gaze and laughed.

"Looking for these?"

She opened the drawer beside the bed.

A small notebook and a pen had already been placed inside.

Lathel looked at the two items, clearly a little surprised.

Mirelle put them in his hands, then explained: "Leviana prepared those. Before she fell asleep, she told us that if you woke while she was still sleeping, paper and a pen had to be beside you. She said you’d need them."

The hand holding the pen went still.

He turned to look at the bed beside his.

Leviana was still sleeping.

Mirelle watched his reaction, and her smile grew softer. "The girl has barely been awake and she already remembers these things more clearly than I do. It seems three years of you caring for her weren’t entirely in vain."

Lathel didn’t hear the second sentence.

He was only looking at Leviana.

She knew he needed paper and a pen.

A very small thing.

So small that even many people who had lived alongside him for years never remembered.

Some would talk to him for a while before realizing he couldn’t answer, then lose patience searching for paper. Some told him outright to go fetch his board. Others simply didn’t want to wait for him to finish writing.

Leviana had remembered.

The corner of Lathel’s mouth curved upward, barely perceptible.

But only a few seconds later, he shifted his gaze away.

’She was just being practical.’

Leviana was a Duke’s daughter, a former Sage known to countless people. She had just woken from a five-year coma, and no matter what happened next, she would return to the world where she belonged.

And him?

An adopted child of House Kirlinghalm.

No status.

Unable to speak.

Even the faint trace of mana he had recently begun to sense was hardly worth calling talent.

The two of them had never belonged to the same world.

Lathel understood that very clearly.

But he also had no intention of abandoning her because of it.

The betrothal might be a sham.

The title of betrothed had only been thrown onto him by House Kirlinghalm when they didn’t want Aldric marrying a comatose woman.

But the three years he had spent caring for Leviana were real.

Until she was fully recovered and no longer needed someone by her side, Lathel still felt he should see his last responsibility through.

He lowered his head and wrote.

[Thank you, my lady.]

Lathel thought for a moment, then continued.

[I feel much better already. The wounds don’t hurt anymore either. If there’s any work that needs doing around the house, I can start today.]

Mirelle finished reading.

The smile on her face slowly shifted into bewilderment.

She looked up at him.

"Work?"

Lathel nodded.

Mirelle looked at him for a few more seconds, then turned to the maid standing behind her.

"Did you hear that?"

The maid was struggling not to laugh.

"Yes, my lady."

"He just woke up after a broken leg and nearly bleeding to death, and the first thing he says after thank you is asking if there’s a job for him."

Mirelle turned back to Lathel.

"How exactly did House Kirlinghalm raise you?"

Lathel stiffened slightly.

He didn’t know how to answer that.

Mirelle didn’t push. She took the sheet of paper, placed it back in front of him, then said gently: "There’s no work here for you. The servants have their duties, the healer has theirs. All you need to do right now is rest properly."

Lathel immediately bent down to write.

Mirelle had already guessed what he wanted to say.

"Leviana doesn’t need you to get out of bed and start caring for her right this moment either. She has servants, a healer, and she has me."

Lathel’s pen stopped.

Mirelle looked at him and smiled.

"Just stay beside her. That’s enough."

Lathel pressed his lips together slightly.

He bent over the paper once more.

Mirelle watched the motion, a trace of helplessness showing in her eyes.

Lathel wrote:

[But Leviana is home now.]

He paused.

[You and the Duke are both here. She doesn’t need me to take care of her anymore.]

Mirelle read each line.

Lathel kept writing.

[Besides, the betrothal with me was only ever...]

Mirelle’s hand suddenly reached over.

The paper vanished.

Even the pen in Lathel’s hand was taken.

Lathel: "..."

He looked up.

Mirelle was still smiling.

A very gentle smile.

But she had placed both the paper and pen on the far side of the table.

"I suddenly feel the healer was right. Someone who’s just woken up shouldn’t be writing too much."

Lathel looked at the distance between himself and the pen.

Then at Mirelle.

He didn’t believe that excuse.

Mirelle naturally noticed.

She kept the smile, reached over to smooth the edge of his blanket, then said: "Lathel, I don’t care how House Kirlinghalm described this betrothal before. At the very least right now, you are still the person confirmed to stand beside Leviana. Put more simply, you’re already her future husband. Staying at your in-laws’ home and thinking you need to work to earn your keep, don’t you think that’s a bit too formal?"

The tips of Lathel’s ears grew warm.

Mirelle saw it.

The smile on her lips immediately sharpened.

Lathel quickly turned his face away.

’Husband, right...’

Even he knew that position had always belonged to Aldric.

He was just the stand-in.

Mirelle was probably only saying this because he had just saved Leviana. House Avarenne was a great noble family; treating the person who rescued their daughter with kindness was perfectly normal.

Lathel didn’t think he should mistake that courtesy for something more.

Mirelle stood, looked at him for a moment, then said: "Don’t overthink things. Just stay here and recover. If you want to eat something, tell the servants. If you need paper and a pen, just call for them. When Leviana wakes, she’ll talk to you herself."

Lathel immediately glanced at the pen.

Mirelle followed his gaze.

She was a step faster, picking up both the paper and the pen.

"I’ll be taking these for the time being."

Lathel froze.

Mirelle turned to the maid.

"Let’s go."

The maid bowed her head, though her shoulders were clearly shaking with suppressed laughter.

Before leaving the room, Mirelle looked back at Lathel one more time.

"Don’t get out of bed and wander around."

Lathel looked at her.

Mirelle still wore that very gentle smile.

"I’ll be checking with the servants."

Click.

The door closed.

Lathel sat on the bed for a very long time.

Finally he looked down at his empty hands.

’...My pen.’

He felt slightly helpless, but couldn’t deny that the feeling inside him right now was strange.

Not unpleasant.

Just unfamiliar.

No elder had ever used that kind of tone with him.

Lathel sat a while longer, then still pushed the blanket aside and stepped down.

His feet touched the floor.

He immediately braced himself for pain.

But nothing happened.

Lathel stood still, testing his weight on the left leg.

Still no pain.

He took a step.

Then a few more around the bed.

His body felt much lighter than he had expected. The weakness from blood loss had also nearly vanished, and even the cuts from the glass on his arms had closed completely.

Lathel pushed his sleeve up slightly.

Faint new scars still lined his skin. Some ran from the forearm up near the shoulder, a few looking rather ugly where shards had once been embedded deep.

He touched one experimentally.

No pain.

Lathel frowned.

’How long was I actually asleep?’

If it had only been a few days, this rate of recovery was completely abnormal.

He looked at his right hand again.

The two fingers Aldric had broken could bend and straighten almost normally.

Lathel tried a few simple signs.

No problem.

That brought him more relief than the healed leg.

At least he could still speak with his hands.

Lathel looked at the scars a moment longer, then pulled his sleeve back down.

He didn’t particularly care whether they were ugly.

’Scars are scars.’

He was already a mute.

Even without these marks, did anyone actually pay attention to his appearance?

The thought came very naturally.

Lathel didn’t feel sad about it.

He had been used to it for a long time.

He turned to look at Leviana.

She still hadn’t woken.

Lathel walked toward the bed out of habit, reaching out to check the temperature of her forehead, but stopped midway.

This wasn’t the old room anymore.

Her mother had just said there were healers and servants here.

Perhaps he didn’t need to keep doing everything the way he used to.

Lathel’s hand slowly lowered.

He stood by the bed a few more seconds, then turned away.

The room was still somewhat dim because the curtains hadn’t been fully drawn.

Lathel walked to the window.

He took hold of the curtain edge and pulled it to both sides.

Morning sunlight flooded in at once.

The entire room brightened.

Part of the light fell across Leviana’s bed, making her silver hair reflect a very faint glow.

Lathel unconsciously turned to look.

Over the past three years, he had performed this same motion more times than he could count.

Every morning, pull the curtains.

Then write on Leviana’s palm to tell her what the weather was like today.

The habit ran so deep that even in an unfamiliar room, his body still did the same thing as before.

Lathel watched her for a while, then slowly turned back toward the window.

Outside lay the sprawling gardens of House Avarenne. Further still, he could make out the castle walls and rooftops stretching toward the horizon.

A completely unfamiliar place.

But at least Leviana was safe here.

Her parents were also by her side.

Lathel rested both hands on the windowsill.

’So... do I still need to be here?’

The question appeared in his mind.

He had once thought that as long as Leviana woke, his responsibility would lighten considerably.

Now she hadn’t just woken.

She had returned to House Avarenne.

She had her parents.

Had healers.

Had servants.

Any one of them could care for her better than someone who had only learned a few basics like him.

The betrothal?

Lathel had never truly believed it belonged to him.

House Kirlinghalm had only pushed him forward when Leviana was still in a coma and no one wanted Aldric saddled with a marriage like that.

Now that Leviana was awake, everything could naturally change.

Lathel lowered his head slightly.

He didn’t feel angry.

There was no reason to feel angry either.

From the very beginning, he had known where he stood.

What he probably needed to do now was wait for Leviana to wake, confirm she was truly all right, then have a clear conversation with her parents.

Leave House Avarenne.

As for House Kirlinghalm...

Lathel fell silent.

The image of Aldric’s foot pressing down on his hand surfaced at once.

Then the sound of bone snapping.

The words about "supporting characters."

And the System panel confirming Aldric was the male lead of a Dark Fantasy world.

Lathel tightened his right hand slightly.

He didn’t want to go back there.

Not right now, at least.

If House Kirlinghalm truly demanded his return, he would need to think of another way.

Lathel raised his head and looked at the sky outside.

He didn’t have much money.

No territory.

No stable occupation.

The ability to use mana had only just appeared, and he himself didn’t yet understand the extent of it.

But if he had to live on his own...

He could probably manage.

He had lived alone in his previous life.

Had done every kind of work to earn a living.

In this world, as long as he was willing to work hard, a healthy person could still find employment in a city.

Lathel looked at his hands.

The two fingers curled inward, then opened.

At least he could still write.

Could still work.

That was enough.

’Wait until Leviana is better.’

Lathel turned to look at the woman sleeping in the bed behind him.

’When that time comes... I should leave.’

The moment that thought appeared, Leviana’s fingertip moved faintly on the bed.

Lathel didn’t see it.

He was still standing before the window, quietly thinking about what he could do after he left.

Behind him, Leviana’s silver lashes trembled ever so slightly.

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