My Dream is to Get My Own House

2. We Got Married

Episode 8

That was the <Notice of Compensation for Damages>.

In order to claim damages from another person, of course, documents were required.

Documents that show that the other party had caused them harm.

Fortunately, I had a magic tool that I recorded in front of my house yesterday.

‘Here you go. It’s proof that they’ve exploited me so far. I recorded it.’

‘It’s still a little lacking, but one of the requirements for writing a compensation notice is filled. Though there is a big problem.’

‘What?’

‘I need the consent of the other party to file this notice.’

‘Does that even make sense? What idiot would agree to pay damages?’

‘I’m sorry, but it is the law. It’s evil, so it is seldom that a notice of damages is effective.’

Does that make sense?

I kicked in anger and made a fuss.

Currently, there were two languages ​​spoken in the Empire.

Although the vast majority speak the official language of the empire, some of the nobles speak the ancient language.

Then what if I had my mother sign a notice of compensation disguised in an ancient language she did not know?

The Empire recognized documents written in ancient languages so they were also legal.

My mother would definitely be caught in the tomb that had been laid out like that.

“Okay, I signed it!”

I accepted the papers she handed back.

“Thank you, mother.”

She signed the lasso she was going to tie herself with.

“Ugh, then when will the dress arrive?”

As I looked at her greedy eyes, I smiled.

“Maybe tomorrow or the day after tomorrow?”

~*~

I got out of the coffee house and went to work.

My comrades, Henry and Marilyn, surrounded me as if they were locking me up.

“What conversation did you have with Sir Dylan last night?”

“Rumors were circulating!”

“People can’t hallucinate as a group!”

“Ah, I think they were hallucinating as a group.”

Roughly ignoring them, I hummed and sat down at my seat.

It would have been better to keep our marriage a secret for the time being.

‘If it goes on like this, it might become known.’

It was the moment I thought about it.

Marilyn, the administrator who was at the forefront and interrogating me, still approached me.

She would normally ignore me, usually calling me ‘Hey, bangs’. (tl/n: because fl has bangs so she makes fun of them)

“I don’t know what the hell you did to Sir Dylan. After all, isn’t it the combination of the ugly duckling and the prince?”

To be honest, I’m the ugly duckling.

But if you hear those words from someone else’s mouth, you would normally get a stomach ache.

“What do you have on your front teeth?”

“What, what?”

“What did you eat for lunch?”

“I didn’t eat much. Olives?”

“Somehow, your front teeth were black. It must have been olives.”

“Oh my. What? Really?”

Marilyn looked at the mirror with a startled look on her face.

Marilyn can’t multitask.

‘By the way, it’s not good to be called bang-bang all the time.’

I shouldn’t go around in a daze for Sir Dylan’s sake.

‘I’m going to cut my broom-like hair on the weekend.’

Scratching my head, I sat down at my desk and began to organize the requests of the knights.

<Sir Toby, application for protective gear: Approved.>

‘Why are you suddenly requesting protective gear, Sir Toby? Are there any threats to your life?’

In any case, the use of protective gear should be approved.

Then, Marilyn came to her senses.

She started talking again.

“Anyway, Sir Dylan has a lady he loves.”

“Ah.”

“Unlike you, she is truly a beautiful person. You can’t compare So, get out of that right now…”

She came close to me and whispered like a rapid-fire gun.

Yes, there is one effective way to handle this.

I took the earplugs from the table and swung them into my ears.

Yep, I can’t hear you.

~*~

(3rd person pov)

Shortly after he threw a bombshell declaration that he was married to his only family, the emperor, Dylan entered a townhouse in the capital that was set up as a home for newlyweds.

His hands were full, and he was carrying food.

Today, for the first time in his life, I wrote an annual leave.

When he said he would use the annual leave, the eyes of the administrator looked as if he would pop out.

‘S-Sir Dylan’s annual leave?’

‘Yes.’

‘Sir Dylan, who has stayed during all his holidays so far and has lived in the Knights Templar, is going on an annual leave?’

‘That is correct.’

‘Maybe it’s a disease. Or are you getting married?’

Dylan, who was stabbed in the face, hardened his expression and remained silent.

‘Ah, sorry for rudely asking about your private life!’

The administrator, who mistook Dylan’s expressionlessness and silence for anger, nodded his head with a very curious look.

‘Sure, I approve. Sir Dylan’s first annual leave approval!’

The administrator’s words, ‘Are you getting married?’ echoed in Dylan’s head.

He lived in a small house enchanted by black magic throughout his childhood.

The most curious thing in the world was the existence of a family.

The moment he thought about his family, his father’s voice became an auditory and rang in his ears.

‘You’re a shame in my life. The reason I didn’t kill you was because I don’t want to get dirty blood on my hands. Like a dog locked up in the North for the rest of your life, you will live in shame.’

He silently washed his hands.

Although he lived alone, he always dreamed of the day when he would have a precious wife.

A memory of him practicing his chores for a long time came to mind.

‘The marriage period is only one year, but I should treat it as preciously as possible.’

To him, Ishael shone just by looking at her.

It was the law that he couldn’t combine her with true love like that.

However…

Pushing the negative thoughts back, he shook his head again.

For his wedding anniversary, he had to treat Ishael with a fine dining experience.

Dylan, who had put the ingredients down in the kitchen, glared at the clock.

Ishael leaves work at 6pm.

The time now is 12:33pm.

The remaining time ahead was 5 hours and 27 minutes.

‘What should I cook?’

He bought all the materials.

His most confident dish.

He was well versed in knives and was good at slicing fish.

But he learned from cookbooks that mullet dishes are very different.

What would Ishael like?

Should he start with a salad first?

Dylan grabbed a knife seriously with a lifelong worried-looking face.

‘I can do it.’

The hand holding the knife trembled so weakly that no one would notice.

Of course, he was a good cook.

He had to cook for himself to survive.

But it was his first time cooking for his wife.

His heart pounded and his hand with the knife trembled.

He hinted to himself that he could do it.

He then reverently wore an apron with carrots and rabbits on it.

His expression became even more somber.

The food was later plated on a clean bowl.

Exactly 4 hours and 33 minutes had passed.

It was time for him to do his final check on the food.

He heard the door open.

“It smells delicious… What? Sir Dylan?”

Because of her short stature, Ishael, who was lovely like a fairy, arrived.

She slid over to the table.

The eyes behind her glasses seemed to have gotten bigger.

Dylan opened his mouth in a rigid tone.

“As I said before, I made dinner. Please sit down.”

It was his first time setting up a table.

The time was kept in a detailed plan in seconds.

To prevent the food from getting cold, he used a heating pot.

‘I hope this is not too shabby…’

But Ishael was speechless.

“Hey, this… Did you do it yourself?”

“Yes.”

“All of it?”

He could see her face tinged with astonishment. Read only at pm tl.

Her fluffy hair shook.

“…Yes.”

Was he lacking in sincerity?

Surely, 50 kinds of dishes wouldn’t be enough.

Besides, today was their wedding day, so it was truly a monumental day.

How could he only cook 50 kinds of food on such a day?

Dylan’s shoulders drooped, so very, very slightly, that no one would notice. (tl/n: he’s just a big puppy haha)

~*~

(Ishael’s pov)

I was mesmerized by the chic look on Sir Dylan’s face, saying ‘this is nothing’.

How did you do all this alone?

Surely you didn’t lie by calling something like a catering buffet?

But the opponent was Sir Dylan.

He was a typical one-headed man who was famous for being honest even in the Knights Templar.

I sat down and reverently raised my spoon and said.

“Let’s eat.”

“Yes.”

He was still blunt with no change in expression.

His posture seems to be subtly disturbed, but I must be mistaken.

I turned my gaze to the table.

All kinds of food, crayfish dishes, and even raw salmon are on the table!

‘Ha, my mouth is watering.’

I took a bite from the grilled salmon cut into cubes.

In an instant, a buzzing sound echoed in my ear.

The taste was running wild in my mouth!

I swallowed the salmon in my mouth in an instant.

For a while, there was only the sound of spoons and plates clashing.

By the time I had a bite of 50 dishes, I came to my senses.

“Ah, it was so delicious that I just ate it.”

“I’m glad.”

Now it was time to have a proper conversation.

For example, about contract marriage!

“I have a question for you… Why does Sir Dylan want to marry me?”

“Ah.”

He licked his lips.

I said playfully with a very worried face.

“I hope you don’t like me… Hahaha! Just kidding.”

It was a remark like a mad patient.

I quickly rectified the situation, rebuking myself for my stupidity.

“It’s a joke, a joke!”

Dylan’s expression darkened slightly.

“Okay.”

“Yes. I already know that Sir Dylan doesn’t like me.”

“…”

“Because we’ve never met before!”

“…Yes.”

“Actually, getting married with someone you like is a bit burdensome, but I rather like it! No one likes me in the first place.”

Damn ex-boyfriend Pedro XX.

Remarks with low self-esteem popping out all of a sudden!

That kid ruined all my self-esteem.

I quickly switched topics.

“Ah, but Sir Dylan, why did you marry me?”