Even Though I Defeated the Demon Lord, My Wife and Daughter Treat Me Like Trash ~ I Found Out My Wife's Child Isn't Mine, and When I Confronted Her, She Got Mad and I Was Exiled. The Country's in Trouble Because the Demon Lord Came Back? Sorry, I'm Getting Remarried to a Princess, So I Can't Help. - Chapter 4: My Wife, the Saint

Chapter 4: My Wife, the Saint

This house was a reward for defeating the Demon Lord. 

From the outside, it looks like a small noble’s mansion. 

But we don’t have any maids or a butler, and for just the three of us, it feels a bit too spacious.

Lately, it takes a bit of courage for me to walk through the front door. 

It’s almost like visiting someone else’s home… or, to exaggerate a bit, it feels like preparing to enter a dungeon.

But no, it’s not like a dungeon where you can solve the problem by defeating enemies.

Relationships with family need constant trial and error. 

Thinking like this might be a bit disrespectful to them, though. 

One thing I do know is that standing here all night isn’t going to solve anything. 

If it would, I wouldn’t mind standing here for days.

I shook off my pointless thoughts and went inside.

In the living room, Camilla was relaxing.

“I’m home.”

“Welcome back, dear… Oh? You went drinking while I was cleaning? Must be nice.”

“Oh, um, yeah, but…”

“Well, it’s your day off, so it’s fine.”

If it’s fine, then why make a snide remark first?

I thought to myself, but there’s no point in arguing. I wouldn’t win anyway. 

I needed to change the subject. Glancing around the room, I noticed our daughter wasn’t around.

“Where’s Emilia?  It’s too early for her to be in bed. Did she go to her room already?”

Camilla let out a sigh in response.

“If you’re asking about Emilia, she’s staying at the church tonight. I told you that, remember?”

“…Ah.”

Now that she mentioned it, I vaguely recalled hearing about it just before I left for my last job.

But with all the rush before leaving, I had completely forgotten.

“Honestly, you’re always like this. You never really listen when Emilia or I talk, do you?”

“No… sorry, I won’t—”

“How many times have I heard that? You always say ‘I won’t do it again,’ but here we are.”

“…Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’ve given up by now.”

Of course, I had my reasons. 

After all, I had a lot on my mind right before leaving for a job, and it’s easy for something like that to slip my mind.

But if I said that, she’d just accuse me of making excuses. 

And in the end, I really was the one who didn’t listen to her properly.

So instead of arguing, I sat down next to Camilla and gently placed my hand over hers, which rested on her lap.

“I’m really sorry. I keep letting you down.”

“I said it’s fine, didn’t I? I’ve decided to see it as you being that dedicated to your work, so I’ll take it as a good thing.”

I had braced myself to hear more, but she forgave me surprisingly easily.

Maybe she was in a good mood? Either way, I felt relieved.

I took a moment to look at her.

We’ve known each other for 12 years now, and even at 28, Camilla was as beautiful as ever.

Her figure hadn’t changed at all since we first met—still well-defined and striking.

And with Emilia out for the night…

There were a few things about our family life that had been on my mind. 

One of them, in particular, was something I wanted to resolve sooner rather than later.

With the alcohol giving me a bit more courage, I decided to broach the topic with Camilla.

“Hey, Camilla.”

“What is it?”

“Well, Emilia’s grown up quite a bit now, and… you know…”

“Yes?”

“Maybe it’s time we started thinking about having another child…”

Before I could finish, Camilla gently pulled her hand away from mine with her other hand.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you? We’ve talked about this many times already.”

Her tone wasn’t harsh, but I could feel a strong sense of rejection in her body language.

“…Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“I know… I know it’s been hard on you, and I understand that.”

“…”

“But as the ‘Saint,’ I can’t indulge in such things lightly.”

… Indulging, huh.

We’ve discussed this many times, but to Camilla, with her strict sense of chastity, expressing love physically between a man and a woman is considered a “sin.”

Even having Emilia, she explained, was more of a duty to raise the next saint than an act of love.

It feels painful to think that my daughter might be seen as a product of compromise rather than a symbol of our love, but arguing about our differences in values won’t solve anything.

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry… I think I’ll head to bed. I have to get up early tomorrow.”

“…Alright. Goodnight.”

Unable to bear the awkward atmosphere, I stood up. 

As I left the living room and headed toward the bedroom alone…

“Van.”

“Hm?”

“I know you’ve been trying hard to make time for the family, and I appreciate it. Thank you.”

“…Oh, uh, yeah!”

“But I worry that you might get hurt by rushing things. Don’t push yourself too hard for our sake. Work at your own pace, okay?”

“Y-Yeah!”

“How long do you think this job will take?”

“Well, it should be about five days…”

“There you go again. You’re headed to an abandoned castle near the border, right? Don’t push yourself. I think a week would be more reasonable, don’t you?”

“…Yeah, you’re right. Thanks. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Van.”

My wife’s unexpected kind words made my heart feel a little lighter.

But as I got into bed, the coldness of the empty space beside me made my heart feel cold once again.

Since the birth of our daughter, my wife and I haven’t been intimate.

Being an orphan myself, I had always longed for siblings, so I wanted Emilia to have a younger brother or sister.

But here we are, in this large house with just the three of us.

Honestly, it feels like too much space for me.

“Well, maybe that’s just my selfishness…”

With a bit of frustration lingering in my mind, my instincts as a warrior took over, forcing my body to rest, and I soon drifted off to sleep.