My Childhood Friend Told Me to Go Marry the Most Beautiful Woman in the Kingdom, So I Seriously Started Improving Myself—and Somehow Ended Up Making Women Fall Hard - Chapter 54 & 55

Chapter 54: Being Useless Doesn’t Mean Doing Nothing

Since that day, Natasha began tending to the sick in the ward, and the children started studying at the small school.

Her pale fingers touched a patient’s forehead, and light descended softly.

“High Heal.”

Breathing steadied.
Color returned to pale faces.
Crying turned into relieved sighs.

As I watched, something warm spread deep within my chest.

My Sanctuary could purify a place.

But she could save people.

It was on a completely different level.

I finally understood—if we wanted to keep this place running, I couldn’t try to do everything alone.

My sister’s voice echoed back to me.

♢

On the terrace of our estate, my sister set down her teacup and looked at me.

“Hort. As your older sister, I truly think you’re very capable.”

“What’s with that, Sis?”

It was rare for her to praise me so directly.

“But while you’d make an excellent butler, as a man… you’re hopeless.”

“Eh?! Hopeless as a man?!”

“A man should be useless at home.”

“…What? Useless?”

The words came out before I could stop myself.

She didn’t laugh. Her eyes were serious.

“A man who’s good at his job is attractive. Being capable is admired. But a man who can do everything at home… steals his wife’s role.”

“Steals her role?”

“Yes. The role of supporting. The role of being relied on. The role of being needed. A married couple shares roles.”

She tapped the table lightly with her finger.

“A man who can handle everything on his own looks perfect and impressive from the outside. But the woman begins to think—He’ll be fine even without me. I’m not needed here.”

A sharp pain pierced my chest.

For a brief moment, it felt like Rina was laughing somewhere in the back of my mind.

I had done everything for her. I had barely let her do anything except focus on becoming a court magician.

“So at home, let yourself be helped. Rely on her. Lean on her. …But.”

“But?”

“Never forget to be grateful.”

My sister slowly raised two fingers.

“It’s fine to trust a woman and leave things to her. But never forget to say thank you. Respecting the other person matters more than anything.”

“…So don’t treat it as something natural?”

It reminded me of what I’d once been told—that kindness shouldn’t be taken for granted.

“When both sides begin to think what they receive is ‘only natural,’ that’s when arrogance creeps in. Don’t look down on the other person. Don’t think, I’m the one supporting everything. Protecting the home. Protecting the children. Preparing a place where you’re accepted. Supporting daily life. Those things aren’t small. Whether man or woman, never forget to be grateful.”

I had tried to shoulder everything alone.

Hearing it spelled out stung.

I had treated things as normal for Rina. I might have made her arrogant. We hadn’t shared the burden. We hadn’t leaned on one another.

My sister took a slow sip of her tea.

“The moment you think what someone does for you is ‘only natural,’ arrogance is born. And arrogance cracks relationships.”

She raised a third finger.

“That’s why you must become ‘useless’ and widen your view.”

“Useless—but with a wider view?”

“Acting useless doesn’t mean doing nothing. Inside the home, you let others take their roles. But from the outside, you must protect it. Drive away external threats. Protect the people who respect and support you—and take responsibility for them.”

Take responsibility for those who support me?

“There are many people with ability but little confidence. They struggle to decide things on their own. So they try to match the other person’s preferences. Their beliefs. Their actions. It’s consideration.”

Because they care, even if they’re capable—they hesitate to act.

It sounded like a delicate balance.

“What do you mean by responsibility?”

“Express your opinion. Even while acting useless at home, remove outside threats—and take responsibility for your words.”

“Take responsibility for my words…”

1* At home, act ‘useless’ and allow the other person to fulfill their role.
2* Don’t grow arrogant by thinking their support is natural.
3* Being ‘useless’ doesn’t mean doing nothing. Widen your view, protect against outside threats, and when you speak—take responsibility for your words.

I wasn’t sure if “useless” was really the right word.

But my sister’s advice always carried something important.

She pointed straight at me.

“Rely on others. Entrust things to them. Be grateful. Widen your perspective. And prepare yourself to take responsibility for their burdens as well. If you can do that, everything around you will begin moving on its own. You won’t have to carry it all alone anymore. Hort, you’re capable. But sometimes, you need to be ‘useless’! That’s what I learned after building my own family.”

Then she smiled faintly.

“When you do that, the other person feels needed—and they’ll support you in return. My husband can’t survive without me at home. But outside? He’s incredibly cool.”

Her lovestruck tone faded, and my thoughts returned to the present.

♢

Natasha walked over for a short break.

…I had always done everything for Rina.

This time too, in order to produce results, I cleaned, ran the soup kitchen, arranged sleeping spaces, handled placements—I knew I had moved harder than anyone else.

Even so, I couldn’t do it alone.

It only worked because Gina supported me from the shadows. Even if no one else noticed her contribution, I understood it.

I won’t always remain in the slums. That’s why there must be people I can entrust the things I cannot do.

“Natasha.”

There was sweat on her forehead. A faint flush colored her cheeks. Her breathing was slightly heavy.

But her eyes were steady.

She looked fulfilled.

“…Yes, Lord Hort.”

“Can I rely on you even more?”

“…Eh?”

Surprise filled her eyes.

I lowered my head toward her.

“My beginner-level healing wasn’t enough. We need your strength. I want to entrust this ward to you.”

Entrust it. Hand over the role.

Her eyes trembled—not in rejection.

It was the tremble of someone who had just been handed something weighty.

So I continued.

“I won’t overwork you. We’ll set a schedule. The healing will be fully in your hands. In exchange, let us take care of the children at the school. The Fifth Unit knights will watch over them. We’ll handle cleaning the orphanage, repairing the church, even maintaining the graveyard. I won’t let all the burden fall on you alone.”

Any external threats that came her way—I would handle them.

But the role only she could fulfill—I would entrust to her.

And I would take responsibility for saying that.

“Because you came here, this place was saved.”

I stopped and looked at her.

Natasha looked uncertain—almost lost.

But in her eyes—

“…Yes. If there’s something I can do… then please let me!”

“Thank you.”

I said it immediately. 

I wouldn’t treat it as something obvious.

“Thank you, Natasha. Because you came, lives were saved today.”

“…That’s… um!”

“Hmm?”

The break area behind the ward was quiet—only Natasha and me.

She gathered her courage and spoke.

“Why are you able to do so much for others?”

“Eh?”

“Lord Hort, you saved me. No—not just me. You brought light to the slums. You gave the sick a place where they can sleep without fear. You gave them food. And now, you’re even giving them education.”

She lowered her eyes.

“When someone like you relies on me… what could I possibly give in return? I have nothing to offer.”

“I’m the one relying on you, though?”

“No. I think… even that is for my sake, isn’t it?”

“Eh?!”

“I was depressed. I was grieving. You saw the state of the orphanage and grieved with me. You looked at the children and thought about what you could do.”

Her eyes glistened as she sank to her knees before me.

In a posture of prayer, she looked up.

“Lord Hort… how much of a saint are you? I truly have nothing left to give you.”

Her gaze was serious.

And because it was serious, I had to answer properly.

“I’m not exceptional. And I’m not a saint, Natasha.”

Since she was sincere, I answered just as sincerely.

I knelt so we were at eye level.

“In fact, I’m someone who doesn’t even understand other people’s feelings very well.”

That was why I couldn’t see Rina’s feelings either.

I had believed that if I gave everything, something would naturally return.

“That’s not true!”

“It is. That’s why I just keep pushing forward recklessly. Even then, I can’t do anything alone. I’m not that great. I’m pretty useless on my own.”

“You are not useless!”

“Haha, thank you. But because I’m not that great… I need your help, Natasha.”

“Can I really help you?”

“More than that—only you can. You’re the only one I can entrust this ward to. The only one I can rely on here is you.”

I couldn’t hand this to Commander Adelheid.

Not to Nagi.

Not to Gina.

“Only me?!”

“Yeah. Will you help me?”

“Of course I will!”

Natasha grabbed my hand tightly.

Those large, clear eyes closed as she held my hand and began to pray.

“I will devote everything I have to repaying this debt to you! May God’s blessing be upon you, Lord Hort!”

Seeing her like this—so full of life compared to how she had been at the orphanage—made me smile as well.

Chapter 55: The Women Who Fell into the Swamp (5)

Side: Natasha

I can barely remember my mother’s face anymore.

The scent of her hair.
The warmth of her hands.
The way her voice sounded when she laughed, almost like she was singing.

Those are the only things that still remain deep within my chest.

When I was very young, my mother passed away.

I cried and cried until there were no tears left.

Before I knew it, only my father and I remained in that house.

My father was clumsy. He burned meals. He was terrible at laundry.

But the hand that patted my head was always gentle.

“Natasha, I’ll protect you. You just keep smiling, alright?”

I believed those words.

My father was a knight of the Eleventh Unit—the Gate Guard.

He protected the gates of the royal capital, watched who came and went, and carried out inspections. 

He said it was a duty he was proud of.

And because of that—

I loved him very much.

♢

Even though I was still small, I remember my father chasing some kind of case.

He said it was connected to the incident that took my mother.

His explanations were too complicated for me to understand.

All I knew was that he had more and more sleepless nights.

His back bent over the desk.
His fingers gripping stacks of documents.
His cloak, worn thin and frayed.

And then—

One day,

My father did not come home.

There was no sound of the door opening that night.

The lights stayed on.

I hid beneath my blanket, barely daring to breathe.

The next day, someone knocked on our door.

When I opened it, a knight wearing the same armband as my father stood there.

“…You must be little Natasha. I’m one of your father’s subordinates—my name is Uragar. I’m sorry. Something terrible has happened.”

The young man had a scar on his face. He bowed deeply, his expression full of apology. His voice was gentle.

Before he even finished speaking, a cold feeling crept into my chest.

“About your father… he died during a mission.”

I knew knights could lose their lives while on duty.

But my father was strong. He said he was the deputy captain.

And yet… he died?

“…That’s a lie…”

Sir Uragar gave a troubled shrug and looked away.

“It’s not a lie. …He was chasing that case, remember? He got mixed up with some strange people in black robes. The scene was a mess. As for the body…”

His words trailed off.

In that small pause, I clung to him desperately.

“Nooo—… give my father back…!”

Sir Uragar’s face twisted with discomfort as he answered.

“…I’m sorry. They took the body. Those men in black robes. We’ll process the paperwork. You’ll receive a survivor’s pension, though…”

There was no body.

He had died—yet he didn’t return home.

He didn’t return home—yet they told me he was dead.

I was too young to understand what that truly meant.

All that remained was the fact that my father had vanished.

♢

Even with a survivor’s pension, a single child could not live alone.

I had no relatives to rely on.

So I was placed in the church orphanage.

The ceiling there was low. Winters were freezing. Summers were suffocating. The sound of crying never ceased.

That was why I chose the path of prayer.

If I became a Sister serving the church, perhaps I could protect children within the same royal capital my father had guarded.

I studied magic as well.

Healing.
Purification.
Cleanse.

I worked desperately so I could be worthy of the clergy.

But the orphanage in the slums received almost no support.

We lacked medicinal herbs.
We lacked bandages.
We lacked soap.
We lacked firewood.

Most of all—

We lacked food.

The children before me went to sleep hungry.

Some didn’t even have the strength left to cry.

I prayed.

I prayed and prayed and prayed.

But God did not answer right away.

Even though I had magic, reality was too heavy.

I could heal them—

Only for them to collapse again the next day.

I could purify them—

Only for the filth to return the next day.

It felt as if my feet were stuck in mud, unable to change anything.

“God… why am I here?”

Nights filled with those thoughts slowly became more frequent.

♢

Then rumors reached us.

They said there was a “saint” who had changed the slums.

At first, I didn’t believe it.

If someone like that truly existed, where had he been all this time?

But then I heard—

A ward had been built.
A soup kitchen had begun.
The stench from the ditches had faded.
Children had started to laugh.

…My chest tightened.

It wasn’t jealousy.

It wasn’t frustration.

It was fear.

Because if salvation truly existed—

What if I reached out for it and was betrayed?

What if I was shown hope, only to have it taken away again?

I had already lost so much.

Even so, I wanted at least the children of the orphanage to be saved.

Their small hands.
Their thin cheeks.
Their sleepless eyes.

For their sake, I thought I should cast aside my pride, my shame—everything.

So I went to find Lord Hort Rubel.

And before I realized it—

I was crying, begging him.

“Please… save the orphanage.”

The “saint” did not hesitate.

He didn’t say, “I’ll consider it later.”

He didn’t say, “I’ll confirm with my superiors.”

That very night, he sent knights to the graveyard and drove out the monsters lurking beneath the orphanage.

Just like that, the cold, terrifying presence vanished.

I couldn’t believe it.

Until then, I had lived in a world where asking for help always came too late.

Help didn’t come.

Or if it did, it was too late.

And when it was too late—nothing could be saved.

That was the world I knew.

But he was different.

He answered my voice—and came faster than anyone else.

That alone allowed someone I could rely on to take root inside my heart.

His broad back reminded me of my father’s.

His gentle eyes as well.

And yet, somewhere deep inside, a warning whispered—He is not your father.

I wanted to rely on him.

That contradiction hurt—and made me happy—and frightened me all at once.

…Since that day, I have remembered Lord Hort’s back again and again.

♢

Lord Hort solved the kidnapping case and began investigating the body of the knight found underground.

Could it be my father…?

The thought squeezed my chest painfully.

Perhaps because he saw how shaken I was, Lord Hort gave me something instead—

A place.

The ward.
The dining hall.
The small school.

A place where children could laugh.

It was completely different from the place where I once stood, doing nothing but praying.

Here, I could use the magic I had worked so hard to learn.

Here, I could save someone.

Here, I was needed.

How warm the heart can feel.

Is it truly alright for someone like me to feel this much happiness?

To be needed by someone.
To see children eat until they are full.
To watch them receive proper education.
To know adults are watching over them with care.

The slums used to be a place where people looked down on one another.

Where they stole from each other.

A chaotic place where no one trusted anyone.

I had lived there, unable to change anything.

And yet—

This place felt so warm.

And then Lord Hort asked me for help.

“Can I really help you?”

“More than that—only you can. You’re the only one I can entrust this ward to. The only one I can rely on here is you.”

I forgot how to breathe.

I was… needed?

My power could help Lord Hort?

Me—the one who had stood in the orphanage, lamenting that I could do nothing?

I was happy.

So happy it was almost frightening.

Lord Hort said I was the only one he could rely on.

Before I realized it, I was already casting magic.

Healing.
Purifying.
Saving.

“Thank you” fell over me.
“You saved us” fell over me.
“We’re grateful” fell over me.

And yet—

The words that pierced me most were Lord Hort’s.

When I see him, my chest grows warm.

When I hear his voice, I feel at peace.

When I see his back, I want to follow.

And then fear creeps in.

If he were to disappear… what would become of me?

That is why my heart whispers—

I want to devote myself. I want to give him everything. I want to entrust myself to him.

“Lady Natasha, I presume?”

As I stood watching Lord Hort walk away, a black-haired woman dressed as a maid appeared.

“Yes?”

“Please excuse me. My name is Gina. I serve a certain individual.”

“A certain individual’s maid?”

She had a strange presence.

Though dressed as a maid, she carried the sharp intensity of a knight.

“I have a question for you first.”

“Yes?”

“Lady Natasha—do you have the resolve to devote yourself to Sir Hort?”

“Eh?”

It felt as though she had seen straight through the thoughts I had just been having, and I froze.

“So—what do you think?”

“W-Why would you ask something like that?”

“You’re right. It was unfair to ask without explaining. Sir Hort is destined to one day rise to the rank of Crown Knight.”

Crown Knight?

The highest title a knight in this kingdom could attain.

Lord Hort… a Crown Knight?

If anyone could become one, it would be a saint like him.

“I assist in that goal. And I have judged that your power can be of great use to Sir Hort.”

“My power… for Lord Hort?”

“Yes. If you perform miracles in the ward Sir Hort created, those results will become part of his achievements and reputation. However, that would mean offering your own fame to him. I will not force you. If you desire recognition for yourself, then please forget I ever said this.”

My efforts… becoming Lord Hort’s accomplishments and glory?

Was that truly how it worked?

“Am I truly worth that much?”

“You are! No—if necessary, I will ensure that you are.”

I couldn’t help feeling bewildered by Gina’s firm words.

But if it truly helped Lord Hort… then I had no hesitation.

“Who exactly are you?”

“I am someone who was also saved by Sir Hort.”

“—!”

That was enough.

I understood the warmth in her voice.

She knew the feeling in my chest.

And because of that—

I understood her feelings too.

“You also… feel that way about Lord Hort?”

“Yes. But I am only a shadow. Sir Hort once told me he wished to rise higher. I want to help make that wish come true.”

Lord Hort… wants to rise?

I see.

The saint has a desire of his own.

Those words gave shape to something inside me. For the first time, I felt a clear purpose take form.

“Miss Gina.”

“Yes.”

“Lord Hort saved me. So if my reputation can serve him… then I want to offer it.”

The vow left my lips more firmly than I expected.

It wasn’t like my old prayers, where I merely clung to God for help.

“Thank you. You are my comrade. From now on, let us work together for Sir Hort. I will report again.”

With that, Gina disappeared.

I folded my hands and offered a prayer.

“Lord Hort, may blessings be upon you.”

Not for myself—

But for him.